Shelter from the Storm

by Patricia Rice

  The old woman looked skeptical but nodded to the wisdom of this decision.

  Chapter 18

  “I’ve come to bring my wife home. I know she’s in there, so stand out of my way, old woman.”

  Laura had waited for that voice with dread for days now. In her mind, she had practiced what she would say and do when the time came, but her mind wasn’t the same as reality. Panic raced through her veins, and she glanced down to the sleeping innocent beside the bed. She had been practicing standing, creeping about the perimeter of the small room, but she wasn’t swift enough to pick up her son and run. Placing a kiss on her fingers and caressing his head with it, she pushed the box beneath the bed and out of sight.

  At least she had a gown on today. She hadn’t been able to pack petticoats, and the ones she had worn that night were ruined, but it was better than greeting the light of day in her nightshift. Laura swung her legs over the bed where she had been resting and braced herself on the nearby table to rise. It would be better if she got far enough away from the house to keep Marshall from waking the infant.

  Marshall looked red-eyed and belligerent when Laura appeared in the doorway. He must have been on a week-long drinking spree to look so disheveled and sick. She gazed upon him imperturbably as she brushed past Mrs. Jackson to step into the street like a mother quail distracting the enemy from her young. The children who were inevitably playing in the dirt had disappeared at the first sign of trouble. She was grateful for their discretion.

  “I’ve come to bring you home, Laura,” Marshall said stiffly. “It’s not right you staying here in a colored shack.”

  Laura edged toward the street, aware that eyes watched, but in this section of town they weren’t eyes that she knew. There wasn’t anything Mrs. Jackson could do, except protect the children. She didn’t even look to see where the older woman was.

  “I’m not well, Marshall. I’m not even supposed to be out of bed. I can’t do your cooking. You’ll have to hire someone in.” She had planned that, dug through her brain for any protection she could derive.

  Anger flitted across his face and disappeared as he donned a contrite expression. “I’m sorry, Laura. I won’t hurt you no more. I was drunk and lost my head, but I won’t do it again. I promise. The sheriff has offered me the job of his deputy, and I’ll have a little money to bring in. I can pay for some help for a little while. Just get the baby and let’s go home.”

  All Laura could think was that it was a damn good thing she had talked Dr. Burke from going to the sheriff. Tensing, she took another step or two down the road. “The baby died, Marshall. You killed it.” She said that out of pure meanness, but he didn’t even flinch.

  “That’s all right. We’ll have another one. The whole town’s whispering about you being down here. They’re asking ugly questions. It’s time you came home.”

  Her entire attention was on Marshall’s wicked, lying, weaselly face. He couldn’t meet her eyes, couldn’t look at the damage he had done to her. She didn’t know how bad it was, had refused to look at a mirror, but she knew from the colors of the bruises on the rest of her body that she couldn’t be a pretty sight. She wanted to shoot him, wanted to find a loaded pistol and put a bullet between his eyes, but they would hang her for that, and her son needed a mother. Somehow she would have to kill him. But not now. Not in the bright light of this brilliant spring day.

  “You’ll have to send someone to fetch me, Marshall. I can’t walk that far. And you’ll need to stop and get Mrs. Perkins before you bring me home. She’ll help me. I’m not going to be alone with you anymore.”

  Before she realized anyone was behind her, Marshall glanced over her shoulder and dropped his mask of virtue. She heard a gasp just as he grabbed her arm, dragging her toward him. He twisted his hand in her hair and with a foul curse, swung her around.

  She stared in shock at Cash and Dr. Burke. Cash didn’t flinch at the bilious yellow and green bruises marring her cheeks. Instead, before Marshall could so much as raise his voice in warning, he strode forward, wielding the whip in his hand.

  With vicious accuracy, he brought it down across Marshall’s neck without touching her.

  Laura gasped at the crack of leather, but she tugged away as soon as Marshall’s grasp weakened. Cash’s dark face was livid with fury, and she could do nothing but stare as he lashed out again and again. Marshall crumpled to his knees and tried to roll away. Cash waited, his mouth a malevolent scar across his face while Marshall struggled to rise. As soon as he regained his feet, Cash flicked the whip across his back again.

