by Betty Bolte
He started enjoying the rhythm of the press, of working with his hands and seeing the fruit of his labor. Similar to his satisfaction in producing a hearty stew from a variety of foods when he'd served as cook during the war. In both instances, the finished product became something more—better—than the individual ingredients. When they'd finished printing the broadsides, they paused to catch their breath.
"You've got the hang of it." Sawyer drank from a dark green bottle then wiped his sleeve across his mouth. "I'm pleased you're working here."
"As am I." For a time, Nathaniel would submit to the employment. He'd started to enjoy the work and hoped for a relationship with Evelyn, if she'd consent. But for how long would he stay in Charlestown, or even South Carolina? How long before his desire to move on had him packing his few belongings? And how would his departure fit with his growing need to be with Evelyn?
Chapter 9
With every bounce of the single-seated phaeton, Evelyn's reluctance to return to the burned shell of a home intensified. Amy handled the reins with confidence, the pair of matched bay horses trotting at a good clip, their black manes and tails flying in the wind of their own making. Evelyn clutched the small quilt draped over their legs to ward off the cold as well as to hide her trembling. Before long, she'd be back where violence had been a dominating aspect of her life. Did she really want to return to the place so much evil had lurked?
"Not too much farther." Samantha leaned forward from where she sat on the other side of Amy, catching Evelyn's eye. "How are you doing?"
"I'm fine." The doubt in Samantha's expression made Evelyn squirm. "It's not easy, that's all."
Samantha nodded and relaxed against the seat back, gazing at the road ahead. "That I believe."
"It's why we all came." Amy glanced at Evelyn, then back at the horses and the stretch of road they traveled. "We want to stand with you."
Evelyn glanced behind the carriage where her three cousins, Ethan, Bill, and Luke Sullivan, rode on horses. They'd elected to venture out with the ladies to judge the scope of the effort. Nobody would mistake them as anything but brothers. Tall with black hair and piercing blue eyes, they sat in their saddles with fluid grace. Their black leather boots shone while their breeches strained over powerful thighs. Riding coats of vibrant colors and beaver tricornes declared them gentlemen with strength and power. Yet the hands on the reins seemed gentle and kind to the horses' mouths. Their familiar presence reassured Evelyn, calming her agitation.
Ethan, the oldest, rode a rangy chestnut gelding with a white star in the center of its forehead and four white stockings. Bill, the middle brother, had chosen a sorrel mare with an attitude, tossing her mane as if to say "Look at me; I'm a princess." The youngest brother, Luke, sat on a coal black stallion with a hint of a white snip on its nose as relief to the dark color. Ethan nodded at her, a smile in his eyes, while the other two continually searched the surrounding landscape for potential trouble. Beautiful animals, each of them in their own way. The men and the horses. She grinned to herself as she turned back around.
Too soon, they arrived at the circular lane with its statue of Pegasus forlornly welcoming visitors to the blackened remains of the manor. The circle of flowers around the base of the marble statue had withered and died over the winter, adding to the beleaguered appearance of her home. She stared at the rearing winged horse, recalling the reason for its presence. The Greek symbol of wisdom, Pegasus also was a friend of the Muses. He had been ridden by the Greek hero Bellerophon to defeat the Chimera monster. Walter had admired all things Greek, and Bellerophon in particular, for his ability to defend against evil. She admired the horse and its ability to fly, to be free to live as one chose. To escape from an undesirable situation. She was pleased her favorite statue had survived.
"What a terrible day when the fire destroyed the house." Amy halted the horses, their harnesses jangling sharply in the sudden quiet.
"At least he died before seeing all his work burned to the ground." Evelyn removed the quilt from across their laps and folded it over one arm. From her seat, she could see the forest which once had been hidden from view by the house. Gramercy but she was glad to have escaped with her son from what would have been a death trap. "Come on."
The three men dismounted and tied their horses to the hitching rail set a distance from the remains of the house. Ethan stopped to study the situation, slowly trailing his gaze from left to right. Luke and Bill, voices lowered in seeming respect for the disaster, joined the ladies heading for the ruins.
