Blue Moon

by Jill Marie Landis

  Susanna hurried out of the cabin to join them. Molly came to the doorway and stood there watching the exchange. Olivia smiled over her father’s shoulder at the serving girl. Payson finally let her go.

  “Livvie, please forgive me. I had to break my promise,” Susanna appeared troubled, sorry she had broken the trust.

  “I know,” Olivia said, taking Susanna’s hand. “But since you did it to save Noah, I thank you.” She looked over her shoulder and saw Noah making an effort to converse with Little Pay and Freddie. Her heart stumbled.

  “It’s finally over.” Payson shook his head as Susanna moved up beside him.

  “Not quite yet.” Olivia hated to darken the mood. “There’s still Darcy’s trial. We had to bring him back to clear Noah’s name. He admits Noah didn’t kill Mr. Betts, but he says that he didn’t either. He claims the man died of heart failure.”

  “But Noah’s knife—”

  By this time Noah had joined them. The boys flanked him like bookends, hanging on his every word.

  “Ern Matheson said that as soon as the circuit judge is located, we’ll be called back to town for the hearing,” Olivia told them.

  “Is Noah safe?”

  “Darcy’s admitted to stabbing Betts with Noah’s knife. Ern talked to as many folks as he could while we were gone and they know Noah’s reputation. Darcy, on the other hand, is a complete stranger with no alibi. He may be found guilty because there’s no one to vouch for him or his word.”

  “What do you think?” Payson asked her.

  “Although he used the man’s death to frame Noah, we don’t think he killed Betts,” she said.

  “There’s nothing we can do until we get word from Ern, so right now, why don’t we all go in and have something to eat? Come, Noah, come join us at our table again.” Payson called out to Molly. “How about helping dish up some of those beans and hamhocks for everybody?”

  Molly lingered in the open doorway. “Where is Mr. Lankanal now?”

  “Ern put him in the smokehouse,” Noah said.

  “I’m sure it’s an experience he’ll never forget,” Olivia added, thinking of the quality of the accommodations Darcy was used to.

  “The beans, Molly,” Susanna reminded the girl gently.

  “Get the beans. Milk the cow. Ye’d think that’s all a body had to do around here was work.” After Molly grumbled her way back inside, the rest of them followed.

  Noah’s frustration mounted as the afternoon came and went. Everyone wanted Olivia’s attention, from Susanna, who was more lively than Noah had ever seen her, to the little boys who alternately wanted to play with him or were begging Olivia to tell them a story. Payson, relieved and happy to have his family together again, took a book down from one of the shelves and sat in a corner, content to read. He looked up occasionally and watched them all. Even Molly would not leave Olivia alone. She begged to hear the story of the harrowing trip downriver, asking about every detail.

  Restless and bored, Noah began to wonder if Olivia was hiding behind her family’s attention. He needed to talk to her alone, to speak of all the things in his heart, but there was no time. As the afternoon and evening wore on, he was plagued with the ache in his wounded shoulder. Finally, after they had eaten a light evening meal of corn bread and milk, during which he hardly took his gaze off her, he concluded that Olivia was purposely avoiding him. He stood up at the table and announced he was going back to his old campsite to spend the night.

  At that, Olivia quickly looked up, but he still could not read the expression on her face. Was it disappointment or worry? The boys sat on each side of her, watching him intently.

  “Can we sleep out there with you, Noah?” Little Pay asked.

  “We’ll be real, real quiet,” Freddie added.

  Noah shook his head, looked directly at Olivia. “What I need is some sleep.”

  A look passed between Susanna and Payson, and they suddenly stood up. Olivia’s father went back to the rocking chair as Susanna silently began helping Molly clear the dishes.

  Olivia’s gaze shot to the loft where she, Molly, and the boys slept, already crowded together. Then she met his gaze for the longest time since they had entered the cabin.

  He thought for a moment she was about to say something, but she fell silent, quickly casting her eyes down at her hands where they rested on the tabletop.

  “Olivia?”

