Indignation spurted through her. Why did they not believe a man could change? Surely the Light of Christ could accomplish all things.
“I understand their doubts, my love.” Charlie looked at her gravely. “I have done many things I am not proud of.”
“As have we all.”
He patted her cheek. “But as time passes, God will help them understand.”
She hugged him fiercely. He drew her eager lips to his in a long, tender kiss. Her heart stopped. Would the wonder of his kiss steal her very life? If it did, oh, dying was worth it.
Minutes passed by with Keturah in a happy daze. How amazing to laugh, talk, and hold Charlie, as a woman—without a parent’s critical eye, Caleb’s sermons, and the Friends’ scrutiny. At the thought, her celebration dimmed a little.
“You need my help to smile again.”
Charlie knew her feelings. She loved that about him.
“Next week we will talk about your special Christmas gift.” He touched her hair.
“But thee already gave me my locket.” She gently pulled it from beneath her dress’s high neckline.
“But this is something you have wanted a long time.” Charlie’s eyes shone. “A steamboat ride!”
She felt her jaw drop. “How? When?”
He laughed until she cautioned him to take care. “I will tell you next First Day when we meet here again. But say nothing. It will be our secret.”
Still stunned, she pressed her cheek against his broad chest. “Charlie, my first Christmas with thee will be the best ever.”
♦ ♦ ♦
Henry watched from the underbrush at the village’s edge. Was Keturah’s mother trying to avoid Charlie? She and her daughter entered Scott’s store alone, well ahead of their usual time.
He breathed a prayer of thanksgiving. He had had no idea how he would talk privately with Keturah. Now there was a chance—if God indeed was guiding his steps. Lord, give me the right words.
He pushed through the store’s door before he talked himself out of it. Keturah looked like a storm cloud. But he dared not risk losing this opportunity. “Friend Wilkes, may I speak with Keturah? Alone? It will not be long.”
Keturah’s eyebrows shot up. Her mother’s eyes scoured him. But she gave a slow nod. Henry hustled Keturah back by the shovels and hoes.
“Henry, what would thee say to me?” Keturah’s eyes shifted behind her as though she were listening for her mother. Or Charlie?
Keturah’s sweet, puzzled question nearly destroyed his resolve. Had she truly no idea of the warning he must give? “I would not upset you, Keturah. But I have prayed much about this. I can no longer keep quiet.”
She paused. “Say on.”
He stumbled on his words. “Charlie may have made you promises, but he’s made them to many women.”
Silence. Then, “He himself has told me of his past.”
“But I do not speak of his past. I speak of now.” Henry fought to keep his voice under control. “Charlie comes to Meeting. But he lives a true devil of a life. He knows nothing of the Light of Christ.”
He thought his words would shrivel her. Instead, she gave him a piercing, sorrowful look that bled his heart. “Thee, Charlie’s own brother, would join in the attack on him? I thought better of thee, Henry.” Her snow-white front teeth bit down on her red lip.
“Do not think better of me.” There. He finally said what he dreaded to tell her. “Although I hurt no one, I was his partner in theft. The Bible I now read I stole from a circuit rider.” He hung his head. “But God’s Light has changed me.”
“Blessed be God’s Light.” Her voice softened.
To his amazement, she clasped his hand. “I would that we be good friends, Henry. I miss thee.”
Paralyzed, he did not know what to say. What to do.
“I can only hope thee will see how God is changing Charlie as well.”
With that she swept back to her mother, her head high—like a graceful, lovely doe with no inkling of the hunter who waited in the shadows, sharp arrows in hand.
♦ ♦ ♦
Why had Charlie wanted to ride the steamship at night?
Keturah knew the answer. Her parents, who now dogged her every move, would never consent, even if in broad daylight. An invitation to accompany her and Charlie would be rejected. Their stubborn refusal to open their hearts to him angered her. Still, creeping out of bed with the mantel clock’s eleventh chime—two hours after the family retired—awakened niggling doubts. Waiting in the washhouse without a lit candle gave her the shivers. She snuggled into the red shawl, glad the night felt more like fall than almost Christmas.
