Spinning Out Of Control

by Vickie McDonough

  “That’s quite interesting.” Tierney studied the fabric in her hands.

  “But surely it must be a coincidence that Kathryn had this particular coverlet cut out and partially stitched.”

  Tierney shrugged. Amy glanced up as Sookie stuck her head out the cabin door.

  “The soup is nearly done, Miz Amy.”

  “Thank you, Sookie.” The young woman disappeared back in the house. She’d asked Sookie to join Tierney and her, but Sookie had preferred to stay inside and work while Missy slept. Amy turned her attention back to Tierney. “It doesn’t make sense. The Walshes wouldn’t run a safe house and own slaves.”

  “Are you certain Jonah and Sookie are slaves?”

  Amy blinked. “Well, yes, I’m sure. I even heard Ben talking about how Micah had bought Sookie from a neighbor. He traded her for two mules. Isn’t that appalling?”

  “Well, perhaps you are right. It must be a coincidence.”

  One thing she knew, if Micah were dealing slaves, she could never give her heart to him totally.

  Beth and Sophie squealed and ran toward them. “Horsies comin’,” Beth cried.

  Amy squinted and peered down the dirt trail. Her heart dropped to her feet, and she popped out of her chair. “Oh no. It can’t be.”

  Tierney turned around and squinted at the approaching wagon. She looked back with a mischievous grin and twinkling green eyes. “ ’Tis your beau.”

  Heat rushed to Amy’s cheeks. She spit out each syllable, “Hank Foster is not my beau,” then gave Tierney a disgusted look.

  Her friend giggled and called the girls onto the porch. They clomped up the steps, arm in arm.

  “Sophie’s hungwy.” Beth looked up with a hopeful gaze.

  “No, I’m not.” Sophie shook her head, and her thin braids bounced back and forth on her shoulders.

  “Yes, you are. You want some pie.” Beth’s comment and her vigorously nodding head almost made Amy laugh in spite of Hank Foster’s nearing presence.

  “Oh, I do like pie.” Sophie’s eyes lit up at the prospect of a tasty treat.

  Amy peeked at her friend, and Tierney’s eyes gleamed with mirth. Amy refocused on the girls. “How about if you have that pie after dinner? The bean soup is nearly finished cooking. The men will be back from the field soon, and then we can all eat dinner.”

  Beth’s bottom lip poked out. Sophie noticed and followed suit, causing Amy to bite back a grin. The little scamp. “Go on inside, wash up, and see if Sookie needs help setting the table. We’ll be in shortly.”

  Amy strode to the end of the porch and picked up a metal bar then ran it around the inside of an iron triangle Micah had made. The loud clanging sound always hurt her ears, but it saved her or Sookie from having to walk all the way out to the field to call the men in for mealtimes.

  Movement near the barn drew her attention, and she watched Jonah hobble out of the barn where he’d been polishing the saddles and other leather tack. She heard a whistle in the distance to her right and saw Micah, Ben, and Sean heading her way. Please hurry.

  Gathering her composure, she turned to face Hank Foster.

  “Well, how do, buttercup?”

  Amy wished she could turn into butter, drip through the porch slats, and hide in the darkness under the house. Why couldn’t this man leave her alone?

  Tierney seemed to be struggling to keep a straight face. She ducked her head and studied her stitches, but her eyes kept darting upward.

  Hank climbed down from his wagon and started toward her. Amy moved back until she ran into the rough cabin wall. He tipped his cap at Tierney then hopped up the stairs like a young man ready to take his gal to her first social.

  “You’re sure a sight for sore eyes, darlin’. I been dreamin’ on you ’bout every night.”

  Amy tried unsuccessfully to swallow the lump in her throat. Had she ever been so mortified?

  Tierney stood and laid her sewing in the basket next to her rocker. “I believe I hear Missy crying. I’ll go in and tend her and help Sookie get dinner on the table.”

  Amy sent her a don’t-you-dare-leave-me-alone look, but to no avail. Tierney ducked inside without a word but peeked back around the door and sent Amy an amused grin. Some friend. Deserting her when she needed her the most. Somehow, Amy had to make Hank understand she had no feelings for him. But how?

