Cora (Southern Hearts Book 3)

by Felicia Rogers

  "What are you thinking?" She stared at him, her gaze penetrating.

  He lifted one corner of his mouth in a relaxed grin. There were several ways to keep a woman at bay. One, make them angry with you. He could betray her, or he could destroy the positive image she held of him. He chose the latter, and crossed his fingers behind his back. "I was thinking how terrible you look. And don't get me started on your smell. If you don't mind sleeping down wind tonight, I'd appreciate it. I thought I was going to gag when we were on the horse…"

  He kept going. She clenched her fists, jutted her chin, squinted her eyes, and bared her teeth. Her reactions told him he'd hit the mark and he cringed inwardly. When he finished she wouldn't want anything to do with him. Good, that was how it should be.

  She leaned over, grabbed a rabbit leg, rolled it in the ashes, and threw it at him. Frederic fell backward off his seat and yelped as the hot meat seared his chest.

  "Why did you do that?" he asked, patting at the singed shirt material.

  She ignored the question and stalked off into the surrounding tree line. He clamped his mouth shut and forced himself not to run after her and apologize.

  ****

  "How dare he!" shouted Cora under her breath.

  Tree limbs brushed her legs and slapped her face and she pushed them out of the way. She had no idea where she was going she only knew she wanted away from Frederic. What was wrong with him? One minute he was sweet and sensitive, catering to her every need, and the next he was spouting off ridiculous things about her noxious odor.

  Sure she didn't smell good, how could she? She'd taken an impromptu swim in a pond, spent three hours in a stinky barn surrounded by animal dung and wet hay, and rode all afternoon on the back of a horse. Not to mention the fact he'd dragged her through the marshy wilderness in the throes of summer wearing a velvet dress with long sleeves! And he hadn't even provided a change of clothes. How did he expect her to smell?

  The sound of rushing water drew her and she came to the edge of a stream. She bent and scooped up the cool liquid allowing it to run under her collar and around her neck. It dribbled inside her sleeves and the gown stuck to her skin. She wadded the sleeve's hem in her hand and jerked. The shoulder seams protested and she tugged harder. The material came off in her hand and she sighed with relief reaching to do the same to the other sleeve.

  Next she ripped out folds of crinoline from underneath the skirt. One layer at a time she piled them up. The water licked at her toes and she dared to put her feet into the stream, gasping from the unexpected frigidness.

  Sitting on the bank, she placed her palms on the wet earth and leaned back. The sun struck her chest and she sighed. If only the water was a little warmer she would strip to her under things and enjoy a dip, but this was New York not Louisiana.

  Animals scurried behind her and Cora asked, "What do you want?"

  Frederic came through a row of bushes. She eyed him warily. Like a school boy, he held his hat in his hands and bent his head in embarrassment until she almost pitied him, almost.

  She waited for an apology, but instead he kicked at the ground and said, "You're toes are going to freeze off."

  "Humph." She crossed her arms over her chest and turned away.

  "I mean when you get out, we don't have anything to dry them with and then they'll be wet in your shoes and…"

  He stopped talking as she withdrew from the water and crossed the rocky embankment barefoot to the waiting horses. He grabbed her shoes and followed. Astride the horse, she waited. He took the hint and climbed onto his own horse.

  She lifted her chin and stated, "I guess we should be going."

  "I guess so," he agreed with chagrin.

  A trip that had started with them communicating was now traveled in awkward silence. She bit the inside of her cheek. She squeezed her fists so tight crescent shaped nail marks dotted her palms. Her teeth ached from clenching. She couldn't stand it. If they had to travel all the way to Louisiana without speaking, she would be driven totally crazy.

  Birds chirped and squirrels ran overhead jumping from limb to limb. Up ahead a narrow bridge arched above a stream. They crossed one at a time. The other side opened into a vast valley. Knee high weeds swayed in the wind. Sunflowers stood erect and Cora plucked some of the seeds and popped them into her mouth.

