by Julianne Lee
He blinked, surprised, and laid his silver on his plate. Shelby struggled not to flinch. “You don’t wander all the way to the ferry, do you?”
Head down, she replied, “No, not nearly that far. When I reach the spot where the forest gives way to the Carmichaels’ fields, I turn back.”
Father only grunted at that as he cut his meat. He put a bite in his mouth, chewed for a few moments, then said around the half-chewed piece, “I don’t want you out by yourself.”
“Father!”
“Don’t argue with me. You’ll take an escort, and that’s the end of it.”
There was nobody to go with her, for there were only the three of them in the family now. She could take a slave, but she was loath to order them around unnecessarily. Too much time away from their regular work could mean punishment from the overseer when things took too long or didn’t get done at all. “Father, I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”
“In the first place, child, you are certainly not capable of any such thing. Not in a world where there are men who would take advantage of a young lady out wandering by herself where she doesn’t belong.”
“William...” Mother shot him a disapproving glare that he would speak so bluntly. He frowned and continued.
“In the second place, I won’t have it gossiped around that my daughter is wandering the countryside alone. God knows what sorts of rumors would start up, should anyone see you out there.”
Fury rose, and Shelby’s ears began to warm. “My reputation, Father, is—”
“Going to remain unsullied if I have anything to say about it.”
“But—”
“No argument, Mary Elizabeth. I’ve said my piece, and that’s the end of it.” Father returned his attention to his meal, and nothing more was said.
Shelby poked at her own plate and wished there were some way to get out of this place. Any way at all.
The very next day, still rankling from the night before, Shelby put on a nice, warm woolen dress with no hoops, donned her heavy cloak, and set out up Walton’s Ferry Road to the crossroads in Hendersonville, where anyone passing by could see her, just as bold as anything. She had a little cash she’d found in Mary Beth’s trinket box, and she wanted to buy something at the dry goods store. She didn’t have the first clue what, but by God she was taking a walk into town to get it, and Mr. Campbell be damned.
It was a much shorter and, though cold, a far more pleasant walk than she’d anticipated. The rides she’d taken down this road had seemed unbearably long, but walking it was like a nice stroll. The day seemed barely begun when she came to the tiny cluster of buildings on Main Street.
The barn was abuzz with activity, men loading hay bales from it onto a wagon at the side. Two horses were tethered before the dry goods store, and she patted one on the nose as she passed along the wooden walkway. Only then did she remember and recognize the dark roan belonging to the Brosnahans. Her heart skipped a beat, then began to pound hard as she shoved open the door. The place smelled of wet wood and soap. Someone had recently scrubbed the floors.
The proprietor was a painfully thin man, short and scrawny with an Adam’s apple that vied with his chin for prominence, and a nose long and pointy enough to beat them both. He was helping two customers as Shelby walked in, and she smiled when she saw they were Lucas and Amos. They wore heavy dungarees, wool shirts and long leather coats that nearly touched the heels of their boots.
Lucas’s eyes lit, and a white smile crossed his face at sight of her. He certainly wasn’t one to keep his feelings to himself. Then she remembered she wasn’t supposed to lead him on, for his sake and Mary Beth’s, and suppressed her own smile. His faltered, and he returned his attention to the lead balls he was scooping from the counter before him and dropping into a small leather poke. Other items were stacked on the counter, and Amos was packing them into a pair of saddle bags. A large kitchen knife, an ax blade, a rope, and a bundle of something wrapped in newspaper filled the bags.
“Howdy, Mary Beth,” said Lucas, no longer meeting her eyes.
“Hi,” Shelby replied. It was becoming easier to respond to someone else’s name, though she doubted she would ever think of it as her own. She stood and waited her turn at the counter.
Amos turned as he finished packing the saddlebags and said, “’Morning, Miss Campbell.”
Shelby looked up, almost surprised to be addressed. She knew Amos hardly at all, and had forgotten that Mary Beth knew him well. “Hello, Mr. Brosnahan.”
