Cade opened the bidding with, “Ten dollars.”
Beside her, Sharyah gasped and mumbled something unintelligible under her breath.
And Victoria grinned.
Mr. Reed raised his gavel and looked at the few single men left who hadn’t yet won a lunch.
To a man, all shoulders slumped and heads shook. None of them could afford that much.
“Ten dollars going once, going twice…, SOLD to Mr. Bennett for the princely sum of ten dollars!” Bang! His gavel crashed down and the field erupted into applause as people milled about to get with their families, collect their baskets, and spread blankets across the hillside.
Rocky spread their blanket under the shade of a huge oak with Jimmy’s help. And Victoria set to work pulling the contents of the basket from its depths. Fried chicken, potato salad, creamed corn, pickles, cookies, and quart jars of fresh milk. When she came to the apple pie, she stilled, and remembering his earlier quip about enjoying her pie, decided to leave it in the basket. She eased back, shutting the lid as though she’d pulled everything out.
Rocky, busy looking at a scrape on Damera’s knee, didn’t seem to notice.
Hannah spread her large blanket for the orphans out next to them. She never brought a meal to auction at the box lunch, but instead made enough to feed the orphans. Her contribution to the fundraiser was to give each of the orphans a penny so they could participate in the three-legged races that would take place after lunch. Each person paid a penny to enter the race. Whichever team won got to keep half the pot and the other half went into the school’s coffers.
Victoria savored her final bite of crispy chicken, as a soft breeze blew across the hillside, rustling the long grasses in a soothing melody of sibilant praise.
The children gobbled down the last of their food and asked if they could be dismissed to play by the creek again. Rocky nodded and told them to come back when the races started and he would give them each pennies so they could join in the fun. A few moments later he rose from his place across the blanket, sauntered over to Hannah and dropped a handful of change into her palm.
Victoria smiled. It looked like the orphans would get to participate in more than one race each. Her heart warmed at the thoughtful gesture and then stuttered to a standstill as Julia stepped up to Rocky’s side. “Victoria,” Julia gave her a chilly little nod, then purred, “Rocky,” and wrapped her arms around his bicep.
Rocky stiffened noticeably and Victoria felt a measure of satisfaction at the near revulsion that etched his face as he extracted his arm from her clutches.
He took a step away and settled his hands on his hips. “What can we do for you Julia?”
Julia looked a little lost with nothing to hold onto. She flipped open her fan and fluttered it in front of her face, her chin tipping up. “I thought it only fair to let you know that since I will no longer be working for the Children’s Aid Society, your case has been turned over to another worker. He will be dropping by for an inspection of your place and to check on the children at some point.”
“Thank you for letting us know. You have a good afternoon now.” And with that Rocky dropped down right beside Victoria and propped one arm behind her back. “How about that pie?”
Victoria glanced from Julia to him and back. “Thank you for letting us know, Julia. We’ll be looking for him.” She offered a little smile and couldn’t help but feel a touch sorry for the woman as she sashayed away, perfectly-coiffed head held high, but defeat draping her shoulders. Victoria turned to Rocky. “Maybe you shouldn’t be so blunt with her.”
Rocky barked a laugh. “Trust me, blunt is the only language Julia understands. And I don’t want her getting any ideas into that head of hers, especially not when I have the only woman I’ve ever wanted sitting right here by my side. Now,” leaning in to speak low near her ear, he asked, “are you going to bring that apple pie out? Or am I going to have to fight you for it?”
She giggled like a little girl and glanced down at her skirt. The only woman he ever wanted… Would her heart ever beat normally again?
She pretended demureness and added a touch of southern drawl to her words as she pressed one hand to the base of her throat. “Such shocking words, Mr. Jordan! A man fighting a woman for a mere slice of pie!”
He shifted toward her and his free hand landed dangerously close to the ticklish spot just above her knee. “What’s shocking is that a woman would refuse to share a slice of the best apple pie in the country with her husband.” One finger reached out to tap her knee. “Are you ticklish, by chance?” A devilish gleam leapt into his eyes.
“Rocky Jordan!” Her voice was a fierce whisper as she glanced around to make sure no one watched them. “We are in public. Don’t you dare do such a thing!”
“Hmmm…” His lips flattened into a calculating smile and his eyes narrowed. “You have been opening up and talking to me more. Even admitted a few things that make me realize you are trying to make our relationship work. So, by rights, I should be nice to you. But…,” he studied her, his face perfectly serious, “you did try to get me to bid on Mrs. Halvorson’s basket so perhaps a little bit of payback is in order.” His hand moved just enough so that his fingers and thumb now rested on either side of her leg. “Or…” he flicked a glance toward Sky and Brooke, deep in an intimate conversation over on their blanket, then brought his attention back to her and winked, “we could reinitiate our conversation from just before the bidding started? Something about how Brooke got Sky to wear that rose this morning…?”
Victoria lurched forward. “I’ll get the pie.”
His lips twitched. “I thought you might.”
