Patricia Rice (9 page)

Common sense told him he was crazy.

* * *

Dora heard Pace crossed the river that night to join the Union army in Indiana. The Kentucky legislature's waffling back and forth between their Southern sympathies and their professed love of the Union led them to make no stand at all. Neutrality was not a concept Pace understood.

Chapter 5

Faith is to believe what you do not yet see;

the reward for this faith is to see what you believe.

~ St. Augustine,
Sermons
(5th c.)

December 1861

"Payson might be a burr under the saddle, but one thing he's not, and that's a fool." Charlie propped his boots on the embroidered ottoman and drew on his cigar. "Someone has to show Lincoln a state's got rights, and he can't steal a man's property, and I reckon those hotheads down South will do it, but I sure as hell don't want to be in their shoes when the shouting's all over. If we stand behind the Union, Kentucky will come out sitting pretty. Hell, Lincoln won't dare take away our slaves. He needs us too much."

Joe Mitchell put his hands behind his head and puffed a smoke circle at the ceiling. Removing the cigar from his mouth, he used it to gesture widely. "This war sure is wreaking havoc with the slave trade, though. I'll have to find a more profitable sideline. I'm thinking of building me a toll road to the rail line."

Homer sipped his bourbon and belched. "There's a good profit in smuggling corn to the rebs. They pay a damned sight more than the Yankees."

Charlie sucked on his cigar a little longer. "They keep making it tougher to get anything down South though. I don't relish getting my brain shot out trying to make a few dollars. I reckon since I'm the one with the fool brother in the army, I better start preaching a Yankee tune for a while. It's a damned sight easier to carry tobacco down the river with a pass." He gave Joe a knowing look. "That is, until Joe gets his road built."

The other men frowned at this cynical betrayal of their southern sympathies. Then Joe pressed his fingertips together and slowly nodded. "That might work. Damned if that just mightn't work. Most of the State Guards have gone over to the rebs, so we ain't got any real protection around here. That hell-fired McCoy got himself appointed provost marshal with the Home Guards and is boot-lickin' the Yankees into a nice gravy train. I think I could get my pappy to see him kicked out on some charge or another." He grinned happily. "Ain't anyone around here gonna be sorry to see a shit-kicker replaced by one of us. That could make it a damn sight easier acquiring the land for rails."

Charlie grinned as he followed Joe's train of thought. "I hadn't thought to go that far, but wouldn't that be a swat in the face for them feds!" He frowned as he thought it through. "I'll have to get rid of most of the troops McCoy put together. They're nothing but a band of nigger-lovers."

Joe shrugged. "I'll help you. I owe that bastard one anyway." He glowered at Charlie. "And I owe that damned brother of yours one for helping him. If he hadn't brought that passel of lawyers down here, I could have had McCoy's land for next to nothing."

Charlie waved away the thought. "Wouldn't of done you any good the way things stand now. You just said yourself, the slave market is gonna be worthless. What would you do with a breeding operation now? Pace did you a favor. Besides, the McCoy place isn't in the same direction as the railroad."

The bourbon bottle sitting between them was already half empty and the night was still young. When Josie entered, her full skirts concealing the first stages of pregnancy, she frowned at the smell of smoke and whiskey polluting her parlor, but she donned a polite demeanor as she spoke.

"I'll be going upstairs now, gentlemen. Is there anything else I can get for you?"

The men made a polite attempt at rising from their seats as she entered, but they settled down quickly. Charles waved his cigar in her direction. "Go on up, honey, get your rest. We've got a lot to discuss tonight."

She nodded and swept from the room, her long skirts swishing as she climbed the stairs. Dark shadows circled her eyes in her pale, unsmiling face, but she managed a look of polite interest as Dora stepped out of the invalid's room when she reached the upper hall.

"How is Mother Nicholls tonight?" Josie asked, continuing the masquerade of concerned daughter-in-law and loving wife.

Dora made a wry moue and clasped her hands in front of her. "Restless."

For a moment, something flickered behind Josie's blank eyes, and she touched Dora's clasped fingers. "I am grateful that you stay with her. Have you heard from David?"

Unhappiness pulled at Dora's lips. "He is well. I think he is not happy working inside all day, but the income is regular and he will save money faster."

"Perhaps he is better off out of the farming business. It is so risky these days. You really should sell that property and go with him, Dora."

Dora's shoulders stiffened. "It is all I have of my parents. I cannot. There was enough from the hogs and sheep to pay expenses. Next year will be better."

If the hounds didn't destroy any more of the sheep and if someone finally quit cutting the fence and letting the hogs into the woods. If locusts didn't destroy the corn and lightning didn't set the tobacco on fire. Or if someone didn't set fire to the tobacco when lightning didn't cooperate. They had a terrible lot of fires in this small area. It would seem the safest thing to grow around here was water.

She didn't let her bitterness and suspicion show. Josie had too many problems of her own. Dora found a happy thought. "How is the babe today? Still raising a ruckus?"

A smile touched Josie's lips as she covered her stomach. "He does not seem to like anything I feed him. He will be born hungry."

"Mother Elizabeth always recommended adding a little honey to milk and taking it warm. Shall I make thee some?"

Josie glanced nervously over her shoulder and shook her head. "No, best not. Not tonight. I promised Charlie I'd not go down there again. I'm trying hard to be the wife he expects, but thank you, anyway. I'll see you in the morning."

She scurried away, leaving Dora alone in the upstairs hall. Dora frowned at the familiar ring of Josie's words and the answering echo of loud male voices coming up the stairs. She had lived here long enough to grow accustomed to drunken men and loud voices and cigar smoke. She simply stayed out of the way, well aware they scarcely knew she existed. She had hoped that Josie's presence might civilize them to some degree, but they'd had their own way for much too long. It would take someone stronger than gentle Josie to tame them now. It would probably also take a bullwhip and a shotgun.

