Journey of Hope. Debbie Kaufman
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the core of her being. Oh, no. They hadn’t even left the ship and his need to take charge was causing problems. Why was it that every woman she’d met tried to marry her off and all the men—her father, her former fiancé—had to be in charge? No, maybe she was overreacting. Stewart didn’t understand the basic geography of the country. “Mr. Hastings, I wish you had consulted me first. I could have told you that departing from Garraway is the most direct route to the village.” Now to soften the blow by allowing him a semblance of control. “Shall I inform the second steward of the need to unload our supplies at this stop or would you prefer to be in charge of that?”
His voice repeated her patient tone. “I would have consulted with you. But, if you recall, yesterday we were interrupted by Mrs. Dowdy. Later you took to your cabin. I looked for a chance to discuss the details at dinner, but felt it improper to come directly to your cabin when I didn’t see you in the evening.”
He was too polite to say so, but between her self-imposed seclusion and her overzealous chaperone, he’d been left without all the information he needed to make the right decisions. At least he’d made an effort. “No matter. This is easily remedied. I’ll speak to the steward and meet you at breakfast.”
She turned to go. A hand at her elbow stopped her.
“I’m afraid you don’t understand. Harper is exactly where we need to disembark. The territory I must cover extends from the Putu Mountains near the Pahn village and well to the east. The mountains near the Pahn village will be my focus, but getting an overview of the entire area, prospecting and collecting samples as we go, those are all necessary objectives.”
Icy shards coated her stomach. This job meant the ability to save Taba and to have a provision for her to stay in the country while she sought more funding. The security of having all these needs met had been as much of an illusion as her father’s love. The journey Stewart proposed was far lengthier than she’d expected and over unfamiliar terrain. If there were significant delays, this plan could put her arriving after the Poro school started.
“Mr. Hastings, this was not my understanding of our agreement. I fully expected to depart this ship at Garraway today, hire my usual porters and travel to the mission post at Newaka just before first light in the morning. From there, on to the Pahn. I have my own obligations at my mission post.”
“I’m sorry, Miss Baldwin. We need to go up the Cavalla River and stop south of the first set of rapids. We’ll go overland to the west until we reach the outer edge of the prescribed mining concession area. Then we’ll slow our pace if I find areas with any real mining potential. This itinerary meets the company’s requirements and was planned with them before I left the States. I’ve mapped the whole thing out. Your bishop raised no issue with this when we discussed it in the parlor.”
“The bishop is as new to this country as you are, Mr. Hastings. He can’t be expected to understand the challenge your itinerary poses or the later implications of taking that route once we reach the Pahn.”
“Maybe not, but I understand the implications of not being thorough and doing my job. I studied all the available maps. This is the best route for my needs. I’m sorry for the confusion, but we have until Harper to discuss any other details so we are both in agreement after this.”
In her experience a man wrapped up in his own needs responded best to reason, never to emotion. If she’d learned nothing else from her father, this was one certain truth. “Do you have any idea how rudimentary and incomplete maps of the interior are? Rough approximations from a handful of explorers. Hardly accurate. Being unfamiliar with the terrain in those areas, I have to warn you that this could add unnecessary weeks to your travel time, especially with the rains still upon us. You are better off concentrating on your main objective and then journeying to the east if your deadline allows.”
“I recognize how little of this country has been mapped. I had not recognized that the terms of your employment would be such an issue, Miss Baldwin.”
He stood there without malice, just the natural confidence of a man used to being obeyed.
The buried frustrations of her lifetime made their way to the surface. Was there no end to men with plans designed around their own needs who must have their way? This delay...
Hold your tongue, Anna. Don’t... Lord, help me here.
“Mr. Hastings, this plan extends my service time in such a fashion that I must protest. I must get back to my village post. My needs have not been considered in your decision at all.”
He looked dumbfounded, but she had to stand firm now or lose any chance to redeem this situation. Panic over Taba rode on her words and made them stronger than she intended. “Simply put, this was not our agreement.”
* * *
Stewart took a slight step back, revising his estimate of the overall passivity of the missionary temperament. Then he remembered how she’d wielded her umbrella before her two attackers got the better of her.
Not their agreement? Was she trying to back out? He’d never thought to question her integrity before hiring her. Perhaps with her missionary background she knew little of how the business world worked.
“Miss Baldwin, I paid half the money down for you to guide me to the Pahn village, help me secure a working relationship with the chief and to do so in a timely manner so I can meet my deadline. The balance upon completion.”
An alarming red flush crept up her neckline and threatened to engulf her countenance. What had he done so horribly wrong? He must be explaining things incorrectly. “I did consider your needs, Miss Baldwin. A significant part of our journey will be on the Cavalla River.” He caught himself from rubbing his shirt-covered scars, a habit that only surfaced under stress. “Riding in canoes will be much less taxing for your delicate frame.”
She took a deep breath and exhaled. Her flush of temper receded. “I think you underestimate me, sir. The method of travel is the least of my concerns. Setting aside the issue of extra time, a route up the Cavalla in itself is neither prudent nor safe.”
“I don’t understand.”
As usual, her hands accompanied her explanation. “First, some of the Cavalla River territory was the scene of major uprisings against government taxations in recent years. A lot of the mission stations along your chosen route were deserted for safety’s sake. I cannot guarantee that some of the people we encounter won’t still harbor hostility.”
“All right, so we go armed and carefully through those areas.”
Her brows knit together. “More importantly, Nana Mala recently made a bid to become a Paramount Chief, one who rules over several villages near him besides his own.”
He stood unmoved, not understanding. “So?”
Her hands’ abrupt rhythm signaled her frustration. “His bid failed, placing a great strain on relationships with the villages directly to the east of Pahn territory, where your route takes us.”
“Does that make those villages more hostile to us?”
She shook her head and more mahogany tendrils escaped the bun at the back of her head and waved in the wind. He stopped from reaching to push them out of her way. “Probably not...”
“Then I fail to see the issue.”
“Nana Mala is the issue. He will wonder if we are plotting with those villages.”
“Surely you can reason with the man and explain when you vouch for me.”
Her laugh held no trace of humor. “Reason with a man who goes to war with little provocation? He almost killed the last missionaries who graced his compound. He will listen to me, but the danger to you is increased from your travel plans alone.”
She dropped her eyes, and the tight band around his heart eased until she spoke. “Mr. Hastings, you made an arrangement with Bishop Michaels for my guidance. You must take my advice and disembark at Garraway.”
“I appreciate your