  The sun warmed her toes and she bent forward and drew on her shoes. Leaned over the horse's neck a whoosh of air lifted her hair. Smoke rolled from the edge of the woods and a loud booming sound echoed around them.

  "Was that gunfire?"

  Frederic ignored her question, tugged on her reins, and yelled, "Ride!"

  She kicked the horse's sides and they made a beeline for the opposite side of the once peaceful valley.

  Bullets ripped through the weeds, kicked up dirt, and sent birds into flight. Bent low over the horse's neck, Cora urged the beast forward. Her heart pounded against her ribs as if it threatened to leave her chest. Water ran from her eyes and her throat burned as the wind whipped her face.

  "Who is shooting at us?" she yelled.

  Frederic didn't answer, he only rode faster.

  The tree line loomed largely before them. They burst through thick brambles into the forest and still Frederic didn't let up his pace. Gnarled trees twisted upward toward the light, roots lay above the ground threatening to trip them, yet still they pushed the horses harder and harder.

  Sunlight peeped through the leaves casting shadows and creating a trail. It seemed as if only seconds had passed before they burst out the other side and came to a halt at a dirt road. Frederic twirled his horse in a circle. The forest was behind, and a large open field filled with horses lay before. Muttered curses flew from his lips.

  There was no where to run. What would they do now?

  Chapter Fifteen

  The muttered curses grew in intensity until Frederic spotted a red hue dotting Cora's cheeks. Curbing his tongue, he focused on their situation.

  At their backs, men shot at them. If they were found, they were sitting ducks. Neither the field nor the road offered shelter.

  Dust billowed on the horizon and Frederic made a snap decision. "Get off the horse."

  "What? But shouldn't we–"

  Sternly he repeated, "Get off the horse."

  She obeyed and he slapped the rumps of both mounts. They trotted to the field and began to graze. Other horses gathered around them until they blended.

  Cora's exposed arms glowed bronze, highlighting defined muscle. He pushed her toward the base of a tree and said, "Climb."

  She tilted her head before grabbing the lowest limb and hoisting herself upward. Halfway to the top, she glanced down and whispered, "High enough?"

  He nodded and followed suit. No sooner had he taken his seat on a thick branch then a group of three riders stopped beneath them.

  "Where did they go?" asked one with a red beard.

  Another, who wore a wide brimmed hat replied, "I ain't sure. I know they went into the trees, but they could have come out anywhere."

  They rode farther and stopped in the middle of the road. One, who wore a bandana around his neck, studied the horses in the field. "How many horses did they have?"

  "They only had two," answered the redhead.

  "Do you remember what they looked like?" asked bandana man.

  "I don't know. They looked like horses," said the redhead with a shrug.

  Wide-brimmed-hat man, removed his hat, and wiped sweat from his brow. Through clenched teeth, he said, "The boss ain't going to be happy."

  "Nope I guess he won't," said the redhead, around a piece of straw he was chewing.

  Hat man glared at him. "I know you don't care what happens because it ain't your butt on the line, but I do care. My family is in danger until I bring this girl in."

  Frederic caught Cora's gaze. Her trembling was causing the limbs to shake. He grabbed her hand and squeezed. She closed her eyes, her lips silently moving.

  "Zeke, why do you think you
're the only one with issues? The old man told me that if I don't help return the lady and find out what she knows that my own head will roll."

  Zeke placed the hat back on his head and turned his horse. "I guess we better ride a little farther and see what we can see."

  The other two agreed and they rode off. Frederic counted to one hundred before descending. He whistled and their two horses returned. Cora still sat in the branches above, her knuckles white, and her lips silently moving.

  He whispered, "Cora, come on, we have to go while we can."

  She opened her eyes and climbed down. Within minutes they were on their horses and riding out across the open field.

  ****

  Cora followed Frederic but spent her time peering over her shoulder. No one appeared on the horizon and she assumed they were safe from their pursuers.

