overrode her resentful obedience and she stepped forward. “What’s the problem? Is there something wrong with this hut? Because it looks fine to me.”
William turned to her with narrowed eyes, glaring. She flinched. If those rich, brown eyes had been spears, she would have been impaled on the spot.
She’d done it again. Whatever it was.
William’s deep rumble came out deceptively low. “I’m sure the hut is quite fine.” He came closer, crossed his arms over his chest and leaned down and in until he was only inches from her face. “If, that is, you don’t mind being separated from Hannabo and myself. Alone with only your sharp tongue for protection. Of course, we could always share the hut.”
William pulled back, the discomfort of being close enough to Mary to see her smallest freckles befuddling his thoughts. He had tried counting to ten, reciting Proverbs to himself about the futility of arguing with the foolish—none of it worked. No sooner did he get things back under control than this obstinate woman tried to insert herself right back into the thick of things. At least Alice let him be in charge, hung back and allowed him to do the man’s work. This woman wanted to literally and figuratively wear the trousers. At least…
William derailed his mental train of thought on the memory of Alice and traveled back to the reality of an impatient redhead in front of him with her eyes bugging out at his sarcastic statement about sharing a hut.
Oh, so her suffragette sympathies didn’t extend to sharing a hut with him. The shocked look on her face proclaimed outrage. Good to know. At least her morals stood firm, not loose like her definition of a woman’s place in life. What had the Mission Board been thinking to send him this female physician?
Mary took a deep breath in and out and straightened her spine, all under his careful observation. Indignation rolled off of her. “That is quite unacceptable. No tents on the trail were one thing, but sharing a private hut is another.”
William’s smile wasn’t one his Aunt Ruth would have approved of if she had been there. “My point exactly. Now maybe you’ll let me continue making my point with this tribesman so neither of us ends up indulging in scandalous behavior.”
“Can’t we be in separate huts but next to each other?”
“Not possible. Let me finish here and I’ll explain.”
The slight tic in her right eye gave away the fact Mary had more to say. Much more she suppressed with a great deal of effort. He turned his back to her and planted himself between her and their appointed village guide’s line of vision. He nodded to Hannabo and continued his negotiation.
He walked a fine line to accept the hospitality and yet require his own special guard for the women without impugning his hosts. When it became clear he risked insult to village hospitality, he’d explained his concern for the crazy woman with red hair wandering away and getting into trouble. Certainly true. Just not the whole reason.
When his tribal host laughed, he knew he’d won the day. Troublesome women, the universally understood notion among men.
The best negotiating ploy too, although the good doctor would have a conniption if she could only translate the language. Why couldn’t she understand he was in charge without constantly challenging him?
She thought western sensibilities would prevail in the situation with Nana Bolo. That sort of attitude would have her married and bearing the chief’s children in no time.
Hopefully, the idea that she was troublesome and a little crazy would get back to Nana Bolo. That wily schemer caught the turn of the phrase where William avoided claiming her as his wife. By indicating she was under his care, a phrase the chief took to mean Mary was William’s property, he left himself wide open to this. The chief would think he only held out for better terms.
Of course the only other option available to him would have been lying and saying that she was his wife. Not an acceptable course for his conscience or the mission of winning souls. Scripturally, lying about Sarah backfired on Abraham twice.
This way he could protect the women to the best of his ability. He would go to the palaver hut, an honor reserved for male guests only, but leave Hannabo to sleep at the threshold of the women’s hut. He may not want women in the interior with him, but he couldn’t leave them undefended this close to the chief’s compound.
Even if they were more trouble than they were worth.
Dr. O’Hara did have a tendency to forget to stay put. Her reasons may have been admirable. How many women would have run toward a gunshot to help? But now more than before, he needed her out of the sight of the villagers. She would be easier to protect once he could get to Nynabo. He refused to think about her return trek out of the jungle when the time came. She would be someone else’s responsibility then. He’d be sure they steered clear of Nana Bolo on her return trip.
He outlined his plan to Hannabo, who nodded. Taking a deep breath, he turned back to Clara and Mary. “Ladies, for your protection, our hosts agree Hannabo will stay with you, sleeping outside the threshold of your quarters. I would do the chief a grave insult if I don’t sleep in the palaver hut allotted to honored guests. And, as women are not allowed in that hut, you will stay here outside the palisade walls.”
Clara’s hand fluttered to her chest.
“Not to worry, Mrs. Smith. We will keep you safe.” With a sweeping hand gesture, he indicated the doorway of the hut. “If you need something, ask Hannabo. I will be just on the other side of the wall.”
Mary’s voice filled with concern. “Pastor Mayweather, our needs should not deprive Hannabo of his comfort for the night.”
William laughed despite his desire to attract as little attention as possible. “I assure you your comfort levels will be quite equitable. At the most, you will sleep on planks to elevate you off the dirt. I promise you sleeping directly on the dirt is little more hardship.”
Clara’s face echoed Mary’s surprise as the two exchanged looks. It was Clara who finally spoke. “But can we not retrieve our camp beds from the porters and set them up in the hut? I know the trail was too narrow for tents where we camped the first night, but surely this hut will easily hold them.”
William understood her desire. The relative comfort of his folding cot would be a nice reprieve from the hard surface. “I’m afraid not, ladies. Don’t insult our host by refusing his provision.”
“That’s too bad.” Clara’s voice held the same longing for her own bedding William ascribed to his. “I guess we’d better just make do.”
Mary offered no argument. Surprising.
“I’m going to have to ask you ladies to stay inside the hut till morning. No matter what you hear. There will undoubtedly be a lot of revelry tonight.” William hoped his plea wasn’t words to the deaf.
He reached over and laid his hand on the physician’s arm. “Dr. O’Hara, I am only one man. Our caravan is too small to intimidate the chief here. Please, don’t put us in any more situations where I might not be able to talk our way out.”
Conscious of Mary’s eyes on the hand still resting on her arm, he pulled back and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I’m begging you. Consider all our lives in this.”
Chapter Five
Mary clutched the extra blankets Hannabo had surreptitiously secured for them from their gear and followed Clara, ducking into the low opening of the mud hut. Once inside she straightened. The conical roof gave more openness than she’d realized. The floor was smooth, packed dirt with faint round marks overlapping at regular intervals. The smooth clay walls lacked a window and the only real light came from the open doorway.
Squinting against the dimness, she made out two elevated wooden pallets to her right. They seemed high for a bed, sitting a few feet off the floor. She placed the blankets on the one closest to her.