As Will plucked his way back to the front of the wagon, she couldn’t help but notice his confident, manly form. Even in the midst of the storm, he’d kept his wits about him. Could she have been wrong about him?
She’d been so intent on fighting this battle alone, but Will’s words about her reputation washed over her, harder than the deluge from the clouds. Was she a fool to think that she could do this on her own?
Watching closely as Will consulted with the other men, she noticed how they all seemed to respect him, nodding at his words. Could he possibly be trustworthy in her situation? Would he believe in Mary’s innocence? Questions best left alone for now. Emma Jane’s sobs were beginning to subside, and instead, she made loud hiccuping noises, as if the rain had won the competition with her tears. For the first time, Mary noticed that the woman’s fine gown, which Emma Jane had been overly proud of, was soaked nearly through, and Emma Jane was shivering.
“I’m going to offer Emma Jane the blanket,” Mary told Polly.
Polly’s brow crinkled. “Why? She’s such a sourpuss. Why should we make ourselves cold for her sake?”
“Because it’s the right thing to do.”
Mary got up and carried the blanket to Emma Jane. “Here. Take this and come sit with us. It’s drier on our side of the wagon, and the blanket hasn’t gotten too wet.”
Emma Jane’s head remained down, and she wouldn’t look at Mary. “No, thank you. I’ll be fine.”
The other girl’s hair lay in flat clumps; the curls which she’d probably so painstakingly made were now a mess of knots. Beside her lay a parasol, practically shredded from the weight of the rain. No, she hadn’t chosen her accessories for the weather, but Mary supposed none of them had given thought to the fact that in September, afternoons typically had showers. Monsoons, on the other hand, were a rarity.
“Let me at least help you with your hair,” Mary said. “I could quickly get it out of your face, and it will be so much more comfortable.”
Emma Jane jerked away. “No! I said I would be fine. Now go with all of your friends and leave me in peace.”
She ought to do exactly what Emma Jane asked. After all, she’d done her Christian duty by reaching out to the other girl and attempting to share her blanket. Emma Jane had said no, and that should be that.
But something in the wounded tone of the other girl’s voice made her feel sorry for her.
“If you change your mind, there’s plenty of room with Polly and me. We’d be delighted to have you join us. You could tell us more about your hat, and we could put our heads together to figure out how to fix it when the rain stops.”
Emma Jane’s head snapped up, revealing a face that was more than just tear-stained. Clearly, Emma Jane had been wearing some form of paint, and the water had washed it partially away, revealing deep pits and a smattering of color in all the wrong places.
“There’s no fixing it. My hat is ruined. And there’s nothing you or anyone else can do about it.”
“Maybe not, but we won’t know until things dry out.” Mary pulled out a handkerchief. “At least take my handkerchief and you can use it to wipe your face. You’ll feel better if your face is clean.”
The gasp that come out of Emma Jane made Mary feel even worse. “Don’t look at me!”
She huddled down and once again hid her face. So that was it. Emma Jane was ashamed of how her face looked in the rain. Until now, Mary hadn’t realized that the other girl wore so much paint.
Another gust of wind blew through the wagon, and Mary shivered. She couldn’t help but notice that Emma Jane’s shivers had grown worse. Mary knelt beside her and put the blanket around the other girl’s shoulders. If they didn’t get out of the rain and cold soon, they were all at risk of taking ill. Pneumonia was a particularly bad threat here, and many died from the dreaded illness.
“You’ll catch your death for all your pride,” Mary told her. “Everyone looks terrible right now, so who are you to think that you’re any more hideous than the rest of us?”
Fortunately, Emma Jane wasn’t a stupid woman, and she took hold of the end of the blanket, wrapping it around her. “Everyone.” Emma Jane sniffed. “They’ve been saying it all day. You can’t pretend you haven’t noticed the way everyone has been mocking me.”
The pain in the other girl’s voice made Mary’s stomach turn. She had noticed the other girls whispering and giggling about Emma Jane. Mary had thought that not participating in the conversation was enough, but as tears streamed down Emma Jane’s face, she wished she’d done more to reach out to the other girl.
“I’m sorry,” Mary said, tucking a flap of the blanket that had gotten loose around Emma Jane.
Emma Jane looked up with watery eyes. “It’s not your fault. They’re right. I am ridiculous. I should have never come today or agreed to my mother’s silly plan.”
Mary thought back to all the times in Ohio when the girls mocked her for her outmoded dress, or how her family faced ridicule for their poverty. It was one of the reasons she’d fallen so easily under Ben’s spell. After being tormented for so many external trivialities, she couldn’t believe she could find someone who’d seen past it all.
She’d been wrong.
But that didn’t mean that her newfound wealth had to turn Mary into that same kind of girl. She might have been wrong to trust in Ben, but looking past the surface of a person was always the right thing to do.
Mary gave Emma Jane an encouraging smile. “Your dress might not
