He floundered to silence. There was no coolness in the way she’d returned his kisses in the stable there at Dan and Anne’s, but—come to think of it, even then she’d seemed conflicted. And perhaps he had misread her response….
Either way, though, he couldn’t say that to her father.
“If she didn’t let you know straight out that she wasn’t interested,” Mr. Taylor said, “then that’s remarkable in and of itself. For her to say you were welcome to—how was it you said?”
He coughed another broken laugh. “I asked her if she’d mind my calling upon her, after the Harpes were caught and I was no longer obligated to see justice done for my cousin and the others.”
“And she said …?”
“That she’d be glad of it.” He hesitated. “Of course, that was when we thought we’d have the Harpes back in jail by now.”
Mr. Taylor let out a long breath. “Aye, and more’s the pity.” He shook his head. “Almost beyond believing, what we’ve heard and read.”
“It is.”
“Rachel’s taken it hard, this whole thing with Sally. She stood up for her there at that wedding, did she tell you?”
Ben nodded. Just the thought of Rachel in the presence of those men—and Hugh had signed their wedding bond—
“I promised her I’d do everything I could for Sally. They wouldn’t let me serve as anything but counsel for the defense, but she was acquitted easily enough. And then the women took off into the wilderness—”
“Did they ever find out where they’d gone?”
“Some of our party tracked them to the Green River, where they traded their horse for a canoe and slipped away downriver. They could be anywhere now.”
Hugh reappeared through the back door—alone. “Rachel’s gone back to the house for now,” he said to Mr. Taylor. “She bids me tell you she’ll speak with you later, but assures me there’s no fault of Ben’s in the matter.”
He shot Ben a pitying look.
The older man had returned to rubbing his jaw thoughtfully. “Rachel refusing to even face a suitor. Now there’s an interesting turn.”
“How unfair of you, to argue for him!”
Rachel stood almost toe-to-toe with Daddy, who regarded her with maddening calm. “The man cares for you, plain and simple. If you don’t care for him in return, then be honest and tell him so. Don’t leave him hanging.”
“I—” Rachel stomped her foot and whirled away, covering her eyes with one hand. “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
She couldn’t even begin to explain to him all the reasons.
“If you’re worried about him turning out to be a rascal, sweetheart, I can tell you … he ain’t like the Harpes, by a long shot.”
She did not move. “I know that.”
“And if—honey, we’ve stood back and watched you with one lovesick fool after another. Ain’t never seen you run away from any. Are you just spooked because you let this one past your defenses, but when faced with really trusting him …?”
Rachel sucked in a breath that was too much like a sob. “I don’t know if I can bear losing him, Daddy. The Harpes aren’t anything close to finished yet, are they? No? Well then, even you agree. And he’s determined to hunt them until justice is served or—” She fought down the weeping. “What if they kill him too?”
Daddy took her by the shoulders, turned her around. “C’mere, sweetheart.”
She sagged against him, forehead to his chest. This—this was what she missed with Ben—
“We can’t live our lives running scared. God gave you a family who loves you—and just maybe a man of your own in this Langford fellow. Nay, don’t be squawking just yet,” he said to her protest. “Stranger things have happened, you know.”
“Aye, but God gave Sally a family who loves her too, and—look what happened.”
He kissed the top of her head. “Bear in mind, her folks were none too pleased with Wiley Harpe, willing though they were to believe he’d made a true profession of faith and was the right man for her.” He chuckled. “You have to admit, it’s plenty ironic that I’m the one telling you to give Ben Langford a fair shake here.”
Sniffling, she nodded and pushed herself upright.
“Do I have your permission to invite the man to supper some night?” Daddy’s smile was teasing.
The supper invitation never happened, however. Daddy sent an inquiry over to the Whites, only to hear back that Ben had, after a brief visit with the Rices, departed for Virginia.
