Linda Castle (19 page)

C
hase left his horse at Ira’s stable and walked toward the newspaper office. The summer sunshine warmed his face and made him squint against the brightness. One strand of his hair fell across his forehead on an errant breeze and he swiped at it halfheartedly.

He caught himself whistling a tune, some forgotten melody that he knew without knowing how he knew it. There was a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth and he knew it was because of his wife.

His wife.

He liked the way it felt to think about her in that fashion. She was more than he dreamed in every way, and she loved him. She loved him in spite of himself.

For a moment, he thought about turning around and going back to Cordellane to spend the day with her. The past couple of months had been like a sweet dream. They had settled into a wonderful domestic routine. Linese showed no interest in coming with him to the
Gazette,
even though he encouraged her to do so. He had tried to get her to write some editorials at home, but she seemed distracted and not really interested.

In a way, it gave him a degree of satisfaction that she didn’t feel it necessary to come with him, that she had confidence in him, even though he admitted that some things were still a black void to him. If she missed the work she had
done so well in his absence, she denied it each time he tried to get her to write an editorial. She would tell him, with a smile, that his call to duty and honor had jolted most of Mainfield from their lethargic stupor. Linese claimed that Chase had become the catalyst and that the Union would benefit from his convictions. She insisted that he should do what must be done without her there to distract him.

A whiff of wood smoke floated on the breeze of autumn. Alarms went off in Chase’s head. It had been quiet these past perfect weeks—too quiet. He had been lulled into unguarded bliss by the harmony he had experienced each night in Linese’s arms since their first coupling. Now he felt his belly contract and knew that his world was about to change. Chase quickened his step and turned the corner, knowing somewhere in his gut what he would see before he got there.

Mainfield’s bucket brigade was busy tossing water through the shattered door of the
Gazette.
Black smoke rolled out of the smashed front windows. Chase was relieved to note there were no live embers, but the smell of charred wood and seared metal filled the air with choking smoke. He scanned the sooty faces of the men who had tried to save the office. Hezikiah Hershner was among them. He handed his empty bucket to another man and walked toward Chase.

“What happened, Hezikiah?” Chase knew what had taken place, and why, but still he asked.

“I thought I’d come over to see how you’ve been faring. Doc Lukins says I’m healed.” Hezikiah held up his mended arm to show Chase. “I saw smoke coming from the back of the office.”

“Is the press ruined?” Chase’s mind was flying ahead, already figuring out a way to keep the weekly
Gazettes
coming out without interruption. It was a twisted consolation that his editorials were upsetting the Businessman’s Association so much they attempted to silence him by burning him out. The same tactic had been used successfully in Cooke County only the month before. That newspaper
had folded and the man who owned it had fled into Kansas with the shirt on his back and little else.

“That hunk of metal is almost indestructible,” Hezikiah said. “It’ll probably need a good cleaning, but it can withstand a lot more than a small fire. You will be needing a new supply of paper though. Smoke and water damage wiped out everything. Ink’s ruined, too, from the heat.”

Chase nodded and rubbed his palm down his face. The closest place to find any paper would probably be in Bar-tlesville. The trip would take at least a day and half. He was reluctant to leave Linese and his grandfather alone for that long, and it was going to be difficult to find the money since the local business community no longer purchased ads in the
Gazette.

“I could go to Ferrin County for you. See if I can find what you need there, if you could use the help,” Hezikiah offered.

A sigh of relief escaped Chase’s lips. “I’d appreciate that, Hezikiah, if you feel up to it. I don’t want you going if you’re not fit.”

“The trip will do me good. I’ve gotten downright lazy since you took over. You’ve been doing a fine job, Chase, and stirring up some of the local politics in the bargain. I’ve been keeping up with the news in each
Gazette,
and the reaction of, uh, certain people.”

The compliment made Chase smile. “There is still a place for you. Lord knows I could use you, but there is something you should know first.” Hezikiah followed him to a more secluded area at the side of the office where the bucket brigade was not throwing water on the smoldering timber. “I have stepped on a few toes with my editorials. It could be dangerous for you to be associated with me.”

