But she remembered her muddy feet. She shouldn’t muck up the sheets. Cringing, she pawed under the bed until she found her discarded dress. She used it to clean the worst of the mud. As she picked out the hardening clumps from between her toes, she remembered Nick picking hay from her hair. She’d better give it a good brushing.
While her family sang “Am I a Soldier of the Cross?” Cissy whacked the hairbrush through her straight tresses. By the end of the second verse, she’d removed every tangle and, hopefully, every tiny evidence of hay. She returned the brush to the bureau top and turned for the bed, but a need struck. She should’ve visited the outhouse before she came in.
Holding her breath, she eased the bedroom door open. She waited until Mama caught her eye. Then she clamped her knees tight and mouthed, I gotta go. Mama nodded, so Cissy scurried across the floor and out the back door while Daddy and the children kept singing. The sliver of moon seemed to smile in the blue-gray sky, and she paused long enough to smile back. That old moon would keep secret where she’d been today.
She finished her business, then held her gown high and crossed the yard in a dozen leaps. As she entered the house, Daddy was praying, so she stopped and bowed her head.
“Give us a good night o’ rest, our dear an’ lovin’ Father, an’ wake us in the mornin’ ready to do Your biddin’. Strip us of any desire to be displeasin’ in Your sight.”
Cissy gulped. She sneaked a look at her father. Heat attacked her face when she realized he was looking at her.
His eyes snapped closed. “These things I pray in Jesus’s name. Amen.”
“Amen,” the little girls echoed.
“Bed now,” Mama said. “Sleep good, gals.”
“Sleep good, Mama. ’Night, Daddy.”
Cissy stayed put until all the little girls said their good nights, kissed Mama and Daddy, and scampered into the bedroom. Then she started to follow.
“Cissy?”
Her heart skipped a beat. She sent an uneasy look in Daddy’s direction. “Yes, sir?”
“Tomorrow’s a new day. A new start. Slate’s wiped clean.”
She nodded.
“Sleep good now, you hear?”
“Yes, sir.” She darted into the bedroom and closed the door. Safe, she leaned against the thick planks and stared in wonder at the gaping window. She’d got by with it. She’d sneaked out, stolen a few minutes with Nick, and made it back without anybody knowing. The relief melted her bones. She slid down the wall and sat there, smiling.
“Cissy, what’re you doin’?” Tabitha put her hand on her hip and gave Cissy a saucy look.
Cissy kicked at her. Not hard, just enough to make her jump away. “Never you mind. Get ready for bed now, all o’ you. Summer’s here. Chores’ll be waitin’ in the mornin’.”
She snuggled into the bed and rolled to her side with her face to the wall. She smiled. Summer was here, all right, but there was more than chores waiting for her. Nick was waiting.
The next day at lunchtime after a morning in the field, Daddy told Cissy she could keep working for Mr. Temperance. “But one more time of comin’ in after dark an’ that job’ll be done. I won’t have you worryin’ your mama again. You understand me, gal?”
Cissy promised, inwardly grinning. Daddy forgot that with summer the days stretched longer. If she could stay out until the edge of dark, she’d have at least two hours with Nick every day after she finished posing with Beau. She told Nick as much when he came to the barn Monday.
“That’s wonderful, Cissy. It’ll be the best part of my day.”
Her heart pat-patted so fast she marveled that it stayed in her chest. They sat in the barn and talked the hours away, and right before they parted, Nick gave her the photograph of him with his arm around her.
Looking at the image of them standing so close made her all fluttery inside. Her flutters got worse when he whispered, “Keep it in a safe place, a secret place.” She tucked it in her bodice right over her heart.
Tuesday they went walking in the hills behind the estate. When the path was wide enough for them to walk side by side, Nick held her hand. The rest of the time he led, glancing back every few seconds as if making sure she was still behind him, still doing all right. She felt secure, cherished, special with him. And even more special when, at the end of their walk, he gave her a green agate he’d dug from the ground on an excursion with his brother and told her to think of his eyes when she looked at the stone.
