In a Stranger's Arms (17 page)

“Jeff Pratt told me about this when l called on Ann the night before last.” Dora moved to where she could scan the paper over Caddie’s shoulder. “He says they’re only billing folks they reckon can pay. Or folks who have property some scallywag wants to buy up cheap after it’s seized for taxes.”

Something in a pot on the stove began to boil over. Dora scurried across the kitchen, lifted the lid and gave it a stir. “Gracious me, I hope none of them has an eye on our place. If we sold every blessed thing we have left, we couldn’t begin to raise a tenth of what they’re trying to levy on you.”

“Don’t go borrowing trouble, Dora. I don’t reckon anybody has designs on Gordon Manor, but I see my brother-in-law’s hand in this plain enough.”

Caddie crumpled the paper in her fist “If Lon Marsh thinks he and his trashy wife are going to run me and my children off this land, he’d better think again.”

“Surely Mr. Marsh can’t have anything to do with this.” Dora shook her head. “Him such a well-spoken gentleman and all. What would he want with this place when he’s got Hemlock Grove? Not as much acreage, but I hear tell the house is in fine shape.”

What did Lon want with Sabbath Hollow? Caught up in her own compelling reasons for wanting to hold on to the place, Caddie had never given his a whole lot of thought. If she hoped to stay a step ahead of him, maybe she’d better start...

“Don’t you go fretting yourself, ma’am.” Dora pulled a pan of beaten biscuits out of the oven. “Mr. Forbes will be back soon with a pile of orders for wood and chairs. Cash in hand for some of them, most likely. Then he’ll go talk to that old tax collector, one Yankee to anoth—that is, he’ll talk some sense to the man...”

Were Southern girls born with the knack of putting the best face on the worst situation? Caddie wondered as Dora’s optimistic predictions went in one ear and out the other. Or did they learn the skill at their mother’s knee? Even as President Davis and his cabinet had caught the last train out of Richmond, her sewing circle had insisted to one another that a Confederate victory was not only still possible, but very likely. They had temporarily managed to convince each other it was true.

The flaming apocalypse of Richmond’s fall, and the hungry, humiliating months thereafter, hadn’t fully cured Caddie of the tendency to put the best face on a bleak situation.

“I reckon you’re right dear.” No sense worrying Dora that she might soon be out of a job... unless the girl wanted to stay on and work for Lydene. Caddie almost made a face just thinking of it “Mr. Forbes will take care of all this when he gets back.”

Except that Manning wasn’t coming back. She’d better quit trying to fool herself on that score and face the truth.

How much longer could she go on pretending to the folks at the mill that they’d better work hard to prepare for the orders Manning was sure to bring? Running breathless to the porch every time the dog barked or the children claimed to see a wagon on the road? Assuring Tem and Varina, every night at bedtime, that his return was a day closer than it had been the night before?

“Would you mind calling the children for supper?” Caddie asked Dora. “Then you’d better head off home. Didn’t I hear something about a prayer meeting in Mercer’s Corner tonight?”

Dora gave a pensive nod. “Bobbie Stevens got his old wagon fixed up and he offered to fetch a bunch of us into town.”

“Jeff going, too?” Caddie smoothed the crumpled tax bill.

“He might be.”

Folding the paper, Caddie slipped it into her apron pocket. “You enjoy yourself tonight, dear. And don’t worry about getting here too early tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you.”

Dora was halfway out the door when Caddie called to her.

“Ma’am?” Only a slight catch in Dora’s voice betrayed a hint of impatience.

“While you’re praying tonight I’d be obliged if you said a little one for me.”

“Of course I will. I plan to thank the good Lord for how you and Mr. Forbes have been helping folks around here get back on their feet again.”

“That’s kind of you, dear.” As Tem and Varina filed in the kitchen door, Caddie couldn’t bring herself to admit she really needed a prayer of intercession—a whole church full of them, as a matter of fact.

Fortunately, the children didn’t pester her with a lot of questions while they ate. Templeton picked at his pork and greens in anxious silence, while Varina consumed her supper with almost defiant concentration. Caddie had plenty of opportunity to fret about their future.

She wouldn’t give in to Lon without the fight of her life. But barring a minor miracle, like finding the lost Marsh silver, Caddie much didn’t fancy her chances of winning.

