My Heart Stood Still (Sisters Of Mercy Flats 2)

by Lori Copeland

“Once Papa’s in the icehouse, Tobias, you take Malachi and go over to the jail. Then you be sure that both of you get to bed tonight and get a good night’s sleep, for we’ll be leaving first thing in the mornin’.”

  “Yes’m, we will, ma’am. Don’t you worry a bit ’bout us.”

  Creed and Quincy jumped out of the railcar when Anne-Marie and Loyal turned to go. With Quincy loudly giving instructions to Creed, they unloaded the casket from the train and waited for Anne-Marie and Loyal to lead the way.

  Loyal held a hanky to his nose and approached the armed guards, who lifted their rifles when the small procession approached. One’s eyes widened and he gave Loyal a censoring look.

  “Miss Willingham has asked permission to store her papa’s remains in the icehouse,” Loyal explained when the two guards viewed the casket suspiciously, “and I have granted her wish. Unlock the door, Boyd.”

  Boyd stepped up and removed the lock, and the two guards stood back to let the men carry the casket into the icehouse.

  Creed’s features remained expressionless when he set the coffin down beside a bag of what could only be gold coins.

  “It shore do seem cool and nice in here,” Quincy drawled.

  Creed remained silent, maintaining his simpleton facade.

  Groping his way, Quincy turned and led Creed back out of the icehouse. The guards stepped forward to relock the door and then resumed their stance, rifles in hand.

  “Well, I do declare,” Anne-Marie said, breathing a sigh of relief. “I believe my appetite is returning. Shall we go to supper, Mr. Streeter?”

  “As you wish, my dear.”

  Turning her, Loyal Streeter pointed her in the direction of the café, where private dining quarters awaited.

  Once he was turned toward the jail, Quincy blindly stumbled his way along, dragging Creed behind him.

  Glancing over his shoulder, Creed saw the councilman slip his arm around Anne-Marie’s waist as they stepped onto the hotel steps.

  “That pompous idiot better keep his hands to himself,” Creed muttered.

  Loyal Streeter proved to be nothing less than charming over supper, regaling “Lillie Belle” with stories about High Bluff. The roast pheasant, boiled potatoes, and string beans tasted marvelous after the venison she’d been living on at the mission.

  “More pheasant, Miss Willingham?”

  “No thank you, Mr. Streeter. I do declare I’m stuffed up to the brim.”

  Rising from his chair, Loyal offered his arm. Accepting it, she stood up, bestowing a tremulous smile upon him. “You’re evah so kind, Mr. Streeter.”

  Loyal nodded, patting his rather portly middle. “Fine meal, fine meal.”

  “Simply divine.”

  Arm and arm, they strolled along the plank sidewalk, enjoying the cool night air. There were few people on the streets now, most having gone home to their families.

  As Anne-Marie kept step with his long stride she wrinkled her forehead.

  “Is there something troubling you tonight, Miss Willingham—other than your father?”

  “No, I was just thinking. Perhaps I should check on my two men.”

  “Oh, they’re quite all right,” Loyal assured her. “I have seen to their care.”

  “But if I could speak to them briefly, assure them that all is well,” she persisted. “They were my father’s favorites, you know, and I’m sure at this moment they are very confused. Perhaps if you’d be so kind as to allow me a moment to put their fears to rest?”

  “Very well,” Loyal conceded. “If you must.”

  The councilman and his lady veered toward the tracks. Loyal nodded to a passerby, who greeted him by his first name.

  Snapping her fan open, Anne-Marie stirred the air, stepping a little faster. She didn’t know why, but she had an overwhelming urge to see Creed. The long day had taken a toll on her nerves. Creed had promised to stay until the gold was back in their hands, but the ploy had taken much longer than she’d anticipated. Now it was dark and he still waited with Quincy in the boxcar when he should be on his way to be with Berry Woman.

  When the couple approached the box car, Creed and Quincy sat up. Both men had been lying on a mound of straw.

  Creed’s eyes locked with hers. For a moment they watched each other before his dark gaze shifted to focus on Loyal Streeter’s hand on her arm.

  “Dat you, Miss Willingham?” Quincy stared sightlessly up.

