“If you hadn’t been in the saloon, you wouldn’t have been in the middle of it, would you? And you might even wake up early enough to attend church the next morning.”
Church? Jake blew out a sigh and let his head fall back, eyes closed.
“Believe me, I’ve been there,” Rhyan said. “But I think it’s time for you to prove yourself, once and for all.” He let Jake stew about that a few long moments before adding, “I have an assignment for you.”
Probably mucking out the stables again. Jake raised his head, waiting for it.
“You’re going to Georgia.”
That forced Jake to straighten. “You mean down south?”
Rhyan smoothed out the papers on his desk. “The last I heard, Georgia was down south.” He turned the map around and tapped it. “You’re going to scout out a piece of land here.”
For the first time, Jake noticed a large map spread over the desk top. “You’re going to buy property in Georgia?” Or maybe there was some new breed of cattle Rhyan wanted to check out.
“In a roundabout way. This is a new charity of Carianne’s. Some newspaper man from Indiana wants to found a new town in South Georgia made up of former Confederates and Union soldiers. A way to show the animosity of the war is over and the country can come together. It’s a noble cause, and you know how Carianne is about noble causes.”
Jake nodded. Everyone knew Carianne was becoming a renowned philanthropist. “What am I supposed to scout, exactly?” Going south at this time of year didn’t appeal to him. He’d heard it was hot as hades and full of mosquito-infested swamps in the area where Rhyan pointed. Likely this do-gooder asking for Carianne’s charity was a charlatan.
He crossed his arms over his chest. Now he understood. Rhyan wouldn’t let Carianne give this fellow any money until Jake came back with evidence the land was worth it.
“See Mr. Carstairs. He has a package of all the particulars—maps, directions, contacts—along with your train, ship, and stage tickets. And money for food and lodging.”
Carstairs was the ranch accountant. Rhyan was careful with money, but Carstairs even more so, demanding an accounting of every single penny. “When am I leaving?”
“In the morning. Have everything packed and ready. I’ve already discussed this with Deck. He’ll take you to take the depot. I’ll want you to send me a written report every week and wire me if anything comes up.” Rhyan stood, indicating the end of discussion.
No wonder Deck, his foreman, had had that smirk on his face this morning. Jake got to his feet. “Thank you for giving me another chance. I won’t let Carianne down.”
“It’s an opportunity to prove yourself. Keep that in mind. And you know how I hate disappointing Carianne, especially in her condition.”
“You can depend on me—this time. When is the young’un due?”
“In two weeks, give or take.”
Jake backed toward the door. “Guess I won’t be here, but congratulations, in advance.”
“Thanks, and stay out of trouble.”
“I will. Might be hard though. I’ve heard those Southern women are mighty pretty.”
“Just remember, those Southern men are mighty jealous of their women. I want you coming back in one piece.”
Jake laughed, his hand on the doorknob. “You have my word on that.” He turned to clear out.
“Wait, Jake, one more thing. Something Carianne insisted on.” Rhyan plucked a small leather book from the desk, offering it with outstretched hand.
Jake took it. A Bible. Just the Psalms and New Testament, apparently.
“Carianne asks that you read a chapter every night on your trip. And if I were you, I’d do it. She’ll grill you on it when you get back, so you better know it pretty well.”
He could think of a million other things he’d rather do, but it was best he not voice them.
Chapter 3
Juliette hadn’t been to Abbeville in nearly two years—not since her step-mother, Grace, was buried. It was a nice town. Quiet. The people friendly without being too nosey.
She’d started out with Annie before daybreak, and now the sun was climbing toward the noon hour. It had taken that long. But Sweetie Pie, the horse Pa had given her when Juliette was just eight years old, was getting old.
She should have taken Harp’s horse, Big Red, but couldn’t even bring herself to touch it.
Even as harshly as the memory of that day over a month ago when she’d shot Harp still bothered her, it left Annie much worse. Her sister lay bunched up on the floor of the buggy, her hands pillowing her cheek. She hadn’t spoken a word since Juliette had found her cowering in the barn with her cats after she’d buried Harp.