19
Simon Saunders rubbed the back of his neck and pondered his quandary. The husband had told him to stay away from the girl. But he needed to get his hands on that locket at her neck. On the other hand, with both of them occupied at the picnic, now would be a good time to retrieve the doll from her house, presuming she even still had the thing. Or would the mother have it? Maybe her mother had thrown the doll away years ago.
He grimaced. He’d deal with that if it came to it.
But there was only one way to find out. He leaned out from behind the church and peered down the hill again. The husband whispered something in the girl’s ear that made her give his shoulder a push. The three brats tromped along the edge of the creek with a passel of other young’uns and looked like they planned to be there for a while.
He grinned. They were in no hurry to get home. He’d just meander out to their place and snoop around a bit.
Sharyah watched Cade polish off the last bite of his second slice of pie and grinned. “Would you like another?”
He rubbed a hand over his stomach. “I couldn’t eat another morsel. This was one of the best meals I’ve eaten in a long time. Thanks.”
“I want to thank you for your generous donation to the school’s fundraiser. That was very kind of you.”
“It was the least I could do. I know you’ll put the funds to good use for the children.”
She nodded and tucked the pie tin back into the basket. Cade wasn’t acting like himself. Normally he joked constantly, but today he’d been rather quiet and thoughtful. She wanted to ask him if everything was alright. But maybe it was her stupid revealing slap that had him acting so serious and if that was the case she didn’t want to have that discussion here on this hillside in front of half the town.
Still, he’d been her friend for almost her entire life…. “Is everything alright, Cade?”
He propped his arms behind him and leaned back. “Sorry. I haven’t been very good company, have I?”
Sharyah covered the dish of leftover salad and put it in the picnic basket. She cocked her head to one side and met his gaze. “You just haven’t been yourself.”
Reaching out, he plucked a stem of grass, tucking it into the corner of his mouth. “Had a lot on my mind the last few days, I guess.” He worked the blade with his tongue, his dark blue gaze drillin
g into hers with magnetic intensity.
Her heart pounded in her ears like the thundering feet of the children rushing out to recess each day. “I see.”
The stem bobbed its way to the other side of his mouth and still he didn’t break eye contact. “Ma hasn’t been feeling well. She’s getting headaches that bring her to her knees and put her in bed for days. Doc doesn’t know what’s wrong. Dad stayed home with her today. ”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I knew she hadn’t been feeling well. But I can see why you would be worried about her.”
He tossed the first stem aside and plucked another. Rolling it between his fingers he studied it for a long moment, then looked up and met her gaze. “Thanks,” he smiled, “I’m sure she’ll be fine in a couple weeks. Doc prescribed lots of rest and we’ve been praying, of course.”
Sharyah tried an encouraging smile. “I’m sure you’re right.”
“Anyhow,” he rose to squat on the balls of his booted feet, “I need to be going, but I wanted to finish up our conversation from the other day….”
She felt a blaze ignite her cheeks. She turned away and pretended interest in an oak across the field. “Cade, I don’t want you to misunderstand….”
Actually, she did. She really did. If only he would totally misunderstand and spare her the humiliation of him knowing the depth of her feelings for him.
The intensity of his scrutiny prickled her neck and her focus flicked back to him.
Soft emotion darkened his eyes to midnight blue. “Did I misunderstand?” He broke the stalk into tiny pieces and dropped them near his feet, his attention never leaving her face.
She bit her tongue and looked away. She would not lie to him, no matter how badly the deception wanted to crawl from her throat.
There was the snap of another stem breaking and he leaned over, laying the fuchsia-bloom-studded frond of a wild pea by her knee. “Sharyah, I want to be honest with you. You caught me off guard, and at a really bad time.” He focused on the growing pile of grass bits by his feet. “With Ma….” He looked up then. “I don’t want to hurt you. You’re like the kid sister I never had.”
Her heart flinched. She started to smooth at an invisible wrinkle in her skirt, but at his pointed look of sympathy and understanding she clenched her hand into a fist instead.
“I care for you. But not in the way a man should for… there to be more.”
Her short fingernails bit into her palm.
“I never noticed until just the other day what a beautiful woman you’ve grown into, and some man is going to be very lucky when you fall in love with him one day, but I would be less than kind if I let you hope that you and I….”
Well that left nothing to the interpretation, now did it?
Picking up the pink blooms with a trembling hand, she held them to her nose. There was no scent, just like there was no chance for her to have a relationship with Cade.
She didn’t know how to reply and she couldn’t bring herself to look into his face. A few moments later his footsteps receded across the hill.
She sighed but carefully maintained her composure. The collapse could come later. At home. In the privacy of her bedroom.
Simon wheezed as he crested the last low hill before Victoria’s place. Blast but this extra weight he was carrying as part of his disguise hindered him, at times. The path down from the road to their place led first past the barn. He glanced down the road behind him to make sure no one had followed him, then descended the trail and rested a shoulder into the back corner of the barn, peering around into their yard.
When he’d been here the other day he hadn’t noticed any dogs and his current perusal confirmed that the place seemed to be unguarded and waiting for his entry.
He slipped around the side of the barn and soft-footed his way to the back of the house. Better to work from there, that way no one could happen by on the road and notice him.
