The Crossing at Cypress Creek

by Pam Hillman

  “Already gone.” Elias took another gulp of ale, looking quite pleased with himself. “Left over a week ago.”

  “A week?” Micaiah’s gaze shot to Elias’s. “And you haven’t heard from them? Who are these men?”

  “Massey, Colbert, and Wheeler.”

  “Whiskey Massey?” Micaiah gaped at his cousin, then threw back his head and roared with laughter. “No wonder you haven’t heard from them. Massey’s probably long gone by now, whatever he could get from the sale of the logs lining his own pocket.”

  Elias frowned, the ale he’d consumed dulling his thinking. He lurched to his feet and stumbled out of the tavern.

  Micaiah sat back, took a sip of ale, and thought of all he’d learned. The fate of Massey and the timber was of no consequence. Elias should’ve known better than to trust the man. But it was an interesting turn of events that the loggers had men who were as skilled at fighting as they were at felling trees. Most of the settlers were too lily-livered to put up much of a fight.

  His gaze roamed over the men in the tavern. It was obvious in the way they’d satiated themselves with the food and drink he’d pilfered from the Kaintucks that the recent weeks hadn’t been kind to them. From the looks of things, it would be easy to turn their loyalty back to him.

  All he had to do was provide them with the promise of an easy target, and the logging camp seemed the place to start.

  By the time Alanah made it back to Magnolia Glen, she was drenched from head to toe.

  Kiera waited on the porch of one of the cabins, light spilling out of the doorway. Before she could dismount, Caleb was at her side. Rain splattered against his upturned face, mingled with the shadow on his jaw, and ran down his throat to soak into his shirt.

  He lifted her down from the horse, holding her a moment longer than was necessary, a frown knitting his forehead, his gaze searching hers. Alanah resisted the urge to apologize, to tell him she hadn’t meant to offend, but the feelings he stirred in her scared her senseless —

  “Get inside, lass, before you catch a chill.” He stepped away and pushed her toward the porch, then took up the reins and led the horses away. She had no choice but to join Kiera.

  “I was worried.” Kiera followed her inside. “I thought you’d be back before now.”

  “It took a little longer than expected with the rain.” Alanah removed her drenched cloak, hung it up to dry, and shivering, moved toward the fire. The days of September were still comfortably warm, and even the nights were not overly cool, but the temperature had dropped with the sudden rainstorm.

  “I was afraid of that. We’ve eaten, but I kept some stew warm for you. I’ll get it while you change.” She motioned to a nightgown and wrap laid out on the bed. “I didn’t know if you brought nightclothes, so I took the liberty of bringing something. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Thank you.”

  While Kiera was gone, Alanah stripped out of her wet clothes and sponged the mud and muck off. Hands shaking, she dressed in Kiera’s nightclothes, wrapped her arms around her waist, and stood in front of the fireplace, the blaze doing little to drive the chill away. A chill brought on not only by the rain, but by Caleb’s kiss.

  No, not by his kiss, but by her reaction.

  What was she going to do?

  The tears she’d held at bay on the long ride back from the swamp spilled over. And for just a moment, she allowed them to fall.

  “Alanah?” Kiera stood in the doorway. She crossed the room, set the bowl of stew on a table, and turned to Alanah. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” Alana swiped at the tears, sniffed, and shook her head. “I’m . . . just tired. And cold.”

  “That’s not enough to set you to crying.” Kiera searched her face; then her brows dove downward over clear blue eyes. “It’s Caleb, isn’t it? What did —?”

  “He didn’t do anything.”

  Kiera crossed her arms and raised a pale brow. “Then why are you turning three shades of red?”

  “It’s the fire.” Alanah moved away. “I got overheated, that’s all.”

  “Please, be honest with me. I —I don’t know anything about your circumstances, other than what Quinn has told me —and that was precious little —but I know the desperate circumstances a woman can get caught in. I have been there. If Caleb did something to offend —”

  “He kissed me.” Alanah lowered her gaze.

  “He forced himself on you?”

  Alanah shook her head. “It . . . it wasn’t like that.”