"That must have been quite an inferno." Ethan strode to catch up to the group, a ground covering stride as fluid as a mountain lion.
"It was." On a sigh, Evelyn strolled toward the wreckage, grief over the destruction and a foreboding sense of unease creating a knot in her chest.
The stone foundation remained, black and charred from the heat of the wood sides that had been engulfed in flames. Three chimneys poked upward, each column of blackened stones reaching for the blue sky as silent testimony to the ravages of the conflagration. She closed her eyes, remembering the flames leaping and consuming their home as the wagon carried her and the others farther and farther away. She'd prayed for Walter then, hoping he'd survive as no person should die in such a ghastly manner. Not even him. But the prayer for his survival ultimately went unanswered. He'd died during the gunfight that preceded the fire, defending his home as best he could. Exactly the way he'd wanted.
Opening her eyes, she inspected the remains of their home. In truth, it had not been a happy place. She'd not cry for the loss, nor for the remembered pain and fear her marriage had instilled in her heart. She'd been trapped in an abusive relationship, one which only death could have ended. As a widow, she possessed the power to choose the path to a better life, for her and little Jim. A power she had earned with her tears and submission.
"Where to begin, that's the question." Samantha joined Evelyn in her perusal of the blackened piles and mounds where the impressive house once stood.
"First, the debris needs to be hauled away." Ethan's deep bass voice reverberated in the chilly air. "We'll come out with a large wagon in a few days and begin on that part."
"So it's worth salvaging?" Evelyn glanced at Ethan, then to the blackened mess.
"The property, certainly." Ethan propped his hands on his waist and considered the task. "It'll take some work, but we can rebuild a better house for you if that's what you want."
"It is. Let's see if anything inside is salvageable."
Ethan helped Evelyn pick her way up the ash-covered brick steps, his massive hand warm and steady under hers. Ethan released her hand when they halted at the top, standing side by side as they reviewed the scene. Evelyn's thoughts tumbled upon themselves at the extent of the damage. Perhaps the silver service had survived, but locating any intact items would be perilous work.
"I doubt anything could be used in the new house." Evelyn sighed, letting all of her worry and fear escape to mingle with the breeze. "If it's not burned, surely it would reek of smoke. Definitely I plan on separating the kitchen from the main house."
"Most everyone has done so to protect the residence." Ethan held out his hand, palm up. "Here. Give me your hand."
Evelyn did as instructed and let her cousin lead her closer to the burned threshold. The wreckage up close seemed worse than she'd imagined possible. Some hope had lodged in her chest prior to witnessing the reality of the devastation. A sharp pain ricocheted through her as unwanted tears burned her eyes. Overall, could she find any hope of happiness where so much ill had occurred?
Amy soon made her way up the steps to pause beside Evelyn. "I'm sorry about all the pretty furnishings lost."
"I'm not." Evelyn rested her fists on each hip as she surveyed the charred lumps of debris covered by soot and ash. "Nothing but bad memories are associated with every single thing in the house."
"I wonder how usable the outbuildings might be, given the ferocity of the fire." Samantha shaded her eye
s, gazing at the ruins from where she stood at the bottom of the steps.
"You were fortunate to have escaped." Bill's firm voice stated the cold hard truth.
"Yes, indeed." Evelyn pivoted to descend the brick steps. "Let's see how the other structures fared."
Evelyn let the others surround her as they made their way back to the safety of the open yard. Ethan and Bill walked with the ladies, while Luke climbed onto the phaeton and drove the team around the side of the house. Nobody joked as they chatted, as though they attended the funeral of the building itself. After all, Walter had died and, thanks to her father's slaves, lay six feet under the ground in the small family cemetery at the edge of the woods. She'd not had the courage to face the place until now.
Only two months had passed since the gunfight between Walter, Benjamin, and the desperate men who had kidnapped Amy and Samantha as war booty. Two months which saw terror transformed into love. As she made her way to the side of the building, the barn came into view, the very place where they'd hidden from the renegades and had made their daring escape in the wagon.