That was a safer route than striking off into the wilderness to hunt the Harpes on his own—which she’d feared he might consider doing. But the regret that he’d gone without a farewell—that she’d not properly greeted him after so many weeks apart—struck her more deeply than she expected.
Chapter Fourteen
Standing before his uncle, Ben closed his eyes and let the sorrow wash over him. It wasn’t that his family’s greeting was lacking. But after the openmouthed stares and expressions of shock, he knew he’d never be part of this world again.
Even if Rachel ultimately did not trust her entire heart to him.
From the large upholstered chair behind his desk, Uncle Ben fussed over the failure to apprehend the Harpes, then lapsed into reminiscing about the wildness of the mountains of Virginia, not so many years ago, and even to this day. What cut most deeply was how the older man had aged—what appeared a decade or more—in the months Ben had been absent. Then, tears in his eyes, he waved a hand. “And look at you, dressed as a savage yourself.”
“No, many of them dress more finely,” Ben said, but his uncle missed the dry humor entirely.
“Well, there you have it. Go shave, have your hair cut, and wear something appropriate to your station.”
Ben released a long sigh. “I am thinking of settling out there,” he said.
His uncle narrowed a look upon him, lips thinned. “I should have expected that.”
“I’m also thinking of marrying soon—once the Harpes are brought to justice, of course.”
“Ahh-h.” His uncle sat up, shuffled a few papers on his desk, and glared at Ben again, but it lacked the heat of a few moments ago. “You’ll leave many a girl’s heart broken, here in Virginia.”
“I never gave any of them cause to hope. Not with Thomas to look after.”
He regretted the words as soon as they escaped his mouth.
The older man stilled then sighed as well. “I suppose you are right. I am sorry, my boy.”
Ben’s eyes burned. His uncle had never, to his memory, apologized. “I am more sorry that I could not look after him as well as I should have, out on the frontier.”
“Yes. Well. See to apprehending those scoundrels, at least.”
June whiled away into July, unrelentingly hot and sticky. Two months and more it had been since they’d had word of the Harpes. Folk had begun to let their guard down. Talk was that the notorious pair had doubtless either gone farther north, across the Ohio, or floated on down toward the Mississippi. Perhaps they’d find their ilk in the wild town of New Orleans, and if so, good riddance. Let the authorities there deal with whatever mischief they caused.
Lord God, continue to watch over Sally. Protect her and little Eady … and the other babies as well.
It was Rachel’s almost continuous prayer.
And protect Ben and keep him well—wherever he is.
No more word had come from him. Rachel supposed it was to be expected, but she missed his articulate letters as well as his presence.
Independence Day came and went with its usual celebrations, a feu de joie that to be honest was little different from the everyday commotion of Knoxville. In the past, Rachel had found it exciting, but this time it all just wearied her.
How did folk who lived in Knoxville proper bear it on a daily basis? Even removed as they were, but positioned on a main thoroughfare, the constant activity of Campbell’s Station had begun to wear on her as well.
Although, pe
rhaps it was only the tension of waiting for word of the Harpes. Rachel wasn’t sure she could bear that even one more day.
But bear it, she did. Day after day, until nearly half the month slipped by, and all of them were wilting in the July heat. The cooler weather of September could not come soon enough.
She remained busy at the post, and while working on accounts and wishing for a walk down by the creek, just to dip her feet in for some relief, she overheard a snippet of news from one of the men out on the porch. “—murder, out along the Road in Roane County.”
Every hair on her head and arms rose with the chill.
It was the Harpes, she knew it. Even as the men on the porch soothed each other with, “Nah, it couldn’t be,” she knew.
July 29, 1799
“I knew that couldn’t be the end of it,” Ben muttered, setting down the delicate porcelain coffee cup and scanning the words of the newspaper article with more intensity.
“What is it?” Hugh leaned from his chair at the breakfast table, to one side of Ben, and at the other, Hugh’s wife Eliza likewise sat a little straighter.