The door gave a welcome creak. “Are you ready, my love?”
Relief swathed her like the shawl. She’d known Charlie would come. Her family—and Henry—would one day understand. She took his hand and stepped into the silvery world. The moon’s friendly face smiled down on them as they slipped through the trees to Charlie’s horse, tied a few hundred yards away.
His hands lifted her high to the saddle. Breathless, she felt as if she had grown wings. He vaulted to a place behind her, his brawny arms surrounding her. What would it be like with Charlie in her life every day, every moment?
Riding through the silent fairy-tale woods with him was better than any Christmas gift she could imagine. As they neared Rock and Cave, she realized they were not mounted on the old brown nag she’d seen Charlie ride but on a spirited black stallion. “When did thee buy a new horse? Or did thee borrow one?”
He gave an odd chuckle. “I borrowed it. But I will own a new one before long. Maybe two. Or three.”
As if to celebrate, he pulled her to him and kissed her, hard and quick.
Her heartbeat sped up, but his kiss, which often left a spicy fragrance of horehound or sassafras, tasted as if he had consumed turpentine. “What on earth did thee drink?”
He gripped her shoulder. “How will I surprise you if you ask all these questions?”
What more could he do to make this night complete? “Thee already told me the Christmas surprise—the steamboat ride.”
His white teeth flashed in the moonlight. “You misjudge me, my love.” He pulled her face to his again. “You have no idea what wonderful plans I’ve made.”
Chapter 9
Charlie had not mentioned walking to the big cave. Remembering Papa’s refusal to take her as a child, she savored an additional moment of triumph. Along with riding the steamboat, she would visit the cave. Still, its giant stony mouth, facing the river’s broad, silvery black water, gaped as if she were a choice victual.
Behind her Charlie gave a chittery birdcall. Startled, Keturah halted. Charlie nearly fell over her and swore. She turned to him, grieved he would use such language on their special night.
“You’re not afraid, are you?” In his gentle tone, she heard a note of derision. “It’s not that dark inside the cave. They’ve built a fire to keep you warm.”
“They?” She frowned.
He took her arm. “Friends I invited to share the steamboat ride.”
She found herself swallowed by gloom, her feet swishing and stumbling through stinking dead leaves in a surprisingly large passageway. A team of horses could drive through here.
A glower of firelight pocked aged limestone walls scabbed by fungi. In the semi-darkness, her ankle scraped against sharp rocks protruding from the cave floor. She stopped again. “Do I know thy friends?”
He almost pushed her forward. “More questions.” He clicked his tongue, almost like Mama. “How disappointing. I thought you liked adventures.”
Stung, she raised her chin. “If thee likens adventures to filthy caves, then no, I do not.”
He laughed. “Now that’s my Keturah. Full of fire.”
Without warning, he swung her into his arms and whirled her into a large circular cavern as if they had entered a ballroom. She tingled at his embrace, but the echo of savage laughter, blended with Charlie’s, pierced her.
Dusky light of the tiny campfire’s coals carved three men into ogres. Shining eyes, reflecting its glow, burned her cheeks. The turpentine odor she smelled on Charlie’s lips reeked from every nook. Whiskey. It had to be. She did not know what wretched trick Charlie was playing, but this had gone far enough. She turned to him and said in a low voice, “Please take me home.”
“I would not think of it.” His beautifully shaped lips met in a little-boy pout. “I promised you a steamboat ride. And I always keep my promises.”
The men laughed again. So did Charlie. He poured whiskey from a jug into a gourd and turned to her. “Never too early for a Christmas toast. Drink to our health and happiness.”
When she said nothing, he downed it in one gulp. She fought panic that soured her throat like bile. He swilled another.
“We better git movin’.” One man slid a knife into a sheath hanging from his belt.
She thought she could not feel more frightened—until Charlie pulled an even larger blade from a poke lying on the cave floor. She could not breathe.
“True.” He held the weapon up, smiling as red light glinted on the metal. “We will meet our steamship soon. You and Ned go ahead.”
As the men left, Charlie turned and gestured carelessly at the shortest man. “Stay with him till I return.”
Sudden fury poured from her. “If I choose not to?”