  “I see.” Kiera reached for the coverlet, wrapped it around Alanah’s shoulders before giving her a gentle push toward the table. “A kiss is nothing to be ashamed of.”

  Stomach rumbling in spite of her worries, Alanah picked up the spoon, dipped it into the stew. “It is where I come from.”

  A smile played over Kiera’s lips. “I wouldn’t be too concerned over propriety, Alanah. If Caleb is anything like his brothers, I doubt your family has anything to worry about.”

  “You don’t understand.” She put the spoon to the side, her appetite gone. “You see, where I come from, when a man shows an interest in a woman, he’s just as likely to take her for his own, whether she’s willing or not.”

  She didn’t know what she expected . . . Kiera to swoon or gasp in surprise, perhaps, but her steady, clear regard didn’t waver.

  “And you think Caleb is that kind of man?”

  “I —” Her stomach churned. She’d been around Caleb enough to believe he’d never mistreat a woman. “No, but what if I entice him, and he loses his head? It’s better to stay away from him completely than to risk . . .”

  “To risk being attacked? Raped?” Kiera reached across the table and clasped Alanah’s hands. “Alanah, have you ever done anything to entice a man?”

  “No.” Aghast, Alanah shook her head. “I would never —”

  But she’d wantonly kissed Caleb. She had enticed him.

  “Listen to me.” Kiera’s hold on Alanah’s hands tightened. “There are two types of men in this world: men who have no qualms about crossing the line between common decency and doing unspeakable acts of evil, and those who fight for what’s good and right.”

  “But couldn’t a man lose that common decency if he’s immersed in sin and debauchery?”

  “I don’t know, but the fact that you were willing to make this trip with Caleb says something of his character, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Alanah, listen to me.” Kiera’s voice turned serious, her eyes searching Alanah’s. “I don’t know Caleb, but I’d like to believe that he’s cut from the same cloth as his brothers. I pray that Quinn, Caleb, and even my bear of a brother-in-law, Connor, show you what a morally upright and godly man looks like.”

  Alanah’s lips twitched. “You’re afraid of Connor too?”

  “Oh, you don’t know the half of it.”

  Chapter 20

  THE NEXT MORNING dawned hot and muggy, the sudden thunderstorm having blown itself out overnight. Caleb joined Quinn and the other men in front of the barn, where they hoisted bales of cotton onto the wagons.

  Soon, Alanah and Kiera emerged from the cabin, Kiera helping Alanah carry her belongings. Alanah wore the green dress Isabella had given her. He wanted to tell her how pretty she looked but, after last night, decided the best course of action would be to keep his mouth shut.

  “Oh, I forgot my cloak.” Alanah lifted her skirt. “I’ll be right back.”

  Caleb climbed up and made room for the totes between the bales of cotton and the sides of the wagon. His sister-in-law handed him each tote.

  “Quinn told me of Reggie Caruthers’s safe return and of your part in it.”

  “Aye.” Caleb searched his memory, trying to piece together Reggie’s connection to Quinn’s wife.

  “I can see you’re confused.” Kiera smiled. “My sister is married to Reggie’s younger brother.”

  “Ah, I remember now.” Caleb stored another pack in a corn
er of the wagon. “Reggie was a bit concerned to learn that his baby brother was a married man.”

  “Yes, they were young, but —” she spread her hands —“once they were wed, there was nothing to be done about it. It’s good to know that Reggie is alive and well. The family has had more than enough tragedy of late.”

  Caleb jumped down and reached for a small satchel on the ground. Kiera waved him away. “That’s mine. Since Quinn is going to be at the logging camp for the next few weeks, Megan and I have decided to go back to Breeze Hill. Put it in Quinn’s wagon.”

  Alanah returned, her cloak over her arm. She didn’t look at him, not even when he helped her into the wagon. As they got under way, Caleb’s frustration grew with each passing mile. What did she expect of him? He’d apologized. Or at least he’d tried to.

  “If —”

  “I’m —”

  They broke the silence at the same time. Caleb clamped his mouth shut, and after a long moment, Alanah blew out a slow breath.

