He chewed a mouthful of bread before replying. “I need the wagon in the fields today. But John usually goes to town every morning. Perhaps you can ride with him.” Verity snatched a slice of bread from the table and ran upstairs to fetch a bonnet and her coin purse.
She returned to the kitchen to borrow a shopping basket from Beulah, and her father surprised her by pressing a half dollar into her hand. “Buy yourself something pretty,” he mumbled without meeting her eyes. She understood that this was his way of apologizing for not taking her himself and for allowing her to discover the state of her mother’s grave without warning. After a moment of awkward silence, Verity left by the back door, unhappy that she and her father had so little to say to each other.
She felt guilty about Nate, too. As she walked down the road toward the Thomas house, she acknowledged that she’d behaved rather shrewishly in his company. There was nothing she could do about it until Friday, but she pledged to make a better impression when next she met him.
The welcoming attractiveness of the Thomas house made a sharp contrast with the Boone residence. Verity decided she would have to remedy that situation. No matter where she and Nate decided to live, it was not acceptable for her father’s house to present such a sad face to the world.
John Thomas was hitching a horse to his trap just as Verity arrived. He was willing to take his niece to town with him, but her unexpected appearance presented a problem. No sooner had Verity been handed up into the trap than her three youngest cousins spilled out of the house, demanding that they, too, ride to town with Cousin Verity.
The older Thomas children trailed behind their brothers. Johnny gave Verity a shy smile, then concentrated on kicking rocks down the lane. The girl, Liza, cast an appraising glance at her cousin but looked away when Verity smiled in return. Tall and plain, Liza had a round face and a high forehead. Her hair was dark like her father’s, bound in braids and pinned to the back of her head.
“Come with us, Liza,” Uncle John urged. “You can get acquainted with Verity. What luck for you to finally have another young lady nearby!”
Liza shook her head. “I can’t. Mama needs me this morning.”
“I can’t take the boys if you don’t come,” her father said. “I have business in town.” When Liza shook her head again, he shrugged and glanced at the children, who were clambering into the trap behind him. “Out, fellows! You’ll have to stay home.”
Verity couldn’t bear the wailing produced by this command, nor could she resist the chubby arms Stephen and Samuel threw around her neck. The twins reminded her of the Gaines boys, whom she suddenly missed very much. “I’ll watch them, Uncle John,” she volunteered.
“Liza!” he exclaimed. “Look what you’ve done— condemned your cousin to trial by fire!” Verity wished he wouldn’t press his daughter to come against her will. The girl looked sour enough already.
“I’ll help,” Johnny said with feigned lack of interest, as if he hadn’t been looking for the opportunity to join them all along.
Liza turned and strode back up the walkway to the house. She hadn’t said a single word, greeting or otherwise, to her cousin. Verity assumed that the “cap” Liza had set at Nathaniel McClure was still set firmly upon her head.
While they rode into town, Verity told her uncle the reason for her trip.
“Asenath’s grave.” His eyes took on a distant, dreamy look. “That’s very thoughtful of you. A kind gesture.” She was glad he thought so, for it had been her intention to treat his wife’s grave the same as her mother’s, whether he approved or not.
Sunlight flattered Catawissa more than rain clouds had, and Verity was cheered by the sight of people on the streets going about their business. The town seemed to be prosperous and growing: there were new homes with stylish gables and turrets, as well as log and stone houses that probably dated back eighty years. Leafy trees shaded the streets, and flowers bloomed in carefully tended beds.
Uncle John tied up his horse near the common and vanished, saying he had appointments to keep. Before he’d been gone ten minutes, Verity had saved either Samuel or Stephen from being trampled by a horse and pulled Piper down off a telegraph pole. When she turned around, the other twin had run off in the direction of the river, where he no doubt planned to fall in and die a horrible death under the water wheels of the Catawissa Paper Mill. She chased after him for two blocks, caught him, and carried him back on her hip, while Johnny trailed behind, dragging his feet in the dirt and being no help whatsoever.
