Warmth spread to Bertha’s toes. “I know what you mean. Desire.”
The lines of Annie’s beautiful face turned to carved stone. “No, more than that. They feel the need to possess. To control.”
It pained Bertha’s heart to imagine what misdeeds had caused Annie to say such a thing. “Not all men. My papa would never treat a woman like that.”
Annie smiled, but it didn’t erase the hard lines. “Then I need to meet your papa. If it’s true, he’d be the first of his kind I’ve run into.”
“There are a lot of good men in the world. Thad’s one of them.”
Annie chuckled and held up her hand. “Don’t be so hasty. He’s too green to determine that yet. Let’s give him a few years. Now tell me about your Thad.”
They dwelled at length on Bertha’s favorite topic. She described Thad in glowing terms–tall, with shoulders so broad she couldn’t see around him, dark brown eyes, and sandy hair. A quick smile and rumbling laugh. She told Annie she’d been in love with Thad since the day Abel and Leona Bloom moved him into Jefferson. She shared that she longed to be his wife, said she knew in her heart he felt the same but something held him back.
“And I’m running out of time. He’s leaving town.”
“Leaving? Why?”
Bertha broke eye contact and stared at the ground. “College. He’s going away to school.”
“Oh, Bertha. When?”
Her voice broke when she answered. “I don’t know for sure. Soon.”
Annie picked up her hands and squeezed them. “I have no quick answers for you, honey.” Annie’s sincere gaze pierced Bertha’s heart. “But I promise you this. I’ll do my best to come up with a plan.”
A strong breeze kicked up, howling through the cut below and sweeping over the face of the water in a fury. Bertha watched it sway the oak and tangle the tops of the pine overhead while the branches complained aloud with ghostly groans and creaks. The brisk wind was the sort that ushered in a hard rain, so it seemed likely the gathering dark clouds on the far horizon were the cause of all the fuss.
Annie had stretched out on the shawl on her back and closed her eyes. She remained quiet for so long, Bertha thought she’d fallen asleep, until she spoke.
“Are you afraid to die?”
Bertha rolled toward her. “Mercy! What sort of question is that?”
Annie peeked at her from under her long lashes. “The nosy sort, I’m sure. But, well. . . are you?”
“Um, a little, I guess.”
“Come on. You have to be more than a little. Isn’t everyone?”
Bertha giggled. “Not everyone. My mama says she’s scared of the process, but not what comes after.”
Annie turned to her side and leaned up on her elbow. “But who’s to say what that is?”
Bertha blinked. “You’re joking, right?”
When Annie shook her head, Bertha knew she should proceed with caution. Raised by a Christian family in a Christian community, it seemed impossible to her that a person might not know and believe the Bible.
Before she could respond, Annie pressed her again. “So you’re not absolutely terrified of death?”
Bertha swallowed hard and weighed her words. “I guess I feel the same as Mama. I don’t want to suffer in death, but once it’s over, I’ll suffer no more.”
Annie leaned back and rested her arm over her eyes. “Oh, I see. You’re religious.” The tone of her voice told Bertha that Annie considered “religious” as distasteful as warts.
“If by that you mean someone who believes the Bible, then yes, I am. Very much so.”
Annie sat up and stared at the far bank while her tortured eyes revealed a struggle inside. Without warning, she shot to her feet and began to wrestle with something behind her. When she wiggled all over and then stepped out of her bustle, Bertha recoiled in shock.
“What on earth?”
Annie held the bustle up before Bertha’s disbelieving eyes. “I can’t abide this thing another second,” she cried and then hurled it over the edge of the bluff.
Bertha stared in stunned surprise before she stood up and unfastened hers, as well. With an Indian whoop, she spun it over-head before letting it fly. They raced to the edge and watched the current carry the offending garments out of sight.
“Oh, Annie, I’ve always wanted to do that.”
Annie beamed. “Well, darlin’, now you have. Will you be in trouble when you go home without it?”
