by Lisa Harris
BY LISA HARRIS
SummeRSIde
PRESS
Love Finds You in Revenge, Ohio
© 2009 by Lisa Harris
ISBN 978-1-934770-81-8
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form, except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without written permission of the publisher.
All scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.
The town depicted in this book is a real place, but all characters are fictional. Any resemblances to actual people or events are purely coincidental.
Cover and Interior Design by Müllerhaus Publishing Group, www.mullerhaus.net
Published by Summerside Press, Inc., 11024 Quebec Circle, Bloomington, Minnesota 55438, www.summersidepress.com
Fall in love with Summerside.
Printed in the USA
Dedication
To the One whose love for us is as high as the heavens are above the earth, and who has removed our transgressions from us as far as the east is from the west.
Acknowledgments
My wonderful crit buddies, Susan Page Davis, Darlene Franklin, Lynette Sowell, and Beth Goddard. I’d be lost without you.
Ellen Tarver, who’s always willing to go the extra mile to make my story better.
And the incredible Summerside Press team, Rachel, Jason, and Susan, who are a joy to work with.
Special Thanks
To Art and Kythrie and their precious three kids who spent the day in Revenge, playing in the creek and roaming through the cemetery so they could take photos of the area for my book.
“Bless the LORD, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits: who forgiveth all thine iniquities; who healeth all thy diseases; who redeemeth thy life from destruction; who crowneth thee with lovingkindness and tender mercies; who satisfieth thy mouth with good things; so that thy youth is renewed like the eagle’s.”
PSALM 103:2–5 KJV
WHILE THE QUAINT TOWN OF REVENGE IS LITTLE MORE than a ghost town today, the former farming community is nestled in southwestern Fairfield County where Clear Creek meets Middle Fork Creek. Named after a competition between two shopkeepers, the winner took his revenge and named the town…Revenge. The small hamlet never had a booming population; for many years, the only major business was the general store where local farmers could buy supplies. At the time of my story, the Johnson Covered Bridge hadn’t been built, but today it’s considered one of the country’s historic bridges. Adding to Revenge’s image as a ghost town, rumor has it that a woman drowned in Clear Creek during a thunderstorm and now haunts the bridge. While I did take the liberty of adding to the small population for the sake of the story, I hope you enjoy the flavor and history of the not-quite-forgotten town of Revenge, Ohio.
Lisa Harris
Chapter One
Revenge, Ohio, 1884
The only thing worse than being a spinster is being a twice-jilted spinster. The notion struck Catherine Morgan like a spring tornado and brought with it a deluge of unwanted memories. It didn’t matter that the implied words came from her well-meaning younger sister, Emily. Well-meaning or not, Catherine was tired of afternoons filled with tea and scones that consistently turned into an unrehearsed chorus of matchmaking schemes from one of her three sisters.
Corbin Hunter had been the first suitor to leave her with both a broken engagement and a broken heart. Technically, Robert Foster never proposed. Once he realized he’d be living under the same roof as all four of the Morgan sisters, he bolted. But she’d realized long ago that marrying either man would have been a mistake she’d have lived to regret. Any man unwilling to shoulder a parcel of responsibility in caring for her sisters wasn’t worth the nest egg she’d hidden in the bottom of the sugar jar.
She bit into a sweet piece of molded chocolate to ease the sting and stared out across the tall prairie grasses framing the skyline to the west that eventually merged with the Appalachian forest to the east. A sticky breeze filtered across the wraparound porch of her sister’s house and left her longing for the cooler days of springtime.
“I heard that the new sheriff is unattached.” Emily poured herself another cup of iced tea from the cut glass pitcher made at her husband’s shop. “And incredibly handsome.”
Once again, Catherine ignored the implications and took a sip of her drink. She caught the smile on her sister’s face that was as bright as it had been on her wedding day fourteen months ago. Catherine couldn’t deny marriage had been good for her younger sister. As for herself, she’d long since given up on any expectations regarding her entry into the so-called blissful state of matrimony of which Emily constantly spoke. Not that Catherine felt she had any say in the matter. Last she looked, there were no eager suitors lining up outside her general store ready to profess their undying love to her.