“Listen to me!” Verity finally said in exasperation, setting the child down on the footboard of his father’s trap. “You stay here, all four of you, or I’ll never let you come to town with me again! I’m going into the store, and don’t you dare move!”
Dyers General Goods turned out to be a sizable establishment, offering canned food and other groceries, hardware and bolts of fabric, and even a small apothecary’s corner in the back. Verity was relieved to see the place so well supplied. She’d been afraid she might have to order most of her goods from Reading or Philadelphia.
Verity looked over the groceries, noting what the store had in stock, and when she spotted jam preserves, she put a jar in her basket. Jam tarts were a specialty of hers, and the party on Friday would be an occasion to bake some. Then she went to the ribbons. She planned on making wreaths to decorate the iron structures over the graves so they would look less like cages. She was examining several spools at the back of the store when a familiar name caught her attention.
“Will you attend Fanny McClure’s party on Friday?” It was a woman’s voice.
“Certainly,” another replied. “I want to see the girl who snatched up the most eligible bachelor in town without even meeting him first!”
“Shocking, isn’t it? My Amelie cried for days.”
“It’s because of the land, of course. Why else would Nathaniel McClure marry a girl whose mother was—well, everyone knows what she was.”
Verity flinched and lost her grip on a spool of ribbon. It clattered to the floor, drawing the attention of everyone in the store. Stiffening her spine and lifting her chin, she turned around to face the women and watch their reactions. They’d never seen her before, and yet they had to know who she was.
One of them looked away, her cheeks flaming red. The other, however, smirked, completely unrepentant. Verity picked up her basket, paid for her purchases, and swept out of the store.
On the street she paused to expel the breath she’d been holding, outraged. How dare those women speak about her betrothal that way? And what they said about her mother . . . Looking down at the basket full of ribbon, she realized that wreaths would not be nearly enough to redeem any kind of dignity for those two graves. She closed her eyes a moment, in grief and shame, and opened them just in time to observe the disaster happening down the street.
One of the twins was standing on the seat of the trap, striking a defiant pose with his fists on his hips and shouting, “You’ll never take me alive!”
Piper clambered up the back wheel of the trap. “I don’t aim to!” he hollered, balancing on the wheel and hanging on to the back of the trap with one hand. “Surrender or die, Silas Clayton! You cowardly deserter!”
“Piper, get down!” Verity cried as the boy let go of his handhold to cock and aim an imaginary gun.
“I’ll see you in hell first!” the standing twin shouted. Before Verity could take breath to scold him for swearing, he smacked the horse on the rump and yelled, “Git up there, Lightning!” The patient but sorely tried Thomas horse, whose name was Bill, started in alarm. The trap rolled forward, and Piper pitched face first into the dirt between the wheels.
Verity plunged down the street before he’d even commenced screaming. She shoved her basket into Johnny’s arms and helped Piper sit up. His face was covered in blood. She whipped out a handkerchief and tried to wipe away the gore to discover the extent of the damage, but Piper fought her, blood mixing with snot and tears to form a horribl
e mess.
“Dr. Robbins lives a block down the street,” Johnny said.
Verity scooped the struggling child up into her arms. “Show me.”
The doctor lived in a two-story clapboard house with professional rooms in the back. They burst in through the patients’ entrance like a summer storm, all thunder and lightning and commotion. Piper screamed and flailed, the twins wailed, Verity was covered in blood, and Johnny skulked in the rear.
A young man came out of the doctor’s examining room wiping his hands on a towel. He took one look at them, then rushed forward and blotted Piper’s face with the towel. “That’s going to need stitching,” he stated.
Piper howled. Verity passed him into the doctor’s arms, but the boy clung to her with both hands, pulling her along with them into the examining room. “Find your father!” she shouted over her shoulder to Johnny, who bolted from the office.
“You’re not their sister,” the young man declared as he carried Piper to a chair.
Verity sat down first and took the boy on her lap. “No,” she agreed. “Are you Dr. Robbins?”
“No.” Catching Piper’s wrists in one hand, he wiped away enough blood to expose a wide gash crossing the child’s eyebrow. “I notice you don’t faint at the sight of blood,” he said.
