Shelter from the Storm

by Patricia Rice

  “You think you’ve shocked me, but I assure you it is a pleasant shock. I am an exceedingly wicked woman, Ward, more so than you’ll ever know,” Laura murmured as he gazed morosely over the overgrown lawn. “I’ll take your offer as a compliment, even though I cannot accept it. I know Sallie very well. She’s all the family I have. I hold her at fault for her treatment of you, but I cannot in all conscience rectify her mistakes.”

  “Even if you wanted?” he asked with wry humor, the darkness between them forgiving all.

  Laura dared turn her face to him again. “Were it not for Sallie, I would say yes in a minute. It would probably be wrong for both of us, because we are nothing alike, but you’re still an attractive man, and you are right, I am a lonely woman. In which case it might be much safer for both of us if you found someone less hampered by Sallie than I am.”

  Ward looked startled, then grinned. “Any suggestions?”

  Demurely Laura returned to her beans. “Whatever happened to that accommodating maid your parents kept?”

  Chapter 6

  Jettie Mae began work the next week. A slight-boned, handsome coffee-colored woman of about Sallie’s age, she had already had two children of distinctly lighter color than herself. Whoever their fathers were, they had paid well to keep their secret, and she had no need to leave the county as so many of the other slaves did. From the flash of her eyes when she greeted Ward, she was not averse to adding to her income.

  Laura watched in amazement their reunion as old friends, but discreetly left before Ward offered the position of his full-time “nurse.” He really did need someone to help him with the excruciating difficulty of just the daily routines of dressing and taking care of himself. For a long time Dr. Broadbent had seen that he had a male assistant. Lately Ward had assumed them himself, but Laura judged that Sallie’s extravagances had led him to decide he could afford a few of his own. Jettie Mae looked to be quite competent about helping him achieve those desires.

  In truth, the newcomer to the household turned out to be an eager worker. She bossed the kitchen maid into producing decent meals for “Mr. Ward,” and in consequence they all ate better. The downstairs study and parlor that Ward had adopted as his own became scrupulously clean. She changed and washed all his linens and had no objection to doing others as long as she was paid for it. Sallie regarded her as a laundry maid and scarcely saw her relationship to Ward. Jettie simply rolled her eyes and her hips and minced away in imitation of Sallie’s corseted walk when the lady of the house turned her back.

  Laura grinned instead of reprimanding the bold nurse. Jettie’s presence had made an immediate change in Ward, and she welcomed anyone who returned his laughter. The house seemed less solemn now, and the chores looked less hopeless.

  So it was with considerable surprise that Laura greeted Jettie’s frantic arrival late one night with her two youngsters in tow. Her dark eyes showed gleams of white as Laura cautiously opened the front door and she shoved in. No servant had entered through the front doors before, but the fear in Jettie’s bold face was Laura’s concern now.

  “Where’s Mr. Ward? Them Raiders are comin’ ag’in. They done been to my place, but I heerd about it and got out fast. They be here next.”

  Ward called out from the study, and they could hear the squeak of the wooden wheels against the floor. “Laura? Who is it? What’s wrong?”

  The two women exchanged glances, and Laura held out her arms for the smaller child. “I’ll take the children upstairs. They’ll be safe there. You tell him.”

  Jettie gave her a measuring look before handing over her youngsters. Laura hurried them upstairs when she received Jettie’s nod of approval. Securing them on cots in the old nursery, she gave them some toys off the shelf to quiet them, then ran back down the stairs.

  Sallie had gone to Lexington with the Breckinridges for the wedding of a distant cousin of both families. She wasn’t expected back until late the next day.

  Ward was already loading his rifle and giving Jettie instructions on how to use the pistol when Laura came back down. At her entrance, Ward looked up in relief. “Good. Go see if that worthless Lottie is around. She can make enough noise in the kitchen to make them think it’s occupied. We’re buying a horse after this. One of these days I’ll have the sheriff out here to see what we have to put up with, but there’s no way of notifying him tonight.”

