by Donna Dalton
“Indeed.” Mrs. Cavendish, who operated the dry goods store with her husband, gave a shudder worthy of a theater performance. “My son Peter brought home a rat. A rat, for heaven’s sake. Said it was his pet. I had James exterminate the thing immediately. Nasty, vile rodent.”
The mayor’s wife Alvena Wood wagged her head. “My Dilbert adopted a stray mongrel which he absolutely refused to give up. I made him keep the mangy creature in the barn with the other animals.”
“What about you, Miss Talbot?” Mrs. Allen peered over the rim of her teacup. “Do you have any special pets? Any you converse with after a long, exhausting day?”
Meredith clenched the cup handle, mooring herself under Harriet Allen’s pungent gaze. If the woman was looking to fuel her suspicions about Seaton House, she wouldn’t provide her with any kindling. “I don’t have any pets. Besides, with my Aunt Mildred away, I have more than enough on my hands caring for the children.”
Mrs. Allen set her cup and saucer on the serving tray and laced her hands into a pious fold on her lap. “You seem to keep to yourselves out there in the backwoods with only your work staff venturing into town for supplies. We thought you would at least bring the children to Sunday services. In Romans 10, the Bible says, ‘…faith comes from hearing the message, and the message is heard through the word of Christ.’ ”
Meredith met Harriet’s stare straight on. This fishing expedition had gone far enough. It was time to dock the boats. “Our handyman is a retired minister. Mr. Hoggard conducts Sunday services and instructs the children in Bible study every evening.” There. That ought to appease the sanctimonious woman.
Instead of pacifying, the comment goaded Mrs. Allen into more histrionics. The woman took to the floor, hands waving and lips flapping as she expounded on the merits of a Christian upbringing, her own included. Meredith’s temples thudded. Harriet Allen must certainly enjoy hearing herself talk. Shakespeare himself couldn’t have delivered a more vigorous soliloquy.
A maid toting a tray of sweets pushed through the connecting door and allowed an unfettered view of the dining room. A low-hanging cloud of smoke swirled over the men gathered at the table. Lieutenant Booth sat to the right of Major Allen, sipping an after-dinner spirit. His mouth was tilted down as Anna would say. He didn’t look any happier to be here than she did.
His gaze shifted and caught hers. Tingles skipped from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. Such a powerful attraction. It was almost magical. And most definitely dangerous.
She looked away and fussed with the folds of her skirts, a simple tea gown of russet brown she’d discovered in the trunk the ladies had sent over. It was pretty and showed little sign of wear. She felt almost acceptable in the gown. Almost.
“The men should be joining us soon,” Mrs. Allen said from the piano bench where she’d finally roosted. “Do you sing, Miss Talbot?”
At last, the theatrics had ended. Her pounding head wouldn’t last much longer without exploding. Meredith procured a wry smile. “I’m afraid that is one talent I never mastered.” Among others.
“William says I make the cats howl. Naughty man.” Mrs. Allen ran up the scale. “So I simply let the piano do the singing for me. Come everyone, join me.”
Meredith rose with the others, but instead of joining them, she tucked behind a small table in the far corner of the room. Out of sight; out of mind.
A bust of President Washington sat on a pedestal next to the table. She bent and read the inscription etched on the base. Happiness and moral duty are inseparably connected. Insightful. Just like Major Allen. The commander was nothing like she had imagined. He listened before speaking, and when he did talk, it was in a friendly and a non-judgmental manner. Too bad his wife didn’t share his disposition.
Mrs. Allen was very forthright with her views, almost to the point of fanaticism. Odd that the major didn’t take her in hand, considering his position as fort commander. Yet at the dinner table, he had allowed his wife to spout her opinions without comment. It was only after her dramatics rattled the dinnerware that he steered the conversation to a safer topic. Perhaps he’d learned early on when and where to wage his battles.
Meredith set her tea cup and saucer on the table beside a book resting spine up. She tilted her head to better read the title. Witch Trials of Salem. Of course. She should have recognized Mrs. Allen’s line of questioning. It had been straight out of the Puritan journals of yesteryear. Would she next be inspected for blemishes or moles?
