Keeper of the Key

by Barbara Christopher

  Caleb stared at Becci. The flame of desire still blazed in her eyes. He imagined the silky feel of her hair draped over his chest—of her draped over his chest. He’d never had a woman romping through his thoughts like Becci did, and he knew instinctively that no other woman ever would.

  With a quick tip of his hat he left before he made a bigger fool of himself than he already had.

  CALEB NEARLY GAGGED as he entered the shed. Jacobs’s odor announced his presence before Caleb spied him hiding under a ragged blanket in the corner.

  “What are you planning on stealing now, Jacobs?” Caleb tossed his hat at the foot of his bed and sat down to take off his boots. If Jacobs wanted to share his room, he would have to clean up. He’d tried to air the room once, but the odor had plagued him continuously since he’d seen the man sneak inside.

  The clothes the drunk wore were the same ones he’d had on when they were thrust through time. The chunks of black mud that clung to his boots and pants indicated that he’d probably been hiding in the woods or down by the lake.

  “Whiskey, if they got it,” Jacobs’s drink-slurred words preceded him out of the corner. “I’m almost finished with what I got the other day. I need food, too. Some of that sweet smellin’ stew might be nice. I watched you and that Miz Lilly having that little chat of yore’s. You didn’t even think about yore friend here, did you?” Jacobs placed his palm to his own chest.

  “If you’d care to work for Miss Becci, I’m sure she would feed you.”

  “I don’t reckon that’s necessary. Not when I can jist walk in and take what I want. Besides, once I get the neckpiece the Widow Berclair gave you, I’ll be set for life, and you’ll be the one they hang for murder.”

  A vision of the blood-drenched knife flashed into his mind. Luke’s wail would have covered Rebecca’s cry for help. Caleb seized the edge of the cot in a white-knuckled grip and fought to keep his anger under control. He’d failed Saul. He’d failed to protect Rebecca and Luke.

  “You killed her,” Caleb whispered. “You killed Rebecca.”

  “No. You did. It were yore knife that was used. No one’s gonna blame me. It were common knowledge that you kilt before. Course I won’t say nothin’ if’n you’ll just fetch me that there gold piece yore so fond of and that sack of nuggets and gold coins you had when we headed to the manor. I’ll head on down river soon as I get it. One town’s good as ‘nother.”

  “I don’t have the gold.”

  “Liar. Only a fool would lose a sack of money. And you’re a lot of things, but you ain’t no fool. Where is it?”

  “I don’t know,” Caleb repeated. “By now, I’m sure Rebecca’s family has spent most of it. After all, that was a hundred and sixty years ago. Or haven’t you found that out yet?”

  “Yore lyin’ again! I ain’t no fool, Caleb Harrison. I don’t know what you done to make things seem different, but it ain’t been a hunnert and sixty years. You get that gold for me, or I’ll take that young filly you got yore sights on. Then maybe you’ll listen.”

  Caleb leaped off the cot, caught Jacobs by the collar and shoved him into the wall. The bottle Jacobs held by the neck bounced against the boards at his back.

  “You stay away from Becci.”

  “Then you best git me more whiskey, boy. This bottle is almost empty.” He lifted the bottle to show Caleb. “Or maybe you kin git me some of that gold so I kin git my own bottle.”

  Caleb remained silent for a moment, then shoved Jacobs toward the door. “I can’t take anything out of the house until Saturday. Even then I’m not sure I’ll be able to find the gold.”

  “I can’t wait ‘til then for a drink, and I need me some food.”

  Caleb reached under the cot and pulled out the small sack of biscuits Lilly had brought him earlier.

  “This will have to do for now.” He tossed them to Jacobs. “I’ll talk to Lilly. Getting food shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “Fine. Tomorrow morning I’ll be expectin’ you to be leaving me vittles in here. I know yore feelings towards the spirits, so if’n you wants me to, I’ll handle gettin’ that myself.”