  “Crawl, Brown. I want to see you crawl. I want all the brave citizens of this town to see you crawl until your hands bleed. I want you to know what it’s like to be broken and humiliated, and I want them to know what happens when a man behaves like an animal. Start crawling, Brown, or I’ll bleed you into a bloody pulp.”

  Laura nearly fainted as the whip lashed repeatedly, slicing Marshall’s coat and drawing blood. A hard arm caught her, and she grabbed Dr. Burke’s coat as he looked on, doing nothing to prevent the fury unleashed by Cash’s hand.

  Heads peered out of doorways, and Mrs. Jackson crossed her arms in satisfaction as Marshall hurriedly obeyed the command to crawl. Each time he tried to rise, Cash struck again, taking satisfaction in the blow.

  “Doctor, you have to stop him,” Laura said, horrified. Each blow of the whip felt like a vengeance for her suffering, and she could not bring herself to interfere, but she knew someone must.

  “Mr. Wickliffe seems to be an intelligent man,” Burke replied nonchalantly. “He won’t kill him. I daresay before he is done, the man will have second thoughts about coming around you again.”

  Laura closed her eyes as Marshall tried to escape down an alley and Cash struck him down again. A crowd gathered at the end of the street. Curious eyes turned in her direction, but for Cash’s sake she displayed her bruises. Let them know why he did this. Let them fully understand Marshall deserved every blow.

  And since Cash was now a member of her family, the only male member, they would allow him to get away with it.

  As Marshall crawled around the corner, Laura let her shoulders slump. She had not known Cash had returned. She had once hoped to be gone before then. That hope was lost forever, and the scene that would follow sat threateningly on her shoulder like some evil bird. “I had better see to Mark, Doctor. Perhaps you ought to go after Marshall.”

  “I would prefer to leave him rotting in the gutter.” His hard tone caused her to look up, and he patted her hand. “I’ll not, of course. Mrs. Jackson, perhaps you will help me get our patient seated.” He glanced to the woman waiting stoically in the doorway.

  Leticia stood aside and let them enter. Apparently she had already rescued Mark from beneath the bed, and she held him out to Laura now. “There won’t be no need of you hidin’ this young ’un now. He’ll be fine.”

  If “now that his daddy’s home” didn’t come out in words, it laced her tone. Laura nodded in acknowledgment and lifted her sleeping son to her shoulder. “I don’t know how to thank you. If you hadn’t been here . . .”

  “Folks gotta look after one ’nother. Jettie Mae’s the one told me when that Wickliffe boy come home. You always got friends in these parts to look after you.” She gave Dr. Burke a second look. “And you, Doctor, best looks to yo’self. If Dr. Jon ain’t comin’ back, we need you in one piece. There’s goin’s-on hereabouts you don’ know nothin’ ’bout.”

  Burke bowed formally at this warning. “I take your meaning, Mrs. Jackson, but I can’t stop doing what I was meant to do. If you’ll see to Miss Laura, I’d best attend to Mr. Brown.”

  For lack of anywhere else to sit, Laura returned to the bed and rested with her back against the pillow, keeping a firm hold on her son. She knew Cash would be back, and there would be no hiding from him. She could only pray that he would assume her child was Jonathan’s, as everyone else had before Marshall came to town.

  She didn’t have long
to wait. Cash flung open the door without knocking, his eyes flashing fury and his face still contorted with rage. One glance from him sent Lucretia scurrying from the room, slamming the door behind her. Laura clung to her son and watched him calmly, knowing the storm would break over her head but never harm her.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” were the first words out of his mouth, the first words she had heard in over three months from him.

  “It wasn’t any of your business,” was her calm reply.

  Cash strode across the room and pulled back the blanket covering the infant’s head. His hand stilled momentarily as it encountered the small black head, and then he stroked the soft fur of hair. “Mine,” he announced, without question.

  She wanted to deny it, wanted to jerk the child from his hand and hide the truth, but she had known from the very first that she could not. Her only hope had been that he wouldn’t guess. She could tell the truth to Jonathan when the time came, but she had hoped there would never be any need to speak it to Cash. She should have known that was a fool’s game.