  “It’s me, Tobias. Hope we’re not disturbin’ you,” she apologized.

  “No ma’am, you’se not disturbin’ us. We’s just relaxin’ for a spell. Hope you don’t mind.”

  Lifting the hem of her skirt, she approached Creed, casting a coy glance in his direction. “Well, you certainly look well fed.”

  “Oh, yes’m, yes’m, we’se had real good eats,” Quincy assured her. “Plenty o’ beans and hardtack.”

  “That’s nice.” Her eyes fixed on Creed’s stoic features.

  “And you, Malachi? Did you eat well?”

  “He did, ma’am. He shore did,” Quincy answered for Creed.

  Patting Creed on the shoulder, she turned to smile coyly up at Loyal. “They’re such fine men. I don’t know what I would evah do without them.” She paused, smiling when she saw Creed scowling beneath the slouch hat.

  “Mr. Streeter and I just had a long, nice supper. Excellent fare. We had browned plump pheasant, delicious potatoes, and string beans.” She smiled again. “Did you say you had beans and hardtack?”

  “Yes’m.”

  “Mmm. Sounds good.”

  “Yes’m,” Quincy returned tightly.

  She placed her hand over Loyal’s, her gaze returning to Creed.

  “Well, I’ll be getting on back to the hotel,” she said. “It has been a very long day.” Hooking her arm through Loyal’s, she smiled at Creed. “Sleep well, you two.”

  On the walk back to the hotel Anne-Marie’s conscience pricked her. She hated to cause this delay for Creed. He could be with Berry Woman at this very moment, comforting her, holding her hand, yet he’d remained here throughout the long day until the gold was back in their hands. Now it would be another day before he joined the injured girl. Anne-Marie didn’t want to make him angry; he’d been patient with her, considering all she’d put him through. In the morning she would be up even earlier than planned and move that gold shipment out from under Loyal Streeter’s eyes. The crooked councilman would never know what hit him until it was too late to do anything about the ruse.

  Loyal escorted her to her room, extracting her promise that the very next time she came through High Bluff they would have supper together. When he squeezed her hand possessively, she tried not to shudder. This man was nothing like Creed. She wanted Creed’s arm to protect her.

  The sun was just topping the hotel roof when Loyal Streeter stepped out the next morning, escorting Miss Lillie Belle Willingham. Lillie Belle’s two servants somberly fell into step behind the couple when they crossed the street and walked toward the icehouse.

  As the entourage approached, the guards moved to unlock the door. Once the heavy padlock had been removed, they stepped aside, allowing room for the men to enter.

  Anne-Marie ignored the trickle of sweat rolling down her back. If Quincy and Creed didn’t come out soon, Streeter was going to get suspicious. Anne-Marie could see the man was already pacing back and forth, his eyes trained on the icehouse door.

  Moments stretched into long minutes. The whistle blasted again, warning of the train’s imminent departure.

  Clearly uneasy now, Loyal started for the icehouse door when it suddenly opened and Quincy and Creed emerged, carrying the heavy-laden coffin.

  “There you are,” he said. “I was just about to come in after you. Now come along, all of you. The train is eager to leave.”

  Loyal took Anne-Marie’s arm and walked her away as Creed and Quincy followed, weaving their way down the small incline to the railroad tracks.

  The conductor and another man were waiting to help
the two servants hoist the casket aboard the waiting rail car.

  “Must have been a hardy soul,” Anne-Marie heard the conductor say as he strained to help lift the cumbersome load. Pulling his handkerchief out of his pocket, the conductor mopped at his forehead. “What’s in there? A dead bull?”

  The engineer tooted the train whistle again, and Anne-Marie turned to Loyal, extending her gloved hand. “I shall remember you always, Loyal. I just don’t know how I can evah repay your generosity. You’ve just been such a sweet South’n gentleman.”

  Bowing from the waist, Loyal placed a kiss on the back of her hand. “I shall never forget you, Miss Lillie Belle Willingham.”

  Anne-Marie smiled. “I suspect you won’t, Mr. Streeter. Indeed, I suspect you won’t.”