  She shook her head, a nearly imperceptible movement. “We’ll talk tomorrow,” she said.

  All day he had been trying to marshal the courage to ask her to marry him and go back to Heron Pond. Seeing her with her family again gave him doubt, but he held on to his hope. He wanted her to step outside with him so that he might see what she was thinking and feeling, but obviously she did not want to be alone with him tonight. If he did propose, would she turn him down again?

  His shoulder ached, he was dirty and tired, and he wanted nothing more than to wash up at the creek, put his head down and sleep. His own indecision was making him crazy. His patience finally snapped.

  “Have a good night then, Olivia.” It was said more harshly than he had intended. He stood up, bid everyone else good-night, and walked out of the cabin without looking back.

  Olivia waited until everyone was asleep, then took her moccasins out of the trunk, slipped them over her bare feet, and climbed down out of the loft. Without making a sound, she left the house. The moon was not yet up, but the darkness no longer frightened her.

  Across the field she hurried, then quickly walked along the woodland path. She halted at the edge of the clearing around his lean-to. The fire had reduced itself to glowing embers and white ash within a ring of stones.

  She crept closer, gliding across the grass. Noah slept on his side, his wounded shoulder up, his back to the clearing. When she reached the low lean-to, she knelt down, tempted to reach for him, to touch his hair. She longed to lie down beside him, to be there to watch the sun come up, to see him awaken, to smile at his surprise when he found her there, but a few stolen moments was all she would allow herself.

  She saw that he had bathed in the pool. His long straight hair was still wet where it lay against his cheek, covering his scar. Ern had given him a shirt to replace what was left of the one torn during the fight, the same shirt whose hem Noah had ripped off to make new headbands. His new brown calico shirt was unbuttoned down the front, revealing his smooth, hard chest. She longed to lay her palm against his bare skin, to feel his heart beating beneath her touch.

  She added some wood to the fire to keep away the predators that roamed the woods; then, as carefully as she could, she lowered herself to the grass beside him. He was so exhausted that he did not even stir. She decided to stay and keep watch while he slept, for this might be one of the last times she was alone with him.

  As she stared down at the sleeping man, she thought of the many times he had offered her his love and protection, of the way she had hurt him, the times she turned him away. He was a strong man, a proud one, too. He would not ask again.

  She sat beside him late into the night, alternately dozing and then listening to the sounds of the fire crackling in the fire ring, the hoot of an owl perched high in the tree above them. She sat beside him until the first stars began to fade. Then with a touch as light as a butterfly flitting across a summer meadow, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his cheek. Stiff from sitting on the grass, she finally stood up and left him to finish his dreams alone.

  Darcy was escorted to the trial in chains, chains that Ern Matheson had to borrow from the local blacksmith. The heavy, oily iron rattled and clanked as he was marched to the tavern instead of the courthouse, which had been damaged in the spring floods. No liquor would be sold this morning while the place served as a courtroom. The tables had been rearranged; one had been set up apart from the others for the circuit court judge.

  Chairs were lined up in uneven rows, the extra tables stacked in the back of the room. The windows were all open but the air was ho
t, muggy, and still. The place still held the fetid smell of a tavern, reeking of whiskey and ale, tobacco and unwashed men.

  When they left him standing just inside the doorway with a guard, Darcy slowly perused the room. There was no comparing it to the Palace of Angels with its crystal chandeliers, imported carpets, gilt-framed mirrors, and silk wall coverings. He only hoped to God that he would live to see the Palace again.

  In a matter of seconds, Ern Matheson was back at his side. The yokel peacekeeper was puffed up with importance, smiling and nodding as folks streamed through the door. The man had even donned a clean shirt for the occasion, which gave Darcy pause. The townsfolk all seemed to be taking his trial very seriously. Probably nothing else of such import had happened here in years.

  “Come on, Lankanal.” Ern took his arm, letting him set his own pace because the heavy chains tangled and dragged from his waist, down his legs to the shackles at his ankles. He pulled out a chair behind a table and motioned Darcy to sit.