  “What about the field hands? Some of them have been using the cabins out back. I can fetch them.” Laura lifted the other pistol on the desk. She had never handled one, but the basic principle seemed simple.

  “They’re likely to be the ones showing up tonight with hoods on. They’re riled because I hired Jake Conner instead of a white man, and they’re using Jettie as an excuse to come out here.”

  Laura must have looked puzzled, for Jettie grinned and explained further. “They say Jake and me done replaced white men. You think I’se replacing any white man?”

  She’d replaced Ward’s male nurse, but not in the way the Raiders imagined.

  Ward gave her a look of irritation for her sassiness, but Jettie merely lifted the pistol to sight along the barrel.

  “Well, Jettie, we could always send you outside to explain, but I’m not certain Mrs. Breckinridge would appreciate it.” Laura tried to look along the barrel of her pistol as Jettie was doing, but it made her look cross-eyed. “Hadn’t you better show us how to load these things, Ward?”

  “Laura, you don’t need to be down here at all. You just wake Lottie and get back upstairs.” Impatiently Ward rolled the chair to the window and scanned the drive again.

  “Like hell, I will,” Laura muttered under her breath, picking up her skirts with one hand and clenching the pistol with the other.

  She dragged Lottie from her bed and set her to watching the west side of the house while Laura kept an eye on the east, by the old stables. The Raiders couldn’t come through the north without climbing over the roofs of the slave quarters and the old kitchens. Their more likely route would be the front drive guarded by Ward, but Laura didn’t like surprises.

  She heard the pounding of hooves before she could see them. Lottie stole back to whisper they were all on the, front lawn with torches, but she was too scared to watch. Laura handed her the pistol and warned her to fire it if anyone came around to the side. Then she ran down the hall to see these monsters of inhumanity for herself.

  There were only ten or twelve of them, and they were busily pounding a rough timber cross into the long grass. Some of them wore black hoods, others covered their heads with what looked to be pillowcases with eyeholes cut out. Chances were good she would recognize most of their faces had it not been for the disguises, and Laura longed to go out there and jerk the silly costumes from their heads. The guns, rifles, and torches in their hands prevented any such action. She held her breath as they waved the flaring tar-pitch branches. It hadn’t rained much in weeks, and the grass was as dry as tinder out there.

  The marauders cursed as they worked to stand the cross up straight, and in the torchlight the scene had an eerie quality to it. Several men stayed on their horses, reining in the riderless mounts, while another man nailed what looked to be parchment to the trunk of an old oak. She’d seen these signs screaming “nigger lover” before, but she had always closed her eyes to them. What on earth could they hope to accomplish with this insane display?

  Laura’s palms perspired as she watched the torch flames dancing against the backdrop of trees. The house was brick and too large to stampede through as they had those of some of the smaller farmers. The farm’s biggest outbuilding had already been burned; they had stolen the more easily accessible valuables in the last raid.

  All that remained was the house and its contents. The Raiders had never struck at one of the big houses. Did they think Stone Creek to be the weakest defended? She wished for a cannon to show them differently.

  As the hooded intruders dumped bundles of dry sticks beneath the cross, Laura grasped their intention
s. White fury shot through her, but there wasn’t time to curse and rail and call them the blackguards they were. She raced back to Lottie and the kitchen.

  “Fill all the buckets and pans you can with water and carry them up front. Hurry, or your skin won’t be worth a plugged nickel.”

  She needed the stable blankets, but they had been lost with the last fire. Swiftly Laura ran up the back stairs to the blanket closet and grabbed an armful of the heaviest woolen ones. She ran down and dumped them on the kitchen floor, where the maid pumped at a pail of water. Hauling the first pail of water, Laura hurried to the front of the house, where Ward and Jettie watched helplessly as the torches were laid to the tinder.

  “Jettie Mae, go soak those blankets I left in the kitchen. Ward, I’m going out there. Shoot the first man who raises a gun.”

  Without waiting for Ward’s refusal or outraged admonitions, Laura carried her pail to the front door. Stone Creek was all the home she had. She wouldn’t let a band of idiots burn it down around her.