“I never faint,” she told him proudly.
His eyes were blue, but not dark like Nate’s. They were pale and seemed to twinkle with good humor. Ginger haired, fair skinned, and not much older than Verity herself, he displayed a confident demeanor that calmed her racing heart. If he was not the doctor, he was giving a fair impression of one. “How are you with a needle?” he asked, letting go of Piper’s hands and crossing the room to rummage in a drawer.
Verity answered him bravely. “My embroidery is excellent.”
The young man laughed. “I’ll handle the needle; I just want you to hold him down.” He returned with a handful of peppermint candies, which he waved in the air to catch the attention of Stephen and Samuel. The twins stopped crying. Then he strode to the waiting room door and whistled as though they were a pair of dogs. They scampered after him and dove for the candy when he tossed it across the room.
He shut the adjoining door and turned back to his patient. “Now to business.” Piper began to wail again as the young doctor threaded silk through a needle. “How did he hurt himself?”
Verity paused, then said, “He was trying to capture a deserter, I think.”
“Really?”
Piper looked back and forth between them. “And save General Washington’s payroll!”
“Oh, that deserter!” The young doctor turned to Verity. “Please hold his arms and his legs. Leave his head to me.”
Verity settled herself in the chair. She grabbed one of Piper’s hands in each of hers and crossed them over his chest, but his legs presented more difficulty. Piper raised his legs up and kicked wildly at the doctor. After a moment’s consideration, Verity threw one of her own legs over both of the boy’s, locking his body against her own. This position presented a wide swath of petticoats for public display, but after one brief, appreciative glance, the young man directed his attention solely to his patient.
With his free hand he grabbed a fistful of Piper’s hair just above the cut and pressed the boy’s head back against Verity’s shoulder. “Did you get him?” he asked mildly. “The deserter, that is.” He cleansed the wound with a cloth.
“I did,” grunted Piper, a bit hoarse from screaming.
The doctor made quick, decisive passes with the needle, his head bent close to his patient. Feeling Piper’s little body shudder with each stitch, Verity could see nothing but clean curls of ginger hair. In spite of her claims, she was finding the smell of blood pungent and unsettling. She leaned back in the chair.
“Brought him to justice, did you?” the young man murmured, snipping off the end of the thread.
“And found the gold.” Piper’s body sagged against Verity’s.
“I’ll bet you did,” he said softly to Piper. “I’ll bet you did.” Then he raised his eyes to Verity. “Well done, Miss Not-Thomas.”
Verity smiled up at him. “Thank you, Dr. Not-Robbins. That was very well done yourself.”
He laughed again, a pleasant laugh filled with good humor. He wiped off his hands with a towel and held one out to her. “I’m Hadley Jones, apprentice to Dr. Robbins.”
Verity set Piper on his feet and took Jones’s hand, allowing him to help her stand. “I’m Verity Boone.” When she tried to release his hand, hers stuck to his, and she realized her hand was covered with blood, as was much of the rest of her.
He passed her the towel. “Let me get you a washbasin.”
Piper was feeling his forehead with probing fingers. “How’s it look?” he asked Verity. “I hope it leaves a big scar!”
At that moment the door burst open and John Thomas appeared. “Piper!”
“Oh, Uncle John,” said Verity. “I’m so sorry!”
“It’s not your fault, Verity. The boy is a menace.” Her uncle took his son by the chin and lifted his face. “What’s the damage?”
“Keep it clean, Mr. Thomas,” the apprentice said, “and it should heal easily.”
While her uncle paid the doctor’s fee, Verity washed her hands. “I ought to keep you on retainer, Jones,” Uncle John grunted.
“It might save time, at that.” The young man grinned and winked at Verity.
She stiffened and looked away. Perhaps he wasn’t aware that she was an engaged woman. Heaven knew what he thought of her, showing all those petticoats. But she’d held the child still and hadn’t fainted, and wasn’t that what mattered?