Hezikiah looked Chase up and down with his glittering blackbird eyes. “So I see.” He looked at the charred ruins of the office. “Life has been boring as hell lately. I could use a little excitement.”

“I hope you don’t get more than you bargained for,” Chase said while he watched a puff of smoke head skyward.

Chase slumped into the big chair and poured himself a brandy. He was tired to the bone, but felt alive and full of purpose. The past few days he had been up before the dawn and home long after dark. He had barely seen Linese or his grandfather.

Setting up temporary quarters for the newspaper had been an almost impossible task, but he had done it. Thanks to Ira Goten. Chase grinned and thought of Mayor Kerney and his group. No doubt they were meeting somewhere right now, cursing him to the everlasting fires of hell for thwarting their efforts. He chuckled aloud when he thought about it.

At first, every vacant storeroom and shanty in Mainfield had become suddenly occupied, rented by a nameless, faceless phantom with plenty of money. There had not been a single unused shed that could be had for the purpose of housing a printing press. Chase had come close to moving the press and everything else back to Cordellane, just to be able to see the issues continue, but then Ira Goten offered space in the building next to his stable.

Chase had moved grain, cleaned out wasp nests and stared into the beady eyes of disgruntled field mice for two weeks. Now at last, the
Gazette
was churning out papers again.

A pain behind Chase’s eyes made him wince. He had noticed more and more the relentless pain and ringing in his ears that accompanied every small flash of memory that he regained. He picked up the glass and brought it to his forehead. He closed his eyes and held the smooth, cool surface there, hoping to numb some of the pounding. Then he slowly opened his eyes.

Just as he expected, the image of the fireplace swam before him. It shifted, distorted. He was transported to another time long ago.

It was his father’s image, dark haired and youthful. Chase knew he had been watching his father in secrecy. His father was wearing black arm bands. The remembered feeling of sorrow and great loss swept over Chase.

He was remembering the day of a burial.

“Whose?” Chase asked himself.

His father was red eyed, grief stricken, shouting at Captain Cordell. Chase heard his father’s words echo in his mind.

“It’s the damn Cordell curse. I never should’ve believed we’d be free of it. Now it has taken my wife, my love.”

The hair prickled on the back of Chase’s neck while the memory slowly began to fade away.

“Now it has taken my wife.”

Chase gulped down his sorrow while he allowed himself to remember back to his childhood, back to the day his mother had been put into the ground.

Chase remembered Captain Cordell stepping inside the library. His arms were laden with split logs. He too was younger, his mustache an iron gray instead of snowy white.

He set the logs beside the hearth and laid the first fire of the season on the grate. Chase remembered the way it felt when the blaze ignited and filled the room with heat, yet he shivered now with the old emotions washing over him.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Captain Cordell’s voice jarred Chase back to the present. He looked up to see his grandfather standing beside the hearth, his arms again full of split logs. A feeling of déj#224; vu sluiced through him.

“What’s troubling you, Chase?” Captain Cordell tossed the charred broom straw he had used to start the blaze into the hearth. A golden glow filled the room.

“Grandfather, tell me about the Cordell curse.” The haunting memory of his father remained with him. What did it mean? Was there something wrong with this family?

“Where on earth did you hear that?” The old man rubbed his fingers over his mustache and glanced up at his
son’s portrait as if he too were remembering the day from the past.

“I heard my father, standing right here in front of this fireplace, shouting at you. What exactly is the Cordell curse? Is there such a thing?”

“You were just a little fry when your mama died. I wouldn’t have thought you’d remember that terrible night” The old man looked sympathetic. “It was so long ago.”

“I’ve been thinking about the past quite a lot lately.” Chase said with a weary sigh. He still stubbornly kept from telling his grandfather the truth about his memory. Linese was the only person he trusted and loved enough to “tell.

