Mrs. Minyard marched to the warped front of the porch and balled her hands on her hips. “Just ’cause we butt up against the estate property don’t mean the owner can lay claim to any part o’ our holdin’. My husband’s pappy fought off Injuns an’ faced blight an’ blizzards an’ Lord knows what all else to carve us a livin’ here. Nobody’s gonna come along an’ say this place ain’t ours.”
Rebekah touched Devlin’s wrist. “Let’s go.”
He touched Marey’s sides, shifting her far enough away from Jinx that Rebekah couldn’t reach him. “So you do have a cave?”
The woman snorted out an angry breath. “You got cotton in your ears? Yes, we got a cave, but you ain’t goin’ in it.” She looked at Rebekah. “Tell your mama I send her my best. An’ now you take this college boy off my land.” She stormed into her cabin and closed the door behind her. Moments later, the edge of the curtain on the one window lifted and she glared out.
Rebekah turned Jinx toward the road. “Come on, Devlin.”
“Where?”
“Back to the estate.”
“But I need to go to the Minyards’ cave.”
Hadn’t he heard the woman? “Mrs. Minyard said no.”
“She said I couldn’t go in it. She didn’t say I couldn’t record the cave’s location.”
Rebekah shook her head. He was going to get himself shot. “She told us to leave. If we don’t, she’ll bring out a rifle. I assure you, she knows how to use it.”
“Very well.” With a sigh, he tugged Marey’s reins, and the horse obediently changed direction. When they reached the road, Devlin sent a frown over his shoulder. “I’ve never encountered anyone so disagreeable. All I wanted to do was find the cave opening and chart its location in conjunction with the big cave. I meant no harm.”
His disappointment pierced her. Rebekah offered him a sympathetic grin. “I know, but you have to understand how the people around here feel about their land. Folks in this area are hard working but poor. They have very little to call their own, so they do all they can to protect that little bit.”
“But their protectiveness is ill placed. Consider what it could mean for them if their cave does connect with Mammoth Cave.”
Rebekah squinted against the high sun. “What could it mean?”
“The difference between a hardscrabble existence and a comfortable one.” Excitement tinged his voice and brightened his expression. “Think, Reb. Each part of the cave has its own unique markings and flavor. Tour groups relish the chance to explore every uniqueness. The Minyards could very well own a portion that would be of interest to visitors. If they allowed the estate to bring people onto their property to access the cave from a new entrance, they’d receive a portion of the revenue.”
Rebekah couldn’t consider the possibility from the Minyards’ point of view, but she knew how her daddy would respond. “Having strangers cross their property, trampling their plants and intruding upon their privacy, wouldn’t be worth any amount of money, Devlin.”
He huffed. “That’s ridiculous.”
His attitude stung. She drew her horse to a stop, and he pulled back on Marey’s reins, too. She met his obstinate gaze. “The folks around here will fight to protect what’s theirs. They don’t want money. They don’t want recognition. They just want to live their lives quietly on the land their daddies and granddaddies bequeathed to them. The land is their…” Warmth flooded her chest, and she chose Daddy’s word. “Legacy. Don’t you see? A legacy is worth protecting.”
“Sounds like a bunch of hillbilly hooey to me. What person with even an ounce of a brain wouldn’t want to better himself? And you do that with money.”
A huge lump of hurt filled Rebekah’s throat. Devlin thought he was speaking about the Minyards, but in truth he was speaking about her.
Cissy
Cissy ran the curry brush over Beauregard’s coarse hide. Mr. Temperance hadn’t said she needed to take care of the burro, but she felt beholden to the little beast. If it wasn’t for him choosing to like her, she wouldn’t be earning a wage. A brushing every day was a good reward. Besides, with everybody in the world turning their backs on her, it was nice to have a friend, even if the friend was a slope-backed, gray-muzzled burro.
She moved around to the back corner of the stall and began gliding the brush through Beau’s tail. It sure got tangled in short order, and she wanted it as smooth as silk for the photographs.
Two horses and riders entered the barn, and Cissy peeked over the top of the stall wall. Her hand stilled and her breath caught in her throat. Bek and Devlin! She ducked low and peeked between rails at the pair who’d trampled her heart.
