Molly's New Song (Brides 0f Pelican Rapids Book 5)

by Elaine Manders

  Chapter 10

  My beloved spoke and said to me, “Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away.” Song of Solomon 2:10

  Luke waited for Molly to adjust her seating on Feckless. He honestly didn’t know how a lady could keep herself seated on the contraption called a sidesaddle, but Molly looked like she knew what she was doing—and very pretty doing it.

  Not too many women rode horses in Pelican Rapids, and it had taken Jim Bailey, the ostler, an hour to find this sidesaddle buried in a pile of old harnesses. Luke offered to buy it, but Jim told him to take it. It had been lying there for years, and Jim recommended Luke grease the leather good or it would crack. That was mighty nice of him, and Luke promised to bring Mrs. Bailey a bushel of sweet corn when it was ready to pull.

  When he was sure Molly was ready, he swung onto Reckless’s back, and pulled up beside Feckless. “This little stretch is called Plum Lane, and it’ll take us to town.” He pointed to the dirt path unnecessarily.

  Molly drew in a deep breath. “I love the smell of a farm. Everything blooming and growing.” She swiveled her head toward the fields and drew in another exaggerated breath. “I can’t wait to see ours.”

  Regret he didn’t have as nice a place as this tightened his throat, and he rubbed his neck. “Well, it’s not near as big or as well maintained as this one. Miz Ella’s corn is a foot higher than mine.”

  She shifted her gaze back to him and favored him with a wide smile. “I’m sure it will catch up, and will produce more each year. Can we ride to the river then? I’d like to see the rapids, too.”

  “If you like, we can get to town that way.” He nudged Reckless toward the woods and they took off. At the end of the drive, Molly surged ahead, and Luke had to slap Reckless’s flank to catch up.

  She looked over her shoulder, laughing, then slowed Feckless to a smooth gallop. “It’s been so long since I’ve had a good ride.”

  “I thought you might be running away.” He grinned, enjoying her playful mood. Living with Molly was going to be unpredictable, but fun.

  “No, I’d never do that.” She stretched in the saddle, her head tilted toward the sky, giving him a lovely view of her profile. With a slanted glance, she sent him a mischievous wink. “Besides, I don’t know the town well enough to know where to go. As much as I’d like to race you to the river, I’d better take it slower. I’m sure to be sore tomorrow.”

  “You sit a horse very well. Confident. Old Feckless is cantankerous, but a horse can judge a rider who’s boss.”

  “I lost my favorite horse in the war, a beautiful black thoroughbred named Starlight because he had a star marking on his muzzle. Daddy let Willian, my brother take him and neither returned.”

  He wished she hadn’t mentioned the war. It brought back memories he’d rather stay buried. But he knew it impacted her more than him. She had to live with the aftermath, whereas he escaped back home. “I’m sorry for all you lost. It must have been devastating to everyone.”

  “I wrote about William, who was killed at the beginning of the war, and Mama who died that last year. Overall, our town wasn’t affected much until the last. I mean there were those who lost men in battle, but somehow life went on. Maybe it wouldn’t have been so shocking if I hadn’t been sent south as the war was advancing.”

  “Where did you go?”

  “Not far. I stayed with my aunt in Macon. Even there we heard cannon fire, but no soldiers came that far.”

  He wanted to know more about her. She hadn’t written much about her earlier life. “Before the war life must have been much happier. Did your plantation house have a name?”

  “Yes, it was called the White House, though it wasn’t as big as the one in Washington.”

  He gave her a sharp glance, sure she was joking. “How did it get that name?”

  “Well, it was painted white, but that’s not how it got the name. It belonged to my grandparents on my mother’s side. Their name was White. All our relatives named their houses after their last name. It was common in that part of Georgia. I refugeed to the Dailey House in Macon, named for the Dailey family.”

  “And when you returned home the whole world had changed.” He only meant it as a casual remark, but a glance told him he’d awoken bad memories.

  “I smell the river,” she said and urged her horse in that direction, like she, too, didn’t want to talk about the war.