“From whom? Mama won’t even notice. She still wears pantalets.” Bertha had a sudden inspiration. “Now these infernal things.” She leaned against the oak, unbuttoned her shoes, and slipped them off. Then she reared back as if about to fling them over.
Annie covered her face and squealed. “You wouldn’t dare!”
Bertha sagged and tossed the pumps on the ground behind her. “You’re right. I don’t dare. As much as I’d love to see them floating downstream.”
They giggled their way back to the shawl and slumped to the ground.
Annie sprawled on her back and sighed. “Now isn’t this better? I have to say, though the bustle’s a nuisance, the Basque bodice is worse. It wasn’t enough to make the contraption so tight a girl can’t breathe, they had to go and sew in rigid bones. I’d swear it was invented by a man.” She laughed and rolled her eyes at Bertha. “Or spawned by the devil himself.”
Bertha dropped her gaze and sat upright.
Behind her, Annie grew silent. Then she sat up, too, and touched Bertha’s shoulder. “Did I say something to offend you?”
Bertha turned. “I’m not offended. Just surprised. We don’t jest about the devil in our house.”
Annie gave an uneasy laugh. “But that’s silly, isn’t it?”
“It’s not silly at all. The devil is nothing to make fun about. We aren’t frightened of him or anything, but we’re sure not on speaking terms.”
Annie laughed again, this time in earnest. “You think he’s real?”
“Sure he’s real.”
Still in a frivolous mood, Annie held up one finger. “Oh, wait. Of course he’s real. In fact, I’ve met him in person. I found him aimlessly roaming the lobby of Niblo’s Garden during a revival production of Seven Sisters. I guess he was awaiting the last curtain call before taking the demon sisters back home to hell.”
The loud Annie, the abrasive, boisterous Annie, was back, and Bertha didn’t like it. She turned away and covered her ears. “Stop it. Don’t make jokes. It’s not funny.”
She waited until Annie hushed laughing before raising her head to look. Annie sat and quietly stared at her, a puzzled look on her face. “It’s absurd, Bertha. There’s no such thing.”
“Yes, there is. And it’s serious business. Such matters aren’t to be dallied with outside God’s protection. Scripture says it like this. . .” She leaned closer and lowered her voice the way Rhodie had earlier. ‘Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour.’ ”
Annie shuddered. “It says that?” She looked over Bertha’s shoulder and then behind her. “That gives me gooseflesh.”
Bertha felt guilty about scaring her. “Don’t worry, Annie. There’s a terrible end in store for him and all the workers of iniquity.”
Annie stared back at Bertha with blank, hollow eyes. “Let’s not talk about it anymore, please.”
“Sure, if that’s what you want. You brought it up, remember?”
“And I regret it.” She glanced around anxiously. “Bertha, how long have we been here?”
“I can’t say. Why?”
“I don’t know. It suddenly seems as if a long time has passed.”
Bertha gazed through the trees at the sun. “Oh my, it sure does.”
“How much time, do you think?”
“An hour, at least.”
Annie gathered her skirts about her and stood up. “Oh, Bertha. I think it’s been more than an hour. Much more.” She walked to the edge of the thi
cket and peered down the trail. “Where’s Mose? He said he’d send Rhodie. We need to get back to town. Abe’s sure to be awake by now, and he’ll be wondering where I am.” She clutched the sides of her head and moaned. “Why did I come out here? Whatever was I thinking?”
Bertha got the impression it wasn’t the first time Annie had asked herself that question, or the first time her reckless nature had caused her grief. The way her face paled and panic crowded her eyes, she also gathered Annie feared Abraham Roth more than any threat of the devil.
“Bertha, I’m going. I can’t wait for Mose.”
Bertha stood and brushed off her backside. “It’s too far. Let’s wait a bit longer.”
“No, I can’t.” She paced from the woods to the edge of the bluff. “You don’t understand.”
As if on cue, the sun dropped behind a cloud and the wind stilled. The trees and shrubs surrounding them seemed to lean close with Bertha to hear Annie’s explanation, but the only sound was the whisper of the water below. The once-cheery spot had become the gloomy site of Mose’s murderous story.