Devlin swung down, then lifted Tabitha from the horse’s neck, swooping her through the air. She squealed, and he laughed, and Bek smiled at them the way Mama smiled at Daddy when he bounced Little Nellie on his knee or gave Trudy a ride on his shoulders. Cissy’s stomach trembled.
One of the stable workers hurried over and took the reins of Devlin’s horse, but Bek held on to hers. Then Bek and Devlin stood close in the pathway of sunlight pouring through the big doorway and talked to each other. Their voices were too soft to reach her, but they both looked serious, as if whatever they were saying was the most important thing in the world.
Cissy’s chest burned. She ground her teeth together until they ached. She shifted her attention to Tabitha, who’d started wandering the barn. Tabby stopped at each stall and looked in. Cissy held her breath, crouching behind Beauregard’s bony rump, hoping Tabitha would go right on by. But her little sister’s gaze found her, and her face lit up.
Cissy popped out from her hiding place, glowering her fiercest glare, and jammed her finger against her lips before Tabby could call her name.
Tabitha backed up a step, her eyes wide.
Cissy grated in a harsh whisper, “Don’t you tell I’m here, Tab, or else.”
Tabitha scurried over to Bek and grabbed on to her skirts. “Let’s go home, Bek.”
Bek looked down and sighed. “All right, Tabby, we’ll go.” She made as if to climb into the saddle, but her skirt got in the way.
“Here, let me help.”
Cissy seethed when Devlin grabbed Bek’s waist and gave her a boost. Then he caught hold of Tabitha and lifted her up behind. Cissy hugged herself, battling a wave of longing. How would it feel to have his strong hands take hold of her that way?
Devlin and Bek left the barn, and Cissy slowly rose to her full height. Her whole person ached and her chest heaved as mightily as if she’d just finished a fight. But then again, maybe she had. She’d battled the urge to charge out and tell them both how awful they were. She’d carried a fire-hot anger inside of her for two days, and she didn’t think it would ever leave her.
“Cissy, where are you? I’ve got folks waiting.”
Mr. Temperance’s impatient call pulled her from her thoughts. She slapped the curry brush onto a shelf and grabbed the reins on Beau’s bridle. “I’m comin’.”
The first person in line was an old lady. It took Cissy three tries to boost her onto Beau’s back, and she got a good view of the woman’s ruffled drawers and petticoat during the process. Not a pretty sight even though the lace was snowy white and delicately woven. She figured she earned twice her promised three cents on that one. Next came twin boys who jumped up on Beau so quickly the poor burro brayed in protest. Cissy calmed him with a bit of carrot from the hotel’s kitchen, and Mr. Temperance sent her a smile of thanks.
The line grew longer as the afternoon wore on. The sun beat down, too, and the waiting folks gathered in the shade of the cottonwood behind the camera. Cissy wished she could stand in the shade. Sweat tickled her temples, and the bodice of her dress stuck to her sticky flesh. Between photographs, she used the straw hat Mr. Temperance had given her to fan herself.
She fanned Beau some, too. The animal looked droopy, stirring Cissy’s worry. She intended to ask if they could start setting up the painted barn screen in the shade the next day. June, July, and Aug
ust would be hotter than May. Poor old Beau might collapse from the heat, and then Mr. Temperance would for sure sell him to the glue factory.
“Next!” Mr. Temperance bellowed.
A young man stepped free of the crowd. Tall and slender with a narrow face, straight nose, and green eyes, he was every bit as handsome as Devlin. And he was staring straight at her.
Her face went hot. And not because of the sun.
He stopped in front of her and smiled. A fetching smile. One that could melt butter. “Hello.”
“H-howdy.” She couldn’t resist sweeping her gaze from the polished toes of his black boots to the little brim of his black-and-white plaid cap. He couldn’t be much older than her, but he dressed like a gentleman. Ladies in the magazine serials swooned at the sight of handsome men, and for a moment Cissy thought she might be in one of those stories. She swallowed. “You need help climbin’ on ol’ Beau?”