  Before he did, Darcy scanned the room. The Bonds and the half-breed had not yet arrived. He felt a moment of fear when he thought that they might not come. He tried to shove his panic aside. LeCroix and Olivia were the only ones who could testify on his behalf, and they owed him nothing. She hated him. He saw that with the clarity of a man who had just spent hours alone chained up in a dark smokehouse ruminating over his own past. He had gone mad for a while, lost his mind over a woman who certainly was lovely, but wasn’t worth losing everything it had taken both him and his mother a lifetime to build.

  He should have toasted Olivia the day she escaped the Palace, found himself another virgin, and forgotten Miss Bond had ever existed. But if there was one thing he knew for certain now, the view back is far clearer than the road ahead.

  The room was filling up fast with townsfolk, men and women both. Some of the women held squirming children. Others even brought along older ones with them. Everyone was curious, probably just as eager to see him hang. Raising his head, he slowly looked around the room, staring back at the crowd, giving them what they wanted—a chance to look at an accused killer. Some turned away quickly; others stared back unabashedly. A woman in the front row shivered when he met her gaze. She blanched and closed her eyes. When he thought she might faint, he smiled at her.

  There was a commotion at the door that drew his attention, along with everyone else’s. Darcy watched as Olivia’s father stepped through the door. His wife came along after him, her good looks surprising. The night he had visited the cabin to offer to buy Olivia, he had thought her a pale, tired woman. Today Payson Bond’s wife’s cheeks were bright, her eyes shining. She had washed her shining blond hair and in the pale blue gown she was wearing, she actually looked much younger and quite fetching. The two little towheaded hellions ran through the door behind her and raced to take seats in front. The younger one smiled and waved to the crowd, and when he caught Darcy looking at him, he stuck out his tongue.

  Darcy braced himself for Olivia’s entrance when she walked in with the half-breed. Head high, her cheeks flaming, she wore a long doeskin dress, Indian garb adorned with fringe that swayed provocatively with her every step. Her long black hair curled riotously, almost to her waist. He had to hand it to her—she looked stunning and untouchable with the huge man beside her.

  LeCroix appeared formidable in a clean white shirt with full sleeves, his ragged red eye patch a bold statement that only exaggerated his “Prince of the Ohio” image. If the man’s shoulder wound still bothered him, he did not let on as he stood there beside Olivia, daring anyone in the room to approach her.

  As he stared across the room at Noah LeCroix, Darcy thanked his lucky stars that the heavier, well-built man had not killed him at Cave in Rock. At least now he would still be able to tell his side of the story to the judge and hopefully save his own neck.

  Spending almost twenty-four hours in the smokehouse had given him time to prepare his own defense. He just hoped his ability to charm the skin off a snake had not totally evaporated. His failure to win over Olivia was a setback that still shocked him, but this was no time to give in to doubt. His future depended on his ability to convince the justice of the peace and the crowd that he was innocent of Betts’s murder.

  LeCroix stared over at him as he escorted Olivia to her chair. A murmur rippled through the crowd. The last of the Bond entourage to enter was the young serving girl who had threatened Darcy with the rifle. There was an undeniable flash in her eyes and a bounce in her step that any warm-blooded man would be hard-pressed not to notice. She was ready for a tumble, and advertising in not-so-subtle ways. He found himself wondering what she would look like in silk, with those thick auburn curls done up in style, when Ern stepped up to the judge’s table and rapped it with a wooden spoon. On the way over there had been much discussion about a missing gavel. Faye Matheson had volunteered to run back to the store and grab a substitute gavel when they promised that they wouldn’t start without her.

  “Hear ye, hear ye. Time for this honorable court to come to order.”

  The whispering and shuffling of feet against the wooden floorboards stopped. An expectant hush fell over the room.

  “The honorable Elihu Richmond will preside.” Ern Matheson took his role to heart, standing straight as a poker, chest out, shoulders back.