The dining room door swung open, and the menfolk filed into the parlor. Like a moth drawn to a flame, she sought Lieutenant Booth. He wasn’t with them. Panic fluttered in her chest. Surely he hadn’t left her alone in this den of lions.
“Mayor Wood,” Mrs. Allen called out. “You have a marvelous singing voice. Come join us at the piano.”
The room soon reverberated with the foot-tapping melody of The Battle Hymn of the Republic. The jovial music usually served to cheer her. Not now. Not after a tiring day of dodging snakes and evading wolves in ladies clothing.
A movement in the doorway caught her attention. Lieutenant Booth filled the opening. His gaze swept the room not stopping until he found her in the corner. His lips winnowed into a malnourished line. Was he upset with her? He always seemed to find her lacking.
He crossed to the middle of the room and leaned in to speak to his commander. The major’s expression darkened, and bushy eyebrows bunched into a foreboding streak. His gaze fled to her hiding spot. Her stomach churned around what little supper she’d managed to choke down. Something was afoot—and that concerned look said it involved her.
She left her haven and joined the two men. “Lieutenant Booth. Major Allen. You look troubled. Is anything amiss?”
“I’m afraid there is, Miss Talbot,” the major said. “Perhaps you should sit.”
Her heart struck a bad chord. If he thought she should sit, then the matter was indeed dire. “Please tell me what is going on. Is it the children? Has something happened to them?”
“Not the children,” the lieutenant said. “It’s the orphanage. The evening patrol just rode in with news that renegades attacked and set fire to Seaton House.”
Her knees went weak. She grabbed for the back of a nearby chair. Of course. The burning building from her vision had been the orphanage. If only she had seen more…perhaps she could have prevented it from happening.
“What of Mr. Hoggard? Did they find him? Is he…?” She couldn’t put voice to the words. To say them aloud might make them come true.
“There were no signs of your handyman or anyone else,” Lieutenant Booth answered.
She plucked up her skirts and raced for the door. “Then I have to go find him.”
“Miss Talbot…wait.”
The hallway runner bunched beneath her feet, but she didn’t let the rug or the lieutenant’s barked command slow her down. She tugged open the front door and bolted outside. In the distance, a faint red glow slashed the night sky. She pulled to a stop, her breaths coming in shallow draws. What had become of Joseph? Had he been hurt or worse? Her vision had been too brief and fuzzy to know for certain.
Footfalls thudded behind her. “Meredith, you cannot go to Seaton House. It’s too dangerous.”
Meredith. Any other time she would be thrilled to hear her name cross his lips. “I have to go. Joseph might need me.”
Lieutenant Booth moved in front of her, blocking her path. “I told you the patrol didn’t find anyone. And if Mr. Hoggard was inside any of the buildings…well, going there tonight won’t help him.”
“I want to see for myself.”
“What possible good would that do?”
She stepped around him, hands fisted at her side. Anger was much less painful to hold onto than heartache. “If you won’t help me, I’ll find a way to get there myself.”
“Fine.” His fingers curled gently around her elbow. “I’ll take you. But not until morning. I won’t risk you or my men by going out there tonight.�
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He was right. She couldn’t rush headlong into danger. Her run-in with the rattler had underscored that sharp-fanged point. The children needed her alive and healthy.
“Very well, but we leave at first light.” She gave him a firm look. “Not a minute later.”
****
Fingers of smoke curled up from the burnt remains that had once been home to laughter and the patter of little feet. There were no windows or doors. No walls or roof. The only thing left of Seaton House was the main chimney. It overlooked the destruction like a grieving mourner, its bricks dark and weeping with smut.
Meredith drew in a ragged breath, the charred air scraping her throat. What would they do now? Where would they live? Rebuilding would require time and money—neither of which they had to spare.