Since she wasn't a likely person for that job, Dora chose to pace her room rather than go downstairs and find a book. Had she not been such a coward, she would have returned to her own house the day she turned eighteen, but now, a month later, she still stayed in this den of iniquity.

The Elders were not pleased with her. They had tried to understand when she turned down Joe Mitchell's offer for her home. They knew the offer was a poor one, especially for the only home she knew. After losing so much money on the corn and tobacco, David could not make the proposal of marriage he had hoped to make, and she could not stay in the house alone. Others of their belief had offered a place in their homes, but she disliked staying with comparative strangers. They couldn't understand that. She hadn't known if she understood it herself. She didn't exactly enjoy the Nicholls household.

But the Elders didn't realize that. They thought she had fallen for worldly pleasures. Dora laughed to herself as she stared out over the bare trees from her window. She would give anything for the quiet emptiness of her own house right now. She would defy any one of them to stay in this household as long as she had and survive. Only her own peculiar abilities and background allowed her to remain at all. With Josie's marriage to Charlie, it had become even more impossible for her here, but if she believed in the Inner Light at all, she must believe she was meant to stay.

Without Papa John's guidance, she had to find her own way, but she knew he would tell her she did the right thing. She clung to that belief even as she heard the men below stumble out into the darkness, knowing they went out to make mischief, knowing what would happen when Charlie returned. No one told her these things. No one discussed it with her. She just knew it with an instinct bred from the first moment she'd heard her own mother scream out in the night.

She should get some rest while Friend Harriet slept, but Dora continued standing at the window, watching the night go by. The men had taken their horses and rode off. Carlson Nicholls slept in the arms of his black mistress. The slaves had grown quiet in their quarters. Even Josie probably slept by now, albeit a restless sleep. The house lay silent, but still Dora stood, waiting.

Pace was coming. She had heard it discussed downstairs. She knew it with her mind. He had Christmas leave from the army and he was coming home. But something inside her told her Pace was close, so she watched.

Logically, she knew her foolishness. He could arrive tonight or tomorrow or tomorrow night. It didn't matter. He would ride in, throw his bags down, say hello to his mother, and ride out again. He wouldn't spend much time in this house with Josie and Charlie. She doubted that he would even notice her. She should get into her nightgown and go to bed. She couldn't do a thing if he rode in tonight.

Instead, she tightened her boot laces and reached for a shawl. She could feel the tension building inside of her. Something was wrong. She didn't know where or how, but she knew it and responded without giving it much thought. Perhaps the Inner Light they spoke about in Meetings gave her these notions. If so, she should heed them, even if they made no sense.

She wasn't much prone to logic on the best of days, anyway.

She cried out at an unexpectedly sharp sensation shooting through her ribs. Despite the pain, she leaped to her feet and tied the strings to her bonnet. She knew she wasn’t feeling her own wound. She felt Pace's.

The certainty of that knowledge sent her fleeing down the stairs, grabbing her heavy cloak as she let herself out the side door to the stable. Harnessing a horse to the cart would be difficult, but she knew she must do it, just as she knew she needed her black bag of medicines.

One of the bondsmen who slept in the barn sleepily helped her harness the horse. Apparently awaiting his master's return, he didn't complain of this extra service. Dora thanked him, but he merely wandered back to a stall and his slumbers.

She stopped at her empty farmhouse to find the bag, but the tension she experienced earlier escalated to terrified anxiety. She couldn't separate Pace's emotions from her own. Of course, if she had any sense at all, she would admit that all the terror was her own and she imagined everything.

She urged the cart down the lane at the fastest pace the horse could manage. No one noticed or cared. She had gone out this way before at a summons from some farmhouse where the women had remembered Mother Elizabeth's services. She didn't have as much experience or knowledge as her adopted mother had, but she had some use in nursing, and that was better than none.

She steered the cart east. If she'd thought about it, that would be the last direction she would take. The river and town were to the west and south. Those were the most likely places to find trouble. But she knew she must go east.

Of course, Pace's troops were probably stationed in Lexington or Cincinnati. He would come from the east. Perhaps her instincts weren't so far wrong after all.

The pain in her side had dulled to a throb. The tension bothered her most, the feeling of something terribly wrong. She urged the horse faster, praying she could arrive in time.

She almost convinced herself that she had lost her mind. But the Light was stronger. Although in her case, the word "light" was a misnomer. She saw only darkness. The cart careened down a narrower road at her urging.

There, just ahead, in the gully beside the Butler's feed lot. Dora reined the horse into a wagon road between some trees and swung down from the cart. The clouds covered any sign of moon, and the sky appeared pitch black. The trees along the fence row deepened the darkness.

In the distance a horse whinnied and a hound bayed. A shiver shot down her spine. With a sinking feeling, Dora knew now what she would find. Pace was incapable of doing anything so simple as coming home for the holidays for fun.

"I'm not going into those brambles, Pace Nicholls. Get thyself out here before those hounds find thee."

A stiff shadow unfolded itself from the weeds in the gully. His broad shoulders tilted at an uncomfortable angle, and Dora cried out in alarm. "You've been shot!" She bit her tongue on the slip of speech.

Pace didn't comment on it. He pulled a slight figure from the gully and shoved her toward Dora. "Get her out of here. Hurry!"

Time shifted and tumbled. Pace was hurt. He needed medical attention. She couldn't leave him here for the hounds and the slave catchers. The cart would barely hold two. She couldn't leave the terrified black child clinging to her ragged shawl alone in the roadway. If they caught Pace in the cart with the child, they would throw him in jail and fine him heavily.