  The words the men had spoken continued to roll around in her mind. What had they meant when they said they had to bring her back to their leader? Why would their families be in danger?

  Could all this be related to her witnessing Jeffers' murder? Could the man behind the trigger be so afraid of her naming him as the culprit that he would hire people to follow her all over the countryside?

  She should have shimmied down from the tree and told Zeke and his friends that she didn't know who the man was. That she hadn't been focused on his face and she couldn't recognize him. That she couldn't help them, but instead she'd allowed fear to hold her in place.

  Saddle sore and weary, they crossed the open field. Over trickling streams, and tall weeds they rode until they entered the small town of Watselville. A signed welcomed them, announcing a population of fifty…On Our Best Day. The sun crested behind the two-story buildings lining both sides of the main street and casting an eerie glow over the road. Chills bumps of fear developed on her arms and she swallowed and tried to control her rising panic.

  Not far away passengers gathered outside a coach. Drivers loaded gear on the roof, and passengers climbed inside.

  Frederic dismounted, grabbed her reins, and led both horses to the stagecoach office. He placed his hands around her waist and lifted her to the ground. "Wait here."

  The town didn't sport much activity. Several buildings were attached together, their porches forming a boardwalk. Men and women strolled arm in arm from one building to the next, peering in windows, and studying the wares. The pitiful offerings didn't take long and they moved on to other pursuits like walking to a nearby fountain and staring at the rippling water.

  Frederic returned. "I've booked passage on the stage. Come on."

  "But what about the horses?"

  "I sold them."

  "What will Jock say?"

  "I'll worry about that later."

  "But–"

  He clasped her upper arms and stared into her eyes. "Listen, we have to board this coach. Those men can't be too far behind. This is the only way to throw them off our scent."

  "Humph. I don't know, maybe I shouldn't go then. My scent is so strong they might still be able to follow us."

  Frederic rolled his eyes and released her. "Look, Cora, about what I said."

  She crossed her arms over her chest. "Yes?"

  A rush of air whooshed through his clenched teeth. "I'm sorry, all right."

  "You're sorry?"

  "Yes, yes, I'm sorry for what I said. I shouldn't have said anything, I was just trying to—Well, can we just get on the stagecoach and talk about this later? They're holding it for us."

  She nodded and he escorted her to the coach. They were the last two to climb inside. Meant to hold six passengers comfortably, the stage grew crowded with their addition. Frederic sat opposite her, but they were both squeezed against the side. He pursed his lips like a fish and she laughed aloud drawing a look of criticism from the woman beside him.

  "I wish to complain," said the female passenger. She was rather large and wore a hat with an atrocious plumed feather.

  The man across from her, with a much smaller feather stuck in his lapel sighed heavily. "Whatever for?"

  "Because this vehicle is entirely too crowded. There is no way I can possibly ride to Pennsylvania this way."

  Cora widened her eyes and studied Frederic.

  "Dear, it won't be that bad."

  "Of course it will be. Why do we have to visit your sister during this heat wave? Couldn't we have waited until winter? I will never understand why you insist on allowing them to control your every move…"

  The feathered woman continued to berate the man, presumably her husband. The other passengers on the coach shifted uncomfortably as all were forced to listen. Her husband flushed ten shades of red and Cora's sympathy for the man grew.

  Frederic looked out the window as the coach lurched from the station. How long would it take them to reach the next stop? Already the nasally quality of the feathered woman grated her nerves.

  "Cecil, I demand you tell the driver I refuse to ride under these conditions."

  Cecil sighed. "Please be reasonable, dear. The coach just started. I'm sure it is too late to ask for a refund."

  "I'm sure it is not too late. I'm sure it is just that you don't want to disappoint your sister."

  The argument ensued again and Cora sent a pointed stare at the woman as she said, "Would you be quiet? I'm sure there is not one person here who cares whether this trip is to please yourself or his sister. And if you want out so badly, I will gladly open the door and provide my foot to assist."

