by Hale Deborah
Surveying the fire damage, Manning wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his bandaged hand.
A blanket of hot, sultry air had settled over the area in the aftermath of the storm. That didn’t heat him up as much as a passing thought of Caddie.
Part of him wished he’d been worse drunk, blurring his recollection of their mating, so it wouldn’t taunt and tempt him at every unguarded moment. A streak of unrepentant sin in his nature made him wallow in every vivid memory.
One thing he knew for sure, he’d have to get Doc Mercer to modify these damned bandages so he could feed and dress himself without Caddie’s assistance.
“Bobbie,” he called, “can I get you to drive me into town?”
“Reckon so, boss.” The young man ambled over, eyeing the drenched, blackened piece of woodland. “Good thing that rain came when it did.”
Manning nodded. “Queer, isn’t it? If that fire was set on purpose, why not wait for a dry day? And why start it off in the woods? One match in the right place would have sent the shop up like a torch.”
Bobbie shrugged. “Maybe it was just meant for a scare.”
“Maybe.” Manning couldn’t decide whether to bless or curse whatever agency had started the fire and driven Caddie into his arms.
As they drove into Mercer’s Corner, the two men talked more about possible causes of the fire and measures they might take to minimize the threat in future.
They were just drawing up to Doc Mercer’s surgery when Bobbie nodded toward a well-dressed couple parading down the road. “Well, speak of the devil. That Lon is nothing if not brazen.”
“Don’t pay him any mind.” Manning climbed down from the wagon as awkwardly as he’d been doing everything today.
The temporary loss of his hands gave him a heightened sympathy for the soldiers, North and South, who’d lost limbs for good. Did anybody truly win a war?
“That fellow could be a dangerous enemy,” he added. “I’ve got more of those than I need already.”
Caddie, for instance. Had he made an enemy of her with his behavior this morning?
“I’ll try to hold my peace.” Bobbie pretended to ignore Lon and Lydene as they came closer. “That’s all I can promise.”
Manning took a few steps toward the doctor’s door. “Hold on there, Carpetbagger!”
His faint hope of avoiding a confrontation with Del Marsh’s brother expired. Reminding himself to keep a lid on his temper, Manning turned to face Lon.
By the looks of them, part of the proceeds from the Marsh silver had gone to pay some fashionable tailor and dressmaker. Lon’s wife in particular was decked out like a showpiece in a flounced summer gown sprigged with roses.
“Morning, folks.” Manning nodded. To Mrs. Marsh, he added, “I beg your pardon for not tipping my hat, ma’am. My hands aren’t quite up to the task today.”
Lydene regarded him with a bold stare and a sly little smile that might have been inviting. Or had his night with Caddie left him reading lewd intentions into everything?
Lon looked ready to spit on him. “Isn’t that just like a Yankee? Making all mannerly to a fellow’s face, then slandering him behind his back.”
What was it about this man that got under his skin so bad? Manning wondered as he mentally counted to ten. “Whoever claims I’ve slandered you has either been misinformed or is looking to stir up trouble. In case of the latter, I don’t intend to give them the satisfaction of succeeding. I suggest you don’t, either.”
Hearing Bobbie Stevens mutter, “... fine one to talk about slander,” Manning shot the young fellow a glance, begging him to leave well enough alone.
“Don’t you go telling me what I should and shouldn’t do, Carpetbagger.” Lon’s lip curled in an ugly sneer. “Maybe Yankees don’t care about things like keeping a good name. Maybe you don’t have good names to keep.”
His temper flared at that, though Manning reminded himself that Lon couldn’t possibly know about his illegitimate birth. “What am I supposed to have done to sully your honor?”
“First you made a damned fool of me over the family silver, now you’re telling folks I set that fire up at your mill.” The man looked truly outraged. “I ought to call you out right now.”
Having contented himself with casting dark looks at the Marshes, Bobbie Stevens could restrain himself no longer. “That’s real gallant, Lon. Challenge a man to a duel when he can’t hold a sword or a pistol.”