  “Mine,” Laura answered softly.

  Cash jerked as if she had smacked him, then pulled the infant him from her grasp. He held Mark expertly as he examined tiny fingers and toes in the same way she had done. The infant woke and squirmed and stared with sightless eyes at his father, then wailed a protest at discovering a stranger’s rude touch. Cash’s fury softened, and he almost smiled as he guided the flailing fist to his son’s mouth and watched him grow quiet.

  “He’s big, isn’t he?” he asked in wonder, rocking the tiny bundle in his arms.

  Laura could have spent the rest of her life denying her feelings toward this man who came and went through her life like a summer storm, but in that instant she could not deny the overwhelming emotions welling up in her as she saw her son with his father, and read the love on Cash’s face.

  “Dr. Burke says he’s larger than most. He must take after you.”

  That admission brought Cash’s head up, and his dark eyes met and held hers. “There was time. You could have told me. Why didn’t you?”

  What explanation could she give that he didn’t already know? “It was what I wanted,” seemed to be the only truthful reply.

  His face hardened again, and his words were crisp. “I thought you smarter than Sallie, but I suppose it runs in the family. I’m taking you with me back to the farm. My son belongs with me.”

  If she had ever dreamed of the day when Cash found out about his son, she would never have dreamed this reaction. Laura stared at him incredulously, all the arguments against such insanity racing through her mind, but Cash’s stubbornly determined expression warned who would prevail. She was weak, weaker than usual, mind and body and soul debilitated by the horrors of the last few months. But still she couldn’t give in without a fight.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. You and Sallie are newlyweds. You don’t need a dependent relative hanging about your necks like an albatross, and you certainly don’t need to ruin your marriage by bringing home your. . . ”

  She hesitated over the word, and Cash’s frown cut her off. “Don’t you dare say it, Laura.” He shifted the child in his arms and held him protectively. “We’ve both made mistakes, but there’s no reason to take it out on this child. You’re going back with me. I’ll not leave you here prey to that villain out there, or any other. We’ll discuss how to go on after you’ve had time to rest and recover.”

  “But Sallie . . .” Laura’s mind rebelled at the thought of returning to the farm and Sallie, but with Marshall still in town, she knew she needed its safety. Torn by confusion, she allowed Cash to walk over her protests.

  “The farm is mine now, to do with as I wish. Sallie is the last one with a right to complain if I bring you and our child home. She needn’t know the boy’s parentage, if that’s what worries you. I’ll not treat her that cruelly.”

  That wasn’t exactly Laura’s greatest worry, but she nodded in relief at his sensible words. It would be weeks before she was herself again. By then perhaps she would have found a solution. She had to find a solution. The idea of living under the same roof with Cash and Sallie, knowing they retired to the same big bed together every night, would drive her insane if she thought about it at all.

  Seeing her acceptance, however reluctant, Cash held his tongue. There was no need to tell her more just yet, no need to tell her Sallie carried his child too. She would discover that soon enough. Sallie made no point of concealing it. Her complaints were so vociferous that he had been relieved by any excuse to return to the farm and escape her constant company.

  He had not thought the urgent wire from the doctor would have this conclusion, and he was still shaken by the sight of Laura’s delicate beauty marred by the fists of a filthy beast, but he was glad to be back. Carefully he released his son into Laura’s hands.

  “What is he named?”

  Laura hesitated, but Lucretia had taken him for his baptizing just yesterday. Avoiding Cash’s eyes, she answered, “Jonathan Marcus. Everyone thinks he’s Marshall’s, but I can’t bear to call him Brown.”

  Cash’s eyed her with appreciation. “I didn’t think you knew my full name. I’m honored that you would reward me in such a manner, pairing my name with an honorable man like Jonathan.”

  The emotions of the last hour had taken their toll, and Laura closed her eyes and leaned back against the pillows. She couldn’t bear to watch his face, to feel the warmth welling up inside her knowing he was looking at her with affection, with the same affection he had shown the young child she once had been. Perhaps he thought of her as the younger sister he had never had. Whatever it was, it. was not what she needed from Cash. From anyone else, yes, but not from Cash.