On Wednesday he borrowed some fishing poles from one of the guides and asked her to take him to the best fishing hole in the hollow. She led him straight to the creek where she’d first met Devlin Bale. They sat together on the flat rock and dropped their lines in the water. She didn’t catch a single solitary fish, but she caught him making sheep’s eyes more than once, and that day chased every thought of her “stranger beau” from her memory.
She had to wait nearly a half hour for him Thursday. She spent the time pacing, building up her temper, but when he finally arrived, he had a bouquet of purple rocket in his hand and a sweet smile on his face, and she forgave him even before he apologized for making her wait. She thought her heart would melt as he laid the slender stems of delicate lavender blossoms in the bend of her arm and said, “I found them growing along the stream by our rock. I think I picked every last one of them. I couldn’t help myself. They’re almost as beautiful as you are.”
She gazed at him in wonder. “You think I’m beautiful?”
He laughed, but the laughter told her everything she wanted to know. They went back to the rock and soaked their feet in the frigid water. They talked—seemed they never ran out of words to say to each other. And they laughed—seemed every minute together was so joyful they couldn’t hold it in. When dusk fell, he asked to kiss her good-bye. She tipped her cheek to him, and she nearly danced all the way home, her cheek tingling from the brush of his lips.
Friday after the last guest paid for the privilege of sitting on Beau, Mr. Temperance rolled up the barn scene, and Cissy scanned the grounds for a glimpse of Nick. The photographer sent her a sideways look and released a snort.
She frowned. “What was that for?”
“You’re playing with fire.”
She fiddled with Beau’s reins and stuck her nose in the air. “I don’t know what you mean.”
He strode over, the rolled canvas bobbing on his shoulder. “Yes, you do, because you’re not a stupid girl, no matter how you’ve been acting lately. But if you want to pretend ignorance, I’ll explain it for you. I’ve spent years photographing people. Mostly rich people. And I’ve learned a thing or two. Rich people enjoy a diversion. They’re willing to pay for it, too. But in the end that’s all it is to them—a bit of entertainment.”
Cissy scowled at the photographer. “What’s wrong with entertainment? It’s fun, ain’t it?” She’d had more fun in the past few days than she could remember in all the years leading up to them.
“Fun, sure. But dangerous for the one who involves her heart in the game and expects things to last forever.” A hint of worry showed in the pinch of his brow. “Listen, Cissy, the problem with an entertaining diversion is that eventually the person gets bored and moves on to…other means of amusement.”
She curled her fingers tightly around Beau’s reins. “So what you’re tellin’ me is Nick’s just playin’ with me for a while an’ then he’s gonna trade me off for something else.”
Mr. Temperance nodded. “That’s what I’m saying.”
She stared at the patch of thick green grass between their feet, biting the end of her tongue to hold back angry words. Bits and snatches of her time with Nick paraded through her mind. The remembrances pushed away her anger. She curved her lips into a smile and faced him again. “I appreciate what you’re sayin’, Mr. Temperance. I know you’re only tryin’ to look out for me.” Or was he looking out for himself, scared of losing the person who made Beau behave? “But you don’t know nothin’ about Nick an’ me. We’re real special t
o each other.”
“Oh?” The photographer raised his eyebrows. “Has he introduced you to his family or asked to meet yours?”
She frowned. “N-no. But he wanted to take me to his folks one time. He just couldn’t.”
“Why not?”
“Ain’t your business. All that matters is he wanted to.”
Mr. Temperance dropped the screen in the grass. It bounced twice, and Beau pulled back on the reins. Cissy held tightly to keep the burro from escaping, and the photographer curled his hands over her shoulders, holding her in place. “Cissy, there will likely be other things Nick wants to do—things he’ll try to see through. But I want you to promise me you’ll use your head. You won’t do anything you don’t want to do.”
She huffed a short laugh, remembering walking through the hills, bobbing a fishing line in the water, wading in the creek, teasing and laughing and talking. She touched the place on her dress covering the photograph. “I ain’t doin’ nothin’ I don’t wanna do.”
“Then promise me you won’t do anything a good girl shouldn’t.”