Annie swept past her and started up the trail. “That’s it. I’m going right now.”
Bertha hurriedly fastened her shoes and snatched up the shawl. “Wait, I’ll go with you.”
They struggled through the brush, this time with Annie in the lead. Bertha dodged swinging limbs and hurdled stickers in Annie’s wake. They came onto a group of vultures huddled over a hapless meal. As the two approached, the birds abandoned their feast and took flight with a flutter of wings that startled Bertha but didn’t even slow Annie’s gait. She stumbled just ahead, muttering frantic words to herself, which Bertha heard in bits and pieces.
Bertha wished they could go back under the tree and recapture the merry mood. She knew she should ask what had Annie so upset, but she feared the answer, because somehow she already knew. So she plodded along behind her and said nothing.
When they broke into the clearing, Mose’s rig lumbered toward them in the distance. Annie charged toward it, and Bertha followed.
“Where were you?” Annie demanded when they came within shouting distance.
“Sorry, ma’am,” he called. “We got stuck.”
He pulled alongside and tipped his hat, the only piece of cloth on his body not covered in muck. “Thought we’d be spending the night out in the woods until Julius Ney happened along in his oxcart.” He wiped his sweat-beaded face with a handkerchief, smearing all the spots on his face, except for the freckles, into a pale muddy mask. He jerked his finger toward the back. “Nothing less than a team of oxen could’ve hauled us out with a load like that weighing us down.”
The wood was stacked so high, Bertha didn’t know whether to laugh or console the poor horse.
Mose saw the look on her face and hurried to defend himself. “You heard me say I still had three loads to get. We’re running short on daylight. I was trying to make up for lost time.”
Rhodie sat pouting on the seat. Muddy water had recolored her blue overalls and bright auburn hair to a dull grayish brown. “I told you not to cross that ditch, Mose. I knew we were bound to bog down.” She raised her head long enough to scorch him with her eyes. “You don’t never listen to me.”
As if to prove her point, Mose ignored his sister. “I should be headed into town with this cypress, Bertha, but I figured we’d best come and fetch you.”
Annie brought her hand down on the side rail so hard it had to hurt. “Let’s go, then. Stop all this messing about.”
“Sure thing, Miss Annie. Only. . .”
“Only nothing. Turn this thing around and let me get on.”
Mose flicked the reins and spun around so tightly that Bertha held her breath until he straightened out again. She could just see Rhodie, Mose, and the wood becoming an oversized game of jackstraws in the center of the narrow road. When he pulled alongside them again, Annie headed straight for the tailgate.
Mose’s eyes widened, and he stood up. “Wait, Miss Annie. Don’t.”
She stopped with her hand on the latch. “Why not?”
He shook his head. “If you open that, you’ll be high-jumping logs. Besides, there ain’t no room for a passenger now. Not in the bed, at least. Ain’t safe.” He inclined his head toward the buckboard seat. “And only room for one more up here.”
Bertha watched while Annie figured it out.
When the truth dawned, she gasped and covered her mouth. “Oh no. Oh, Bertha.”
Bertha placed an arm around her shoulders and walked her to the front of the rig. “You go on ahead. I’ll come later.”
“No, I couldn’t.”
“Yes, you can. You have to.”
“But it’s going to rain.”
Bertha patted Annie’s back. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine. Mose will come right back, and when he does, he’ll find me even closer because I’ll be walking.”
Mose scrambled down to help her, but Annie didn’t wait. She lifted her skirts and clambered aboard before Mose could offer his arm. He jerked his gaze from her exposed legs and then leaned to check the load’s balance.
Annie turned to wave her hand at him. “Leave that, Mose. Just get me back to town. And hurry!”
Lightning, visible between the trees on the high bank of the bayou, prowled across the lowering sky. Standing on the bank, Thad did a slow count to five before thunder echoed over the tops of the tall cypress.
In the distance, T-Bone Taylor stopped paddling long enough to sit up straight on his seat and gaze toward the gathering clouds. Then he dipped his oar with renewed vigor while shouting to his little brother seated at the opposite end of the boat. Thad couldn’t make out the words, but it became obvious what he said when Beau bent his shoulders to the paddle and dug in.