The doors stood open, hanging to either side of the central aisle. She quickened her pace, striding into the dim interior with purpose. Could the barn be converted into a place to live? She had pondered the question for several weeks as she began to think about the design of the new house. After all, she'd need to be close by during the construction to make sure it met her standards. With her away from the city, Nathaniel wouldn't be quite so near to disrupt her composure and cause wanton thoughts, another benefit. A quick perusal of the half-walled stalls and the small windows answered her question in the negative. She sighed and spun on her heel, hurrying back out into the sunlight where the others waited for her.
"Maybe the carriage house?" Evelyn strode to the smaller building situated beside the barn.
Samantha trailed after her, matching her pace. "For what?"
Tugging the double doors open, Evelyn walked inside and smiled. The building consisted of two large alcoves flanking the doors, where two small carriages and a wagon were parked, with a central area leading up to an immense fireplace and chimney. Large glassless windows with wooden hinged doors invited the winter chill to fill the space.
"Much better lighting from the windows. And see, there's already a fireplace the smithy used to make horse shoes and tools, and rims for the wagon wheels."
"So?" Ethan studied her, one brow lifted. "What are you thinking?"
"I'll convert it into a temporary house for me and Jim. It's big enough to divide so my servants have a place as well." Evelyn slowly pivoted in the center, nodding as she inspected the area. She'd espied a new appreciation in Ethan's steady regard, an awareness of her as a female. He was her cousin and friend, nothing more. "We can park the vehicles in the barn and then put up some slats between the spaces, glass in the windows, build a new wood floor, and we'll be comfortable enough."
Amy sauntered in to stare at Evelyn. "Comfortable enough for what exactly?"
"To live in, of course." Evelyn studied her sister as she crossed her arms. "I have a plan."
Chapter 10
The warehouse had seen better days. Ignored and neglected during the war, the brick building hunkered at the dark end of the alley between two much larger buildings. Nathaniel approached it with due caution, inspecting the surroundings with each step. If Benjamin had not invited him to meet at the shuttered place, he'd never have ventured down the suspect alley.
Pushing the heavy wood door open, he entered the storage facility. A lantern hung on a hook by the door, shedding much welcome light. Barrels and crates filled the space, some with their lids pried up and left askew. Others stood against the wall, covered with markings from distant ports. Given the quantity of crates, the collection must be immense. Nathaniel moved among the containers, taken aback by several of the more life-like exhibits. Several shelves stretched across the back of the building and boasted a group of straw-stuffed birds and liquid-filled glass jars in an assortment of sizes displaying a montage of specimens. He steered clear of the two-foot-tall jar displaying a black python in a contorted position.
The whole situation brought to mind his experience during the war. Of the lifeless eyes of his enemy as well as compatriots. Death marches into the fight with every army, often proving to be the only victor to the clash. He'd seen enough of the results of men in hand to hand contest to never desire to engage in another argument, let alone combat.
"Hello?" He sidled around a large barrel, noting the high shrouded windows. "Benjamin?"
A rustle preceded the sound of boots on the floor. Nathaniel turned toward the noise, relieved when he spied Benjamin's head and shoulders drawing closer to where he stood. He'd prefer to not venture any farther into the warehouse. In fact, he'd rather be outside, away from the cold stares of the creatures.
"Finally. Come with me!" Benjamin turned midstride and retreated into the depths of the warehouse.
Wrong direction. Nathaniel sighed and followed after Benjamin. He edged past the python and then around an orangutan, his long orange-haired arms raised as if he wanted to attack whoever ventured near. Why would anyone want such a monstrosity? To terrify small children? Or mayhap to warn away potential thieves? He shuddered. With a last glance at the ape, he hurried to catch up.
"Wait until you see what has arrived." Benjamin bent over a low box, rummaging in the straw before lifting a mask from its depths.
He straightened and tilted it so Nathaniel could see the red and white painted stripes stretching from below the eye holes to the bottom edge. Long black hair hung from the top, apparently to be worn over the head as further disguise. The resulting expression proved monstrous to the extreme. Yet another object intended to frighten.