She didn’t feel like laughing anymore. “Mr. Temperance, you’re actin’ like you’re my daddy.”
“I suppose I am.” He squeezed her shoulders and stepped back. He scooped up the screen and settled a serious look on her. “I just don’t want you to get hurt. I’ve lived a long time, and I’ve never seen a boy from a family like the Rosses do right by a girl like you.”
She stuck out her bottom lip. “You mean a poor girl.”
“I wish it wasn’t so, but it is. The classes don’t mix. At least not beyond entertainment. You can’t change it. It’s better not to get entangled with him.”
“All right.” Cissy shrugged and gave Beau’s reins a pull. “C’mon, Beau.”
She sensed Mr. Temperance’s worried gaze following her. He meant well, giving her a warning based on what he’d seen in his travels, but his warning had come too late. She liked Nick. She wanted him. And she’d have him forever, no matter what it took.
Devlin
He should be sitting at the table in Reb’s cabin, adding to his map, but after four days inside the cave and then a day closed up in the cabin, Devlin needed air and light. Someone else had taken Marey for the day, so he asked the stable hand to saddle Lightning instead. The old horse was plodding, but Devlin wasn’t in a big hurry. He could take his time.
He followed the road leading to the Hardin cabin. The Adwell place was behind the Hardins’, so he’d watch for a lane, a gap in the trees, or some other means of reaching Cal’s property. If he missed it somehow, he’d ride up to the Hardins and ask them for directions. They were kind people. They’d help him.
Kind people…He’d met several kind people in the hollow. He’d met some who held strangers at bay, cooperative but watchful, and a few others who wanted nothing to do with anyone who wasn’t related to them. Yet he’d brand the least friendly more defensive than unkind. Even so, he chafed at their treatment. No one liked to be rebuffed. But no matter what Reb said, he believed their attitudes would change if the person knocking on their door offered a stack of silver dollars. He’d never met anyone who disliked the sight of glittering coins.
His careful observation revealed no roadway prior to the familiar lane to the Hardins’ cabin, so he turned Lightning and followed the winding dirt path to the opening of their yard. Mrs. Hardin was on her knees in front of the porch, busily digging in the soil. Two little girls played in the yard, their dark-brown braids bouncing on their shoulders and the sun shining on their happy faces. He smiled—such a homey picture they painted.
The girls stopped playing as Devlin drew near and stared at him with round eyes and O-shaped mouths. Then in unison they ran to their mother and tapped her shoulder. She turned, frowning, but the frown faded when her gaze fell on Devlin. She pushed to her feet, brushing the dirt from her skirt, and crossed the grass on bare feet.
“Good mornin’, Mr. Bale.”
The woman possessed a quiet gentility, but a deep sadness lurked in the depths of her brown eyes. Devlin believed he knew its source. “Good morning, Mrs. Hardin. Are you planting flowers?”
She glanced at the area where rich dark patches showed where she’d applied the trowel. “Transplantin’ some shootin’ star bulbs Festus dug up. I’m hoping they’ll bloom for me next spring. Then I’ll scatter some daisy an’ sweet-pea seeds on top. If they take root, ought to give us some nice color as summer wears on.” She shielded her eyes with her hand. “But I don’t reckon you came to hear me blather on about flowers.”
He chuckled, patting the horse’s neck. “No, ma’am. And I promise not to bother you for long. I met Cal Adwell a few days ago. He invited me to come to his property and explore his cave. But I can’t seem to locate his place. Would you please advise me?”
“Well, since you’re already here, the easiest way to go is between our house an’ barn to the path in the woods—the one Rebekah took you on to go see her daddy when you was here last.” She gestured as she spoke, her movements graceful. “Follow it to our field, then you’ll see another break off to your right. Stay on that path until it goes over the rise, an’ you’ll come out on the Adwell land.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
She shrugged. “You’re welcome. When you’ve finished explorin’ you won’t need to come out this way. There’s a road leadin’ to the Adwell place. But it runs north an’ south ’stead o’ east an’ west, so you gotta turn off at the bend. That’s likely why you missed it.”