  “Now, don’t you forget to come on back here once all the unpleasantness has been attended to,” he reminded. “And we’ll have supper.”

  The train began to move as she daintily lifted the hem of her skirt and Loyal helped her aboard. Moving to the back of the car, Anne-Marie waved her hanky at Loyal’s disappearing figure.

  “Don’t forget, Miss Willingham! You promised to stop off here again and have dinner with me,” Loyal called.

  “I shan’t, Mr. Streeter. I shan’t.”

  Be back, she added beneath her breath. A cheerful “Lillie Belle” waved and waved until the train finally rounded the bend and was out of sight.

  Patting his lapel, Loyal drew a deep breath when the train disappeared. Now there was a woman.

  Turning, he strode back to the icehouse to check on his gold. When he stepped inside, it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim interior. When they did, he blinked, and then blinked again, unable to believe what he was seeing. The empty trunk lay open in front of him, a piece of paper sitting in the bottom. Loyal’s face drained of color as he read the terse note:

  A fool and his money are soon parted.

  Cursing, he ripped the paper in half.

  Some miles down the track, the train once again pulled to a grinding halt. Passengers groped for support and a grumble went up at yet another unexpected delay.

  The conductor walked through the cars, soothing frayed tempers. “Just be a moment, folks, and we’ll be on our way again,” he assured them.

  Outside, two men loaded the heavy casket onto a waiting buckboard overseen by three Apache warriors.

  Nearby, an Indian chief dressed in a war bonnet sat astride his horse, watching the activities. A servant approached the warrior and they exchanged words.

  Shortly, the train released its brakes and steam billowed from the smokestack. The conductor blew the whistle and cars began to rattle on down the track.

  Anne-Marie ran over to stand beside Creed when the train picked up speed and disappeared around the bend. “Did you ask Bold Eagle about Berry Woman? Is she… ”

  “She is stronger. Medicine Man believes that she will live, but it will be a long and painful recovery. It seems that Plain Weasel has not left her side.”

  “Good. I’m… I’m glad for you. For both of you.” And then she grinned. Both he and Quincy had to admit the second plan had gone off without a hitch. “Nice job, huh?”

  “Very nice job,” he agreed.

  Twenty

  How long will it take to deliver the gold?”

  Anne-Marie, Creed, and Quincy loaded the wagon the following morning. Creed lashed the gold shipment to the buckboard with a thick rope. “Three—maybe four days’ ride from here.”

  The distance was small considering time already spent on the trail. At least there was now an end in sight to this reckless but unforgettable journey. In so many ways Anne-Marie longed for the ordeal to end, but in others she dreaded the moment when the gold was handed over and she was free to return to Mercy Flats.

  When Creed brushed past her, he gently squeezed her shoulder in an act of assurance. The gesture brought little warmth to her heart.

  Good weather followed the three travelers. Other than an occasional spring shower that started and stopped almost as fast as it arrived, nothing but bright skies, robins, and early spring crocuses accompanied the group.

  At the end of the third day the party rode into the encampment as dusk fell. Creed and Quincy accepted Commander Lewis’s praise with dignified modesty. Only Anne-Marie knew the real price that had been paid for this victory.

  “We have so many stories to tell you,” she blurted to the commander. “You will not believe what we’ve gone through to deliver this gold.”

  “I cannot wait to hear these stories.” Lewis motioned for men to take the horses. “Come, warm yourself by the fire.”

  “I want to offer my share of the gold for the Union cause,” she had offered.

  Commander Lewis’s appreciative smile had melted her heart. “That is most kind, young lady. Come now. You’ll have a warm meal and then a good night’s rest before you leave.” He slapped Creed on the back. “And you and I will have time to catch up on all these stories the young lady speaks about—including why the young lady is with you.” He raised an eyebrow.

  “Sounds good, sir.”

  There was a large celebration in camp that night. The causes of the festivities were twofold. Word had come early that morning, Palm Sunday, that Robert E. Lee had surrendered his starving ragged Army of North Virginia to Ulysses S. Grant.