“Bobbie, please...”
Clearly the young man wasn’t about to back down. “Mr. Forbes hasn’t said a peep to anybody about you trying to burn down his mill, but I have. Reckon you ought to call me out? If I’m wrong I’ll gladly apologize, but what was I supposed to think after the way you threatened Miz Caddie—saying fire and sawmills mix too well?”
Lon’s face blanched. “Just stating a fact was all,” he sputtered. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”
Maybe part of the reason he disliked Lon Marsh was because the man had a much more legitimate claim to be Caddie’s and the children’s protector, Manning admitted to himself. How could he fault Lon for wanting to usurp Delbert Marsh’s place when he had done that very thing?
“You see how easily rumors like that can get started?” Manning had held out one olive branch to Lon already, only to have it thrown back in his face. Would it kill him to try again? “If you give me the benefit of the doubt, I’ll do the same.”
Malice warred with common sense for control of Lon. Every skirmish played across his face. At last he drew himself up tall and fixed on his most engaging smile. “We might have gotten off on the wrong foot at that, Forbes. I reckon neither of us has much to gain by feuding.”
The minute Lon Marsh saw anything to gain, they’d be declared enemies again—Manning wasn’t about to fool himself. Still, this was someplace to start.
“I’m glad you see it that way, Marsh. Say, Caddie’s planning a barbecue a week from Saturday. We’d be happy to have you folks come if you care to. Might put some of these fool rumors to rest.”
“Well now, a barbecue at Sabbath Hollow.” Lon nodded slowly. “Be just like old times. Give Lydene a chance to show off her pretty new dress.”
A little tightness seeped out of Manning’s shoulders. “We’ll look forward to seeing you there. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to consult with the good doctor about my hands.”
Lon tipped his hat. “We won’t detain you further. I’d offer to shake hands on our new understanding, but that can wait till you’re healed up a little better...at the barbecue, perhaps.”
Ignoring Bobbie Stevens’ doubtful expression, Manning replied, “I’ll look forward to it.”
As the couple strolled off, Lydene glanced back at Manning with a smile that might have been flirtatious. Or more likely he was just imagining it, and the woman was simply grateful to him for providing an opportunity to flaunt her new finery.
Heading into Doc Mercer’s surgery, Manning congratulated himself on calming hostilities with Lon Marsh. If only he could strike a truce with Caddie that easily.
Chapter Seventeen
“YOU’VE INVITED WHOM to the barbecue?” On her knees scrubbing the parlor floor, Caddie glared up at Manning. Was he deliberately trying to provoke her?
“I don’t intend to repeat myself.” Manning flexed his fingers, now freed from the bandages that encased his palms. “I’m sure you heard me the first time.”
In deference to her civilized upbringing, Caddie refrained from hurling her soapy scrub brush at his head. “Did Doc Mercer ladle more moonshine into you, or have you just plain taken leave of your senses?”
“What’s so wrong with inviting Lon and Lydene to join us?” Manning demanded. “Maybe if folks on both sides had been willing to mend fences, we could have avoided that damned war.”
“Lon doesn’t want to mend fences.” She scoured a spot on the floor, imagining her brother-in-law’s face in the wood grain. “He wants to burn them down. Did you ask him to bring a bucket of coal oil and
a box of matches to warm up the party, while you were at it?”
“Lon didn’t set that fire and you know it.” Manning paced the floor where it had dried. “If he had, the mill and the shop would be nothing but a pile of cinders now.”
Could this be the same man who’d set her aflame in bed last night? Now the only thing he kindled was her temper, or so Caddie wished. “Maybe you’d think differently if you’d heard Lon as good as threaten to burn the place to the ground.”
Why were they arguing about Lon, anyway? It was Lon’s wife Caddie didn’t want darkening the doorstep of Sabbath Hollow. No amount of torture would persuade her to tell Manning why. Still smarting over the way he’d rebuffed her this morning, she didn’t need a reminder of her shortcomings as a wife.