She watched her sister absentmindedly reposition the ostrich plume that had fallen askew on her blue velvet hat. Porcelain skin, lightly blushed cheeks, dark lashes. Catherine didn’t have to look into a mirror to know that her own complexion had one too many freckles, cheeks that were far too rosy, and a hat that…well…a sensible hat that only helped prove local gossip to be true.
Emily was the natural beauty of the family—the fashionable figure of the four Morgan sisters, with a husband who would do anything to please her, including his recent gamble at raising ostriches in order to supply his wife with an ample supply of feathers. Audrey, Emily’s twin, was the creative one, and the youngest Morgan sister, Lily, was the adventurous sibling who longed for life outside their quaint Ohio town.
Catherine, on the other hand, had turned out to be the practical-minded, twice-jilted, oldest daughter who’d spent the last seven years holding the family together after the death of their mother. Not that almost twenty-five was old, she supposed, but a life that revolved around running the town of Revenge’s general store left her with little time to pursue purely frivolous things. Such as securing a husband.
She ran her fingers across the plain brown taffeta of her dress and tried not to compare it to Emily’s stylish sapphire colored gown. Her sister’s brocade morning dress was everything hers wasn’t. Added to that was the piercing reminder that Emily had been the one with the line of suitors outside the general store—until Grady O’Conner won her heart and hand in marriage and swept her away to his two-story home, nestled between wooded areas of Canadian hemlocks and oak trees and wide-open farmland on the outskirts of Revenge.
Catherine fiddled with the stitched edge of the white tea cloth in front of her. She couldn’t remember the last time her appearance had turned a man’s head. Somewhere during the course of raising her siblings, the soft ringlets that had once framed her heart-shaped face had been pulled into a tight bun for ease and her fancy dresses replaced with more practical versions.
All because of a promise made to her mother on her deathbed.
Ignoring the unwanted tears that laced her eyelashes, Catherine focused on the sprinkling of wildflowers dotting the landscape. Truth be told, it wasn’t her mother’s fault that Catherine preferred efficiency over strategies to catch a husband. Mother, with her fashionable, striped silk skirts and lavender perfume, had managed both.
Until Isaiah Morgan walked out on his wife and four daughters.
Catherine shifted in the padded porch chair. It was time for a new subject. “Did I tell you that I’m going to install a telephone switchboard at the store?”
“A telephone?” For the first time all afternoon, Emily’s smile melted into a frown. “Why in the world would you want to do that?”
Catherine had already prepared her defense. “Think about when the baby comes. What if Grady
is at the glass factory or out on the farm and you need the doctor?”
Emily waved her hand then placed it on her bulging stomach. “Grady’s relying more and more on his employees and rarely leaves my side now. Do you actually think he’d leave me alone once the baby comes due?”
“If he has to go fetch the doctor, it will take twice the time. A telephone would save the trip into town.”
“Fiddle.” Emily snorted, her one unladylike habit. “I’m not the only critic who believes that the invention is nothing more than a craze that will disappear once the next fad comes along.”
“Like ostrich feathers?”
“More like the Baldwin twin’s stack of failed inventions.”
Catherine couldn’t help but laugh. Horace and Harold Baldwin had been a fixture in her store for as long as she could remember. When they weren’t sparring over a game of chess beside the woodstove in the center of the store, they were busy inventing. But so far, their attempts to create the perfect liniment had only succeeded in producing a number of mysterious skin rashes.
“And as for my ostrich feathers,” Emily continued. “At ten dollars apiece, I’d gamble on a dozen ostriches over the telephone any day.” Her sister took a thin slice of caraway cake and set it on her plate. “You’re far too serious, Catherine. Mark my words. The telephone will never become a practical necessity.”