He tipped his hat and offered another smile. “I appreciate your help.” He aimed his grin at the two little girls, who covered their mouths and giggled before scampering off in a wild game of tag.
Devlin tapped his heels and urged Lightning forward. He rode through the yard, waving at Jessie, who chopped at weeds in a large garden plot, past the barn with its leaning walls and shake roof to the pathway he and Reb had taken. Memories of that day teased him as he ducked beneath low-hanging branches now heavy with leaves. Odd how many memories he carried of Rebekah when he’d known her such a short time, and during the past two weeks they’d been apart more than together. Yet everywhere he looked—at a patch of wildflowers or a rabbit nibbling clover—something she said or did whispered through his mind. The woman was unforgettable.
He drew alongside the field where Mr. Hardin and two more Hardin daughters—Tabitha and another one whose name he couldn’t recall—were at work. Devlin counted in his head and came up short one daughter. Shouldn’t Cissy be working with her family? But maybe she’d been in the house. And that was probably best. She and he weren’t exactly on the best terms.
As he rode slowly between the trees, he noticed an opening ahead on the left. He frowned. Mrs. Hardin had said the gap would be on the right. Had she misspoke? He slowed Lightning to a near crawl, prepared to turn in at the opening, and when he realized what waited off the path his heart lurched.
“Whoa, boy.”
Lightning stopped, and Devlin swung to the ground. He wrapped the reins around a drooping branch and stepped over a ramshackle stick fence into the deeply shadowed cleared space between towering trees. Five large crosses and four tiny ones marked the loss of loved ones. He stood in the middle and let his gaze rove across the simple homemade wood crosses. None of the little crosses bore any markings, but names were carved crudely on the horizontal bars of the large ones—Fenway Hardin, Birch Hardin, Sallie Hardin, Chester Hardin, Luella Mae Hardin, and F. A. Hardin. On the last cross a second carving marched down the vertical bar. Only four letters.
A
N
D
Y
A knot filled his throat, and he stared a long time at Andy’s cross.
He raised his face to the waving branches overhead, trying to get his bearings on where he now stood in conjunction to the estate. Would this portion of land be swallowed up if Father convinced the government to assume ownership of Mammoth Cave? His chest went tight. How many other family bur
ial plots existed in this hollow? And how many of the departed souls found their way to heaven?
Devlin shook his head, shaking off the unease that had gripped him. These souls were long gone. Foolish to worry over them now. As for the graves, if the government took over the land, these burial plots would be treated respectfully. The government might even put up permanent markers in place of the wooden ones, make the plot a recognized part of the park. The people wouldn’t be forgotten.
He moved carefully around the graves, his feet falling soundlessly on the thick carpet of decayed leaves and pine needles. He pulled himself into the saddle and gave Lightning’s sides a nudge. “Come on now. We’ve got a cave to explore.”
Rebekah
After a night of little sleep, a malady she had suffered several times in the past week, Rebekah overslept and missed breakfast. She peeked in the kitchen midmorning and asked for a piece of toast or some fruit to hold her over until lunch, but Mr. Cooper told her to sit at the work counter and he’d whip her up an omelet.
She wrinkled her nose at the funny word.
He laughed at her. “Hold your opinion until you’ve tasted it, hmm?”
She watched him beat three eggs with a little milk and fry the mixture into a flat patty. Then he placed a sprinkling of goat cheese, some chopped tomatoes, and—of all things—three stalks of a woody-looking vegetable called asparagus, which he’d sautéed in butter, on half of the egg patty and folded it over like a sandwich. With a huge grin on his face, he placed the plate in front of her and handed her a fork.
She’d never seen such a strange dish, and she carried the first bite to her mouth with no small amount of trepidation. But after the first taste she couldn’t eat fast enough. From now on if she was lucky enough to eat in a restaurant where fine foods were served, when she saw a dish that included asparagus, she’d order it.
“Mr. Cooper,” she said between bites, “you’re not nearly as pretty as my mama, but you sure know what to do with eggs.”
He winked at her and returned to his work.
Guide Me Home Page 26
