Nathaniel gave a slight nod to the gathered citizens. He crossed his arms and addressed the officer once more. “Lieutenant, I suggest you and your men leave these good people alone.”
The sergeant guffawed. “That’s high-toned talk comin’ from a coward.”
The lieutenant raised his hand and jerked his fingers toward the sergeant. “It’s clear you’re a former military man.” He gestured to Nathaniel’s blouse devoid of military insignias. He rose up in his stirrups and looked around at all assembled. He raised his voice as though making an official proclamation. “You all can draw your own conclusions as to why this man is no longer in the army. If you want to side with him, that’s your business, but if I were you, I’d think twice. Me and my men are of a special brigade, formed for the purpose of pursuing those renegade Cherokees who refuse to comply with the law. If anyone here knows the whereabouts of such Cherokees and does not divulge that information here and now, you are guilty of aiding and abetting.”
The men from Tucker’s Gap stood, silent and watchful, and the only two sounds Nathaniel heard were a fear-filled, muffled cry behind him and a derisive snort coming from the sergeant. Nathaniel turned to the ladies and spoke quietly.
“Abby, Miss Florrie, take the children home. You can come back later for your things.”
Thankfully, Abby didn’t argue. She scrambled to her feet and helped Mrs. Cobb stand. Then she took each child by the hand. Nathaniel slid his gaze from the sergeant to the first Tucker’s Gap man standing the closest—Teague Jackson.
A muscle in Nathaniel’s jaw twitched, and he clenched his teeth for an instant. “Teague, will you please see the women and children home?”
Teague stepped forward to usher the ladies. Was that smirk on Teague’s face aimed at Nathaniel or the soldiers? Nathaniel couldn’t take the time to contemplate the issue for longer than a heartbeat.
The sergeant spit tobacco juice to one side, landing it dangerously close to the hem of Abby’s dress as she passed. Nathaniel stiffened but refused to allow his temper the freedom it sought.
“Lieutenant, I’m only going to say this once.” Nathaniel kept his tone even but spoke clearly so his determination would be evident to every person present. “I’m a peaceful man, but don’t make the mistake of thinking I would hesitate for a moment to defend anyone in this town if you continue to harass them, because you would be very wrong.”
“He ain’t even carryin’ a gun,” the sergeant blustered.
Nathaniel disciplined his every breath. The rising and falling of his chest gave away none of the turmoil taking place in his gut. He sent a quick glance beyond the soldiers. Halfway to the house, Abby turned and looked over her shoulder at him, and his heart turned over. He’d do whatever it took to make sure these men didn’t bother her again.
“It’s time for you boys to leave.”
Abby spooned batter onto the hot skillet and listened to the frying apple fritters sizzle in the grease. The sound reminded her of the clip-clopping horses’ hooves as the soldiers rode out of Tucker’s Gap last Sunday afternoon. She’d never forget pausing in the doorway and watching as Nathaniel stood his ground, eventually ending the confrontation when the arrogant lieutenant and his band of cutthroats left.
Dulcie and Beau climbed down the ladder, and Abby watched their reaction. The bench Nathaniel had constructed sat beside the table, waiting for its occupants. Laughter danced in her middle when the children stopped short and stared at the wide seat.
Beau’s eyes grew round. “Did Santa Claus bring that?”
Dulcie elbowed him. “Of course not, silly. Santa comes in the winter.” She stepped over to the bench and touched the woven willow branches across the back.
“Look at the legs, Dulcie. They look like peppermint sticks, ‘cept they ain’t red.” He scooted around and plunked his bottom down on the seat and pointed beside him. “Look, there’s lots more room.”
Abby covered her smile with her fingers. A chuckle bubbled up within her. “What do you think?”
Both siblings looked up at her, grinning.
“It’s nice.”
“Do we really get to sit on it?”
“Can we sit on it for breakfast? Dulcie keeps pushing me off the stool.”
“I do not. Papa, did you make this for us?”
Their father shook his head. “Mr. Nathaniel made it. Miss Abby told him you two were havin’ to share one stool.”
“Can we go out to the barn and tell him thank you?”