  Softly she replied, “I always admired your name, as I always admired your mother’s courage. It seemed only fitting. I call him Mark, though, so people think he’s named after my father.”

  “Wise choice, pequeña ,” he said wryly. “You rest now. I’ll be back with a carriage. I’ll send someone to pack your bags later.”

  She was really doing this, really agreeing to accompany Cash back to the farm and Sallie. She must be out of her mind. She had heard of medieval priests who flagellated themselves to cleanse their souls. Her soul ought to be as pure as the driven snow if she lived through this.

  She pretended to sleep. Cash lift the child and returned him to his box. She heard him speak in a low voice to Lucretia outside the door and knew money was being exchanged. She ought to feel bought and paid for, but she merely felt tired. Maybe tomorrow she would wrestle with the demons of her conscience.

  Chapter 19

  “Laura, I decleah, you’re no better than that sassy darkie downsteahs in the kitchen.” Sallie flaunted the elaborate train of her fashionable lilac shot-silk taffeta as she swept around Laura’s room fingering the various personal effects Jettie Mae had helped her unpack.

  From the bed where she rested, Laura occupied herself studying the effect of Sallie’s half-crinoline and the way the cascades of lilac material were drawn up behind her to create a devastatingly rich effect that had not yet reached these backwaters of fashion. Cattily Laura observed the flatter skirt in front would not long conceal Sallie’s spreading waistline.

  That thought triggered a deep pain, and Laura turned her face to the wall. It did not take much imagination to wonder why Sallie’s usually svelte figure had grown more voluptuous these last months.

  Laura’s refusal to reply did not deter her cousin. Picking up one of Mark’s tiny gowns, Sallie sniffed and wrinkled her nose. “The least you could do is write to Dr. Broadbent and tell him to come and marry you. The scandal is simply enormous, Laura. I can scarcely hold my head up and go to town.”

  “Then go back to New York, Sallie. From the sounds of it, you preferred the society there.” Laura wasn’t up to being polite. She didn’t want to be here. She didn’t have to suffer her cousin’s condescension any more than necessary. As soon as she recovered her full s
trength, she would take her life back again.

  “I never saw so many fashionable people in all my life,” Sallie agreed, with a trace of wistfulness. “They make the folks ’round here look like red Indians.”

  Laura noticed the exaggerated Southern accent came and went with Sallie’s moods. From some of the things she’d heard these last days, it seemed Sallie’s Southern-belle pose had made quite a hit in the North. It was increasingly obvious that Sallie had wished to stay when Cash had insisted on coming home.

  The differences did not bode well for the new marriage, but Laura had never expected Sallie to make Cash happy, not in the way a good wife makes a man happy. No, they both had what they wanted, and neither required the loving relationship that Laura craved. And would never have.

  Tired of her self-pitying thoughts, Laura responded just to keep Sallie talking. “Tell me all the places you saw. Was New York as large as they say?”

  Sallie’s eyes widened in remembrance as she turned toward the bed. “You never saw such a hotel! It filled a whole block and towered up to the sky, and everything was plush velvet and hushed voices and there were the cutest little boys in red caps right at your fingertips every minute to help with bags and everything. I felt like a princess.

  “And Cash had these friends who’d made some kind of investments in California, and they took us to the most dazzling restaurants! Imagine all the crystal that must go into those chandeliers! And silver glittering all over the tablecloths. I never thought the North had such graciousness, but they beat us proud. Maybe Cash will take me back when the harvest’s in. I never did have time to order some winter gowns. I couldn’t possibly go back to wearing what that little dressmaker in town sews. Why, I bet she doesn’t even have one of those new machines that stitch so much nicer! Did you see this? Did you see how fine a stitch holds these ribbons?”

  If Laura had seen the expensively laced ribbons on Sallie’s clothes once, she had seen them a dozen times in the last two days. The lilac had discreet black ribbons covered with black lace down the neatly fitted sleeves and around the cuffs and bodice, and Laura would have given her eyeteeth for anything half so elegant.