Ben handed him the paper. “Boy of Chesley Coffey, up over on Black Oak Ridge, found murdered. After that farmer over in Roane County.”
Hugh paled. “That’s right up where the Harpes lived when Sally wed Wiley.”
Eliza’s cup clattered in her saucer. Hugh exchanged a long look with her then turned to Ben. “I know you’ll be going, but I can’t leave Eliza, so close to her time.”
“Understandably.” He lifted the coffee cup again and drained it. “I should prepare to leave right away.”
Eliza put out a hand. “Will you be stopping to see Rachel first?”
Rising from his chair, Ben hesitated. A pang still rippled through his middle at the thought of her. Even though he’d been back in Knoxville for the past week, he’d not ventured over to Campbell’s Station to see her.
Eliza’s earnest gaze was full of sympathy. “You should, Ben. Regardless of your last parting.”
He made no reply, and apparently Hugh felt the need to chime in. “Don’t give up on her quite yet.”
“I’m not giving up,” Ben murmured. “Only—ordering my priorities.” When they still looked pointedly at him, he went on, “I cannot properly court her until the Harpes are brought finally to justice.”
And Sally good and well rescued, but he’d not add that.
“Still,” Eliza persisted. “Hear that from me as a woman, as well as the wife of your friend. Don’t discount her need to be reminded that she’s likewise one of your priorities.” Her lips curved, the gray eyes sparkling.
He gave a reluctant nod. “Thank you both for your hospitality.”
“You are always welcome,” Hugh said. “And our prayers go with you.”
By the time he’d packed his things, including the beautiful rifle he’d purchased from Rachel’s father, and saddled Ivy, his mind was made up.
Mist clung under the trees and in the soft folds of the land, leading down to the river as Rachel walked across from their cabin to the trading post, carrying a basket over one arm. ‘Twas a pretty sight, the way the sunlight pierced and lit it, lending a dreamlike quality to the early morning. It had the effect of slightly muffling the sounds of the station awakening as well.
From just down the road, a lone rider appeared like a shadow, the horse’s smooth single-foot gait carrying him in what appeared a rippling glide. It was a familiar-enough sight, as the trait was favored among horsemen all up and down the frontier, but of course ever since Ben, the glimpse of such a horse in action never failed to tug at her heart and memory.
They still kept Dandelion too, and she and Daddy both enjoyed rides on him whenever possible.
As he neared, face turned her direction but indistinguishable under the brim of his hat, the rider reined his mount to a stop at the edge of the road. The horse sidestepped, eager to keep moving, and pulled at the bit, but the man astride kept his attention fixed on Rachel.
A chill swept her, not an ill sensation but rather—a knowing, and a surge of longing.
Ben.
She turned, facing him, clasping the basket in both hands, tilting her head in hopes of a better glimpse of his face. Neither of them moved for a long moment.
Then her feet were carrying her toward him, and he dismounted and met her halfway.
They stopped a little more than arms’ length from each other.
Rachel swallowed. “You’re going after them, aren’t you?”
He nodded.
Tears were rolling down her cheeks before she could stop them. Oh, how she regretted these last weeks, and the way his last visit had ended.
She reached out a hand, blindly, and he took it. Whether it was he who closed the remaining distance between them, or both of them, she never knew, but his arms around her were a comfort too sweet for words.
And she didn’t even care that they stood out in full view of anyone.
“I will find them, I swear it,” he murmured. “And if the Lord wills, come back to you after.”
She tipped her head to look up at him. “I’ll be praying for that, every moment.”
He didn’t even hesitate, but kissed her, warm and strong and confident, until both of them were breathless. Even then, he drew back only a bit, the brim of his hat shielding them both from the morning sun. “Twice now you’ve kissed me goodbye,” he whispered. “Promise me that next time you’ll kiss me hello as well.”
Her broken laugh came out in a shudder, like a sob. She curled one hand around the back of his neck and tugged him toward her. “I promise,” she breathed, as his lips settled against hers once more.