Thad nudged Charlie. “That storm is about a mile away. Looks like they’re bound to get wet.”
Charlie chuckled. “And all their loot, too. I hope that pilfered ’backy’s in a tin, or tomorrow they’ll be spreading it in the sun.”
Thad joined in the laughter. “I heard there ain’t nothing worse than soggy tobacco. Too smoky–if you can keep it lit.”
Charlie peered up at him. “You ever smoke, Thad?”
Thad shook his head. “Never had a use for it.” He looked back at the water.
The boys had rowed almost out of sight but still had a long way to go to reach their own dock. And the dark, paunchy clouds inched closer. Several fat droplets pelted the layer of pine needles at Charlie’s feet with a muted thwack. Time to go.
Thad gathered the fishing poles then jerked his head at Charlie. “It’d be downright foolish to stand laughing at the Taylor boys while the same fate swirls our way. Let’s get going before we’re struck by lightning.”
Charlie nodded and fell in behind him. They reached the top of the incline and hustled toward the spot where they’d tied their horses. On the way, Charlie kept up a panting discourse, and his topic made Thad weak in the knees. “So what did Bertha say when you told her you’re leaving?”
Thad batted branches out of his way as he weaved through the slim, meandering trunks of a sapling grove. He dreaded answering, so he took his time.
Charlie took hold of his arm and hauled him around. “You haven’t told her.”
The flat statement held the same disbelieving tone Thad had endured from his conscience all week. He leaned his head down and massaged his brow. “There’s nothing you can say to me that I haven’t already shouted at myself.”
Charlie took off his hat and dashed it against his leg. “Except maybe this–Sunday’s the day after tomorrow, and then you’ll be gone. Bertha will be looking for you, but she won’t find you, will she? I hate to state the obvious, my friend, but you’re out of time.”
Thad turned pleading eyes to Charlie. “Tell me what to do.” He paced the clearing, his booted feet causing a riot of sound in the blanket of dry leaves. “Charlie, I’m convinced I haven’t told her yet because telling would make it real. And I just don’t se
e how I’m going to leave that girl behind.”
Charlie ducked the swinging poles slung over Thad’s shoulder then grabbed them out of his hand on the next pass. “Why don’t you ask her to wait for you?”
Thad shook his head. “Don’t think I haven’t considered it. But it wouldn’t be fair. To Bertha.”
“Don’t Bertha deserve the chance to decide for herself?”
“There’s more to consider. Her papa would never agree to such a long engagement.”
“Marry her, then. Before you leave.”
Thad stopped pacing and faced him. “I can’t take a new bride with me to military school. And as hard as it will be to leave her now, it would be impossible if we were hitched.” He turned on his heels and set off again in the direction of the horses. “I’ve thought this thing through, and I don’t see any other way. I have to leave Bertha, and it’s twisting my mind. I think about her every second of the day. I hear her voice in my head. I see her face around every corner.”
“Hmm. Is that right? Say, Thad–”
“I tell you, the whole thing is driving me mad.”
“Um, Thad?”
Irritation spiked through him. Clearly Charlie had no inkling of how Thad felt or he would allow no diversion from the topic at hand. “Heavens, man! Don’t you see I’m in pain here? What is it?”
Charlie cleared his throat. “I’m thinking I must be a little smitten with Bertha myself.”
Thad stopped so fast that Charlie ran into him. He turned on his friend, his back as stiff as a picket, and took him by the front of his shirt. “Why would you say such a fool thing?”
Charlie pointed past his shoulder. “Because I’m starting to see her, too.”
Thad whirled and followed the direction Charlie pointed. The fleeting figure of a young woman came up the road in the distance, her image flickering as she passed in and out of sight between the trees and high brush. He might’ve discounted it as a vision, except Charlie saw her, too.
Thad stared hard at the woman’s face. “You’re right. It is Bertha. What the devil’s she doing way out here, and on foot?”
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