  They followed the fishy smell and soon the sound of rushing water filled the air. Molly pulled up to a young sapling and slid from the saddle before Luke could dismount. It sure was hard helping the lady. She seemed so independent. But what did he expect? Molly had had to make her own way for seven years. From what he gathered, her father had returned from the war a broken man and leaned heavily on his daughter.

  Luke tethered Reckless beside the other horse and shoved his hands into his pockets, peering upstream where the water tumbled noisily.

  Molly smiled. “This reminds me so much of the rapids back home, though that was just a mountain stream and full of rocks.”

  “Did you live close to the mountains?”

  “No, the mountains were north of our place, but there were nice rapids not far from our church. We held picnics there often.” She swung around to face him, that mischievous look in her dark eyes. “Have you ever walked across, rock from rock?”

  “I’ve fallen in a number of times, trying, but no, there isn’t a place where you could walk across.”

  Her mouth drew into a pout. “That’s too bad. We could have a boat race, though.”

  He laughed. “If we had boats.”

  “I don’t mean real boats. Didn’t you ever make little boats to race down the river?”

  “As a boy.” He tossed a twig out into the water. “I’m thinking you did as well.”

  “I was quite good at constructing leaf boats.” She darted off to the trees, mostly oaks and maple, and stood looking into the dense growth.

  He’d rather she not go in there. At this time of year, snakes could be hidden anywhere. “What are you looking for?”

  “Magnolia leaves make nice boats. The leaves are large and thick.”

  “We don’t have magnolia trees. Will oak do?” He reached overhead and pulled down a whole branch of a half-grown tree.”

  She took the branch. “It’s the best alternative, I guess. We need vine too.”

  “Stay here,” Luke ordered. He strode into the brush a little ways and came back with a trailing slender vine.

  “What is it?” For all her bravado, Molly was cautious. “Some vines are poisonous.”

  “I don’t rightly know, just a weed, but it isn’t poisonous if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “There are some poisonous vines down south, so one can’t be too careful.” A playful grin hovering on her lips, she plucked one of the vines from his hand. “Let’s each fashion a boat. We’ll launch at that place where the rock juts out. Then we’ll follow them to where that big pine tree leans into the water.”

  “How long has it been since you made a boat, Molly?” he asked as he gathered sticks suitable for making a small boat.

  “Last summer. I was alone and there was no one to race with me.” A surprising sadness tinged her voice, giving him a look into her lonely life. That was something he couldn’t understand. How could a beautiful woman who had so much personality possibly be lonely?

  She laughed, chasing away the frown. “I went out to check the rapids to make sure it would be safe enough for the Sunday School children to wade in the cold water. It wasn’t and I wasn’t about to let them try it. One child drowned out there several years ago.”

  As she spoke, she stitched the leaves together like one with a lot of practice.

  “What a tragedy that must have been,” Luke said. They hadn’t discussed children that much, and this looked like a good opening. “So you like children?”

  “Yes, I love children. I hope to have more than one. I was so much younger than my brother, it was like gr
owing up an only child. I always wanted a brother or sister to play with. What about you?” A bit of uncertainty clouded her eyes.

  “As many as God blesses us with. I had only one brother, but he was only two years older. I was glad to have him, as bossy as he could be at times.” He held out the sticks he’d woven together. “I hope you don’t mind if my boat came out looking like a raft. I’m a little rusty.”

  “No, all designs are permissible. Are you ready?” She sprinted to the bank.

  They threw their “boats” into the churning water that tossed their creations like flotsam.

  Molly grabbed the sides of her skirt and ran to follow the race. Luke gave her a head start, then loped after.

  “Oh, no,” Molly squealed.

  Her little boat had caught in an eddy while Luke’s surged ahead. A splash freed it within a second. She grabbed Luke’s hand and they jogged along the riverbank the dozen yards to the pine tree, but his raft-shaped boat had already passed the finish line.

  He swung her around to face him. “So, what do I win?”

  She shrugged. “Bragging rights, I suppose.” Her chest rose and fell from the exertion of their race.

  His heart beat against his ribs but not from exertion. “I deserve more than that.”