  Jacobs tipped the whiskey bottle up for a long draw, then wiped his mouth on his dirty shirtsleeve. “If the gold ain’t here Saturday, I might just take a notion to find it myself. I know all about them there hidden spots in yore furniture. Ain’t no place in that furniture that an ax can’t find. Especially one as sharp as the one you jist honed.”

  “You stay away from the house, Jacobs,” Caleb warned. “You stole all the liquor they had.”

  “If you want me to stay out, you’ll get me the gold and some more whiskey. I wouldn’t dally if I were you, either. I’m a mighty thirsty man, and I get right ugly when I don’t have my drink.”

  Caleb let out a sharp curse as Jacobs slipped out the door. He shoved open the window and gazed at the dark shadows of the trees. He hoped the cool breeze would help clear his head and take the stench out of the shed.

  He slammed his fist against the windowsill and whirled toward the cot. He had a lot of emotional and moral sorting to do. Mostly about Becci, the house and the gold. Jacobs, too. He wanted to kill the man, but he knew he couldn’t do it. He had to take him back with him, and if the drunk had truly killed Rebecca, Caleb would make sure the man hanged for it.

  But before he could do any of that, he had to get back to his time. He could drag Jacobs upstairs while Becci was out, get the medallion out of the dresser and leave, but that would be stealing. Even if the gold and the medallion had been his, the house and everything in it now belonged to Becci.

  He couldn’t take the medallion without lowering himself to the likes of Jacobs, and he’d be damned if he would do that. Right now he had to protect Becci and Lilly, and his instincts told him that Jacobs wasn’t the biggest threat they faced. Something nefarious was going on here, and he couldn’t leave until he found out what it was and made sure Becci and Lilly were safe.

  Caleb tucked his knife in his belt, grabbed his hat off the cot and went back to the house. As long as Jacobs needed whiskey, Becci and Lilly wouldn’t be safe from the drunk. He’d have to get spirits for Jacobs, and he’d have to get them fast.

  Eleven

  CALEB RUBBED HIS hand over his face and tried to cast aside the images assailing him. The full moon sketched a path across the yard, creating moving puddles of light as a gentle breeze fluttered the trees. Sleep wasn’t claiming him, and morning was taking its time coming.

  Every time he had closed his eyes the memory of Becci’s body pressed to his took over his thoughts and sent an ache through him that only she could sate. He rolled to his back, moved his knife so it wouldn’t jab him in the side, and stared at the stars.

  Becci was engaged to Ascott, so she must love him, but her actions confused Caleb. He’d slipped into her life and turned it upside down. She should hate him, probably did. But her response to his kiss said she had other feelings, too.

  One more time he closed his eyes. Instantly the memory of her kiss, her taste, her scent, and her soft skin assaulted him. The innocent air surrounding her didn’t correspond with either the way she dressed or her forwardness.

  Caleb groaned. He might as well give up on sleeping. He rolled to his feet and leaned against the oak tree he’d lain under. The sun’s orange glow had yet to paint the horizon. If he hurried he could finish washing and be dressed in time to have a cup of coffee before doing his morning chores.

  Besides, maybe the icy water would help dissolve the masculine needs that surged with every thought of Becci.

  Grabbing the bucket, rag and soap Lilly had given him, he headed toward the water spigot. The lights were off, and everything looked peaceful inside. But the shed looked that way, too, and he knew firsthand that those walls had been anything but peaceful the last few days.

  It would have been nice to clean up
in the water room Miss Lilly had shown him. It wasn’t necessary though, because he had everything he needed outside. With the cover of darkness, he could undress and bathe under the oak using the snakelike tube Lilly had called a hose. She had used it to water the plants yesterday, and now he would use it on himself.

  Holding the hose in one hand, he twisted the handle above where it was connected. Water suddenly erupted from the end of the tube and jerked the hose out of his grip. It snaked maniacally over the ground, spurting water everywhere. Caleb dodged the erratic showers.

  He chuckled and brushed the water off his shirt. Couldn’t he even clean up without causing a mess? At least Becci wasn’t around to see him make a fool of himself this time.