Beth took her place at the table. “You can thank him right here at breakfast, because he’s going to come and eat with us. He’ll be here in just a minute.”
As if on cue, a knock sounded at the door. Beau ran to open it.
“Thank you, Mr. Nathaniel.” The child threw his arms around Nathaniel’s legs before he could step over the threshold. Dulcie echoed her brother’s enthusiasm.
Nathaniel’s lopsided grin ignited awareness deep in Abby’s heart. Emotions she’d tried to deny clamored for expression just like they had last week when she’d helped Nathaniel with the horse. A smile played across her lips as their gazes met. She hoped her gratitude for the bench showed on her face, but just to be sure, she planned to speak to him after breakfast.
The children led Nathaniel to the stool they once shared. Abby placed the heaping platter of apple fritters on the table and set a small jug beside it.
“What’s this?” Quinn hefted the jug.
Abby winked at Beau. “It’s sorghum syrup to pour over your fritters. I bartered with Mr. Jackson for it yesterday.”
From the corner of her eye, she saw Nathaniel jerk his head toward her. “Bartered?”
She purposely kept her eyes fastened on serving the fritters. “I agreed to do some mending for him and darn some of his socks. Sorghum is a nice treat.”
While the children exclaimed over getting two surprises, one to eat and one to sit on, Abby’s senses were piqued toward Nathaniel. She couldn’t tell from his reaction if he was impressed with her bartering skills or angry.
Or jealous.
Abby mentally shook her head and handed the syrup to Beth. Why would Nathaniel be jealous of her darning a few socks and mending a couple of shirts?
Quinn helped himself to another fritter and nudged the platter toward Nathaniel. “Have another. Mighty good, Miss Abby.”
Abby slipped a sideways glance at Nathaniel and caught him looking at her. He yanked his gaze away and speared another fritter, but Abby noticed he didn’t use any of Teague’s syrup. She drew her lips inward and bit down, suppressing a giggle. He was jealous.
As soon as breakfast was over, the men scraped their stools away from the table and thanked Abby for the fine meal. Abby’s gaze followed Nathaniel to the door where he paused for a second and gave her a fleeting look she could not interpret. His eyes appeared to ask a question that his lips did not voice. Abby’s breath caught. Were it not for the morning tasks requiring her attention, she’d give in to the desire to go after him and ask what was on his mind.
Abby made Beth comfortable in the rocker near the open window and then plunged into cleaning the cabin, her thoughts swirling. Teague sometimes made her feel self-conscious in the way he looked at her, but he’d never behaved inappropriately or shown disrespect. It was entirely possible Nathaniel felt no jealousy at all. His expression could simply be a reflection of what he regarded as his duty to protect her. Disappointment rippled through her at the thought.
Her hands slowed, and a scowl tugged at her brow. She mustn’t allow flightiness to send her imagination out of control.
“Why don’t you let that wait and go talk to Nathaniel?”
Beth’s question startled her, and the tin cup in her hands splashed into the dishwater. She pulled her composure back into place. “Why in heaven’s name would you say that?”
“Abby, I know you want to talk to him.” Beth sent her a sympathetic smile. “Just look at you. You remind me of myself back when I was a girl in Virginia
and I hoped a certain handsome blacksmith felt the same about me as I felt about him.”
Abby considered denying Beth’s observation, but it would be a lie. Truth be told, Beth had read her correctly.
“Beth, when we left Fort New Echota, Nathaniel vowed he would be responsible for my safety.” She hung her damp towel on the side of the worktable and turned to face Beth, arms akimbo. “That’s why he was so upset when I went into the woods alone. He’s just being watchful. There’s nothing more to it, and for me to imagine more would be foolish.”
A soft smile bloomed on Beth’s face. “Who said love was sensible?”
Love? Only in her most private musings had she allowed the word to tease her senses. The very idea set her heart and her face afire. Dare she speak it?
Abby poured hot water into the teapot to brew Beth’s red clover tea. The steam rose and brushed her already warm cheeks. “And how would you have me address the topic? I can’t very well march out to the barn and ask Nathaniel how he feels about me.” She covered the teapot and went to fetch a clean cup. “The fact is Nathaniel has had plenty of opportunities, but he’s never brought the subject up.”