Three murders in the span of a week, two of which were almost certainly the Harpes. The last one bore the now-signature slashed gut filled with stones and the body sunk in the river.
Ben should not have been riding alone, much less to a place where they were known to have connections—however tenuous those were, or however long since anyone had even seen the Harpe women.
But somehow he couldn’t deny the impulse to go visit Reverend and Missus Rice and their family.
Nothing seemed amiss when he approached the cabin. The expected sounds of children playing echoed from behind the house, and a cow and horse lounged in adjacent pens. “Halloo the house!” he called as he rode into the yard—the custom not so different from rural parts of Pitt County, Virginia—but definitely more needful on the frontier if one wished not to be shot on sight.
And something about this visit felt very wrong, despite the warmth the Rices had extended him when he’d been here last month.
A movement showed at one of the windows, then Reverend Rice himself opened the door and stepped out onto the porch. Ben noted that he was careful to shut the door behind him.
“Mr. Langford. We’d not expected you today.”
A chill touched Ben’s shoulders. This was certainly not the welcome of last time. “How do you do, Reverend Rice? I was in the neighborhood and thought to look in on you and the family.”
The preacher came to the top of the steps, and even to Ben’s eye his smile appeared forced. “We are very well, thank you. And yourself?”
“I am well,” Ben said.
A baby’s cry came from inside the house, and Reverend Rice flinched but did not otherwise react. But such a thing should not have been unusual for their home, full of youngsters as it was.
And then a second cry—two at once. Reverend Rice looked pained.
The door opened again, and Ben should have been unsurprised when Sally appeared in the doorway. She frowned at Ben for a long moment then said, “You might as well come in, Mr. Langford. It’s just Betsey and Susan and I—and the babies too, of course.”
He tethered Ivy, scanned the yard for signs of the Harpe men, then stepped inside.
The interior of the cabin was hot, but the other women huddled close. On a blanket spread on the floor, one of the babies lay, kicking and cooing, while Susan had pi
cked hers up and sat preparing to nurse the child. Sally’s mother held the third while an older girl—presumably a sister—leaned over her shoulder.
“What are you doing here, Mr. Langford?” Sally asked, a note of alarm in her voice.
“I was coming to look in on your parents, and to let them know—” He looked around the room, not missing the obvious joy of Missus Rice in Sally’s baby—even Reverend Rice’s expression was one of tenderness as he watched his wife and grandchild. Ben cleared his throat. “I simply wished to make my farewells before I leave Knoxville.”
The women all exchanged glances, seeming to grasp the implication well enough.
“And how fares Rachel?” Sally asked softly.
“Rachel seems to be well. Concerned for you.”
Sally’s eyes darted about. “She shouldn’t be.” The words were blithe, spoken with a forced cheer. “I am well, as you can see, and so is little Eady.”
Ben was weighing a response when she rounded on him, her voice dropping. “Thank you for your concern, Mr. Langford. You should go now. It ain’t safe for you here.”
And God help him, but the fear gripped his throat at her words. To be caught alone if Micajah and Wiley returned—
He made himself keep calm. “How is it you came to be here?”
She flashed a brittle smile. “Big and Little know the value of family. They were kind enough to let us stop so Daddy and Mama could see the babies.”
He tried to hold her gaze, but she was watching her mother with little Eady again. Suppressing a sigh, he gave them all a nod. “Missus Rice. Miss Rice. Susan, Betsey. It has been good to see you. Reverend Rice.” He reached out and shook hands with the preacher, whose relief shone in his features. “Thank you for your time.”
“Keep us in your prayers, son.”
“Already done.” He hesitated at the door. “Sally? It isn’t too late.”
But she shook her head and turned away. “Is so,” he thought he heard her mutter.
With another nod to the room at large, he took his leave, neck and shoulders prickling as he fetched Ivy—but there was nothing amiss in sight.
The Blue Cloak Page 18