The Marsh silver! Could that be part of the reason Lon wanted to get his hands on Sabbath Hollow?

During the Union Army’s first forays into Virginia, Caddie’s father-in-law had moved his family to the comparative safety of Richmond. Before leaving, Mr. Marsh had hidden the family silver and some valuable pieces of jewelry.

Caddie’d assumed her father-in-law had confided the location to both his sons. But after he’d died suddenly of a stroke, Lon had arrived at the house in Richmond and turned the place upside down with no explanation. Shortly after that, Del had been reported dead in battle, and Caddie’s world had begun a rapid descent into darkness. She hadn’t dared let herself dwell on the fate of the Marsh silver, in case regret or wistful dreams paralyzed her.

If the treasure still rested undisturbed, waiting to restore the family fortunes, Caddie knew better than to hope she might find it. Del’s father had been a clever, some might say devious, man. Any hiding place she could imagine, he probably had, too, and discarded it for that very reason.

What about Lon, though? Had he been responsible for some of the ravages to Sabbath Hollow she’d blamed on the Yankees?

Caddie glanced up at Tem and Varina. “After you two round up the chickens, you can play for a spell before bedtime.” She shook her head over Templeton’s barely touched plate. “Are you sure you can’t eat a little more, Son?”

Templeton worried down the mouthful he’d been chewing. “I just don’t feel too hungry, Mama.”

“Reckon I’m the onliest one with a appetite.” Varina shot an accusing stare at her mother’s plate.

Glancing down, Caddie was astonished to discover she’d hardly touched a bite. A sharp rebuke rose to her lips, but she held it back, wishing Manning was there to ease the volatile relations between her and Varina.

“You do seem to be the
only
one with
an
appetite. Which means you should have plenty of energy to coax those hens into the coop. Mind you don’t chase them, now, or they won’t lay.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Varina sounded disappointed not to get a fight she’d been spoiling for. “Come on, Tem.”

The children left and the kitchen fell quiet.

Caddie, tried to think more about the tax bill and the Marsh silver. Instead she found herself missing Manning’s presence during these few minutes of the day they’d often spent together in the past three months. Savoring a cup of tea and a bit of placid ease after the children had gone to do their evening chores.

If she and Manning had exchanged words at all, they’d been about practical, everyday matters. Did she need anything particular from town the next time he went? What repair job should he undertake next? They’d cut so many board feet at the mill that day—a new record. Varina had come out with the funniest little saying.

Sometimes they hadn’t talked at all, just sat in the dim warm kitchen and kept each other company.

A single salty tear inched its moist trail down Caddie’s cheek. The last time she’d wept in this kitchen, on the broad shoulder of a reticent Yankee, she’d felt better for it—strangely liberated.

Now she just felt empty, and she had no one to blame but herself.

She woke, hours later, from a familiar nightmare.

Something had been chasing her. Something faceless and nameless, but all the more terrifying for its mystery. She’d tried to run, only to find her feet weighed down. Which had been worse—the fear of pursuit, or the suffocating frustration of a body that would not obey her?

So often, back in Richmond, this dream had robbed her of desperately needed sleep. Since she’d returned to Sabbath Hollow, it had come less and less often. Tonight it had overtaken her with a vengeance.

Caddie jolted fully awake.

In the warm darkness of a summer night, a fine mist of sweat hovered on her brow and the nape of her neck. Her breath came in rapid, uneven little gasps. For an instant she relished the relief of waking.

Then she heard the dog bark.

Chapter Eleven

W
HEN
S
ERGEANT STARTED
to bark and a light flickered on in the house, Manning cursed under his breath. Of course it made sense that Caddie would leave the dog outside at night to keep watch. He should have known she’d do that.

Or had he let it slip his mind on purpose?

“Hush, now, Sarge,” he called softly to the dog. “No need to wake everybody out of a sound sleep. Tem’s mama won’t thank you for it.”

Would Tem’s mama thank him for coming back to Sabbath Hollow if she caught him? Manning wondered.