A twinkle lit Beth’s blue eyes. “I think he’s brought it up several times, just not with spoken words. I can see it in his eyes.”
Abby shook her head. “I think being with child has turned you into a hopeless romantic.” She pulled a stool over to sit next to her friend. “Beth, I don’t want to go to Raleigh. Nathaniel has vowed to get me there, but I don’t want to leave Tucker’s Gap. I love it here. How can I convince Nathaniel—and my father and my aunt—to let me stay?”
“Nathaniel, may I ask you something?”
Abby found the quiver in her voice most annoying and hoped it didn’t betray her pounding heart.
Nathaniel’s hands paused in their work on the cane he was carving for Leon Tucker. His hazel eyes captured her breath. “Of course.”
Are you jealous of Teague? Why did you look at me the way you did at breakfast? Do you have any feelings for me?
“Would you have time—” Her voice cracked. She swallowed hard and commanded her tongue to work properly. “Would you have time to make a baby bed for Beth?”
Surprise flickered across his face, and he brought the cane up and blew tiny corkscrew wood shavings away from the handgrip he was fashioning. “She doesn’t already have one? I figured since she has two children…”
Abby turned to lean on the corral fence. “She told me they lived in Norfolk when Dulcie was born, and her mother gave her the family cradle. Before they left Norfolk to move to Georgia, her sister had need of the cradle, so when Beau came along all she had for him was a basket. He outgrew the basket so Leon Tucker gave Beth a wooden crate, and they turned it into a little bed for Beau.”
Nathaniel rubbed his chin. “Let me talk to Sam Wise and see if he’ll let me have some scraps of wood for the bottom. I can use the twisted limbs for the sides.” He applied his knife to the handle of the cane once again, as though his blade cutting through the wood also cut a path for his thoughts. “Yes, I believe I can do that.”
Giddy excitement tickled her stomach, and she clasped her hands under her chin. “Thank you, Nathaniel. That will make Beth so happy.”
His knife paused again, and he raised his eyes to hers. “Now may I ask you something?”
Abby’s heart kicked against her ribs like an army mule, and she braced herself for an interrogation about talking to Teague Jackson.
Nathaniel slid his knife into its sheath on his belt. His normally hazel eyes darkened into green pools, but the depth of them didn’t indicate either anger or jealousy. In fact, if Abby had to find a word to define the lines of his face at this moment, it would be…tender.
“I’m glad to do something that will make Beth happy, but what will make you happy, Abby?”
Chapter 15
Nathaniel took one last swipe with the rake and completed his least favorite task—mucking out the stalls. He hung the rake on a peg and grabbed the two water buckets. Taking up woodworking had given him a new reason to hurry through his daily tasks. There was something about the feel of wood in his hands that awakened a long-sleeping spark of creativity within him. His fingers itched to return to crafting the baby bed Abby had asked him to make.
He rounded the corner of the house with the buckets and hoisted the lid off the spring. Plunging his arms up to his elbows into the first bucketful he pulled up, he washed the disagreeable odor from his hands, and then splashed cooling refreshment over his face and neck.
“Ahh…” He shook droplets from his hair like a shaggy dog, spraying them in every direction, then ran his wet hand through his hair to smooth it back.
He filled the buckets and headed back toward the barn. On the way, he saw Abby with a small bundle in her hands, walking down the footpath. He watched as she stepped through the trees and a narrow stretch of underbrush. She paused to smooth her skirt before continuing on to Teague’s door.
Nathaniel bit his lip as Abby knocked. Teague appeared and ducked his head to step out, much too close to Abby for Nathaniel’s liking. She backed up a half step and held out the bundle of what must have been the mending she’d agreed to do.
Nathaniel’s stomach tightened, and he strode toward the barn, sloshing water on his pant legs as he went. She could have sent the children over with the mending. He pushed past the corral gate and slung the contents of each bucket into the trough in the corner of the corral. The sound of Abby’s and Teague’s voices filtered through the trees, but they were too far away to understand their words. Nathaniel grumbled under his breath, with no one except the horses and the Lord to hear his complaints.