Catherine frowned. So it had been said, but she didn’t believe it. And one simply couldn’t compare Horace and Harold’s Magic Tonic Water or Amazing Gum Turpentine Liniment to the modern communication miracle of the telephone. The hiss of a male ostrich jerked her attention to the nearby paddock. Popping a second bite-sized chocolate into her mouth—the one that was bound to add an extra inch to her slim figure—she ignored the mournful sound. Or at least tried to. Emily maintained that the mammoth birds were exceptionally docile creatures, but when it came to the eight-feet-tall and three-hundred-fifty-pound ostrich, Catherine had another opinion.
She saw a dozen intimidating birds with bulky bodies and pale, thin legs that ended in two toes. And lethal toes at that. The longest boasted a thick nail that served as a weapon when panicked. No. The heavy demand of a fashion rage would never have compelled her to invest in the wild birds. Black feathers and white plumes were simply not worth the monetary venture.
Her sister caught her gaze, the pale blue of her eyes sparkling in the late afternoon sun. “They’re quite harmless, Catherine. I promise.”
Three hundred fifty pounds of anything was never harmless.
Instead of arguing, Catherine simply reminded herself to be thankful for the sturdy wooden fence separating the porch of the main house and the herd. And, despite their ridiculous farming choice, Catherine couldn’t argue with two important facts. Emily’s husband was a decent, wealthy man who treated his wife well, and secondly, Catherine wasn’t the one who had to live with Emily’s experimental project that was bound to fail once winter arrived.
“I almost forgot.” Emily clapped her hands and reached under her chair. “I have a present for you.”
“A present?” Catherine caught sight of the neatly wrapped box with its red bow and quirked her left brow. “My birthday isn’t until September.”
“Exactly, and that hat will never make it that long.”
“My hat?” Catherine touched the edge of the gray felt and felt a warm blush creep across her cheeks. She had no intention of admitting her inferior fashion choices. “There’s nothing wrong with my hat.”
“Perhaps not.” Emily slid the lid off the box and pulled out a green velvet hat with three artistically placed ostrich plumes. “But look at this.”
There was no denying that Emily had fabulous tastes when it came to clothes, a fact that suddenly made Catherine question why she’d always insisted that the store carry a sampling of the latest trends from the East but had, herself, always chosen the more sensible attire.
Emily handed her the stunning velvet accessory. “Try it on.”
Catherine tugged on the silver hatpin at the base of her neck then set her gray cap on the table in front of her. She poked at one of the red berries that sat on top of it and frowned. Emily was right, of course. This hat didn’t deserve to see the light of day.
In contrast, the green velvet shimmered in the afternoon sunlight. Even the dyed feathers matched the material perfectly. As she ran her hand across the fabric, she relished its smoothness. She placed it gingerly on her head.
“In the past two months, Audrey and I have sold a dozen of our hats. It’s about time you had one of our originals.” Emily smiled. “It looks beautiful on you.”
Catherine glanced at her hazy reflection in one of the front window panes and laughed at the ridiculous comment. “You’re the beautiful one. Remember?”
“All you need are a few new dresses to go with the hat, and you’ll be the talk of the town.”
Catherine’s laugh stuck in her throat. “Who said I wanted to be the talk of the town?”
“You know what I mean.” Emily floated around the table to adjust the hat. “You deserve more than ten-hour days at the general store and a pile of bookkeeping at night.”
“I like bookkeeping.” She was being obstinate and she knew it, but work had always come first. Just after her sisters.
“Catherine.” Emily stepped back, her fists against her hips in protest. “It’s what I’ve been trying to tell you for weeks. You need time off. Some fun.”
Catherine reached for another sweet then pulled back her hand. Even chocolate couldn’t compensate for the way she felt at the moment. Just because the chastisement might be legitimate didn’t make it less painful to swallow. “I have my garden, fundraising projects for the church’s mission society, and…”
She stopped mid-sentence. From Emily’s expression, her sister wasn’t impressed with her unending list of excuses. Maybe she was right. What would an updated wardrobe hurt? Or a bit more socializing at church functions and ladies teas, and less time worrying about the store and next month’s orders.
