Free Path of Freedom by Jennifer Hudson Taylor

was necessary,” she said through tight lips.
    Disappointment plowed through him as he pivoted back on his foot and rubbed his shaved jaw. He should have expected this. Hadn't he been concerned that she was too immature for such a mission? Here was the proof stacked before him. What had her parents been thinking to let her pack this much?
    He glanced over at the Saferights and Millikans, talking to Pastor John by the barn. Why weren't they helping him manage Flora?
    They were expected to leave within the hour, but now he realized it wouldn't happen. The Saferights' wagon still needed to be unloaded and transferred to the special wagon, but first he'd have to convince Flora and Irene to leave some things behind.
    It was almost dusk, and cooler temperatures hugged his body, causing his skin to rise with goose pimples. He wasn't sure if it was due to the cool air or the idea of another confrontation with Flora—so soon after their recent truce.
    Silas walked up beside him with his hands in his pockets, a sharp whistle upon his lips as he shook his head in disbelief. “Looks like thee will have thy hands full on this trip.”
    “What's that supposed to mean?” Flora leaned around Bruce, and the fragrance of cedar teased his nose. Her eyes pierced his brother. Any other time, Bruce would have found the situation humorous, but right now they were losing daylight. The last thing he needed was Silas antagonizing her.
    “I could leave behind a dress and a few more pots,” Irene offered as she leaned over the side of the wagon. “And maybe a quilt.”
    “No!” Flora glared at her sister. “We need all the quilts we've brought.”
    “Like I said, thee will have thy hands full.” Silas shook his head and slapped Bruce on his shoulder. “I'm glad it's thee and not me.”
    “Silas,” Bruce's voice sliced through the air, “thee isn't being helpful.”
    “And neither is thee, Bruce Millikan.” Flora pursed her pink lips. “We went to great pains trying to determine what to bring. In spite of what thee must think, we put many things back.”
    “Flora, I appreciate all thee has done to prepare for this mission, but we only have one horse available.” He pointed to the animal hitched to the green wagon beside them. “This is too much weight. We'll kill the poor horse. The special wagon isn't designed for two animals even if we wanted to hitch another one.”
    Without waiting for a response, Bruce unlatched the back, pulled it down, and hopped up onto the bed. He opened the first trunk as the lid squeaked. “Silas, bring me a lantern.”
    “Stop!” Flora scrambled to climb into the wagon. Her long skirts tripped her, and she fell to her knees and crawled toward him. “Those are our personal things.”
    Worried she would hurt herself, he reached down to assist her, but she jerked her elbow away. “Don't touch me.”
    He hated the hissing tone she used. Dread pooled in his stomach. With a sigh, he turned from her and bent toward the trunk. “These are hardly personal.” Bruce lifted a stack of four pots. “Two will be sufficient.” He separated them, making two stacks.
    Glowing light appeared, swaying toward them. Crickets sang all around them. The skyline dimmed to a pink line over the trees. A crescent moon brightened against the charcoal sky as tiny white stars dotted the heavens.
    “Here's the light thee wanted.” Silas held up the lantern.
    “Thanks.” Bruce accepted it, catching a glimpse of Flora's angry glare now that she had righted herself on her feet. She blinked and an unexpected flicker of fear shadowed her glistening eyes. A sudden urge to stroke her cheek in an attempt to comfort her stilled him.
    “Why is thee looking at me like that?” She shifted in discomfort and looked down. “A couple of those trunks have some unmentionables in them.”
    An owl hooted in the distance, mocking him as understanding dawned. “I'm sorry. I should have realized thy concern, but we still have to leave more