“The man said sawmills catch fire easily.” Manning started to plow his fingers through his hair, then seemed to think better of it. “I could have told you the same thing. It’s more than that, though, isn’t it, Caddie?”
Of course it was more than that. It was about Del and Lydene. It was about last night... and this morning.
Manning had his own ideas. “Lon had the gall to be living in your house when you got back here from Richmond. Are you going to hold that against him forever?”
“Some things can’t be forgiven!” The words gushed out like poison from the festering wounds in her pride, and she wasn’t talking about Lon and Sabbath Hollow.
Caddie hadn’t noticed her voice and Manning’s growing louder and sharper with each exchange until Varina appeared at the parlor door bellowing, “How come y’all get to holler in the house and I get told to shush?”
Her voice didn’t sound much louder than theirs had become.
“That’ll be enough impertinence from you, young lady,” Caddie snapped.
“She has a point, though.” Manning stooped to address Varina eye to eye. “Sometimes grown-up discussions get a little heated and folks don’t realize how loud they’re talking.” He grabbed the end of one red braid and tickled her nose with it. “If you hear me hollering in the house anymore, go ahead and shush me.”
The warmth in his voice made Caddie’s throat tighten. She would have given every piece of the Marsh silver if he’d spoken like that to her this morning. Manning Forbes might not love her enough to make her his wife in more than name, but he loved her children as much as any father could.
Why couldn’t she be happy and satisfied with that, rather than jealous of her own young’uns?
“Once your behavior is entirely correct, Varina Marsh, then you can go ahead and criticize others. Now, run along and play with your brother like a good girl.”
“I don’t know where he got off to.” Varina shrugged. “We heard you hollering, then Tem and Sergeant runned off. I think he was crying—old baby!”
Manning turned to Caddie, a look of shame and concern blazoned on his face. “I’ll go look for him.”
“In a minute. Varina, you go see if Dora needs a hand bringing in the wash.”
“Chores?” Varina rolled her eyes. Then, seeing her mother’s warning look, she trudged off toward the kitchen.
As her forceful little footsteps faded in the distance, Manning remained crouched by the door, his head bowed and his shoulders slumped. “Go ahead and say what you’re thinking.”
He sounded so... defeated. Caddie didn’t dare say what she was thinking. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Of course you do.” He sighed, and in spite of everything, she ached to put her arms around him.
“You’re dying to say, ‘Now see what you’ve done.’ Go ahead and spit it out.”
The lye soap began to sting Caddie’s hands. The stuff was as caustic as anger.
“I have no intention of saying anything of the sort.” She gentled her voice, as he had done to reassure Varina. “It takes two to make a fight. You’re no more to blame than I am, probably less. I know you meant well inviting Lon and... all. It’s just...” She couldn’t tell him.
Manning drew his own conclusions. “I know.” He struggled to his feet as if a heavy pack was strapped to his back. “This is your house. I should have let you do the inviting.”
It sounded so petty. Better he should think her petty than guess the truth and feel sorry for her. Caddie could abide anything but that.
“What do you want me to do?” Manning asked. “Tell Lon the invitation’s withdrawn? Cancel the barbecue?”
On no account would she let the threat of Lydene’s presence force her to cancel this gathering. Until that moment Caddie hadn’t realized how much she was looking forward to it. This would be a welcome chance to pretend, for a few sweet hours, that they were back in the easy, prosperous days before the war.
But how could she get Manning to retract his invitation without making him look like a henpecked fool, reinforcing the notion that he was little better than a lodger at Sabbath Hollow, working for his keep?
“What’s done is done.” Caddie rose from her knees, wiping her smarting hands on her apron. “We might as well put the best face we can on it. Maybe if Lon shows up here and partakes of our hospitality, he’ll have to behave better toward us. Otherwise the neighbors will think worse of him than they do already.”
Manning might not understand why, but he seemed to sense how hard a decision this had been for her. He smiled at her with something like fondness glowing in his eyes. “Thank you, Caddie. I hope you’re right. From now on I promise I’ll ask your leave before I invite anyone into your house.”
“Our house.”