"Fabulous, isn't it?" Benjamin held the object of his delight in both hands. "It's a war mask from Africa. One of the slavers managed to locate it on one of his voyages and thought we'd like to include it in the museum."
Nathaniel didn't want to contemplate what else the man had brought from Africa. A tremor snaked down his back. "I'd hate to see a person wearing such a hideous mask coming at me."
Benjamin chuckled and replaced the item in its nest of straw and settled the lid into place. "Indeed."
"Why did you want me to come here?" Nathaniel gestured to the room at large, encompassing the many crates and barrels. By doing so, he attempted to replace the image of the mask with a more pleasing one. "What is all this?"
"Frank and I would like to enlist your help." Benjamin crossed his arms and regarded Nathaniel for a long moment. "If you're so inclined?"
Nathaniel shrugged. "What form of help?"
"We've located a better place to house the museum collection and we need to move everything from here to there."
Which translated into handling the creatures, too. Nathaniel suppressed a shudder with an effort. Animals should be alive, not stuffed and put out for all to gawk at. On the other hand, how would people learn about them if they never had chance to see them? "I don't know..."
The door swung open, admitting both a blast of cool air and Frank. Dust motes floated on the air and settled as he made his way through the cluttered room. His black beaver tricorne and the shoulders of his matching cloak glistened with rain, his tall black boots leaving wet prints on the grimy floor. The weather had apparently deteriorated in the minutes he'd stood within the warehouse. Distant thunder announced the approach of a storm, confirming his supposition.
"The man for the job." Frank halted in front of Nathaniel to shake hands with him. "Has Benjamin shared our proposition with you?"
"I started to before you interrupted." Benjamin shook hands with Frank and then focused on Nathaniel. "Three days and a wagon would see the work done."
"It's not that I don't appreciate your offer." How could he explain without his new friends thinking ill of his reason? "I do."
"We realize you're in some financial straits." Frank laid an arm around Nathaniel's shoulders. "Let u
s help you at the same time you help us."
The weight of Frank's arm reassured Nathaniel of the man's intent and sincerity. "Would the stuffed creatures need to go as well?"
Benjamin raised a brow as a knowing grin appeared on his mouth. "Definitely. Is there a problem?"
Frank removed his arm and stepped to one side, peering at Nathaniel. "Do they perturb you?"
Nathaniel swallowed, fighting the urge to vomit. "I can't touch them."
The very idea raised horrific images in his mind. When he was six or seven, his family had gone to visit his uncle Jack in Virginia. The huge man scared him into silence with his gargantuan frame and snarling features. Added to his appearance, which surely Nathaniel would have grown accustomed to provided they had remained longer, his uncle delighted in capturing animals and then killing and stuffing them to set out in his house. Indeed, the entire abode seemed to overflow with creatures—foxes, squirrels, rabbits, raccoons, coyotes, bear cubs, and even a mountain lion—on most every horizontal surface, shocking him at each turn. When Jack had tried to force him to play with them, he'd run screaming from the house and refused his parents' attempts to make him go back inside. The memory evoked a shudder of loathing.
Benjamin folded his arms across his chest. "We can manage those. What do you say?"
Hesitating, Nathaniel considered his response. On one hand, he sorely could use the income. On the other, the very idea of returning to move among the stuffed and preserved animals made him quake in his boots. Yet, he had no other plans at the present to conflict with their request. But those eyes...
"We'd pay you, of course." Frank rested his fists on his hips. "Twenty dollars specie."
"That would give you the wherewithal to court Evelyn." Benjamin dropped his hands to his side, and rested one hip against a barrel. "With some left over for your pocket."
"Court Evelyn?" They knew he wanted to make love to the beautiful widow? To see her and hold her hand? When he first laid eyes on her, the day of the army's foraging raid on the Hamilton estate, she'd seemed so frail and pathetic he'd taken pity on her. Then when he met her at the wedding, she had changed enough he almost didn't recognize her. She'd bloomed as a result of her widowhood.