“You disappoint me again, my love.” He sheathed his knife and reached for her cheek, his dark eyes molten.
When she shrank away, he yanked her to him, stripping her shawl from her shoulders, forcing his lips on hers.
Fight him. Scream. Someone must hear—
The other man chuckled. “Got a lively one, Charlie.”
She bowed in pain, Charlie’s iron hands jamming her wrists together behind her back. The short man bound them with rough rope and then tied her feet together and stuffed a greasy bandanna into her mouth. She choked, trying not to vomit.
“Why must you be so difficult?” Charlie chucked her on the chin. “I was hoping you would see the light.”
She shuddered with outrage. How dare he use a sacred phrase?
Charlie laughed, threw her over his shoulder, and then dumped her into the darkness of a small side chamber. He kissed his fingers to her. “Farewell, love. I will see thee soon.”
She lay bruised on the muddy floor, her stomach roiling.
“If you touch her, I’ll cut your hands off.” Charlie’s deadly voice floated from the “ballroom” to her prison.
“Ye know I wouldn’t,” the man protested.
“Good.” Charlie must have slapped his back. “Plenty of women when we land in New Orleans.” He laughed again. “Plenty for all of us.”
Chapter 10
Had she dozed a few minutes? A few hours? Did it matter?
She saw weeping shadows on the cave’s ceiling and walls. Pointed rocks wounded her ribs, her shoulder. Gravel was embedded in her right cheek. She commanded her muscles to move so her pain would lessen. Helpless, they could not obey.
Would Charlie kill her before they left Rock and Cave?
His face was a cat’s. She was his prey. How long would he toy with her? Would she live to celebrate Christmas Day? If so, what a merry time it would be. Keturah wept with the shadows. What a blind fool she had been.
God, I thought I knew Thy Light. Yet I did not listen to those Thee sent.
Mama. Papa. Even Caleb. The horrible gag muffled her yearning to a tiny moan. Was it only hours ago she’d sat by their fire, plotting wrong as Papa read the Bible?
Henry. His honest eyes as he tried to warn her. Her hot tears added to the dampness of the evil-smelling floor. Henry was a man of true faith and love. She chose what was false.
The chittering call again. Footsteps. Charlie.
God, forgive me, though I do not deserve it. Save me—if not in this life, in the next.
“Henry!” Her captor’s voice sounded pleased. “You goin’ with us to New Orleans?”
Henry? Gladness shot through her. Henry would help. He would rescue—
“Sure am. Told Charlie he can’t have all the fun.”
Henry’s voice. But—but he talked like Charlie. Oh God.
“Good. I was afraid you got religion. Though Charlie said you saved his hide when that new constable caught wind of Ford’s plans.” The man chuckled knowingly. “Mebbe your brother’ll thank you by sharing that pretty Quaker back there that’s goin’ with us.”
“Maybe.” Henry sounded as if they were speaking of hand-me-down horses. “She’s a looker, but…”
She almost felt his shrug.
“In New Orleans, there’ll be plenty of women to go round,” the pirate finished.
Had it all been a ruse? Henry’s supposed faith to impress her parents? His “warning” an effort to steal her from Charlie? She writhed, the rope’s roughness skinning her limbs.
Henry, a pirate, too? God, I cannot bear it.
She heard the gurgle of whiskey pouring again. Her imagination already had painted ugly portraits of what she would suffer with Charlie. But Henry…
Numb, her mind and body turned to stone. Words, laughter. She heard but understood nothing. Deep inside, she pleaded with God to die, to sink into the cave’s floor and become part of it forever.
A thump opened her eyes. Henry’s tall silhouette held a knife. But instead of cold steel at her throat, ropes loosened. He set her, as if she were a doll, on her feet and wrapped her shawl around her. “I know you feel faint,” he whispered. “But we must run. Now.”
She moved her foot an inch. Two. Joy cascaded over her like a waterfall as he half guided, half carried her past the sprawled-out man.
“Smacked him with the whiskey jug,” Henry answered her look.
Out, out, they hurried, into the blessed, clean December air. The glimmering wide ribbon of the river wrapped the night like a gift.