Lucas cut his eyes at her, then returned to his task.
Amos seemed to expect her to continue, but she had nothing further to say to him. Instead, she said, addressing the both of them but focusing more on Lucas, “How is your father these days?” There was a pause as she awaited a reply.
When he turned back toward her and realized she was talking to him, the younger Brosnahan smiled again. “Getting along, all right. He no longer climbs the stairs so well, and so has his bed by the fire downstairs now, but he’s still cantankerous enough to tell us all what’s what at breakfast.”
That brought a chuckle from Amos, and Shelby nodded as if she knew what had been meant by that. The men stepped away from the counter, their purchases having been packed, and each tipped his hat as he bid her farewell. Shelby nodded to Amos, and couldn’t help smiling at the cheer on Lucas’s face as he grinned down at her. There was a brief whiff of the tobacco air around him, then the Brosnahan brothers departed the store with thumping and scraping of boots on floorboards and a jingle of spurs.
Shelby sighed as she turned to the proprietor, and wondered what she would buy.
Scant minutes later, she was on her way with a few yards of blue calico and a bit of ribbon to match, and a small bottle of wood alcohol. Her options for purchase had been appallingly few, but she figured the fabric would give her something to work on for the next few days. A blouse, or something. Mother would hate the cheap fabric, but then there wasn’t much that didn’t bother Mother, and Shelby wasn’t as vulnerable to the old bat’s displeasure as Mary Beth might have been. The alcohol was for a deodorant, for she hated the way her clothes smelled even after washing up at the stand in her room in the mornings. Rosewater only put a layer of scent over the smell, which lurked to assert itself once the cover up had dissipated. Even more, she hated the thought she might become accustomed to the odor. A dab of alcohol of a morning would at least mitigate the problem. Her step was light with the problem solved as she set off down Walton’s Ferry Road, back toward the Campbell house.
She didn’t walk far, though, before a thundering of hooves approached from behind and she stepped up the grassy rise toward the trees at the side of the road to let them pass. But they didn’t pass. Instead the horse pulled up beside her, dancing to be let go to run again.
“Mary Beth.” It was Lucas, on the roan.
Shelby turned, pressing her package to her chest beneath her cloak. The tail of Lucas’s coat flapped lazily in the cold wind that had kicked up while she was in the store. His mount fidgeted, not liking the weather lurking upwind, and shook her head hard so her mane flew.
“Mary Beth, what’re you doing out here walking all by yourself?” His right thumb beat a fidgety tattoo against his trouser leg.
“Walking.” She didn’t care for his tone, but was beginning to realize she would hear nothing better from any man in this century. It was a tone they all used when talking to everyone but other men. “I like to walk.”
“There’s a storm on the wind. How come your father didn’t drive you to town? Or have someone drive you?”
“He doesn’t know I’m here.”
For a moment his face went blank, then he erupted in a short laugh. “You snuck out?”
“Like a mouse when the cat’s away.”
His smile widened, but then he forced a frown. “I’m surprised at you.” But his voice betrayed he was more amused than surprised.
“Don’t be. I can take care of myself.”
He indicated with a nod a bank of dark clouds coming from the southwest. “It’s fixing to come down cats and dogs here, right quick. You’ll catch your death.”
“I’ll be fine.” She’d been drenched by rain before, and wasn’t afraid of it.
“Let me carry you home.”
“I said, I’ll be fine.”
“You’ll be wet.”
“Wet and fine.” She stepped back onto the ruts of the road again and headed on.
“Mary Beth...” Lucas brought his horse around to cut her off. “I’m dead serious. Ride with me. If your daddy ever learnt I’d let you walk home alone with this storm a-brewing, he’d come after me with a bullwhip. If you value my life, you’ll let me carry you back to your folks.”
He was so earnest, so serious about needing to do this, she couldn’t resist him any longer. So she nodded and came around to his left side. He took her package and tucked it beneath his right thigh, then reached down to grasp her arm with both of his and lift her onto the saddle in front of him. He scooted back to give her room, and she lifted her right knee in a side-saddle sort of way, but it was deeply uncomfortable and felt terribly precarious.