  Catching the hose under his foot, he leaned down and retrieved the wildly wiggling end. There had to be a way to use the thing to his advantage. His damp hair trickled water into his eyes as he studied the situation.

  Suddenly he realized that by throwing the end over one of the low hanging oak limbs he could create a shower. He tossed the end over the branch and again dodged the erratic spurts of water. At least it didn’t flop off.

  He finished bathing quickly, filled the bucket, and turned off the water. Jacobs would also clean up, Caleb vowed, as he gathered up everything and headed toward the lake to find Jacobs.

  After searching for the drunk for over an hour, Caleb made his way back up the hill. Golden squares of light spread across the yard from the kitchen window. Lilly smiled at him through the glass. She raised her cup as if offering it and motioned with her hand for him to come in.

  “Morning.” He placed his hat on the hook beside the back door and took the steaming mug Lilly handed him. He breathed in the coffee’s rich aroma and took a long, deep sip of the brew.

  “Have a seat, and I’ll make you breakfast,” Lilly said. “I hope the coffee is okay. I added an extra scoop, so it might be a little strong.”

  The coffee tasted weak to him, but he liked it more than the bitter brew he usually fixed for himself. “It’s fine.”

  Lilly opened the large white box called a refrigerator, took out a short tube, pulled off the paper covering and whacked it against the counter. Then she placed the doughy contents on a flat pan.

  “Miss Lilly,” Caleb started. “I’ve got a problem, and I believe you might be the only one able to help me out.”

  “I’d be delighted to help.”

  “You best wait until after you hear what I’ve got to say before you offer your services,” Caleb replied. “It involves Jacobs, the man who passed through time with me. He has . . . needs. I can give him half my food, but he’s a drinking man.”

  “And he’s asked you to get liquor for him.”

  “Not exactly. He plans on stealing it, and the only place he knows where to steal it is from your house. I don’t want him in here again.”

  “That explains why he grabbed the whiskey that first day. Was he the one pilfering through our things the other night?”

  Caleb nodded. “I think so.”

  “Money’s tight, but I’ll get a couple of bottles while I’m out shopping today. I’d rather spend the money and have Becci mad for a day or two than have that man back in the house.”

  “I’d hate to cause trouble between the two of you. Maybe I should ask Becci.”

  “No. It’ll be okay.”

  “What will be okay?” Becci asked from the doorway.

  “I asked Miss Lilly to help me get a few things for Jacobs,” Caleb said. He wouldn’t let Lilly lie for him.

  He set his cup down, tipped his chair back and let his gaze roam slowly up Becci from her white shoes to her lips. Today she wore a pink shirt and matching pants. A tiny hat that looked as if it belonged on a doll was on her head, and her hair was twisted up like it had been the night before.

  She moistened her bottom lip, and the memory of their shared kisses flashed through his mind. He wanted to pull her into his arms and finish what they had started last night.

  “What does this Jacobs guy need?” Becci asked as she poured herself a cup of coffee and pulled out the chair opposite him.

  Suddenly, Caleb remembered his manners, lowered the legs of his chair and stood. He shifted his gaze to the large oak in the backyard and then to toward where Becci stood across the table from him.

  Becci drew in a shaky breath and lost herself in the blue depths of Caleb’s eyes. For a long moment they just stared at each other. When he looked away, she felt the loss as if it had been a tender caress instead of a steamy once over.

  “What does Jacobs need?” she repeated.

  When Caleb faced her again, his expression showed no emotion. He’d again locked his feelings securely behind an invisible wall. She wanted to shout at him for shutting her out. Instead she waited for his answer.

  “Food, clothes and whiskey.”

  “I don’t have money for liquor.”

  “You can’t afford not to buy it.” Caleb’s voice held a warning. “He’s a drunk, and if he doesn’t have his spirits, he’ll steal them—or something he can trade to buy them.”

  “Fine,” Becci said as she drank the first sip of her coffee. “There are some old clothes in the shed. He can have those, and I’ll pick up a bottle of whiskey tonight. And you’d better tell him to make it last.”