Teague smiled at her and Abby shook her head. The man held up one of the socks Abby had mended. The silly grin on his face sent arrows of displeasure shafting through Nathaniel.
When Abby shook her head a second time, Nathaniel ground his teeth. Whatever Jackson’s question, couldn’t he take no for an answer? Abby took another step backward and bumped up against a small stump. She teetered and thrust her arms out like a child crossing a stream on a fallen log. Before Nathaniel could move, Jackson dropped the bundle of mending and reached out both hands to catch her, holding on to her for much longer than necessary.
A growl pushed past Nathaniel’s lips, and he vaulted over the corral fence, sprinted through the trees, and grabbed Jackson’s arm, yanking it away from Abby.
“Hey! What—”
“Nathaniel, what are you doing?”
He nailed Jackson with a glare. “You’d best remember your manners and keep your hands to yourself. Miss Locke is a lady, and I won’t stand by and see her manhandled.”
“Now, see here—” Jackson clenched his fists.
“Stop it! Both of you!” Abby planted herself between Nathaniel and Teague, forcing both men to retreat. “You’re acting like a couple of schoolboys.” She sent Nathaniel a reproving look. “I have work to do, and I’m quite certain you both do as well.”
She clutched her skirt, lifting her hem an inch, and marched back toward the Rutledge house. Nathaniel watched after her until she stepped beyond the trees and then turned back to Teague who stood scowling at him.
“Me and Miss Abby was just havin’ a conversation. Weren’t no need for you to be a hero.” Teague’s piercing black eyes fired buckshot.
“A conversation does not require that you put your hands on her.”
A half smirk tilted one corner of Teague’s mouth and stretched his stubbly cheek, but there was no humor in his expression. “‘Lessen she’s spoke for, I got the right to ask her if I can come callin’. She ain’t attached to you, or any other man from what I can see, so that makes her fair game.”
Teague’s words skewered through Nathaniel’s belly. The man was right. Nathaniel had no claim on Abigail Locke. Chagrin wilted his grit at the thought. If circumstances were different, he’d prove Teague wrong.
Nathaniel grunted and strode away through the tree
s. Reproach filled him. Until he could clear his name, he could only admire Abby from afar.
Nathaniel carved a paper-thin peeling of wood away from the hole he’d bored into the corner of the small bed frame. He scraped the opening clean and blew away the fine debris. The knob he’d formed with his knife on the end of the twisted-limb leg of the bed needed a few taps of the mallet to force it into the hole where it fit securely. The other three legs hadn’t given him much trouble, but the fourth one took some extra work to ensure the bed stood solidly without wobbling.
He turned the little crib right side up, stood it on the workbench, and wiggled it. Satisfaction drew a smile on his face.
“That’s a right fine job you done on that little bed.”
Nathaniel turned to find Quinn watching him. “It’s not quite finished yet.” He grinned. “It’ll be ready before the baby arrives.”
A shadow of a smile flickered across Quinn’s face. “Beth had a hard time with the last two—the two we had to bury. Almost lost her, too. When she told me she was in the family way again, well…it scared me.” He sniffed and ran his thick hand over his face. “Don’t know what she woulda done without Miss Abby.”
Nathaniel’s heart warmed. He didn’t know himself how things might have worked out had Abby not taken it upon herself to work for the Rutledges. Despite his initial annoyance over her impulsive decision, he had to agree it was the right one. He dipped a rag in linseed oil and went to work polishing the vine-sculpted legs of the bed.
“If you can spare me and a horse, I was thinking about leaving at first light to go down the trail. I’d like to take three lengths of rope and a block and tackle along.”
Quinn grunted and nodded. Nathaniel prayed he could make Abby’s wish come true. His heart turned over when he remembered her soft smile the evening he asked her what would make her happy. To think all she wanted was her keepsakes from her trunk. When she spoke of her mother’s things the sadness in her voice pierced his heart. With God’s help, he intended to do his utmost to put those treasures in her hand again.
Brides of Georgia Page 12
