Hannah Howell (36 page)

“So it is finally over,” Clover said, not sure she dared believe it.

“Aye.” Ballard caught sight of her wrists and cursed. “Those need to be seen to.”

“I think ye both need some doctoring,” said Shelton. “We will tend to that before we leave.” He glanced at the dog lying next to Ballard’s leg. “Do ye think he can climb down as weel as he climbed up?”

“I dinnae think so. Thomas hit him pretty hard. Can ye pick him up? He doesnae weigh much.”

It took a little coaxing, but the dog finally allowed Shelton to carry it down the ladder. Ballard was glad Shelton went down first for he was feeling weak and might need some help himself. He let Clover precede him, feeling her pain as she winced over her own bruises and badly chafed wrists. When it was his turn, he descended the steps slowly. At the bottom he swayed and took a moment to recover, waving away Shelton and Clover’s attempts to help him as they left the barn.

“I will be fine,” he said, and draped his arm around Clover’s shoulders.

“So you finally succeeded in a rescue,” teased Lambert as he stepped forward. “You do not look as if it was an easy one.”

“Nay, it wasnae. My side needs to be re-bandaged and Clover’s wrists need tending to.”

Cyril arrived and took over. In no time he had Ballard patched up again. It annoyed Ballard that Theodore was the one to see to Clover’s injuries. Shelton found some ale in the house. Although it was of a poor quality they all had a drink.

“I suppose this must all be reported to the authorities,” said Clover.

“Weel, aye, but ye need not worry that it will cause us any more trouble,” Ballard assured her.

“Five men are dead. Although they deserved it, it must raise some questions.”

“None we cannae answer. Fact is, we willnae have to answer any.” Ballard smiled at Cyril.

“You see, m’dear,” said Cyril, “the circuit judge gave me the power to act as magistrate. He will take my word for what happened without question or repercussions. It is over, Clover. You can put it all from your mind now.”

“That is a relief.” She smiled at Ballard. “Now perhaps we can begin to live a normal life.”

Ballard briefly returned her smile, then said, “I suppose we ought to put Thomas in the ground as weel.”

“He does not deserve a proper burial, but, yes, we will bury him.” Cyril looked at Theodore, Lambert, and Shelton. “I should not be too particular as we ought to be getting back.”

As soon as the men left to carry out the grisly chore of disposing of Thomas’s body, Cyril asked Clover, “Is there anyone back in Langleyville we should notify?”

“His wife, Sarah Marsten. I can give you her address.”

“Do you think she will cause any trouble?”

Clover considered for a moment before shaking her head. “No. I suspect she will relish her new role as wealthy widow to the fullest.”

“Good. That will ensure that we will hear no more of it.”

An hour later, they all mounted and set out for Cyril Potsdam’s home.

Molly, Jonathan, Agnes, and Colin all burst out of the house as they rode up. Clover found herself even more wearied by the constant rounds of questions and explanations. Finally Ballard politely ordered everyone to be quiet. He told them the whole story clearly and succinctly, then asked that they be taken home.

Clover found herself in the back of the wagon, securely wrapped in a blanket and Ballard’s arms. As the murmur of conversation drifted around her, she savored the feel of Ballard, warm and alive. Finally she was able to put the last of her fears to rest.

“Did he hurt ye, lass?” Ballard asked in a near whisper so that the others could not hear.

“Thomas did not have a chance to do all he threatened. He was still talking about it and trying to frighten me.”

“I am verra glad to hear it, lass,” he muttered, tightening his arms around her.

“And I cannot tell you how glad I was to see you
standing in that hayloft, alive and ready to fight. I really did think you were out on this road dying a horrible, slow death.”

Ballard kissed her cheek. “Ye should ken by now that it isnae easy to kill a MacGregor. We have had people trying for years and still we go on.”

She tentatively reached out to pat the dog’s head in Ballard’s lap. “Do you think this poor fellow will recover from his hard life?”

“Aye. The fact that he takes to a touch of kindness so weel shows that they hadnae turned him mean yet.”