He returned her package to her so she could clutch it beneath her cloak, and helped her settle in between his thighs. He opened his coat to let her in, and all at once she found herself surrounded by him. In spite of the intrusive curve of the saddle beneath her bottom, there was a sense of safety here that brought a comfort of sorts. Lucas urged the horse to a walk, and Shelby found herself settling into him even more. Into his muscular thighs, into his chest, under his chin. His arms around her were firm and knew where she needed support. The rhythm of the horse’s gait was relaxing. Seductive.
Lucas’s body was a part of that rhythm, pressing against her back with each stride. And as they rode, there grew yet another lump at her seat. Deep breaths kept him from completely embarrassing himself with a protrusion too large to ignore, but Shelby couldn’t help a smile at his predicament. She lounged against him and let him carry her. Every once in a while he bent his head, discreetly so as to be not too obvious about catching the scent of her hair. His arm around her waist was solid and held her firmly. As they rode, his hold grew tighter, pulling her closer to him, to his chest, deeper inside his coat. It was a long, slow hug, and the smoldering heat of it melted her to mold against him.
This ride down Walton’s Ferry Road was entirely too short. Though the storm hadn’t yet broken and was likely to any second, Shelby wished they could ride all the way to the ferry and back before stopping. For one wild moment as the house came in sight, she wanted to find a private place to do something about that lump in his pants. A forest clearing, maybe. A haystack. Anywhere.
But instead Lucas took her to the doorstep of the Campbell house and there was nothing for it but to slide from his saddle.
She looked up at him just as big droplets of cold rain began to splat here and there on the dusty driveway. Lucas glanced up at the house, and she knew politeness demanded she invite him in, but she couldn’t. Even though it would be the best way to dodge a scene with the parents over her walkabout, and indeed there would be a bigger scene over her lack of manners, she couldn’t let Lucas believe Mary Beth was in love with him. She herself surely was falling for him, and were this her own life to live she would encourage his suit. But the owner of this body would not and that was that. Lucas said nothing, but waited. She figured he probably thought his face was impassive, but she could see in his eyes the longing to remain with her, to be invited inside.
“Thank you for the ride, Lucas.”
“My pleasure, Mary Beth.” He glanced at the house again, then at her. She only continued to smile.
Finally he gave up, and tipped his hat to her. “Good day,” he said softly, then reined his horse and rode away just as the rain began to pour. He turned up the collar of his coat and hunched as he kicked the horse to a trot.
Shelby went into the house, and encountered Mother in the foyer. “Where have you been?”
“Out.” The only safe thing to do was to admire the round smoothness of the newel post straight ahead, for looking at Mother would be too terrifying. It was impossible any more to tell how folks in this house might react to anything.
Tight anger choked the old woman’s voice. “Out wandering the countryside like white trash. Young lady, must we set a guard on you?”
Shelby’s first impulse was to suggest she try it and see what good it would do, but instead she shifted her gaze to the richly carpeted floor and said evenly, “No.”
“Well, if you keep wandering off your father and I will be forced to do something. Gracious! What in heaven’s name has gotten into you? I’ve never known you to be so strong-willed!” She said it like it was an insult, but Shelby couldn’t help a surge of pride. No matter how well she might learn the expectations here, she found it impossible to accept this screwy value system that prized weakness in women.
She finally looked up, and said, “It was all right. Lucas brought me home.”
Mother’s face changed. “Lucas Robert? Really? You were with him?” She picked up her skirts and went to the window by the door to look out, and her voice took on the edge of disapproval once again. “Why didn’t you ask him in?” She turned to Shelby, who wished desperately to retreat to her room and get away from the tirade. “Honestly, Mary Beth, what are we going to do with you? I declare I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately! Go up to your room and stay there until supper. I think your father is going to want to have a talk with you this evening.”