There were two windows along the back of the little place. He tried the first. Locked. The second held fast also.
Well that left him no choice but to do this the hard way. He didn’t want his presence in the place to later be detected when they arrived home. He hurried back to the barn and pushed his way inside. The work room sported tack on one wall and a table of tools along another. He searched it for what he needed and found a long pry bar that should do the trick. Hefting it, he made his way back to the other side of the house and set to work on one of the windows. It wasn’t long before he heard the snap of the inner lock as he pried the window up, but he was still sweating like a roasted boar.
He swiped one arm across his brow and tossed the crow bar to one side. He would return it to the barn on his way out. Now he just needed something to stand on so he could lift himself through the opening.
A large rock rested not too far away, shavings of wood littering the ground around it. With a grunt he rolled the stone till it rested under the window. Within moments he had clambered inside.
The room he stood in looked like one shared by the two young girls. A large double poster bed rested against one wall and a dresser held two small brushes. He opened the door cautiously and poked his head out. Silence was his only greeting. The room farthest down the hall, held only one rumpled bed and had to be the boy’s. That left only one other, the one in the middle, for the newlyweds to share.
He pushed open the door and let out a low whistle. “Right fancy!” Even had a carpet on the floor and a mirror over the dressing table. He gave himself a long perusal followed by a satisfied nod. No one would recognize him as Simon Saunders. He hardly recognized himself.
Now to find what he needed. Maybe the girl had left her necklace home today. He pawed through the few pieces of jewelry on the tray in front of the mirror. Not there. He sighed. Somehow he needed to get his hands on that necklace.
He turned to survey the room and stilled, unable to believe his easy fortune. A doll sat on the bedside table, one rag leg hanging over the edge while the other poked out at a jaunty angle. The fabric had faded, but it was definitely the doll. The legs were sewn from the fabric of one of his old shirts and the dress…. Mags had been wearing that material the day he’d met her. He’d known right then that she had plenty of money. No one wore crimson velvet unless they did. The doll’s black button eyes stared, haunting him with memories of years gone by….
….The familiar comforting burn scalded his throat as he guzzled straight from the decanter, the stopper a hard ball at the center of one fist. He glared out the window – across the rolling green lawn in need of a trim, past the white fence and lost his focus somewhere in the wind-jostled field of weeds and tobacco.
The crop had been so promising this year. The rains had been good. The bugs reclusive.
But when the right honorable Senator McKenna had passed on, the slaves had all left the plantation. They’d abandoned him!
Curse the compassionate man and the stupidity of emancipation.
How was he to know that McKenna had freed every slave on the place after the war but they’d all stayed out of loyalty to him and of their own free will?
The man had paid the wretches!
After the death of the senator, the unreliable lot had up and abandoned him in the middle of the night. All but the two fools who’d stayed out of loyalty to Maggie. The sheriff, slave loving coward that he was, refused to go after them.
So he was left with unkempt fields, and now—this.
He glanced around the barren room, once more, the surge of a barely controlled temper quivering through him. Gone were the golden candelabras that had rested on the mantel, the silver tea service from the hutch, the gilt framed paintings that had hung above the settee. Across the room the safe still gaped open, as he’d left it moments ago, the interior taunting in its emptiness.
Maggie’s valise lay packed and waiting by the front door.
She’d been planning on leaving him. After she stripped him of everything. Good thing he’d come home from his trip a few days early. Where
would she be?
The liquor burned his throat again, and he closed his eyes as he began to slip into familiar numbness.
Had she birthed the whelp? She wasn’t due for a couple weeks.
The door behind him opened and the very lady of his thoughts walked in, pulling driving gloves from her fingers.
She froze and gawked at him, her face paling.
Good. Her fear of him pulsed palpably – wrapped around her like a cloak. He raked her from head to toe. Then paused on the flat of her belly. “So I see you’ve birthed the child. Bring it. I want to see it.” He guzzled another mouthful.
The darkie doe entered behind her. She darted him a terrified glance, swung her white shawl off of her shoulders and draped it on the hook by the door, then scuttled away into the kitchen.
Maggie pressed her palms together. “The babe died during the birthing.”
He sneered. She actually thought he would believe her? He could see the lie in her shifting eyes.
A few swift strides and he had her by the throat. “I know that’s a lie. What have you done with the child?”
Eyes wide with panic, she clutched at his hand. “Please, Simon. God’s own truth it is! After ye— after what ye did, the babe came early.”
The rage swelled from deep inside him. It curled, and wafted and churned until he could feel the heat of it stroking his neck and flowing up into his face. The strength of it clenching his fingers tight around her throat.
Maggie’s legs gave out from under her and she clawed at his hand, her eyes wild and bulging, her mouth yawning in an unfulfilled gasp for air.
Pain crashed across his skull. He grunted and released his grip, stumbling sideways as shards of glass tinkled around his feet. The room tilted and he put one foot out to catch his balance, but he must have misjudged because his body slammed down hard and he could feel the cold of the wood floor against his cheek. He blinked deliberately, pushing blinding blackness back by sheer force of will.
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