  “I got that load of lumber Micah wanted from the saw mill. Said something about building some stairs.”

  She had no idea what he was talking about but felt a small amount of relief that he hadn’t ridden all the way out here just to see her. Her legs trembled. She wiped her sweaty palms on her dress. Confrontation was not one of her strong points. She had learned just to stay out of her father’s way when he’d been drinking or was in a foul mood.

  “You know, I hinted to the parson last time he rode through these parts that he might have to preach a wedding ceremony next time he made his circuit.”

  Horrified, Amy straightened. This was getting out of hand. “Now see here, Mr. Foster. I never said anything about marrying you.”

  “Call me Hank, darlin’.” He shrugged. “I knowed it would take you some time to get used to the idea, what with you bein’ new to town and all. If it ain’t this month when the parson comes, next month will do.”

  Amy tightened her fist and wanted to scream. How could a man be so dense?

  “I heared tell that Micah and his brother is slave trading.” He pulled a stem of hay from his overalls pocket and stuck it in the edge of his mouth. He pushed his cap back on his head, revealing a receding hairline.

  The man’s total shift of topics made Amy feel as if she’d been turning around in circles until she was dizzy. What had he heard that gave him the idea Micah was a slave trader? She had been hoping that Micah would not be involved in trading people, but the evidence seemed to be showing different. That could explain the missing food from the root cellar.

  She sagged back against the cabin. It was bad enough that he owned two slaves, but if Micah was trading them, Amy would be sorely disappointed. Still, she’d defend Micah and Ben as long as she was under his employ.

  “What if they are selling slaves? It’s not illegal.” Immoral maybe, but in this issue, the law had failed to catch up with what was right and decent. Amy shuddered. She knew Jonah and Sookie had a good life here, but they were still slaves. They couldn’t go where they wanted or do what they chose to do. How could a person live like that?

  She herself had nowhere else to go, but if she wanted to leave, she could. She had the option of choice—even if she only had one choice at the moment. Marrying Hank Foster didn’t even rank as a second option.

  Hank sniffed like he’d been insulted. “I might like to get in on the action.”

  Off to her right, she heard laughter and the crunch of boots against the ground, and relief flooded through her. The droning of Ben’s tenor voice relaying a story to Micah and Sean grew louder. The men rounded the edge of the cabin, and Micah’s eyes pricked with interest as he spotted the wagon. Amy knew the second he saw Hank Foster, because his countenance changed instantly, and his dark brows drew together. His gaze darted from her to Hank and back. Amy wasn’t sure why, but she thought Micah wasn’t too happy to see Hank.

  Did he worry that she might take Hank up on his offer and leave him without someone to care for his home and children?

  Nine

  As he approached the cabin, Micah watched Hank Foster strut around the porch like an old rooster, just as the man did every time he was around Amy. Had he asked her to marry him again?

  Not one to normally dislike a person, Micah wasn’t sure what it was about Hank that bothered him so much. Perhaps he was simply afraid of losing Amy. He couldn’t imagine how they’d get along without her. Not that Amy returned Hank’s affections. She acted peeved rather than moon-eyed like the eye-batting, coy young women he’d seen at town socials before he was married.

  Ben’s prattling voice faded as Micah stared at Hank’s
lips to see if he could decipher what the man was saying. When Ben took a breath, Micah was certain he heard something about a parson. Concern tightened his gut.

  Beside him, Sean Chambers laughed out loud at something Ben said. Micah had liked Sean the day they first met in town. The wiry Englishman was a hard worker and a good help today as they weeded and hoed a large section of the cornfield.

  Sean had explained how he and his wife were new to the area and anxious to get to know their neighbors. Micah was glad that Amy and Tierney got along so well together. Amy needed a friend.

  She worked hard taking care of his home and children. Thinking of how he’d watched her working at the spinning wheel after the girls were in bed last night made him realize he never saw her idle. If she wasn’t cooking or doing washing, she sat sewing or spinning.

  Yes, he’d be up a creek without Amy, and yet he thought he’d miss her gentle smile and soft voice even more than all the things she did to care for him and his family. Somehow she managed to control his wild daughter without raising her voice, unlike Kathryn, who had little patience with her feisty child. A soothing warmth seeped through him as he realized that he didn’t want Amy to leave because he’d miss her. He had feelings for her.