  The woman's eyes rounded and she clicked her tongue with unuttered words. The rest in the carriage covered their laughter by clearing their throats. Even Cecil hid his mirth.

  Frederic lifted his brow and Cora winked.

  Finally the woman folded her hands in her lap and stopped talking. She leaned her head back and slept, or at least pretended to do so. This opened the floor to the others.

  A father, with his daughter on his lap, sat on the other side of the coach. The girl, about twelve years in age, her braids swinging against the sides of her face, leaned across. "So where are you headed? We're going to Tennessee. I've heard there are a set of mountains there that are so tall the temperature cools twenty degrees at the top."

  A young woman that looked like a schoolmarm sat opposite them and held the hand of a much younger boy, replied, "We're headed to South Carolina. There's a beach there that matches the blue of the sky."

  Frederic and Cora kept silent, smiling when appropriate, adding words when needed, but never revealing their own destination to those inside.

  As the coach bounced along the rutted road, Cora wondered how safe they really were. How hard would it be for their pursuers to figure out where they'd gone?

  Those who had lived next to her at the tenement knew from where she hailed. And what of Jock? Frederic had foolishly shared their trip details. Or what if their pursuers located the stagecoach station, they could easily inquire as to the next stop and be there waiting for them.

  Fear gripped her heart and she leaned forward and squeezed Frederic's knee. His eyes glazed with sleep.

  How could she express her worries inside the full coach?

  Chapter Sixteen

  The stagecoach dropped them along the vacant road. The feathered lady poked her head through the window opening and stuck out her tongue. Cora picked up a rock to throw but Frederic stalled her.

  "It's not worth it."

  "Humph, I disagree," she said as the rock in her hand fell to the ground.

  The coach rounded the bend, blocked by a line of weeping willow trees, before Frederic said, "We're out of the coach. Now what's your plan?"

  She pointed at her chest. "My plan? I don't have a plan. I thought you had a plan."

  He shook his head, sighed, and waved her forward. "Come on." He started walking and Cora trudged alongside him. "A little farther ahead is the town where the coach planned to stop for fresh supplies. Two days later another coach, going through South Carolina and Georgia, will arrive. The route is a bit circuitou
s but it will still get you to Louisiana, and perhaps those following you won't think of it."

  Cora bit her lower lip.

  "I see you're worried," he stated with a softening expression.

  She stopped in the middle of the road and laid her hand on his forearm, stopping him as well. "Of course I'm worried! If they do follow me then I'm taking those men to my home. My sister is there with her children. My mother, father, brother-in-law, I'm putting them all in danger."

  "Or perhaps you're saving them and yourself because three thugs won't be willing to raid a place with so many." She didn't respond and he continued. "I suggest that as soon as you arrive you tell your father what has occurred." She opened her mouth to balk, but he held up his hand to forestall any objections. "You tell him everything. Then and only then will he be able to protect you."

  By the time they reached the small town, the sun had set. Cora had no idea how much funds they carried so she was surprised when Frederic found a house advertising rooms for rent and knocked on the door.

  "Excuse me, is the room still available?" he asked.

  Directed inside by an elderly gentleman, they were studied. Her sleeveless dress was stained and torn. His pants were covered in dust and several buttons had popped off his shirt.

  "Rough day?" questioned the owner.

  "I'm afraid we lost our horses and have spent most of the day walking. It has not been a pleasant experience," replied Frederic.

  "I'd say not. Well, welcome to Sizerville, Pennsylvania. I'm Monroe Thaddeus Aster. Kind of a mouthful, I know, so feel free to call me, Mr. Monroe. The missus prefers Miss Monroe. Don't ask why." He shrugged and directed them upstairs. "While you two settle in your room, I'll have her fix something to eat."

  Cora started to ask for two rooms, but Frederic replied, "Thank you," as they followed the proprietor up a narrow flight of stairs.