Captain Cordell walked to the window and stared out at the salmon streak above the treetops. “Your father said all those things out of grief, Chase. You shouldn’t be putting any stock in it, not now.”

“Tell me about it, please.”

A heavy sigh escaped the old man’s lips, but he nodded in understanding. He moved to the long sofa and sat down.

“When your mama died, he was brokenhearted. He thought it was some sort of omen. First your grandma from the fever, then your mama and newborn sister—it was a difficult birth. He had the notion, the unshakable belief, the Cordell men were doomed to lose the women they loved. A curse, if you believe in such superstitions. I guess your father grew up hearing about such things on a regular basis, being as close to Louisiana as we are. Those people are steeped in beliefs of that kind. I never could put any stock in it, myself.”

Chase shivered inwardly. “You don’t believe it?”

The old man squared his shoulders as if preparing himself to take a crushing blow. “I admit when Marjorie died there was a time when I wondered if it might be true. But it’s foolishness, Chase. We are no more cursed than any other family. I finally came to terms with that sad fact. I’ve seen many a family bury too many of their kin in these sixty years, especially since this damnable secessionist trouble
began. It’s a fact that death is a part of life, but it ain’t no curse.”

Chase stared into the flames of the fire and prayed his grandfather was right. The best part of himself would never live again if anything happened to Linese. He had done his best to shatter the barriers that kept them apart, and prayed that he would eventually become a whole man again. That was the only reason he had finally allowed himself to love her totally. He wasn’t sure he could live with himself if, after all was said and done, there really was a strange hex upon his family. He wasn’t sure he could go on if his selfishness put Linese in danger, no matter how farfetched the notion might be.

Linese hung her head over the chamber pot and retched violently. Her churning stomach felt like a roiling river about to overflow its banks. She closed her eyes against the sickening feeling and tried to focus on a happy thought.

She was pregnant.

The happiness of her condition almost made her present dilemma endurable. Almost, but not quite. She had been suffering with the morning sickness several times a day. She could barely hold down weak tea or broth. The thought of solid food sent her into violent episodes of vomiting. It had been a chore keeping her present predicament from Chase, but she didn’t want him to know. Not yet.

She had, however, decided to see Doc Lukins. By her counting she was more than three months’ gone, and she had never heard other women say they had the kind of sickness that lasted this long into their time. It was a worry to her and she wanted the kindly old physician to reassure her. And, she supposed, she wanted to share the happy news with someone. If it couldn’t be Chase, then it would have to be Doc. Linese rubbed a cold cloth over her brow and opened her eyes. The nausea was over for a little while at least.

She stood up and caught her own reflection in the mirror. There was a puffiness to her face that concerned her. She had not put on any weight. Lord knows that would be difficult with the war lingering, making it hard even to get enough to eat each day, yet she had the notion that her face was fuller.

If Chase had noticed any difference in her appearance, he hadn’t mentioned it. He treated her as if she were the most beautiful, precious woman in the world. Each night he had brought her to physical ecstasy and held her within the circle of his arms until dawn forced him to go try to find a new location for the
Gazette.

If only she could feel safe and secure.

Chase hadn’t mentioned any more of his returning memories, but there were times when she would catch him unaware. She could almost see him reliving some forgotten moment. Whenever it happened, he became quiet and somber, more like the man he used to be. Each time she looked into his eyes, she felt a little of her heart die with the fear he was changing and leaving behind the man she adored, once again becoming the old Chase.

She turned sideways in front of her mirror and pulled her night rail smooth over her middle. She rubbed her hand over her belly and imagined what it would feel like when she was big with his baby. As it was, she had been forced to unlace her corset a bit to accommodate her filling waist.

“I’ll have to tell Chase about the baby soon,” she told her reflection. The prospect of telling her husband she was carrying his first child should have brought her deep satisfac-tion. Instead, it was a bittersweet secret she wanted to keep from him just for a while longer, just until the situation with the
Gazette
was settled and Chase was less distracted.