  Micah stopped in his tracks. I can’t have feelings for Amy.

  Ben looked over his shoulder, eyebrows raised. Sean also stopped and turned toward him. “Something wrong?” he asked.

  Scrambling to avoid questions, Micah looked at the shovel his brother held. “I think I’ll run down to the barn and put away the tools before dinner. We’ll enjoy our guests and visit for a while before they have to leave, instead of returning to the field.”

  Something that looked like panic darted across Ben’s face. “I’ll put the tools up.” He reached for Micah’s shovel, but Micah pulled it away.

  “No, you go ahead. Maybe Sean wouldn’t mind helping you unload the lumber in Hank’s wagon, so he can get started back to town.” Micah lifted his brows in question to Sean.

  “Right, chap, I’d be delighted to help ol’ Ben.” He handed his hoe to Micah and waited for Ben to do the same.

  “But—” Ben glanced at the barn and back to Micah.

  “No buts. The sooner we get that wagon unloaded and Hank on his way, the sooner we can eat.”

  Ben looked at the barn again then nodded his head and handed Micah his shovel. Micah wondered why his brother was so interested in the barn, but his mind was swarming with so many other thoughts that he shrugged off his concern. Ben smacked Sean on the shoulder and started into another tale, obviously enjoying having someone willing to listen to his stories.

  Micah shook his head and glanced at Amy, who was staring at him. She looked confused. He wanted nothing more than to take his hand and smooth away the creases lining her lightly tanned forehead. Would her skin feel as soft as Kathryn’s?

  He kicked his shovel, and all three tools clanged together. Turning toward the barn, he berated himself for thinking of Amy in that way. If he didn’t keep his emotions under control, he’d scare her straight into Hank’s arms. And that was the last thing he wanted.

  The barn door didn’t squeal when he opened it this time, thanks to a generous greasing he’d applied to the hinges this morning. One by one, he hung the tools on the wall.

  He paced over to Rusty’s empty stall. In a few hours, he’d have to bring the horses in from the pasture where they were grazing. Leaning on the stall gate, Micah considered his feelings for Amy.

  They’d taken him by surprise. He first noticed his attraction to her back in town the day he’d grabbed her and swung her around in his arms. Her small form tucked in his arms perfectly.

  He lifted his hat and ran his fingers through his sweaty hair. So, what should he do now? Amy hadn’t done anything to make him think she might return his feelings. Sure, when she smiled at him those saddle-brown eyes of hers gleamed, but then, she smiled at everyone.

  He’d watched her cuddle Beth and coo to the baby. Amy had been rewarded with Missy’s first real smile. She’d make a good mother some day. Actually, she made a good mother now.

  By keeping her here, working day and night, was he being fair to her? If she worked in town she might meet someone better than Hank Foster, someone who might woo and court her.

  Micah’s gut twisted. He didn’t want anyone wooing Amy. He knew now that he wanted that job. But was it right? To court a woman living under his own roof? To consider remarrying when his wife had only been dead three months?

  Men remarried quickly all the time, especially those with young children. But was he ready? His marriage to Kathryn had been far from perfect. His citified wife never quite adjusted to farm life. Was it wrong to hope he might one day have a happy marriage?

  Arguing with himself wasn’t getting him anywhere. He knelt in the hay right where he was and lifted his gaze toward the barn ceiling. “Heavenly Father, show me what to do. Was there a reason You brought Amy here? Dare I hope that You’ve provided another woman for me—a woman to care for my family—and me. A woman who might grow to love me?”

  He waited, but no answer came. Not that he expected a lightning bolt from heaven, flashing God’s response. He’d just have to keep praying and seeking God’s will.

  In the meantime, he’d enjoy Amy’s good cooking and her company, and perhaps they could get to know each other better. They’d kept their distance since they first met. He knew Amy was embarrassed and sorry for bashing him in the head. Now, it was kind of funny thinking of that pint-sized woman knocking a man his size to the floor. He chuckled and turned toward the barn door. Best he get back or someone would come looking.