Talk? Shelby hoped for just talk.
She was beginning to understand why young women of this era were so eager to marry at all costs. Anything to get out from under the parents. With a sigh, Shelby complied and climbed the stairs to her room. It would be peaceful there. Quiet. She could get started on her new blouse, and daydream about what it might have been like to have found a haystack with Lucas.
Chapter 10
Shelby didn’t see Lucas again until the Christmas Party at Hazel Path in December, and despite herself she was excited to go for she knew he would be there. It had been in Mary Beth’s diary. For the occasion she wore a new dress of midnight blue velvet, very low cut and trimmed in lace that cascaded over her decidedly flat chest. Mother had been after her constantly to enhance her bosom, but Shelby had no interest in stuffing her front with handkerchiefs the way Mary Beth had. They were dishonest, uncomfortable, and she was pretty sure they didn’t fool anyone. The lace on this dress gave the impression of breasts, and without lumpy wads of cloth mashing what she did have into ridiculous shapes. The dress being new, sewn by herself, her corset was no more confining than the strapless push-up bra she’d worn in her own century. She could breathe now, and the victory made her smile. Merry Christmas.
Decorated for the holidays, the Hazel Path mansion was glorious. Light from candle chandeliers and candelabra reflected from polished silver and brass everywhere. Pine boughs graced the dark wood staircase. Wreaths tied with enormous red bows hung from nearly every door. The air was thick with the scents of beeswax, pine, food and whiskey.
In the parlor stood a tall, freshly-cut pine tree decorated in red bows and strings of popcorn, dotted here and there with small lit candles. At the top perched an angel all in white lace and chubby, pink, porcelain cheeks. Guests milled about, most of them glittering as brightly as the silverware, for they were rich and eager to flaunt it. It was not a large crowd, for the wealthy of Sumner County were a relatively small number and the dress tonight was high fashion. Lace was abundant, even Shelby’s hoops were wide and numerous, men’s boots had been buffed to a reflective shine, and everywhere there were brocades and velvets acquired from as far away as New York.
Shelby was beginning to learn the faces of the neighboring folks, and recognized many of the people around her. Most of them were plantation owners like Father, but there was a banker from Gallatin and a state senator up from Nashville. It was a
relief to be able to converse with people and not have to strain for hints as to who they were. She chatted pleasantly among some of the women about two new babies in town and how wonderful it was they were thriving so far, but nevertheless kept an eye out for Lucas.
Quickly she found him, standing with a group of men near the tree, and goose bumps skittered across her skin. His suit was wool rather than the velvet worn by the wealthier landowners, but it appeared new and of a contemporary cut. Not bad for someone of his income status and living so far from the nearest city. His hair appeared to have been recently trimmed, and was neatly combed. He was dapper, calm and collected, losing his cool for no more than a fraction of a second when he saw her. Then he smiled politely and gave a slight bow before returning to his conversation.
“Hello, Mary Beth.”
Shelby turned to find Samuel Clarence behind her, a cup of something in one hand and a grin on his face. He wore dark green, so dark as to be nearly black, accented in deep red. “It’s good to see you here tonight. I haven’t seen nearly enough of you lately.”
“The weather has kept me indoors.”
He nodded. Shelby wondered why his smile was so wide, but then took a glance toward Lucas. He was watching, having forsaken his companions and let them carry on the talk without his help. They didn’t seem to notice he was no longer listening to them. Though his face betrayed no emotion, and only his eyes gave away the true focus of his interest, he was quite still and attentive to Daley’s every move. Samuel’s wide smile was for Lucas’s benefit, not hers, and he kept glancing across for Lucas’s reaction.
Daley said to her, “I knew it must have been only the weather that kept you away. An adventurer such as yourself....”
Even twenty-first century Shelby knew that last was an insult, but she ignored it and hoped Lucas hadn’t heard. “Excuse me, Samuel, I must—”
“Dance with me. You must. Please allow me one dance.” He set his cup down on a nearby table and extended his hand.