  “I’m sorry I got so upset last night. It wasn’t you. It was me. And Betsy.” She twisted her hands in her lap. “The men who frequent Cypress Creek aren’t known for respecting women. They . . . they take what they want, and if it’s not freely given, they take it anyway. A man’s life means nothing to most of them, and a woman’s life —or her virtue —even less. They’re evil, just plain and simple.”

  Jaw clenched tight, Caleb gripped the reins, his eyes focused on the lead draft horse, his attention on Alanah’s strained voice.

  “Micaiah saw Betsy, and he wanted her. So he took her. I didn’t see her for six months until Elias brought her back. I thought . . . I thought she was dead.”

  “It does no’ matter.” Caleb wasn’t sure he wanted to hear any more.

  “It does matter.” Her head jerked up, her golden eyes flashing fire. “Betsy matters.”

  “That’s no’ what I meant, lass. I meant that you do no’ need t’ explain yourself.”

  “My apologies. I misunderstood your intent. But don’t you see? What happened to Betsy is part and parcel of who I am too.” She looked at him, pain in her searching glance. “Betsy didn’t deserve to be treated like a piece of trash.”

  “No one tried t’ get her back? No’ even your uncle?”

  “Uncle Jude blamed Betsy.” Caleb barely heard the words, Alanah’s voice was so quiet. “Said she’d made her bed and could lie in it.”

  Caleb tightened his grip on the reins, wondering what kind of man would leave his niece to suffer that kind of fate. “He blamed her?”

  “Yes.” She pinched the folds of her skirt between her thumb and forefinger, pleating the material. “Do you know why I’m called Addled Alanah, why Betsy and I wear rags?”

  “No, it’s beyond my ken.”

  “Because Uncle Jude thought it would keep the likes of Micaiah Jones away.” She fisted the green material in her hands, her knuckles white. “But Betsy grew tired of looking like a wretch. We found a trunk of dresses, and she started wearing them when our uncle was away. She liked feeling pretty. Micaiah saw her, and the next thing I knew, he’d taken her.”

  “All men are no’ cast from the same mold,” Caleb said. “And neither are all women. Wearing rags and heaping ashes on your head would no’ stop someone like Jones from following through on evil intentions. But neither would wearing something decent.”

  “All men are not cast from the same mold.”

  Alanah stared at her hands gripping the pretty green material of her skirt. Very carefully, very slowly, she relaxed her grip, bringing herself back to the present.

  “And why is that?” she asked, not really expecting an answer. “What causes one man to respect a woman and another to have no more concern over her than if she were a dog?”

  Caleb shifted, and she glanced at him, saw the frown that pulled his brows down.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be offensive.”

  “You did no’ offend. I was just trying t’ think o’ an answer that made sense.”

  “I’m not sure there are any answers that make sense.”

  “Aye. You may be right. But if it’s any consolation, I’ve known many men who would’ve defended your sister against Jones.”

  Alanah smiled. Kiera had said much the same. Bless them both for saying such, but she wondered if there was any truth to their words. Having lived amongst the lowest of the low hadn’t given Alanah any reason to believe otherwise.

  And you, Caleb O’Shea? Would you have defended her? Or me, for that matter, if the need arose?

  She clamped her lips shut, unwilling to press the issue. Caleb owed her and her sister nothing. Not his protection, his loyalty, or his life should it come to that. And going up against the river pirates could very well mean losing one’s life.

  They rounded a bend, and the lane took them between fields white with cotton. Laborers, already hard at work, waved as they passed by. Breeze Hill and the outbuildings lay on the other side of the fields beyond a grove of shade trees. The wagons clattered along until the buildings came into sight, then skirted around the back of the plantation home and headed toward the smithy and a building that looked like two cabins had been combined into one.

  A hand-lettered sign declared the establishment as the Breeze Hill Inn. A group of men exited, walked toward a cluster of wagons already lined up and ready to go. Before Quinn and Caleb pulled their wagons to a halt in front of the inn, the travelers were heading out.

  The other wagons from the logging camp were loaded with cotton, and a passel of children with straight black hair surrounded the third with various baskets, bundles, and sacks. A dark-skinned woman with braids stood nearby, and Mr. Horne knelt in the wagon, looking a bit overwhelmed. A little red-haired girl in the midst of all the dark-haired children stuck out like a sore thumb.