  He took a step and froze in place. Behind him, he heard a scuffling then a whimper. Pivoting around, he saw nothing out of the ordinary. Empty stalls lined with fresh hay awaited the horses’ return. Saddles sat on blocks, awaiting their riders. Dust motes drifted lazily on the sunlight, sneaking through small cracks in the barn.

  Ben wouldn’t disobey him, would he? As Micah started to turn, a squeal erupted near his feet. His blood boiled at his suspicions. Taking two steps to the center of the barn, he stooped, lifted the hatch to the underground storage area, and blinked when a young black woman holding a toddler stared up, the whites of her eyes showing.

  What had Ben done now?

  ❧

  Micah had a difficult time waiting until dinner was over and the Chambers family had gone home so he could confront Ben about the slaves in the barn. He’d gone back and forth, trying to decide what was the right thing to do.

  All through dinner, Amy sent him questioning glances. Perhaps she wondered how he’d managed to send Hank on his way so quickly. After the wagon was unloaded, Hank had told Micah he needed to talk to him about something. Micah suspected it had to do with Amy but never gave the man a chance to explain.

  He told Hank they had guests and would have to talk another day. Relief, like taking a dip in a cool creek on a hot summer’s day, spilled through him as Hank drove away. At least for now, they still had Amy. But for how long?

  He paced out back of the cabin near the chopping block, waiting for Ben. His brother said he’d promised to tell Beth a story before she went to sleep. He probably should have given his daughter a good-night kiss, but he had to get out of the cabin before he said something he’d regret.

  Micah turned when he heard a shuffling sound behind him. Jonah moseyed toward him at a slug’s pace. “Hollerin’ at that brother of yours won’t make you feel no better.”

  Blinking, Micah stared at Jonah, amazed how the old man could read him so well. “How did you know?”

  Jonah’s shoulders bounced on a wheezy laugh. “If’n there’d been an unlit candle on the table betwixt you and Ben, it would have flamed to life. I seen the way you was glarin’ at him.”

  Everybody had probably noticed. He was sure Amy had. That might have been why the Chamberses hightailed it on home after dinner instead of sitting around and visiting. But then Tierney had said somet
hing about making it home before dark.

  The cabin door slammed, and a few moments later Ben strode around the side of the house, looking as if he were ready for a fight.

  “Be nice to him, Micah. That boy done did a good thing.”

  Micah jerked his gaze toward Jonah. Did his friend know what Ben was doing? Was Jonah perhaps helping with the runaways, too? Why did it feel as if his life was spinning out of control?

  He fought cobwebs of confusion and the pain of betrayal. Had his old mentor and friend been helping Ben? Why hadn’t Jonah said something before?

  “I guess I know what you want to talk about.” Ben crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Micah without flinching.

  Micah lifted his chin, determined not to give in. “I told you not to bring any more runaways on this land.”

  “As you’re so fond of saying, it’s my land, too.”

  Ben had him there, but Micah wasn’t ready to back down. “I’ve seen what slave catchers do to the slaves they find.”

  A gleam sparked in Ben’s eyes, and he leaned forward. “All the more reason to help runaways.”

  Micah crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ve also seen them burn the cabin they found the slaves in, leaving a family with six children homeless and the father injured. That’s my point. They don’t care who they hurt. Do you want them to hurt Jonah or Sookie? Or maybe Amy or the children?”

  “Of course not. But there’s more at stake here than just our family. That woman in the barn ran away because her master”—Ben nearly choked on the word—“was fixing to sell off her baby as soon as it was weaned—just like he’d done with her husband and two other children. How would you like it if that was Beth or Missy being sold and you had no say in it?”

  Micah forced that picture from his mind. “This isn’t a game, Ben. People can get hurt. Die.”

  “I know that,” Ben hissed through his teeth. “I’m not stupid.”

  Micah wondered if his brother was wrong on that account. Ben sure wasn’t thinking clearly. Micah yanked his hat off his head and ran his fingers through his hair. While he was opposed to slavery, he didn’t want to put his family in danger to help runaways escape. He’d already lost his wife. He couldn’t lose anyone else.