“What will you name him?”

“The Bruce.”

“The Bruce? That is an odd name for a dog.”

“‘Tis the name of one of Scotland’s greatest kings. The beastie saved our lives. ‘Tis right that he have a grand name.”

Clover smiled faintly when the dog shyly licked her hand.

When they arrived home, Clover found herself again caught up in a confusion of greetings from friends and relatives. The twins and Willie had to be reassured that she was all right before her mother and Molly could get her up to bed. They gave her a hot bath and tucked her in as if she were a small child again. When Ballard finally came to bed, his hair still damp, she realized that the men had done the same for him.

“We have rather a lot of people looking after us,” she murmured as he slid beside her and pulled her into his arms.

“Aye. It can occasionally be irritating, but at times
like this, ye can see the worth of such good friends and family.”

She snuggled closer to him. “We shall have to keep that in mind when we grow annoyed over their mothering in the next few days.”

Ballard laughed softly. “Aye. We shall try to remind each other.”

He held her close as she drifted off to sleep. A few days was all he could wait before he confronted the need to give her her freedom, if that was what she wanted. He would let her fully recover first, enjoying the chance to take care of her. It hurt to think of her leaving him, but he knew he would have to hide his feelings. Clover was so loyal, she might stay with him if she thought he cared for her. The thought of her remaining his wife because she did not want to hurt his feelings, because she felt duty-bound to him, was appalling. He would release Clover to go back to the life she deserved, but without letting her know how deeply it hurt him.

Something was wrong. It had been over a fortnight since her rescue from Thomas, and Ballard had been acting strangely every one of those sixteen days.

At times he was almost desperately attentive. The first night they had been well enough to make love, and every night since then, there had been a ferocity to his lovemaking. Although it thrilled her, its cause worried her. At other times he seemed to be drawing away from her, trying to put some distance between them. His words had a rough edge; his behavior was sometimes surly. He had never been a moody man before and she was at a loss to explain what was ailing him now.

In addition, he seemed to be encouraging her to spend time alone with Theodore Potsdam. The young man had called on them a couple of times right after the rescue, to see how they were mending. Clover appreciated his concern and enjoyed his company, but she was baffled by her husband’s refusal to stay and socialize. Instead, he always left them alone together on one pretext or another, and even urged
Theodore to stay longer and return again soon. Ballard had never been a particularly possessive man, but he seemed to be encouraging a relationship that might once have aroused his jealousy. It was almost as if he wanted Clover to develop an emotional attachment to Theodore!

Now, as she stood on the front veranda and waved good-bye to her family, who were all headed off in various directions, she decided to confront Ballard.

Molly was with Jonathan. Agnes and the twins would be spending the day with the Doogans. Shelton, Lambert, and Willie were on the way to Cyril’s to deliver the yearling the man had bought. Even Adam was gone, off to court the blacksmith’s widow. For once she and Ballard were completely alone.

For a while she busied herself in the kitchen, hoping Ballard would seek her out. He had always done so before when they had been blessed with a rare moment of privacy. But when there was no sign of him after an hour, Clover knew she would have to take the first step.

She was just putting her apron away, intending to go and look for him, when Theodore Potsdam knocked on the open door and strolled into the house. “Hello, Theodore,” she greeted him. “Where is Ballard? Did you see him outside?”

“He told me to come on in and keep you company. He has a lot of work to do.”

“Does he.”

Clover absently waved him toward a seat at the kitchen table and put the kettle on the fire. She leaned against the sink and studied Theodore. He was a handsome young man with thick fair hair and a pleasing face. Again it struck her as odd that
her husband was allowing such a man to run free in his home.

“Have I grown a wart?” asked Theodore.

She smiled and shook her head. “No. I was just thinking that something very odd is going on with Ballard. Do you feel that something is—well—not quite right with him?” She set the teapot on the table, spooned tea leaves into it, and filled it with boiling water.

“Odd? How so?” Theodore’s eyes twinkled with amusement and understanding. “I thought every husband allowed his wife to spend hours alone with another man.”