He shook his head, his eyes never shifting from hers. “I don’t want my photograph with the donkey. I want it with you.” Quick as a wink, he moved beside her and sneaked his arm around her waist. A few people in the crowd snickered.
Mr. Temperance angled himself away from the camera, frowning. “What are you doing?”
The young man shrugged. “Posing.”
“But…”
“I want my picture taken with this pretty little lady.”
He called her a lady. Cissy snatched off her hat and fanned her face. More snickers rolled. She slapped the hat against her thigh and froze in place.
Mr. Temperance shook his head. “It’s your two bits.” He moved behind the camera. “All right now. Hold still, smile, and…” A muffled pop sounded.
The boy didn’t move. “Take a second one.”
Mr. Temperance followed his directions.
After the second pop, he finally stepped away from Cissy. But only a few inches. He slipped his little cap to the back of his head, letting free a thick shock of red-gold hair, and grinned at her. “What’s your name?”
“Cissy.”
“I’m Nicholas Philip Ross, but you can call me Nick.”
She licked her dry lips. “It’s nice to meetcha, N-Nick.”
He tipped toward her, lowering his voice to a whisper. “That second photograph is for you. Just doesn’t seem fair that you have your picture taken again and again and don’t get to keep one for yourself. So now you’ll have one.”
And he’d be in it, too. Her heart fluttered. “Th-thank you.”
“Next!” Mr. Temperance bellowed the command.
Nick scuttled backward, his grin holding her captive. He tipped his cap. “See you around, Cissy.” He turned and trotted off.
Cissy gawked after him. Someone tapped her shoulder. She gave a jolt. A sour-faced woman and a little girl holding a lollipop stood beside her. “Whatcha want?”
More snickers rolled from the crowd, and Mr. Temperance’s eyes rolled skyward. “Cissy…”
She gulped. “I mean, who’s goin’ on Beau? You”—she looked from the woman to the child—“or her?”
The woman stuck her nose in the air. The sun brought out a dozen hairs growing from her chin. “My granddaughter, of course.”
Cissy scurried around and lifted the little girl onto Beau. The child waved the lollipop until it caught in Beau’s short mane. When she pulled it loose, it looked as hairy as the grandmother’s chin. The child wailed, but Cissy smiled, and Mr. Temperance shot the picture. The woman snatched her granddaughter from Beau’s back and stormed off, the little girl still crying.
The crowd thinned as late afternoon arrived. The final person stepped up for a photograph, a man so tall his toes touched the ground on both sides when he straddled Beau. Cissy thought he looked ridiculous, but she held the reins and forced her stiff lips into one more smile.
Mr. Temperance accepted a quarter from the guest, pocketed it, and then turned a weary smile on Cissy. “That’s it. Twenty-two photos in all! A good day, hmm? But let’s get things put away before somebody else comes along.”
She tossed her straw hat into the box next to the camera. “Want me to clean up the hay an’ such?”
He shooed her. “No. Take care of the burro. I’ll see to everything else.”
As soon as she put Beau in his stall, she’d find a drink of water, maybe even stick her feet in the watering trough before she put on her shoes again and headed home. She grabbed the burro’s reins and gave a little tug. “C’mon, Beau. Quittin’ time.”
She scuffed around the corner of the barn, enjoying the brush of soft grass on her bare soles. And then she stopped so quickly Beau’s nose nudged her hindquarters. Because there stood Nick, leaning on the barn doorway.
“Hello again, Cissy.”
She pushed her trembling legs into carrying her forward. “Hello.” She glanced around. “What’re you doin’ here?”
“Waiting for you.” He straightened and took the reins from her hand. “You look exhausted. May I help you take care of your donkey?”
“He ain’t—” She made a face. Nick talked so fine and proper. She ought to try to. “He isn’t a donkey. He’s a burro. An’ he’s not even mine. He belongs to Mr. Temperance, the photographer. But I kinda take care of ’im. ’Cause he likes me.”
Nick grinned. “I can see why.”
She hunched her shoulders and giggled. She couldn’t help it. His words made her insides feel all tickly. She pointed. “Beau’s stall is over there.” She led him across the hay and then rested her arms on the top rail of the stall wall.