Something metallic glinted amidst the ashes. She bent and rescued the object. It was one of Gabe’s jacks, blackened and twisted from the intense heat. Had she not agreed to move the children to the fort…
No. She briefly closed her eyes, watering now from the smoke and the strangling feeling of powerlessness. She wouldn’t think that way. Couldn’t. Her heart was already heavy enough without the added burden.
Something brushed her arm, and she turned. Lieutenant Booth’s gaze met hers, strong and steady, an anchor in a storm. She latched onto it.
“How are you doing?” he asked. “This is a lot to take in.”
She shoved her hand into her pocket and held it there, fisted around the jack rock. The little piece of metal would be a reminder that although warped, it had survived. They would all survive.
“I’ll manage. The worst part of all this is Joseph. Have you found any clues as to what happened to him?”
“I wish I had better news. We searched through the rubble here and at the barn. We also made a sweep of the surrounding woods. There’s no sign of him.”
“Where could he be? Do you think the Indians took him?” Lord help him if they had. The newspapers back east had been full of horrific accounts of the tortures the merciless Indians inflicted on their captives. A gentle soul like Mr. Hoggard stood little chance of surviving such savagery.
He shook his head. “I won’t sugar coat the situation. This particular band of renegades isn’t known for taking prisoners.”
He didn’t say what the renegades usually did with their victims. But he didn’t have to. Her throat closed around a sob. She should have tried harder to convince Joseph to join them at the fort instead of staying at the orphanage where he would be alone and vulnerable. Now he might be gone from them forever.
Lieutenant Booth’s arms went around her, gentle, as if cradling a fragile flower. It had been a long time since she’d been held in such a tender embrace. After her mother died, her father had retreated into his shell and stayed there until the evil siren Cordelia lured him out. Even then he ignored his only child. Was it because she reminded him of the wife he’d lost? Or had her affliction so revolted him he couldn’t bear to look at her? The sob she’d held at bay bubbled to the surface.
“Everything’s going to be all right,” he whispered into her hair. “We’ll find Mr. Hoggard. I’ll make sure of it.”
The arms around her tightened. She should pull away, should rebuff the inappropriate gesture, kind though it was. But she couldn’t. His strength grounded her—stopped her world from spinning out of control. She rested her head on his chest and let the steady beat of his heart soothe her rawness.
After a few minutes, he loosened his hold and leaned back. “Better now?”
Better? Not even close. But she would pull herself together and march on—for Joseph’s sake. She managed a nod.
He skimmed a hand along her arm in a comforting caress. “It’s possible Hoggard escaped into the woods. We’ll keep looking for him. My men are very diligent. They won’t leave any stone unturned.”
“I appreciate all your efforts. Joseph means the world to us. I don’t know what we would do without him. He’s like a father, brother, and uncle all rolled into one. The children adore him…we all do. Even the livestock flock to him.”
“I’m more than happy to help in any way I can.” He dropped his hand to his side. “Speaking of livestock, I forgot to mention we came across your milk cow during our search.”
“Bessy? Is she all right?”
“She appears to be unharmed. Your neighbor’s one-eyed mutt was with her. Most likely protecting her from predators. I had her secured to the wagon. We’ll take her back to the fort with us where you can look after her.”
Robbie would be relieved. He’d worried day and night about how the animals were faring. “What of the chickens? Did you see any of them?”
The flock normally roosted in the barn, but that too had been gutted by the fire. Miraculously, two adjacent walls had remained upright—charred and listing, but still standing. It was probably the reason Bessy had managed to escape. The good Lord willing, Joseph had done the same.
“Unfortunately, the chickens have scattered throughout the woods,” he answered. “We just don’t have the time to round them up right now.”
“I suppose they will have to manage as best they can.” Just as they all would.
Voices drew closer. She stepped away and pretended an interest in the burnt remnants of the porch steps. She didn’t need people speculating about a blossoming relationship between her and the lieutenant. For that matter, she didn’t need to be speculating on such a thing either.
“Do you recognize this?” He held out a hand. “It was found in the front driveway. There’s mud on one side as if it was recently dropped. Is it one of the children’s?”