  The men outside looked startled when the door opened. They relaxed when only an unarmed female appeared.

  They stood so close that Laura could smell the sweat of fear and lathered horses, but she concentrated on the flames licking at the tinder and the lawn. Without looking at the men behind the fire, she dumped the first pail of water on the flames.

  She ignored shouts of surprise and anger as she marched back across the porch and met Jettie Mae carrying a full bucket. They exchanged pails, and Laura turned around to repeat her action. The flames began to splutter and smolder.

  Ward’s rifle crackled from the front window as one of the men started forward to stop her. That raised a yelp of pain and voices of consternation. Laura hurried back to the house again. There hadn’t been time to fill another bucket, but Lottie appeared with the first soaked blanket. This wouldn’t be as easy, but Laura straightened her back and ignored her clamoring heartbeat.

  A shot that didn’t come from the house rang over her head. She jumped and nearly lost the blanket as a sliver of wood split beside her.

  Ward’s expensive Spencer rifle took aim, presumably finding the culprit judging by the scream of pain. The curses multiplied as Laura swung the heavy wet blanket over the flames licking through the grass.

  “We ain’t toleratin’ no more nigger lovers in this here town, y-hear!”

  Laura ignored the angry voice and returned for the bucket Jettie handed to her. It would be like arguing with Sallie to try to answer such idiocy. She’d as soon speak to the devil.

  “Give us the niggers and we’ll leave you alone!” The voice continued belligerently as Laura submerged the fire beneath the cross with more water.

  She didn’t know whether they meant Jettie or Jake or both, but she didn’t stop to inquire. Jake was probably still sleeping in the cabin out back. She wondered if Lottie had had the sense to go out and warn him.

  The minutes dragged like hours as she hauled heavy buckets and blankets with arms tense with terror. It would take only one lucky shot to put an end to her insane display, but she had counted on their being hesitant about shooting a woman, a white woman, at least. If they had been drunk, it might have been a different matter, but they weren’t drunk enough to fire on a Kincaid.

  Ward ended the standoff by firing at the horses. They reared in terror and jerked one of the men—or a young boy, judging by his size—from his seat. His screams brought the others running to catch their valuable mounts. While they fought and cursed and brought the animals under control, Laura threw another blanket over the last of the flames, returned to the house, and shut the door. Shortly after, the sound of retreating hoofbeats carried into the distance.

  She slowly sank to the floor, shaking all over as she realized the battle had ended. She had done it, but she couldn’t control the tears pouring down her face. She wrapped her arms around herself and sobbed.

  Jettie solemnly wrapped her in a dry blanket and helped her to her feet. Using every vile curse in his vocabulary, Ward jerked his chair into the hallway, only to watch helplessly. The horror was over for now. Its repercussions would wait until morning.

  ***

  Without any of the inhabitants of Stone Creek coming to town to report the incident, rumor still managed to trickle to town. The sheriff had heard, but without a summons, he preferred to stay out of it. Dr. Broadbent rode out after hearing the rumors during church services.

  He found Ward still in bed and Jettie Mae complaining as Laura wielded a scythe to mow down what grass hadn’t burned the night before. She wore an old cotton gown of pale yellow from which she had defiantly cut the sleeves. She flailed weakly at the offending grass, but it was the aftereffects of shock more than strength that kept her going. The doctor swung off his horse and caught the scythe before she could swing it again.

  “In the house, Laura. You’ll do yourself an injury out here, and then where would we be?” He threw the scythe aside and dragged her toward the porch.

  “Lord a’mercy! It’s ’bout time someone did that. I tried to stop her, but I done thought she’d mow me down! Jist wait here a bit, and I’ll fetch somethin’ cool to drink,” Jettie exclaimed as they entered the house.

  Doc seated Laura on the brocade cushions of the parlor sofa, picked up one of Sallie’s fashion magazines, and waved it in a cool breeze toward Laura’s heat-flushed face. “You ought to be in bed. You look like warmed-over death. I thought you were the one with a little sense around here.”