  Quinn set the brake. “How goes it, Horne?”

  “We’ll be ready shortly. We’re just loading the last of these supplies.”

  Caleb jumped down, then held out his arms for Alanah while Quinn did the same for Kiera. Megan hopped down from the wagon without assistance and ran toward the children.

  Alanah joined Kiera, and they walked toward the inn. “Megan looks happy to see her friends.”

  “She gets so lonely at Magnolia Glen. That’s one reason I decided to stay here until Quinn returns from the logging camp.” She motioned toward the Natchez woman, heavy with child. “And I daresay Mrs. Horne can use my help running the inn, given the fact that she’s expecting her eleventh child any day now.”

  Caleb and Quinn joined the other men sorting and packing, being careful to use every spare inch of space for the supplies Gimpy had asked for. Finally they were done, and after strapping a piece of canvas over the supplies, they jumped to the ground.

  Mrs. Horne sidled up to her husband and murmured a few inaudible words. Then she turned and waddled toward the cabin. Just before she went inside, she paused beside Kiera. Patting Kiera’s cheek, she smiled. “It is good to have you home, child.”

  Kiera hugged the woman. “It’s good to be back, Mary.”

  An elderly man approached from the big house on the hill, and it was all Alanah could do not to stare. His face was pulled and puckered, his hands drawn into claws.

  “That’s Mr. Bartholomew, Isabella’s father. He was severely burned when Breeze Hill caught fire two years ago.”

  Mr. Bartholomew nodded a greeting, then turned to the men. “Quinn. Caleb. I have news from Reggie Caruthers that he wanted me to pass on to you.”

  “He’s well?” Caleb asked.

  “He is. He sends his regards.” A frown knit the man’s brow. “But there was something in his letter that concerns me.”

  Quinn straightened. “What is it, sir?”

  “A river pirate who was tried for murder escaped from the stockade at French Camp. Reggie warns us to be on our guard as the man has ties to this area, especially Cypress Creek.”

  Caleb speared Alanah with a look. “Did he provid
e a name?”

  “Micaiah Jones.”

  “When?”

  “Almost three weeks ago.”

  Alanah’s heart thudded against her rib cage. Micaiah was alive and —

  And her sister was almost a day’s journey away, unprotected.

  The trip back to the logging camp went slower with the wagons groaning under the weight of the cotton. Alanah willed the horses to go faster, but there was nothing Caleb nor any of the drivers could do.

  The day passed slower than sap rising, but finally the wagons rolled into the logging camp just as the sun dipped in the west. Even before Caleb had set the brake, Alanah hiked her skirts and jumped to the ground.

  She slung her bow and arrows over her shoulder, then absently motioned toward her totes. “I’ll come back for these later. I must get home.”

  “Alanah, wait —”

  But she didn’t linger. She hurried away, her only thought to get to her sister. Had Micaiah made it to Cypress Creek? Had he taken her sister once again?

  Please, Lord, let Betsy be there.

  She glanced back, saw Caleb gaining on her. He caught up and, without a word, joined her.

  “You —you don’t have to go with me.”

  “I do.” His dark eyes met and held hers. “You do no’ know what you’ll find, lass.”

  Tears pricked her eyes, and she turned away lest he see her weakness.

  Her feet flew through the forest, the trip home seeming to take longer than ever. But soon she stepped into the clearing surrounding her home. All was quiet. Lydia had banked the fire beneath the arbor that they used throughout the summer and fall to keep down the sweltering heat in the cabin. The goats bleated a greeting, and the chickens scratched in the yard. Feeble light spilled from inside the cabin. Nothing seemed amiss. Nothing at all.

  “Lydia? Betsy?”

  Betsy came flying out of the cabin, ran straight to her, and threw her arms around her. The baby raccoons tumbled down the steps chasing her like rambunctious puppies. “Alanah, you’re home.”

  Alanah hugged her sister tight, overwhelmed with gratitude to find her safe. “Yes, I’m home.”