  Caleb walked to the door, took his hat off the hook and brushed the crown with the cuff of his shirt. “I’ll be sure he understands.”

  “I’ve got to leave for work. Just give Aunt Lilly a list of anything else you need,” Becci said.

  “Work?” She’d mentioned work a couple of times, but he’d thought she meant the work around the house. “You work outside the house? For other people?”

  “Yes. I’m an aide at Methodist North Hospital across the street.”

  He frowned and eased back into the chair. “You shouldn’t have to work. You’re a woman. Besides, there’s more than enough for you to do here. Who’s going to do the mending and the washing and the cooking?”

  Becci knew he didn’t understand that today’s women worked outside the home, so she didn’t get angry at his chauvinistic statement. “Aunt Lilly and I share the cooking. I don’t sew. And thanks to the washer and dryer, the laundry doesn’t consume as much time as it used to. I can wash everything in one evening after I get home.”

  He looked confused, but all he said was, “This work you do, what is it?”

  Becci glanced at her watch. She wanted to explain it to him because, strangely enough, it mattered what he thought about her chosen occupation. But she didn’t have time to talk to him now.

  “I’ll tell you tonight,” she said. “If I don’t get out of here, I’ll be late for work.”

  As she rushed out the door, she felt Caleb’s hungry gaze burning a hole in her back.

  JACOBS HAD WATCHED the strange carriage leave the house last night, stop at the foot of the hill, and back into the trees out of sight. He hadn’t expected it to still be there this morning, but it was.

  The man opened the car door, stepped out and stretched, then pulled out a cigar and lit it. Jacobs moved closer and stepped out from behind his hiding place.

  “I know you.” Jacobs cursed the slur he heard in his voice. The sun still hung high in the sky, but that didn’t mean anything. He couldn’t remember the last time he was sober.

  “Ya come to Raleigh lookin’ for Obadiah some years back,” Jacobs said as he slipped to the ground under the old magnolia tree. “Ya bought me a bottle for showin’ ya the way to the Berclair’s. Drunk or sober, William Jacobs don’t fergit a man who buys him a bottle.”

  “I wondered if you had come with Harrison. Last time we met I asked you to stick close to him. Do you remember what you were supposed to find out?”

  “Sure do. You said you’d buy me another bottle. You got the
whiskey?”

  Ascott reached inside his car and brought out a bottle of whiskey. Jacobs reached for it, but Ascott jerked it back. “I can get you a whole case of the stuff for the right information.”

  “And what mighten that be, Mr. Ass—cott,” Jacobs leaned forward, his gaze never straying from the whiskey.

  “Where’s Harrison?” Ascott asked.

  “Round back diggin’ in the mud around the Widder’s roses—at least they was her roses. Now I guess they belong to the women livin’ there at the house.”

  Michael frowned. “Widow? Saul’s dead?”

  “Yeah, got hisself sick and died ‘bout a year ago.”

  “And Rebecca?”

  “She’s gone, too.”

  “Sorry to hear about Rebecca. She was a fine lady. But if she’s dead then Harrison probably has the medallion that matches this one.” Ascott tucked the bottle of whiskey under his arm and pulled a small metal box out of his pocket. He opened it and tipped it so Jacobs could see inside.

  “Yeah, he does. You told me to steal it, but I ain’t had the chance,” Jacobs said.

  “You’re sure he has it?” Shutting the box, Ascott slipped it back into his pocket and caught the neck of the bottle.

  “Reckon so. He had it when we left Raleigh. Course I ain’t seen it recently.”

  “Find out where it is, and I’ll keep you supplied with this stuff for the rest of your life.”

  Jacobs licked his lips and reached for the bottle. Ascott didn’t let go. “Deal?”

  “Learn where that there necklace is, and I won’t have to worry about gettin’ myself whiskey?” Ascott nodded and Jacobs said, “You got yoreself a deal, mister.”

  Ascott got in his horseless carriage, then rolled his window down and said, “Another thing, Jacobs.” Ascott tipped his head in the direction of the house. “No one up there is to know that we know each other or the deal’s off.”