She set his teacup in front of him with a clink and gave him a mildly reproving look. “How droll. I think I may have a real problem here, Theo.”

“Pour us the tea and sit yourself down. I began to think you would never mention it or, worse, would play the martyr and bear all of Ballard’s recent slights in tortured silence. ‘Tis one reason I have been visiting with such annoying regularity. I thought you might need someone to talk to.”

She poured the tea and sat opposite him. “I have plenty of people to talk to.”

“True, but they have not noticed anything
odd,
have they? And I suspect you do not wish to intrude on Molly’s or your mother’s happiness just now. So that leaves me—your newest and dearest friend.”

“You can be very irritating when you try.”

He grinned. “And often when I make no effort at all.” He grew serious and reached across the table to pat her hand. “We may not have known each other for very long, but I consider you and that big Scot my friends. I do not like to see this trouble between you.”

She sighed. “I do not like to see it either. What is worse, I do not know its cause. It started after I was rescued yet again.” She started to sip her tea and abruptly stopped. “No, Ballard began to act oddly right after the dinner at your father’s home. Yet that does not make sense. It was a lovely evening.”

“Did he say anything?”

“Not much. He kept asking me if I liked your house, wanted to know if it reminded me of my old home in Langleyville. Why are you smiling?”

“Just amused that a man as smart as Ballard can be such an idiot.”

“You are not being very helpful.”

He took a scone from a plate on the table. “Since I first began to notice that there was a problem between the two of you, I have given the matter a great deal of thought. Clover, you and Ballard come from very different backgrounds.”

“That does not matter.”

“No, it does not matter to
you
at all. It is one of the things that makes you so endearing. But such things can matter a great deal to a man. All men like to think they can give their wives everything they need or want. It is possible that the evening you spent at my home reminded Ballard of all that you used to have. I suspect I did not help much by talking about the theater and the opera and such. Right now I suspect Ballard is doing the noble thing—he means to set you free. In fact, I believe he is trying to match us up.”

“You may leave now.”

Theodore choked on the last bite of his scone and quickly washed it down with a large gulp of tea. “Pardon?”

“You are right in everything you said. I just think you had better go home. After all, it would not do for the son of the magistrate to witness a wife murdering her husband.”

He laughed, stood up, leaned over the table, and kissed her cheek. “Do not be too hard on the boy.”

“Of course not. I fully intend to have a reasonable discussion with him—right after I strangle him.”

A few moments after Theodore departed, Ballard entered the kitchen. Clover was sure Theo had said something to Ballard to get him to come after her. He had that dark, solemn look on his face again. She was heartily sick of it.

“Ballard, we have to talk,” she said, and sat down at the kitchen table, motioning for him to join her.

“Aye, we do.” He poured himself a large tankard of ale, as if he needed a bracing sip or two to get through the discussion.

Clover was not sure she liked his ready agreement. What if the trouble between them was completely different from what she suspected? What if he truly no longer wanted to be married to her and did not know how to tell her? Nevertheless, she knew she would not rest easy until she knew the truth.

“You have been acting very strangely the last two weeks,” she said, silently cursing her trembling voice.

“I have?”

Ballard tried not to show his surprise. He had been working hard at hiding his feelings and he thought he had succeeded. Each time Theodore had visited he had done his best to leave Clover and the man alone. He thought he had executed his machinations with great subtlety. It was unsettling to realize that he had somehow given himself away.

“Yes, you have been acting strange. Ballard, what is wrong? I am sure something is troubling you. You are not a moody man, yet you have certainly behaved like one since we were rescued. I realize that I have brought you a lot of trouble. My Lord, I nearly got you killed and I put your kinsmen and friends in great danger. Yet, now that Thomas is dead—”

Ballard stopped her rambling with a finger against her lips. “The trouble wasnae of your making. Dinnae be blaming yourself for my moods, loving.”

“‘Tis easy to do when no other reasonable explanation comes to mind. And I have spent over a fortnight trying to understand your behavior.”

“I was but wrestling with a decision.”