  She searched his face as her arms went around his waist. His gaze landed on her mouth, those wide full lips glistening with moisture. Then he stared into her eyes shining like melted chocolate. Her magnolia complexion had taken on a ruddy hue. His gaze returned to her lips, parted slightly. An irresistible force drew him as his mouth covered those soft, moist lips.

  In his dreams he’d imagined this moment, but the reality jolted him clear through to the pit of him. It took all in him to pull away from the sheer ecstasy. “I love you, Molly. I love everything about you.”

  She opened desire-darkened eyes. “I love you, Luke. I’ve been wanting you to kiss me for the longest time.”

  How long he held her, letting her words sink into his soul he didn’t know, but suddenly the wedding date seemed much too long to wait. Realizing the irony, he laughed. The best thing to do since it released some of the passion. Kissing her forehead, he caught her small hand in his. They walked, hand in hand, back to the horses. “What will Mrs. Milton have for you to do tomorrow? I know she has plans.”

  “We’re going to plan a tea party for later in the week to introduce me to several of her former brides—the ones who still live in Pelican Rapids. They’re to help with our wedding.”

  That brought him back to reality. He’d hoped they would take their time with the planning since it would help him to delay the ceremony until the house was finished. As much as he wished to sweep Molly into his arms and take her to the preacher right now, he still didn’t have a home fit to take her to yet. “They’re planning a big wedding, then?”

  “Yes, they want to invite a lot of people who’ll be in town for the Independence Day festivities. I’m sure you’ll know the invitees, but I won’t, so it doesn’t matter to me, except—” Suddenly her eyes lit brighter than the sun at high noon. She stopped and jumped in front of him, pressing a palm on his chest. “Let’s tell them we don’t want a big wedding. Let’s get married next Sunday, right after Church services, with just the minister, his wife, and Mrs. Milton.”

  It was like she’d read his mind. He choked and bent over in a coughing fit, and Molly beat him on the back. “Are you all right?”

  No, he was embarrassed. Truth was, he’d love to marry her next Sunday—or better yet, today. But the house was missing a wall, and the almanac said rain might be coming in. Which meant he had to get the last of his seed in the ground and work on the house. The addition didn’t have a roof yet.

  He came up, red-faced. “Of course, I’d love to get married right away, but we have to think of Miz Ella. She’s going to a lot of trouble for us and…I think…well…we should consider her feelings.” A lame excuse, but Molly was so kind-hearted she’d buy it, even though he was asking her, the bride, to acquiesce to the wedding planner.

  That lovely smile kicked his pulse up a notch. “I understand, and you’re right. I owe Ella so much, and I do want to meet all the other brides. I hope to become friends with all of them. The only friend I’ve made so far is Mandy Carter.”

  He breathed easier. Mandy was safe since she knew his situation—and she’d keep Molly away from her mother. He hoped.

  They reached the horses, and she slipped her hand from his and stared at the rushing water as if reluctant to leave.

  “Did the rapids back near your home have a name?” he asked.

  She glanced back to him. “Yes, High Falls.”

  High Falls. The name pierced through him, all the way through the layers of armor he’d built over the years. Luke stared at the river, unable to move as the rushing water turned into those rapids of another place, another time. When he was another man.

  Molly’s soft voice floated away on the summer air, replaced by a chilling wind and the shouts of drunken men.

  Sergeant Lind yelled in his ear. “Where were you, Corporal?”

  “I was preparing camp, sir.”

  “No need. I got word the general has pulled out, on the way to Milledgeville. We’ll have to set out now to catch up. The rest of the men will be here with the wagons any minute, and you better have the horses ready.”

  As Luke worked to strap the gear onto saddles, a blast of heat replaced the icy wind. Smoke stung his eyes and filled his lungs, choking him.

  Smithers rode up, a bandana covering his nose and mouth. He removed it before saluting the sergeant. “We picked it clean. No valuables left, but we filled two wagons with yams, turnips, onions, and ten hogs.”

  “Better than nothing,” Sergeant Lind grumbled.

