Free Path of Freedom by Jennifer Hudson Taylor Page A

things behind.”
    “We don't need these.” He turned and lifted eight tin cups. “I packed five for us, as well as plates.”
    “Forgive me for not imagining thee as the cooking type.” Flora's dry tone dripped in sarcasm. “What about utensils?”
    “I have them.” Bruce dug deeper into the trunk and pulled out other containers they didn't need.
    “My brother is quite resourceful, Flora Saferight.” Silas leaned over the side of the wagon next to Irene. “He thinks of the little details that most of us men would never consider. I'm sure thee will find him to be a great blessing on this mission.”
    “I've no doubt of his attributes, but it appears that he has a great deal of doubt about mine.” Her voice lowered. “I suppose some things will never change.”
    Bruce paused, disliking the hurt in her tone. “We should have given each other a list of what we planned to bring. I'm sorry I didn't consider it before now.”
    “No matter. We need a solution before it gets too late.” Flora moved toward him and dropped to her knees. “Finish going through this trunk and pull out anything that duplicates what thee has packed. Since Irene and I will be doing most of the cooking, we'll keep the food we brought and leave behind any food thee has brought.” She pointed to a trunk behind her. “These two trunks contain quilts, dresses, shawls, bonnets, cloaks, and personal items. We won't part with anything in them.”
    “Good idea. I'll go to the other wagon and pull out the extra food supplies we brought,” Silas said.
    “What about that one?” Bruce pointed to another trunk.
    “It's my midwifery supplies. If Marta goes into labor, and I believe she will, I'll need everything in that trunk to pull her through it. I've also brought some diapers for the baby.”
    Impressed with her ability to shift from a victim of insult to a problem solver, Bruce stared at her reflection in the lantern light as darkness increased around them. Her silhouette showed a chin set in determination; she was a woman who wouldn't be easily deterred by persuasion, but only by reason.
    “Is there anything thee might consider parting with? Did thee pack something extra?”
    She stared at him in silence.
    “Please, Flora. Help me lighten the load our horse must carry.”
    “I packed extra food in case we are detained for some reason.” She looked down at her folded hands. “And lanterns. I don't like the idea of being without light.”
    “I'll get the lanterns and take them to Mother,” Irene said.
    “The extra food we can leave behind. I plan to hunt game as we need it.”
    “Thee brought guns?” Her breath hissed as she swung her head up to gaze at him. “I disapprove of such weapons. Thee cannot.”
    “Flora, be reasonable. We have to eat, and we can't carry that much food. Besides, we could be ambushed by criminals, and we must have a means of protecting ourselves.”
    “But Quakers don't believe in fighting…or killing.” Concern filled her voice. “Would thee truly shoot another man?”
    “I wouldn't want to and one could aim for a limb to stop an attacker, but not mortally wound him.”
    “Bruce, thee has surprised me.” She turned away, crossing her arms.
    He hated the disappointment in her tone. It made him feel unworthy in her sight. Bruce touched her chin, nudging her to look at him.
    “For myself, I wouldn't fight back.” He lowered his voice, “But for thee, I cannot say in all honesty that I would not.”

    They said good-bye to their parents and Pastor John an hour later than planned. Irene burst into tears when she hugged Mother good-bye. Flora embraced her next, holding her tight as she closed her eyes and breathed in her lavender scent. “I'll take good care of her,” Flora whispered.
    “I know.” She squeezed Flora's shoulders and pulled back. Even in the dim lantern light, Flora could see tears shimmering in her eyes. Her father engulfed them both, one arm draped around each daughter.
    Flora