  Tired of fighting, Laura leaned against the sofa back and let the cool breeze dry her face. “There’s no sense left in this world, Doctor. It’s gone stark, raving mad. Perhaps I should go along with it.”

  “I think we’ve known each other long enough to drop the formalities, Laura. Why don’t you just call me Jonathan?”

  Laura wearily lifted one eyelid, and a wry smile played at the corners of her lips. “Et tu, Brutus?”

  He looked momentarily confused, but Jettie hurried in with a tray of iced lemonade, and he was relieved of making any reply.

  “Mr. Ward’s awake and callin’ for me. I’ll tell him you’s here.” She sashayed out with a mixture of motherly concern and delight.

  Jonathan followed her departure with a skeptical gaze before taking the chair beside the sofa and lifting a cool glass as if this were a formal occasion. “I take it she’s the one that the ruckus was all about?”

  Laura made an effort to straighten the strands of hair escaping her hasty chignon. “Ward needs a nurse,” she replied defensively.

  Jonathan regarded with cynicism. “I daresay he does. That doesn’t mean you need to suffer for his choice.”

  “No one should have to suffer for his choice,” she retorted.

  She really was overwrought to speak out like that. She had learned long ago that quiet words and actions suited her place and accomplished more. Fortunately, the sound of a carriage arriving gave her the opportunity to change the subject.

  Sallie entered the house in a graceful breeze of petticoats, cologne, and ribbons. Laura felt the shabbiness of her own altered cotton, but she was accustomed to the feeling. The carriage driver carried in Sallie’s trunk, and she airily waved the old man to haul it upstairs while she floated into the parlor folding her parasol.

  “Whatever in heaven’s name has been going on while I was gone, Laura? Did you decide to barbecue the lawn?” She gave her gloved hand to the doctor as he rose with her entrance. “So happy to see you. Dr. Broadbent. Are you two having a cozy little chat? Am I intruding?”

  Her light tone indicated the impossibility of any such occurrence, and her next words underlined it. Taking off her gloves, she gestured toward the tray of empty glasses. “Laura, why don’t you fetch some lemonade for me? I’m fairly parched from that ride. I don’t think I’ll journey that far again. Why, I . . .”

  Her monologue threatened to go on as Laura rose to take the empty glasses. Still standing, Jonathan caught her arm and motioned her back to the sofa, ignoring
Sallie’s voluble chatter. “Sit. You are not to lift a hand for the rest of the day. That’s an order.”

  Sallie stared at him in wide-eyed incredulity but wisely made no protest. Rather than get the lemonade herself, she sat down and finished drawing off her gloves.

  “It’s much to hot to move about anyway. Dr. Broadbent, what brings you out here today? I hear the Paynes have bought the old hotel. Todd was always a good friend of ours. Do you think he’ll succeed?”

  When the doctor made a noncommittal reply, Sallie turned restlessly to Laura. “I think I’ll ask Jettie to pour me a bath. That journey has left me literally drained. I’ll lie down and take a little nap before dinner. Or are we just having a cold collation again today? I swear, we never have any decent meals around here anymore. You really ought to look and see if we can’t find a good cook. Then maybe we could have a small dinner, at least.”

  Laura hid her amusement at the doctor’s expression when subjected to the full brunt of one of Sallie’s excited monologues. Her cousin was an intelligent woman with too little to occupy her thoughts. There really wasn’t a mean bone in Sallie’s body. On the other hand, there wasn’t a selfless thought in her head.

  Before Sallie could depart, Jettie wheeled Ward into the room. His wife gave him an absent-minded look, and excused herself.

  Ward grimaced, then turned his attention to his guest. “What brings you out, Doc? Don’t tell me Laura sent for you, because I won’t believe it. She has some insane idea that she’s invulnerable.”

  Wishing she were taking Sallie’s bath and nap, Laura rose to leave the two men to discuss the previous night’s episode. “If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I need to make myself presentable. You will stay to have a bite to eat with us, won’t you, Doctor?”