Uncle John left the office, herding the boys before him. Verity followed but found herself glancing back, almost against her will.
Hadley Jones was leaning against the doorway, arms crossed against his chest, smiling and watching her go.
Six
“DIDN’T YOU look after him at all?” Liza exclaimed at the sight of her brother.
“I did look after him!” Verity retorted. How dare this country mouse snap at her? After listening to those horrible women revile her mother and then holding Piper down for his stitches, Verity was in no mood to restrain her temper. She looked around, wanting her uncle to defend her, but John Thomas had already disappeared. She’d never met a man with such a talent for being absent when he was needed.
“You’re useless,” Liza said to Verity. She put both arms around Piper and drew him in through the front door of the Thomas house.
“I warrant you could have done no better!” Verity followed them over the threshold, not because she’d been invited in but because she didn’t care to be dismissed in such a fashion.
The other girl’s pale moon face was taut with dislike. “I don’t know what passes for watching children in Worcester, but—”
“That’s enough, Liza.”
The words, softly spoken, stopped the girl in midrampage.
A woman strode toward them down the central hall of the house. Slender, with deep brown hair set in corkscrew ringlets, Clara Thomas was surprisingly plain, Verity thought, to be married to such a handsome man. Yet, as the woman calmly surveyed her injured son and then smacked his bottom with one efficient hand, she seemed the perfect match for Verity’s flighty uncle.
“Was he patched up by Dr. Robbins or the apprentice?” she asked, turning to Verity.
“It was the apprentice.”
“Good. He’s stitched up my sons before, and he does neat work. It should heal cleanly.” She looked her niece over from head to toe, then turned toward the back of the house. “Come with me, Verity, and I’ll tend to those stains.”
“Oh, that’s not necessary.”
“Don’t be foolish,” her aunt replied. “They’ve already set longer than they should, but I have a trick or two that might work. Come along. You too, Liza.” Glaring at each other, the girls followed her.
In a washroom off the kitchen, Clara Thomas
unceremoniously stripped her niece to her undergarments. To Verity it seemed overly familiar for somebody who’d never formally introduced herself, but family was family. Verity’s dress went into a basin of cold water, and since she couldn’t go home in her chemise and petticoats, nor in a soaking wet dress, her aunt ordered, “Liza, bring your cousin something that will fit her.” Liza opened her mouth to protest but thought better of it and flounced off.
Aunt Clara fetched a jar of salt from a shelf, then cast her eyes over Verity’s hair and face. “You’re all Ransloe,” she commented, as emotionless as if she were remarking on the weather. “I don’t see much of Sarah Ann in you.”
“Did you know my mother?” Verity watched her aunt take a handful of salt and scrub it into the bloodstains.
“Of course.”
“Nathaniel McClure took me to the cemetery yesterday.” Verity didn’t mention that the visit was accidental—or that she’d punched him. “It was the first time I’d seen her grave.”
Aunt Clara raised an eyebrow. “I suppose that was a startling sight. We’re so accustomed to those things by now, we hardly notice them.”
“I think they look too bare. I’m going to make grave wreaths for them.”
Liza returned, holding a dun-colored dress Verity suspected was the ugliest she could find. She thanked the girl for lending her something to wear home—which was as truthful a statement as she could make—and turned back to her aunt. “I want to decorate both graves,” she said. “It seems wrong to do only one. Uncle John said I could tend to Aunt Asenath’s grave too.”
Liza drew in her breath sharply, but Aunt Clara only nodded. “Her grave has gone neglected far too long. It should have been John’s responsibility, but he was never one for unpleasant tasks.”
Verity glanced out the washroom window, toward the arbor and the garden beyond it. “I’d also like to plant flowers around the graves. In Worcester we make the cemeteries look like gardens, pretty enough to walk through.”
Her aunt took the hint quickly enough. “I’ll give you cuttings. I’m sure I have some plants hardy enough for that rocky soil.” Aunt Clara eyed her niece with speculation. “You don’t remember your mother and Asenath, do you? No, of course not. You were too young.”
The Caged Graves Page 4