  The war was finally over. Giddy with the news, Anne-Marie had hugged Creed, Quincy, and every man, woman, and child in sight and then watched as grown men wept and others fell to their knees to thank God for their deliverance. Thousands of slain fathers, sons, and brothers were not here to witness the historic event. The North had won, but any sane man would concede there was no victor in this war. A nation had been split apart, its countrymen left with unspeakable loss. Perhaps the only blessing the weary soldiers carried was a sense of personal valor—a realization that when adversity comes, the most ordinary people can show that they value something more than they value their own lives.

  The fighting over, the men were released from duty and told to go home. The gold would help many to begin to rebuild their lives. Soldiers would return to burned-down homes, looted farms, and fields littered with the remains of war. For others, God willing, there would be wives and children waiting for husbands and fathers to return.

  “If only the gold could have come earlier,” Anne-Marie mused.

  “I am thankful no matter the timing,” the captain said. “I just thank God the fighting is over.”

  The following morning, Anne-Marie watched as Quincy strapped the last of his belongings into his knapsack and hefted it onto his back.

  “Are you going to ride or walk?” she teased.

  “Both. I have shoes and a strong back; I’m going home.” He turned to shake Creed’s hand, his eyes filling with unshed tears. “It’s been a pleasure knowing and working with you, Creed Walker.”

  Creed’s features turned somber when he clasped Quincy’s hand, his eyes confirming his deep respect for his trustworthy friend. “Our lives have been on the line many times, and you were always there for me. Thank you, Quincy.”

  “If you ever get near Coleman Flats, Alabama, be sure to look me up,” Quincy said. “I’d be real honored to have you meet my family.”

  “I’ll make it a point to ride that way,” Creed assured him.

  Glancing at Anne-Marie, Quincy cleared his throat.

  Smiling, she stepped up, hugging him tightly around the neck. “I hope the invitation goes for me as well.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” That twinkle she loved sparkled in his eyes. “Especially for you.” He hugged her back, holding her firmly for a moment. “When you’re back with your sisters, you bring them to Coleman Flats, Alabama.” He shook his head, grinning. “Lord have mercy not only on me, but the town. Two others like you.”

  Shaking hands one final time, Quincy turned and started through camp, saluting others as they called out to him.

  Anne-Marie followed, tears wetting her cheeks when s
he watched him set off down the road. They had shared a lot in the past few weeks. She finally understood the passion behind those who had fought this war. If she were asked to give her life in order that Quincy’s future sons and daughters would live in freedom, she would gladly do so. These courageous fighting men had proven that the color of one’s skin didn’t matter. It was the man who made the difference.

  Then it was time for Anne-Marie and Creed to leave. Anne-Marie prepared for the final journey ahead with a heavy heart. There was a time when she would have anticipated the return home with a child’s enthusiasm. Now the realization of what lay at the end of the journey was bittersweet.

  Creed checked the horses’ bridles. Even though she was impatient to be reunited with Abigail and Amelia, how would she ever be able to say goodbye to the man with whom she had shared her deepest secrets and thoughts—her very soul?

  Turning, he caught her staring. For a moment their eyes met, affection mirroring in each of their depths. He finally broke the silence. “Commander Lewis has offered us an escort. I told him we wouldn’t need one.”

  “No,” she murmured. She wanted their last hours together to be spent alone. Moving to her horse, she mounted before he could see dampness building in her eyes.

  Creed swung into his saddle and, with a final salute to Commander Lewis, turned his horse.

  Anne-Marie brought her animal in behind him, and they rode out of camp while the others stood watching.

  For two days they rode side by side, speaking of nothing more serious than how pleasant the day was and how enjoyable the Baby Blue Eyes, Bird Cherry, and Coltsfoot were blooming along the ditches and ravines.

  Creed pointed to a robin pulling fat worms out of the moist ground, and they laughed, savoring the shared intimate moments. Another time he spotted a cottonwood tree, and they left their horses to peel back the bark of the tree and scrape the spring sap that flowed upward. The jellylike froth was sweet and creamy. They devoured the delicacy like two small children.

  Lying under the stars that evening, Anne-Marie rested in her bedroll, trying to hold back the sunrise.

  “I’ll miss you,” she confessed. The fire had dwindled low. Overhead a canopy of stars saturated the sky.