  Four darkies came stumbling through the thick smoke. “They’s done set fire to White House,” one of the darkies said, the light of the fires dancing across his terrified face. “Our women folk back there.”

  Luke jerked his head up and stared at the flames shooting high in the sky. He’d thought they intended to burn nothing but the cotton fields. He’d set them afire himself.

  “Don’t worry,” Giles said. “We didn’t burn the slave cabins.” He laughed and punched Luke’s shoulder. “You won’t believe what we found in one of those cabins. A piano. A big one. Filled up the whole place. I tried to set it on fire, but a bunch of old women beat it out with brooms and turned them on us. Ungrateful wenches.”

  “Orders were to leave the slave cabins alone,” Luke said, but he wouldn’t put it past Sergeant Lind to go against orders. It wouldn’t be the first time. And even if he were reported to General Sherman, it was unlikely anything would be done about it.

  Sparks and ashes fell around them, and he prayed the woods wouldn’t catch fire. He heard the creaking of the wagons and squealing pigs before they appeared.

  “Good haul, boys,” Sergeant Lind barked. “Saddle up and let’s pull out before the woods catch fire.”

  The darkies ran after Luke. “Ya’ll takin all dem hogs?”

  Luke swept a glance over their contorted faces. They’d just now realized their liberators were going to leave them to starve to death.

  Sergeant Lind rode his horse between them. “Get on your mount, Corporal.” He addressed the frightened slaves. “You men better get back there to take care of your women. They’re upset a sight.”

  With one backward glance that would burn into his brain and replay in a hundred nightmares, Luke stumbled to his mount.

  “Luke.”

  From far away he heard a woman’s voice. He blinked several times to bring Molly into focus. His face must have drained of color because her eyes held a question. “Is something wrong?” she asked.

  He swallowed the knot in his throat, and the smile he forced to his lips took all within him. She couldn’t know the horror she’d just stirred in his memory, the one he’d hidden since that time—.

  The White House. He’d thought the slaves were refer
ring to the color. Yes, he’d known all along that plantation house near High Falls had burned, but there were others in the area left unscathed. And it wasn’t the first Lind’s troop had set fire to. But that it was Molly’s home had not crossed his mind. Probably because he didn’t want to believe it could be the same one. Now there was no doubt. No one else would have had a piano hidden in a slave cabin.

  “No, nothing. I just…forgot something…I have to do.” Like tell her he’d been near her home. Had seen it destroyed.

  Helped those who set it on fire.

  She squeezed his hand, sending a jolt through him. “Have I kept you from something important?”

  “Yes…no. But I’d better get you back to Mrs. Milton. You’ll want to discuss the tea party. If it’s possible, ask them to delay the wedding until after the Fourth. The festival will last all week, if I remember correctly.”

  Chapter 11

  Blessed are those servants whom the master, when he comes, will find watching. Assuredly, I say to you that he will gird himself and have them sit down to eat, and will come and serve them. Luke 12:37

  Mrs. Milton’s house reminded Molly of White House, her girlhood home. In that other world. When Mama was alive. That should have brought back happy memories. Instead the Persian rugs against hard hardwood floors, elegant furniture, gleaming wall scones and chandeliers, and tasteful artwork, all made her sad.

  The piano drew her. It was an old one, a pianoforte actually, and badly out of tune. She suspected it hadn’t been played in a while. Nevertheless, that afternoon, she settled on the bench and ran her fingers over the keys. She played softly, one hymn after another, hoping they would bring peace to her troubled thoughts.

  Something wasn’t right between her and Luke, and she had no idea what. After their ride, she didn’t see him for three days, and even then, he wasn’t nearly as attentive as he’d been down by the river. Each time she recalled that kiss, her fingers went to her lips, and she shut her eyes recalling the feel of it.

  He must not have been as affected by the kiss as she was, or surely he’d want to come by every day. And yesterday he acted like they’d just met. She couldn’t shake the feeling he was harried, as if he couldn’t wait to get away. Though he’d said he loved her, and she heard sincerity in his tone, his behavior wasn’t what she’d expect from her intended.