For some reason, Manning’s smile faltered. “I’d better go find Tem.”
He headed off.
Caddie went over and opened the windows to let the lye fumes escape. In some strange way, she felt as though a window had been opened in her heart just now, letting in a warm, clover-scented breeze. They’d had words, more heated than any she’d ever exchanged with Del, and yet she felt good about the compromise they’d reached, instead of seething with bitterness.
Maybe if she could forget the night they’d spent together and stop herself yearning for him, she and Manning might manage a halfway decent marriage, after all.
She was a better woman than he deserved, but that went without saying.
In his search for Templeton, some instinct beckoned Manning toward the creek. Whenever he felt low or troubled, the sound of water never failed to soothe and revitalize him. Last night, it had been the sensual music of the rain drumming on the roof and windows of Sabbath Hollow, as much as Doc Mercer’s whiskey, that had made his desire for Caddie flood its banks and burst the dam he’d built to contain it.
He’d pushed her away this morning, to ease his guilt. That might also have been the reason he’d invited Lon to the barbecue, if he was honest with himself. Both had provoked Caddie’s anger, but beneath that, he’d sensed her hurt, and it tore at him.
As Caddie had said, some things couldn’t be forgiven. Killing her first husband would surely be at the top of that list.
Manning shied away from that painful thought the way he’d have avoided trying to lift a heavy object with his burned hands.
“Tem,” he called. “Templeton Marsh, it’ll soon be time for supper, Son.”
The boy gave no sound or movement to betray his whereabouts, but the dog had no scruples about calling attention to both of them. It came bounding through the underbrush toward Manning, barking a greeting, tail beating back and forth against the leaves. Once confident of having caught his attention, Sergeant wheeled about and made for Tem with the unerring precision of a well-aimed bullet.
As Manning had suspected, the boy sat on the creek bank, skinny arms wrapped around equally skinny legs. As the dog romped around him, saluting Manning’s arrival with more loud barks, Tem continued to stare out at the water, ignoring them both.
“Good boy, Sarge.” Patting the dog as best he could with his bandaged hand, Manning sank down beside the boy on grass still a little damp from last night’s rain.
He addressed his next words to Tem. “Stick close to Sergeant, here, and you’ll never have to worry about getting lost. Maybe in the fall, you and me can go hunting. Something tells me this fellow could track and flush game like nobody’s business.”
Tem didn’t reply or give any sign he’d even heard. His silence implied that the dog was no asset when his master just wanted to hide and be alone.
“This is a nice spot.” Manning looked around, slowly nodding his head in approval. “When I was your age, I used to have a place something like this where I’d go.”
It wasn’t easy for him to talk about, but he sensed the boy needed to hear it. “You know... when I was troubled about something. Listening to the water always made me feel better. Sometimes I’d talk to the water, too. Tell it what was bothering me. Maybe it couldn’t really hear me or do anything to help, but just putting my bad feelings into words and getting them outside of me... Probably sounds foolish to you, doesn’t it?”
By gradual, hesitant degrees, Tem’s face turned toward him. Manning could see that Varina was right. The boy had been crying.
It pained Manning’s heart in a different way, and somehow deeper than any hurt on his own account. Those were his and he could bear them. But he ached to relieve Tem’s hurts, knowing full well he couldn’t.
He held the child’s anguished gaze, saying nothing, asking nothing. Like the flowing water, just being there to receive whatever Tem was ready to disclose.
“How come you and my ma got married if you don’t like each other?”
If a cannonball had come whistling out of the heavens and blown apart the stretch of creek bank where they sat, Manning’s composure could not have been so thoroughly shaken. A hundred possible answers to Tem’s question exploded in his thoughts, none of which he dared utter.
Perhaps if Tem had been ten years older, Manning could have said he liked Caddie far too much for his good, or hers, and the young man might have understood. No way on earth could he look into the dear, anxious face of a boy he’d come to love like a son, and tell him the truth. That he’d put a bullet into Tem’s real pa, then had sworn a vow to look after Del Marsh’s family.