At first Juliette thought it momentary fright brought on by—what Harp had done to her. But the days drifted into weeks, and it was evident Annie wasn’t coming back from wherever she was.
Juliette prayed Dr. Kane would be able to help Annie. In her current condition, she couldn’t be left alone, and Juliette would have to return to her job as librarian and part time teacher when school started. Not to mention, Annie wouldn’t be able to return to school, either.
She stopped in front of the doctor’s office and let the story she’d rehearsed run through her brain one more time. Maybe she expected a miracle, but Dr. Kane had to help Annie, and Juliette hoped she had enough money to pay him. She’d brought every penny she had, but she needed to buy some supplies to supplement the garden produce.
Harp’s saddle bag had held no money.
“We’re here, Annie. Let me help you up.” Juliette knew from experience, she’d have to force Annie from where she lay. She only obeyed the simplest of orders, and had to be nudged into those.
Juliette sent a fugitive glance up and down the street in case anyone was watching. She didn’t want anyone coming to their aid. Didn’t want the word to get out that Annie had gone crazy.
After several minutes of coaxing and tugging, she managed to get the girl out and into the doctor’s office. Thankfully, it was empty. But that sent another dart of alarm through her. What if Dr. Kane wasn’t in? Had she made the long trip for nothing?
She breathed a sigh of relief when Dr. Kane came from the back examination room.
“I thought I heard someone come in,” the doctor said, a pleasant smile lifting his gray handlebar mustache. “It’s Miss Kendal, isn’t it?”
“Yes, sir…doctor. Can you see my sister, Annie?”
His gaze shifted to Annie, hiding behind Juliette, like a three-year-old might. “Of course. What ails you, Annie?”
Juliette tried to keep her voice calm as she went into her rehearsed story. “Annie had a horrible experience several weeks ago. A bear wandered into the house and almost attacked her.”
“Almost?” Dr. Kane’s brow hiked. “Was she injured?”
“Not physically. The bear ran out.” A nervous titter escaped Juliette’s lips. She swallowed and forced a serious tone in her voice. “I think Annie’s scream scared the bear, fortunately. The encounter left her speechless—literally.”
“She was struck mute?”
The doctor walked behind them and clapped his hands together sharply. Annie jumped and strangled Juliette’s waist.
“She can obviously hear…and see.” The doctor shook his head. “I’ve heard hysteria can strike the victim deaf or blind. Can she understand you?”
“I think so. I have to braid her hair and stand over her to insist she bathe and make her bed. Simple things. She will follow orders if I stay with her, but if I turn my back, she runs and hides in the barn with her cats.”
“How old is Annie?”
“She turned thirteen this past May.”
The doctor inclined his head. “A delicate age for a girl. Her body and mind are changing from a child to a woman. Would you say Annie’s temperament has always been sensitive?”
“Not until her mother died. After that she’s become rather quiet and shy, preferring to read and play with her dolls and cats.”<
br />
“Her mother was not yours?”
“No. We have the same father, who as you know, passed away—” Juliette stopped to count up the years. Could it have four years? “Four summers ago.”
The doctor nodded. “How well I remember now. Gangrene set in and took him despite all your nursing and anything I could do. Then Mrs. Kendal remarried if I recall correctly.”
Annie stiffened as if she followed the conversation.
“That’s right. She was my step-mother. My mother died when I was five years old. Grace and my pa married in eighteen seventy-two. Thad was born two years later. He’ll be fifteen this October. Then Annie came in seventy-five and Corky less than a year later. Grace was never happier than when the babies were young. She loved babies.”
Annie moaned, drawing Dr. Kane’s attention to her for a moment. He shifted his gaze back to Juliette. “I remember Mrs. Kendal. Rather a young woman, if I recall.”
“Yes, she was but eighteen when she married my father. The midwife said the babies coming so soon after each other wore her out. She almost died when Corky was born, and the doctor at that time recommended she have no more babies.” Heat rushed to her cheeks. “Our father agreed.”