Catherine sighed and tugged the hat an inch to the left. No. She knew Emily well enough to realize that her definition of fun translated into more than simply being more sociably inclined. It meant finding someone to court her, a short engagement, followed by a blissful marriage. She wasn’t going to fall into the trap of even discussing suitors again.
A mournful roar came from the paddock. Catherine’s temples began to pulse. “How does Grady put up with that?”
Emily slid back into her chair. “True love covers a multitude of sins.”
Catherine couldn’t help but smile. “I don’t think the Good Book was referring to loving ostriches when that verse was written.”
Emily’s laughter flitted across the humid afternoon breeze. Love was blind, it seemed.
Sharing her husband’s time with both a well-established glass factory and a dozen ostriches had never seemed to bother Emily. In fact, Catherine had been surprised at how involved her sister had become in the everyday workings of the experimental project even though it had been her idea. A project that further proved Grady’s immense love for Emily in his agreeing to take a financial gamble on a herd of fair-weather birds not fit for the Ohio landscape. But whatever Catherine might think about the project, there was no denying Grady’s eagerness to do anything to please his wife. Something Catherine had yet to experience when it came to men.
One of the farm boys approached them, stopping at the bottom of the porch stairs. He tipped his hat. “Sorry to disturb you, ma’am.”
“That’s all right, Tomas.” Emily leaned forward in her chair. “What is it?”
“We’ve been cleaning out the paddocks and found eight new eggs. I was told you’d want to know.”
Emily surprised Catherine by jumping up like an excited school child. Funny how the African bird had a mesmerizing effect on Emily, while Catherine, on the other hand, wanted to run the other way.
With her new hat in place, Catherine followed Emily a
nd Tomas across the flat terrain, a good dozen steps behind. Her fears were irrational. She knew it. Grady had already assured her of the birds’ docile temperament. To prove his point, he even rode one around the paddock until the brainless bird knocked him into the fence. Only once, he’d claimed, had he heard of an irate bird that had left a worker with a deep gash across his arm.
Catherine froze at the reminder. Once was all it took.
Emily stopped outside the gate, a look of anticipation written across her face. “Grady has come up with the most ingenious way to keep the eggs and young chicks warm, by adapting heating methods he uses at his glass shop.”
They all knew that it was going to take a miracle for the young ostriches to survive Ohio’s climate even with Grady’s ingenious methods, but that fact obviously hadn’t stopped Emily from convincing her husband to try.
Tomas entered the paddock and held up one of the eggs for Emily’s inspection. Even from her position on the other end of the enclosure, Catherine was amazed at its size. The dull yellow egg was nearly six inches long.
A hissing sound broke through the relative quiet of the afternoon. A mere twenty feet from the farm boy, the male bird, left with the role of guarding the nest, stretched its head before shoving its wings upward. A glance at Tomas revealed that the boy wasn’t paying attention to the bird. Was he new at the job, or simply taking for granted that the bird wouldn’t harm him?
“Emily?” Catherine’s voice cracked.
The ostrich took several paces backwards, his feathers ruffled. By the time Tomas noticed its movements, it was too late. The quick-moving bird ran forward then kicked, slicing Tomas across the shoulder. Blood oozed through his shirt. Emily screamed.
Catherine gathered her skirts and ran toward Emily, her heart pounding as she caught sight of the open gate beside her sister. The ostrich hissed again as it reached the opening. Emily had yet to move. Catherine quickened her pace but still wasn’t close enough to intervene.
Someone shouted behind Emily. Catherine glanced up at the silhouette of a rider on horseback. The stranger jumped off the horse, his derby hat in his hand, and moved toward the ostrich. The bird jetted to the left, then back toward Emily. Catherine felt the air rush from her lungs, but she had no time to contemplate that the man standing between Emily and certain death was her once jilted beau—Corbin Hunter.