  Darcy stared at the slight, crooked figure coming through the door. Elihu Richmond was old as dirt, nearly bent double over a wooden cane. In his other bent, gnarled hand he carried a worn leather satchel. As he shuffled along, his feet never left the ground. His back was so crippled that he could barely lift his head and look up. He reminded Darcy of an old turtle, with wisps of white hair sticking out of large ears that bracketed a bald, freckled pate.

  Ern helped him into his chair. The justice took his time hanging the cane on the edge of the table and arranging it just so. Then he dug through his satchel and made a great show of sorting through a pile of wrinkled papers, then tried to smooth them flat with his arthritic hands. Finally his head came up a fraction of an inch and he rolled his eyes to scan the crowd.

  Elihu Richmond cleared his throat and rasped. “Well, let’s begin.”

  Ern stood and gave an official, long-winded version of what had happened; he told of finding Betts’s body at the hotel and how he recognized Noah’s distinctive knife, of Noah’s arrest, of Susanna Bond’s statement that her stepdaughter had gone away with Darcy because he had threatened all of their lives if she did not.

  Susanna Bond was called to give her statement again. There was much shifting on the hard-bottomed chairs as she swore to tell the truth on the bible, but during her testimony, the place was quiet enough to hear a pin drop.

  Darcy knew when his time came, he had better make the story good.

  Olivia stared straight ahead, refusing to look at Darcy even once. She had donned Noah’s mother’s dress as a talisman and hoped that it would offer her protection. Butterflies were amassing in her stomach, for she knew that when it was her turn to cross the room alone and stand before the wizened old judge, she would have to tell the truth—and the truth would mean the whole story. She would have to tell why and how Darcy had come into her life, and then the town would know that she had been his captive whore for over a year. No matter that none of it had been her choice. Most of these stouthearted, God-fearing people would see it as an indelible black stain upon her soul.

  Noah surprised her by reaching over to take her hand and giving it a squeeze. When she looked at him, he smiled and, despite the circumstances, the crowd, the fact that Darcy was only a few feet away, she felt warm and safe, as if they were the only two people in the world.

  Ern was conferring with Judge Richmond, who kept yelling, “What’d you say?” every time Ern whispered in his ear. Finally Ern yelled back, “I said LeCroix is a half-breed,” and a murmur rippled through the crowd.

  “Then I’m not allowin’ his testimony,” Richmond shot back.

  Olivia glanced up at Noah. He was staring s
traight ahead at the bright sunlight beyond the open door, toward the river. She straightened, lifted her chin. Her hand tightened in his. The judge said something she did not hear over her deep concern for Noah’s pride.

  “Miss Livvie?” Ern finally caught her attention. He was across the room, waiting expectantly for something. She realized she had finally been called to speak.

  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath to calm herself. The judge’s table was only a few steps away and yet it seemed like miles as she crossed the room. The fringe on the doeskin dress swayed with a whispering hush-hush sound. The touch of the rich cured skin against her flesh gave her courage and she thought of that other world, the swamp, and the day Noah had given her the dress. Finally she faced both the judge and the room at large.

  Beside her family, Noah was staring up at her from his seat in the front row. He looked so natural there, so much a part of them that she was afraid she was going to cry. She glanced at Susanna, who smiled back, although her eyes were suspiciously bright. Payson looked nervous as he sat with his hat on his knees. He nodded at her and mouthed, “We love you, Livvie.”

  And she knew that he did love her, that her family would always love her no matter what the rest of Shawneetown thought of her once the story had been told.

  She could not bear to look at the boys. Molly sat beside them, watching her intently. Even the serving girl appeared nervous for her. Molly sat there twisting her hands in the worn material of her homespun skirt and glancing around the room.

  Ern Matheson touched her arm, had her place her hand on the cracked, black leather cover of an old bible and swear to tell the truth. He advised her to speak up good and loud. Then he nodded to Richmond. When the judge asked how she came to know Darcy Lankanal, she quickly glossed over the raid by the river pirates and then told of how they had sold her to Darcy in New Orleans. Just as she expected, the crowd lost control. It took Ern much pounding of the wooden spoon and yelling for quiet before things simmered down.