He led Beau into the narrow stall and removed his bridle. He gave Beau’s forehead a scratch, winking at Cissy while he did it. “There you go, my good fellow.” He draped the bridle over a peg on the wall and put his hands on his hips. “What’s next? Should I feed and water him?”
“No. Stable hands’ll do that.”
“So you’re not a stable hand?”
The tickle under her skin became a prickle. “Do I look like a stable hand?”
“Not like any I’ve ever seen. But if you were, I’d trade places with Beau just like that.” He snapped his fingers.
Her prickliness scooted far away. She smiled. “You’re pretty funny.”
“And you’re pretty, so we make a good team, don’t you think?”
She gaped at him. Was she awake or dreaming?
He stepped from the stall. She eased off the rail and faced him, staying quiet. If she was dreaming, she didn’t want to wake up. He hooked his fingertips in the patch pockets of his suit jacket and quirked his lips into a half grin. “What are you thinking?”
“Are you real?”
He laughed, showing her his straight white teeth. Normally she didn’t like being laughed at, but Nick’s laugh sounded like a melody, prettier than birdsong or Mama’s ballads or even the creek splashing over rocks. She could listen to it all day long. She smiled while his laughter echoed from the barn rafters.
Finally he grinned at her again. “I assure you, Miss Cissy, I am very real. Is there anything else you’d like to know?”
She nodded eagerly. “How old are you?”
“Seventeen.” Two years older than her.
“Where do you live?”
“My family resides in Nashville.”
Tingles attacked. She hugged herself. “How long’ll you be at the estate?”
He looped his elbow over the top rail and angled his head. “My parents have rented side-by-side cottages—numbers nineteen and twenty, in case you’re interested—for all of June and midway into July. So that means I will be at the estate for a little over six weeks.”
Six weeks! The men and women in the serials fell in love in two weeks. Sometimes two days. She’d have lots of time to win Nick’s heart. That is…She drew in a breath and asked the most important question. “Are you rich?”
He treated her to another dose of his laughter. “As Midas.”
She didn’t know who he meant, but he hadn’t said no. That was good enough. She smiled
and swung her arms, stirring her skirt with her palms. “You wanna know anything about me?”
“Only everything.”
She loved his answer. With a giggle, she caught his hand and drew him to a short bench tucked at the far wall of the barn. “Come over here an’ ask me anything you want.” She perched on the bench and folded her hands in her lap.
He sat next to her—close, but not too close—and stretched out his legs. He crossed his ankles, folded his arms over the buttons of his coat, and rested his head against the barn wall. He acted like he meant to stay for a good long while, and that suited Cissy fine. “Tell me, Cissy, how old are you?”
Should she fib? No, because it would be too hard to remember what she’d said. “Fifteen. And a half.”
A grin pulled at the corners of his mouth. “Where do you live?”
He was turning her questions back on her. He hoped he wouldn’t ask if she was rich, because she might have to lie after all. “West o’ here about a mile.”
“So you don’t live on the estate?”
Did he sound disappointed? She shook her head slowly, hoping her answer wouldn’t upset him. “But I’m here every day, helpin’ Mr. Temperance. That’s the photographer. I’m his assistant.”
“How many hours do you work each day?”
“One o’clock to five o’clock Mondays through Saturdays an’ two o’clock to five o’clock on Sundays. Plus a little time before an’ after to help him set up an’ take down his props.”
His eyebrows rose. “Every afternoon, huh? Are you ever here on the grounds when you aren’t working? Say…early morning? Or late evening?”
She delivered mushrooms anytime. “Sometimes.” Her heart gave a hopeful thump. “Why do you ask?”
Nick held up his finger and shook it back and forth. “Huh-uh, Miss Cissy, I’m asking the questions now.”
She giggled and dipped her head, peeking at him out of the corner of her eye.
He grinned. “You’re off work now, right?”
She nodded.
“So what are you doing next?”
She chewed her lip. She was supposed to go home. Mama would need her help with supper. Then with getting their tub filled for everybody’s baths—Mama wanted them all clean and smelling good for the church service. Then with getting the little girls tucked into bed.
Guide Me Home Page 22