“Then your father died.”
“Yes, and we got along well, Grace and I. With Annie’s and the boys’ help, we kept the farm running. I got a job at the library. It didn’t pay much, but we got by.” They’d all missed Pa deeply, and Juliette remembered how she and Grace had worried over how to make ends meet. They didn’t know how good they had it at that time.
An uncomfortable silence fell over the room, and Juliette could hear her heart beating. “Then Grace married Harp Munson, and got with child before the year ended. She died June a year ago in childbirth…so did the child.” Mercifully.
“Does Annie get along with her step-father?”
The question took Juliette by surprise, and she knew her face showed it. “None of us get along with Harp, but after Grace died, he left for long periods of time.”
“What’s his reaction to Annie’s state of mind?”
“He…he doesn’t know. He’s been gone almost all summer.”
“Have you notified him?”
“I don’t know where he is.” She almost choked on that lie and rushed on to cover it. “My brothers are working for Mr. Blythe, picking cotton and will have to return to school in September, at the same time I’ll have to return to my job at the library. Annie can’t be left alone as she is, Dr. Kane. Can anything be done?”
“At this point, only God can say, but that’s true in every case. I see two patients before me, Miss Kendal. You can’t carry this burden alone. I’ve heard rumors about how Harp Munson leaves you to shoulder the responsibility for the children and the farm. For a while people put his behavior to grief over losing his wife, but it’s been almost two years. He’ll have to take responsibility for the farm and the children.”
Juliette stared at the floor. Even if Harp had lived, he’d have caused trouble instead of helping. She hadn’t realized how much trouble.
The doctor’s tone indicated his sympathy. “You should be entertaining callers. There are several fine young men who’d jump at the chance to court you. From what I hear, Harp has turned them away. Is that true?”
Her head flew up. Grace had mentioned the same thing not long before she’d died. Juliette had poo-pooed that idea, considering herself too old to find a suitor. Grace had then said something she thought strange at the time. She’d warned Juliette marriage might be the only way she could escape. Juliette didn’t understand at the time.
Now she did, but what did it matter? What man would want to court a murderess?
She swallowed. “I appreciate your interest, Dr. Kane, but my concern at the moment is Annie.”
The doctor’s brows drew together as he peered at Annie. He could surely tell by her behavior she was more than mute. Terror had rendered her senseless. “Bring her into the office,” he said.
Annie held onto Juliette’s arm as they followed the doctor. When he came to them with the stethoscope, she whimpered and buried her head on Juliette’s shoulder while he pressed the instrument to her chest.
He removed the stethoscope and put two fingers under Annie’s chin, trying to force her to face him. The infernal girl burrowed deeper into Juliette’s shoulder and squeezed her arm hard enough to cut off the blood flow. “Annie, stop it. Sit up.” Juliette’s tone was as harsh as she’d dared use since her sister’s collapse into the abyss.
But Dr. Kane shook his head. “No, that’s all right. I don’t think there’s anything physically wrong with her. Unfortunately, I have no experience with malfunctions of the mind.”
Juliette swept a gaze around the room where shelves held bottles of all sizes and shapes. “Isn’t there any medicine that might help?”
“I don’t think so, my dear. We know little of the brain and how it works. Since she finds comfort with her cats, I suggest you let her bring them into the house so she doesn’t run out. That might be a beginning. I have read some literature that suggested hysteria does get better with time, and sometimes the patient snaps out of it as suddenly as it comes on. Let us pray that is the case here.”
Juliette sighed. She wasn’t surprised there was no pill or elixir to cure Annie’s condition, but she had to have that opinion confirmed. And the doctor had.
She slipped an arm around her whimpering sister. “Thank you anyway. How much do I owe you?”
“Nothing at all. I’ve done nothing to cure your sister. Unfortunately, I can’t, however, I do know of a doctor who has studied psychology. I’ll write to him and describe your sister’s case. It may be that he will have treatments. However, don’t be surprised if he suggests a sanitarium.”
