not protest. She was so weary and sore that she wasn’t certain she could have managed it on her own.
“Lean back,” Sarah said, “and I’ll wash your hair.” She filled a small bucket with water and poured it over Priscilla’s head, then began to massage soap into her scalp. “Your hair is beautiful,” she said as she reached for the rinse water. “It reminds me of the sky at sunset.”
“Unfortunately, freckles seem to accompany reddish hair.” They certainly were companions to Priscilla’s strawberry blonde locks and her mother’s auburn tresses. “I used to have them everywhere. You know how children can be. Even the slightest snub seems monumental. I can remember coming home from school crying because the other children teased me about my freckles. I was so upset that Mama took one of the lemons she’d been saving for a special treat of lemonade and let me rub it on my face, saying it would bleach the freckles. I don’t think it did, but it did make me feel better. And now most of them have faded.” Priscilla touched the bridge of her nose, where three persistent freckles could be found. “These are all that are left.” As the words left her mouth, she frowned. What was happening to her? Her life had changed irreparably, and yet she was talking about something as mundane as freckles. This was worse than Sarah’s babbling.
Sarah seemed to find nothing amiss. “Don’t be surprised if Thea wants to touch them. She’s at a curious stage.” Sarah squeezed the water from Priscilla’s hair before she helped her climb out of the tub. “Why am I talking about stages? I believe Thea was born curious.”
“Mama used to say the same thing about me. She and Papa claimed that if Patience and I didn’t look so much alike, they wouldn’t have believed we were both their daughters.” Her legs suddenly weak, Priscilla sank onto the bench, clutching the towel as if it were a lifeline. “Mama, Papa, Patience. They’re all gone. Oh, Sarah, I don’t know what I’m going to do. I’m all alone.”
Sarah wrapped a second towel around Priscilla’s legs. “You have Clay and me. More importantly, you have God.”
Shaking off Sarah’s hand, Priscilla shook her head. “That’s where you’re wrong. God has deserted me.”
She was afraid of him. That beautiful woman with hair like firelight and grass-green eyes was afraid of him. Zach knew he hadn’t imagined it. There was no mistaking the terror in her eyes when she’d looked at him. Though he’d never set eyes on her before, the instant her gaze met his, he’d seen the flicker of recognition, followed swiftly by a look of pure horror. Zach couldn’t explain how it could have happened, but somehow she knew his past. It was as if his sin had been branded on his forehead, a modern mark of Cain. Even Margaret’s hatred and her bitter words the day they’d parted hadn’t shaken him the way this woman’s fear had. He was still reeling as if he’d been struck.
That was part of the reason Zach had been reluctant to accompany Clay and the Ranger when Clay had suggested they sit on the front porch. The other part was that he didn’t think he could bear listening to the Ranger’s tale, knowing that he was not the man to avenge the evil that had been done. But Clay had insisted, and so here Zach was, sitting on the front steps, drinking some of Martina’s cool tea.
“What can you tell us?” Clay posed the question.
The Ranger took a long swallow before he replied. “It was the Dunkler brothers’ work. There were three of them—tall, dark hair, blue eyes.” He stared at Zach for a moment. “They look a bit like you.”
A wave of relief washed through Zach. Perhaps that was the reason for Priscilla’s reaction. She had seen the physical resemblance and been frightened. That was much better than believing she had looked inside him and learned his shameful secret. Zach took another sip of tea, and this time he savored the cool