Journey of Hope. Debbie Kaufman

nodded and smiled.

      Was she really this agreeable? Was she humoring him? “How do the local people handle you as a single woman, then?”

      “Most are initially curious, but later decide that the white bush is different from their world.”

      “The white bush?”

      “Their term for our world. Their world is the bush. Of course, the reality of both worlds is that women rarely own much power in either.”

      He snorted. She hadn’t seen how quickly his future father-in-law had responded to Julianne’s demands to sever business ties with him. “Maybe not in the eyes of the law, but you have to admit women still wield a lot of power in men’s lives.”

      “Not here. In Liberia, a woman can be purchased with a bridal price, pawned later if her husband is in financial difficulties and even loaned to visiting male guests as a substitute wife.”

      Chastened, he said, “I had no idea. Sounds barbaric, almost slavelike.”

      “Exactly. But this is their culture, not ours.”

      “I suppose, as a missionary, you hope to change those practices?”

      Surprisingly, she shook her head. Both hands now animated her conversation. “While many missionaries in this modern age still seek to change a people’s customs, things like how they dress, their social structures, I prefer to focus on bringing God’s Word and allow Him to make the changes He sees fit. Immodest dress may make me uncomfortable, but God did not call me to convert someone’s wardrobe, only their hearts.”

      It was his turn to laugh aloud. “You, Miss Baldwin, are an enlightened woman. If not for this God business, I think I would find you quite the enjoyable dinner companion.”

      The corners of her lips twitched upward. “Let me have a turn at being direct, Mr. Hastings. I will serve many roles on the trail, some of which may not endear me to you as a dinner companion or otherwise. While I have no problem with your general authority and running most decisions through you, I must point out my experience here is not to be taken lightly and there will be times I have to act without your input. I apologize beforehand if that upsets you.” She smiled fully, as if to soften the blow.

      A sour note gripped his stomach at the memory of a similar attitude, one he’d seen throughout his engagement. If Anna was anything like Julianne, this missionary woman would start small and before he knew it, take over. Precisely one of the reasons he hadn’t wanted a woman in this role. They knew all the polite maneuverings to get their way. She thought she’d make critical decisions on this trip?

      Not on his nickel, she wouldn’t.

      But there’d be time enough on the trail to clear up who was in charge. With no other guide and his budgeted funds already contracted through the bishop, Stewart had no choice but to make this relationship work. His mother’s future depended on it.

      * * *

      Stewart’s face clouded over with myriad emotions, none of them terribly happy and all of them giving Anna concern. He was her only hope for the additional time she needed to try to obtain tuition money for Taba. She had to make this work. If Stewart couldn’t handle the idea that her in-country experience might occasionally trump his plan to be in charge, there would be a lot of uncomfortable days on the trail. The jungle’s dangers wouldn’t wait on constant consultation. He needed to understand the impracticality of running every decision through him. A few days on the trail might accomplish what this conversation couldn’t.

      Anna caught rapid movement in her side vision. Mrs. Dowdy was making a beeline toward Stewart. “Don’t look now, Mr. Hastings, but my companion must not have been able to come up with a foursome for bridge. I think she means to evict you from her chair.”

      “We’re hardly finished conversing. I still have questions for you about what we’ll encounter along the way.”

      Anna laughed. “You’re in luck for the moment—looks like she got waylaid by her husband. Perhaps we could talk later in the Grand Saloon after the rains start.”

      “I don’t suppose there is something I could do to better her opinion of me aside from a sudden profession of faith? Mrs. Dowdy’s protection of you seems to have leaped beyond the normal bounds and straight into battle mode where I’m concerned.”

      Anna shook her head. “I’m sorry. I’d hoped you hadn’t noticed. Once you told her you weren’t a churchgoing man, she decided you’d be a corrupting influence for a missionary.”

      Piercing blue eyes plumbed her depths. “Do you think that, Miss Baldwin?”

      “No, Mr. Hastings. My faith has not so poor a foundation that another’s unbelief might sway me to discard what I hold so dear and true. If Mrs. Dowdy knew what it took for me to come to Liberia in the first place, she might not be so concerned.” Anna reached out and patted his arm again. “I’ll have a talk with her. She means well.”

      Anna broke off her gaze just as Mrs. Dowdy left her husband and covered the last of the distance between them. Her disapproval arrived before she did.

      Stewart vacated the chair, tipped his hat and took his leave. Anna kept her laughter in check. Mrs. Dowdy was indeed in battle mode. But how funny to see a short, dumpling-shaped woman order a towering grown man around without a single word. Maybe Anna should take lessons from her to employ on the journey.

      Mrs. Dowdy took the deck blanket the steward hurriedly provided and placed an order for hot tea for both of them. “I don’t know what the bishop was thinking. Sending off a young woman with some gold miner into the interior.”

      “Mining engineer, not gold miner.”

      “Humph. Whatever he is, nothing good will come of it. Mark my words.”

      Anna’s reply, that the money for her service would save a child’s life and keep Anna spreading the Gospel, died on her lips as the woman launched into another tirade, this time about her husband’s shortcomings. Experience thus far told Anna she need only nod. She’d have to find a later moment to talk with Mrs. Dowdy about Stewart. Anna’s eyelids grew heavy when there was no sign of the wifely complaints winding down. She didn’t want to be rude, but the hot tea had made her sleepy. Maybe the chloroform had affected her more than she’d realized. Would Mrs. Dowdy notice if she dozed?

      * * *

      A raucous shout woke Anna and she looked around, alarm spreading through her. Mrs. Dowdy was nowhere in sight, but Anna located the source of the noise.

      A crowd on the port side was cheering Stewart on. He was jumping rope.

      An apple-cheeked matron Anna recognized from last night’s activities in the Grand Saloon and the woman’s twenty-year-old daughter were the turners. They stood red-faced and determined, a rope end in each gloved hand, swinging the double-Dutch pattern. The crowd chanted the count as the numbers climbed. Anna rose from her deck chair and walked over to get a closer look, her legs a little wobbly at first.

      She edged to the side of a dozen or so watchers. A gentleman next to her, Wilson, an exporter who’d been seated across from her at dinner, leaned toward her and said, “Really something, isn’t it? He’s top-drawer to take the girl’s dare. He just beat her challenge.”

      Stewart caught sight of her and grinned. He took the Ascot cap clenched in his hands and tossed it right at her to hold, all without missing the rhythm of the ropes. Blond waves of hair went up and down, landing just below his eyebrows before each jump. His white Arrow shirt whipped back in the sea breeze, revealing a muscular composition. The easy grin he now directed at the obviously besotted younger rope-turner marked him as a heartbreaker.

      Dr. Mary was right. He cut quite the handsome figure. But she was wrong to think there was any potential in Anna’s rescuer being a future husband and help in the mission field. Not only wasn’t he a believer, but she’d escaped a controlling father already.

      Despite an effortless appearance, Stewart’s