A small wooden dowel that looked similar to a clothes pin rested in his palm. The children had few toys, and she could easily eliminate it. “No. I’ve never seen it before. Did one of the attackers drop it?”
“I can’t say for sure. It doesn’t look like anything an Indian would own. It’s too smooth and polished as if factory made. I’ll just hold onto it for now.” He stuffed the pin into his jacket pocket. “Is there anything you want to take back with you? Not much of value left. The fire unfortunately torched everything it touched.”
Jack rock points bit into her palm. “No. As you said, there’s nothing left worth salvaging.”
“Very well. We’ll start preparing to leave soon. The renegades have probably moved on, but just in case, we should get everyone back to the safety of the fort.”
“What about Mr. Hoggard? We can’t just abandon him.”
“We won’t do that. I’m leaving half the patrol behind to continue searching. If he’s out there, my men will find him.”
From his lips to God’s ears. “Thank you. You’ve been very kind and helpful through all this…” Her throat closed around the rest of her words. Fresh tears surfaced hot and heavy in her eyes.
His hand closed around her elbow in a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry this happened, Meredith. I know it’s going to make things harder for you and the children. If there’s anything I can do, all you have to do is ask.”
He didn’t know the half of how hard it would be. Would probably never know. A ragged “thank you” was all she could manage.
He looked as though he wanted to say more but turned and strode away. He wasn’t the same cold-hearted, inflexible man she’d collided with when they first met. He’d changed—had let her see beneath his armor. And she quite liked what she saw.
She drifted toward the old oak. Heat from the fire had seared the bark to a blackish brown. Many of the leaves were scorched and curled in on themselves. She couldn’t imagine the pain it must have endured.
She lifted a hand to touch the trunk, but drew back. There were too many people roaming about to risk being observed using her talent. Besides, all of her recent visions had been full of bad tidings. As much as she wanted to know about Mr. Hoggard, she just couldn’t bear any more heartache.
A raised voice drifted across the short distance. “What in God’s name is that thing, Lieutenant?�
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“It’s a dog, Agent Finley. He might look like a brute, but he’s tame enough. Buster watched over Miss Talbot’s cow after it escaped into the woods.”
She couldn’t help but stare in awe as Preston knelt and gave the dog a friendly pat. Preston. After being in his arms, after being treated to his gentleness and his compassion, she felt comfortable thinking of him that way.
“It’s detestable what those renegades did to these poor folks. You need to find those Indians and hang them from the nearest tree.”
Mr. Finley’s anger and frustration mirrored her own. The Indian Agent had happened upon them as they were leaving the fort and insisted on accompanying them to help in any way he could. It was kind of him to offer, though from the look of things, there wasn’t much he, or anyone, could do.
“We will find and punish the guilty parties; make no mistake about that.” Preston rose and motioned for her. “We’re ready to go when you are, Miss Talbot.”
Miss Talbot. Back to formalities—as it should be. She waggled a discreet wave to the scorched tree. Get well, old friend. I will be back soon. I promise. One way or another, she would return. This was her home now. The place she felt safe and protected. No fire, no matter how destructive, could torch that feeling.
****
With no clouds to check its potency, the midday sun assaulted the earth. The roadway shimmered with dancing waves of heat. The nearby trees sagged, their leaves wilted and lifeless. Even the birds had gone silent, most likely sheltering in the dense canopies. The only sound came from the driver seated beside her on the wagon as he hummed a solemn tune.
Meredith fished a handkerchief from her sleeve cuff and swiped perspiration from her brow. She might be baking on the outside, but ice coated her insides. The only thing salvageable from the fire-ravaged orphanage had been Bessy. Secured to the back of the wagon, the cow walked quietly as if content to leave behind the chaos of the night before. Bessy could be the last living soul to have seen Mr. Hoggard alive. Did she know what happened to him? Where he had gone? When they got back to the fort, she would have Robbie speak with the animal and find out. The tricky part would be relating any information they learned to Preston.