A sanitarium? Lock Annie away in a mad house? Never. “I couldn’t do that, Dr. Kane, but thank you anyway.”
The doctor walked her back out to the waiting room where another woman was seated, obviously waiting to see him. She sent a friendly smile to Juliette who managed to return the gesture.
“As I said, sometimes these problems clear up with time,” Dr. Kane said. “We will pray that happens soon in Annie’s case.”
“I appreciate that, doctor.” She certainly couldn’t expect God to answer her prayers without confession and repentance. That meant she’d have to turn herself in, and who would take care of her brothers and sister without her?
Chapter 4
Jake could think of a hundred other things he’d rather be doing than threshing through the South Georgia swamps. Mosquitoes determined to suck every drop of blood out of him tormented. And when they weren’t biting every square inch of exposed skin, they were buzzing his ears. Well, the trip down had been pleasant up until this point.
He hoped the place Mr. Fitzgerald had designated for his town wasn’t as swampy. It would take years just to clear the land. Giant sycamore trees draped with Spanish moss fought the pines and live oaks for space and sunlight. For his part, Jake appreciated the lack of sun. The temperature in the deep woods dropped by at least twenty degrees.
The nag he’d bought in Abbeville smelled water, and Jake gave him his head. The horse couldn’t be urged above a trot, and Jake swore he could make better time walking. He’d selected a better mount, but the livery owner said it was spoken for. Jake suspected he lied, not wanting to give a good horse to a Yankee.
A lot of hatred for anyone above the Mason-Dixon Line brewed just below the surface, ready to boil over at the least provocation, but the outright animosity lessened south of Atlanta. The inhabitants of the small Georgia towns he’d passed through were a friendly sort—outwardly at least.
Except for the old Confederate veterans like the livery owner. Probably wouldn’t have done Jake any good to explain he’d been a little boy during the war, or that his pa hadn’t fought for the Union. Or that he came from the West, not the North, and that he worked alongside plenty of cowhands who hailed from the South. He’d kept his mouth shut a
nd paid three times what the nag was worth.
That wasn’t his nature. He had a tendency to argue and fight if somebody tried to cross him, but maybe Rhyan’s threats had finally sunk in. Or Carianne’s Bible. He had to admit the nightly Bible reading had him thinking on things he’d never even considered before. Like what he was doing walking through this life. What his purpose was. What did God think of him?
Uncomfortable thoughts he’d managed to avoid up until now.
Old or not, the bay gelding knew how to find water. They came upon a crystal spring with a rushing stream snaking through the woods. Jake didn’t know where the stream led, but it would be nice to follow it all the way to his destination.
He drew in a lungful of air that smelled of earth, pine, and rotting vegetation, and let the horse have his fill while he perused the map. Too bad it wasn’t going in the direction he wanted to travel. He’d have to leave this cool spot and return to the dusty road. From the looks of the map, he’d have to camp out tonight, probably sharing the ground with snakes, wild boars, and bears. Maybe alligators.
The water, as clear and cold as any mountain stream, flowed gently in its mossy bed about a foot deep in the shallow stretch. Might as well take a bath before returning to his route. Get chilled in the cold water before riding under the relentless blazing sun.
He tied the nag to a sturdy branch and shucked his clothes, then fetched a bar of soap from his saddlebag. It still showed the Sollano brand proving he’d not taken but one bath on the way down here.
Sniffing the soap’s pleasant fragrance, he stepped into the icy water and plunged into the deep spring. Jarred by the cold, he quickly swam and sloshed to the knee-deep stream, then lay with his head propped on a fallen log.
He soaped his body and let the flowing water take the suds away. Thoroughly chilled, he didn’t linger. He left the water and dried on the Turkish towel he’d brought, also stamped with the Sollano brand—an S encircled with the spokes of a blazing sun. An appropriate symbol for the ranch since the sun was just as relentless on the prairie as here in the south.
Escaped (Intrigue Under Western Skies Book 4) Page 2