By the time he reached Washington, he’d firmly decided against returning. After this he’d keep an eye on the family from a distance, provide assistance whenever Caddie or the children needed it, but not entangle himself in their daily lives. It had worried him a little that Caddie might one day dissolve their paper marriage. Perhaps he should have persuaded her to consummate their relationship, after all.

Too late now.

Each day away from Sabbath Hollow had eroded his resolve, like a steady rain on rootless soil.

As he took orders for lumber and furniture, Manning decided he would have to talk face-to-face with Bobbie Stevens before he went away. Besides, he couldn’t keep the horse and buckboard that belonged to Caddie.

At last he’d reached a compromise with himself. He would return the mare and wagon during the night, then saddle up his gelding and ride over to the mill. After he discussed business with Bobbie the next morning, he’d decide on his next move.

Only he hadn’t reckoned on one vigilant, noisy dog.

“Come on, boy. Pipe down.” When his pleas had no effect, Manning reined in the horses and climbed down from the wagon. “You know me. I’m not going to hurt your precious family.”

As a warm wet tongue swiped across his fingers to the intermittent accompaniment of more loud woofs, Manning understood that he wasn’t being challenged or warned away.

He was being welcomed home.

How many folks passed their thirtieth birthday without ever having experienced that simple but profound pleasure? And who cared if the welcome committee was only an ugly brindle-colored mutt without sense enough to keep quiet in the middle of the night?

Manning fell to the ground under Sergeant’s rapturous assault. The beast wasn’t wagging just his tail, but his whole body.

Fleet padding footsteps sounded on the porch. “Who’s there? Don’t move!”

Manning’s heart gave a queer lurch at the sound of Caddie’s voice. Then his gut contracted at the snap of a gun being readied to fire.

“Don’t shoot! It’s only me.” He heard himself laughing like a lunatic as the dog’s slobbery tongue tickled his face.

“M-Manning?” Her voice sounded strange. Was something wrong?

“That’s right.” He tried to push Sergeant away so he could get to his feet, but he couldn’t manage more than a token effort. “Sorry I woke you.”

He wondered if Caddie might shoot anyway, even knowing it was him. After he’d gone off without a word and stayed away longer than she could have expected. Then to arrive back in the middle of the night, waking her from a sound sleep, and likely scaring her silly in the process.

Looking at it that way, he could hardly blame her if she winged him.

“You came back.” Caddie sounded as though she was talking in her sleep. Her voice drew closer with every word. “You really came back.”

When he felt her arms go around him as he lurched to his feet, Manning wondered if he’d fallen asleep and dreamed this whole thing. When her hand fumbled its way to his whisker-stubbled cheek and rested there in a welcoming caress, he knew he couldn’t be conscious. And when her lips somehow found his, he vowed to shoot any man fool enough to wake him up.

Her kiss tasted like sugar pie to a fellow who’d lived for years on beans and hardtack. Soft. Sweet. Comforting.

Every mouthful making him hunger for more.

“What’s going on out here?” demanded a small voice, hoarse with sleep.

From out of the darkness, Templeton called, “Are you all right, Mama?”

The dog took to barking again as it ran toward the house. Caddie started and drew back from Manning in a way that told him their kiss had come as much of a surprise to her as to him.

Perhaps he should have resented the children for interrupting, but he couldn’t. The sound of their voices made his throat tighten and his eyes sting. Somehow he knew that consulting Bobbie Stevens and returning the buckboard had been mere excuses to bring him back to Sabbath Hollow.

Because he’d left a piece of his heart behind.

“Everything’s fine, dear.” The quaver in Caddie’s voice contradicted her assurance to the children. “Manning’s home.”

Would he ever hear two sweeter words?

A junior version of the rebel battle yell erupted from the direction of the house and hurtled toward him on a stampede of young, eager feet. Manning barely had time to hunch forward and stretch his arms wide to capture them.

Varina hit him like a warm cannonball. Her stout little arms went around his neck and squeezed so hard his head spun. Templeton gave him a less violent welcome, but no less affectionate, wedging his bony shoulder under Manning’s left arm.

A warm breeze wafted the aroma of ripe clover. High overhead, friendly stars winked in the soft, dark sky. Manning was glad he’d come back to Sabbath Hollow at this ungodly hour, when protective shadows could veil the intensity of his emotions and a secret tear might fall to earth unmarked.