Henry lifted her off her feet and plunged into the thickest woods. She clung to him, ducking branches, feeling his long limbs eat up ground. Suddenly he skidded to a stop. “Keturah, I mean no disrespect. But I can run faster if I carry you over my shoulder.”
The polite request almost broke her. She nodded, and he hoisted her carefully over his shoulder and ran like the wind through the night. A bumpy ride. She would be sore tomorrow as if she had ridden a pony in the Christmas race. But thanks to him, she dared hope she would see another day.
♦ ♦ ♦
Henry wound his way among bare-branched thickets, behind scraggly junipers, to a limestone cliff’s wall. He slid Keturah from his shoulder. “Thank God, it’s like an October night, rather than December. We’ll hide here. In my prayer cave.”
That she hung back did not surprise him. “I’ll go in first.”
He knelt and slipped through the narrow opening. A few bats flapped past him. He listened. Knife raised and shoulders hunched, he wound a path into the empty narrow room with moonlight leaking through the small opening in the top. It had never looked more beautiful. He returned to Keturah and coaxed her inside. He took his blanket from its oilskin packet and wrapped it around her. “Sorry. No food here. It would draw critters.”
She stared past him, fascinated by the silvery lamp lit for them.
“Why, it shines like the Christmas star.” Childlike, she stepped into its glory.
The star he’d seen the night he rescued Charlie had sent his mind heavenward as well. He longed to share a thousand treasures he’d crammed into his heart, but he gently pulled her back into the gray shadows. “We must keep quiet. We’ll talk tomorrow. Tonight, I promise I will protect you. And I keep my promises.”
Her eyes widened with new terror, and she shuddered uncontrollably.
What had he said? How could he take away her fear? He ached to hold her. But after her ordeal, she might scream, revealing their hiding place, or run away, an easy target for Charlie and his gang. In desperation Henry dropped the mask he’d worn all his life, putting every feeling he harbored for her
on display. He prayed aloud. “God, please protect us. Help Keturah not to be afraid.”
Slowly she took his hand. “God keeps His promises, Henry.” Her face mirrored the light. “I know thee will, too.”
♦ ♦ ♦
She felt as if she had been beaten with a log. When one big hand shook her shoulder, she choked.
“Keturah. It’s me.”
Henry?
Her eyes opened to dim gray light. She leaned against hard, damp stone walls. A cave. She was in a cave. Spasms of panic shook her.
“There, there. You’re safe.” His long arm encircled her shoulders, and she remembered how they had agreed to share the blanket. The last thing she recalled was Henry sitting erect, his eyes like a hawk’s, watching.
She clung to him. He touched her cheek. “Sorry I had to wake you so early. Surely Charlie wanted to hunt us down. But after stealing a steamship, the constable, not to mention James Ford, will chase after them. Ford doesn’t like small potatoes like Charlie homing in on his territory.”
She tried not to enjoy the picture of Charlie afraid, running for his life. Charlie captured and given what he deserved. Her head bowed. Not that she had been given what she deserved.
Henry went on, “If we go to the constable’s now, perhaps we can take you home before your parents worry to find you gone.”
Papa. Mama. She tried to scramble to her feet. She so hungered to see them. But how would she face them?
“I’ll help you explain, if you want.” Rising, Henry steadied her.
He risked his life to save her from her own folly. Now he offered to help her. “Henry, I do not know how thee came to rescue me—”
“When Charlie joined in James Ford’s evil doings, I feared for you and for him. I followed him on his night prowlings and saw him take you into the cave.”
How she wished she could disappear. Instead, she took his hands and forced herself to look him in the eye. “I have a world of apologies to make to thee, but we must go. I will begin, however, by offering my thanks.”
He said nothing. But his tired face shone with such kindness. Last night she thought she would never kiss a man again. Today, how he drew her, but would he ever think of her in the same way? Tears dribbled down her cheeks. Weak and wounded, how could she make it through this day? Yet she must. Gently dropping his hands, she tried to brush dirt from her shawl and First Day dress, now in rags.
A Plain and Sweet Christmas Romance Collection Page 44
