The Dowry

by C W Lamb

  “You sure are a pretty thing,” one of the men commented in a tone she found unappealing.

  “Shut up!” another responded before turning to Charlotte. She instantly pegged the second speaker as the leader.

  “Sorry ma’am, we’ve been ridin’ for quite a stretch and we are all hungry and tired,” he replied as he dismounted and started forward.

  Charlotte could see all three men were armed, the mouthy one carrying a rifle across his lap while the other had a pistol in his belt. The one talking carried a saber, similar to the one her Jefferson carried.

  “Best you stay just where you are.” Charlotte lifted the barrel of her gun slightly as the man approached the steps of the porch.

  The man looked down before giving a loud sigh while shaking his head.

  “Now Missy, no need to make this difficult….” The man paused mid-sentence as he looked up once more.

  Charlotte could see the demeanor of all three change as she heard the sound of boots on wood behind her. She had a quick flush of fear as she considered that a fourth man had come in behind her.

  “I suggest you do as the lady says and stay put,” Jefferson commented as he stepped up next to his wife.

  A wave of relief passed through her. Glancing at her husband as he stepped past her, she could see he had his pistol tucked in his belt, one hand resting on its butt while the other hand rested on his saber handle.

  “Take a step back,” Jefferson said quietly to his wife, then stopped in the space between her and the three men before them.

  “That’s a good-looking blade…Cavalry?” Jefferson indicated the sword the closest man carried at his waist.

  Charlotte was aware that sabers like that were typically issued to Cavalry officers like Jefferson or taken as trophies from the battlefield. Since she could see this man was no officer, the latter pegged him as a deserter. Unfortunately, the man understood that as well.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Jefferson said as the man began to go for the handle of his saber.

  By now Charlotte had leveled her shotgun at the man farthest from them, the one who had made the rude comment when they first arrived. Standing behind Jefferson, she had moved slightly away and to one side to ensure her shot, if need be, wouldn’t also hit her husband.

  It was then that everything seemed to happen at once. Charlotte heard Jefferson’s pistol fire as the man in the middle, still on horseback, went to draw his from his belt. As the third man raised his rifle, Charlotte let loose with her shotgun, taking the man from his saddle and scattering all three horses in a mass of confusion.

  Turning, she was just in time to see the first man knock Jefferson’s pistol from his hand with a backswing of his saber while Jefferson struggled to pull out his own blade with his free hand. Charlotte watched as the deserter recovered and proceeded to strike at Jefferson once more.

  Thinking quickly, she reached out with the barrel of her shotgun, taking the blow intended for her husband as he cleared his blade. She could see the interrupted attack still bit lightly into Jefferson’s left arm, just below the shoulder. A small amount of blood appeared, staining his gray fabric red.

  At this point, the man grabbed the barrel of her gun and shoved hard, driving the butt into her chest and sending Charlotte sprawling as Jefferson engaged him with his sword. The sound of steel on steel rang out as the two men pressed for an advantage over the other. Driving down from the porch steps, she could see Jefferson pressing the man back.

  Charlotte recovered from her fall and began searching for Jefferson’s pistol as the men fought nearby. Finding it laying in the dirt near the battling men, she scrambled to pick it up. With the gun in one hand, she used her free hand to cock the pistol, and then she quickly turned to face the struggling men.

  She was just in time to see Jefferson drive the tip of his blade through the deserter’s throat, the blade appearing out the back. A moment frozen in time, she watched the dead man drop his sword as he crumbled at Jefferson’s feet, sliding off the blade as her husband stepped back.

  “Oh, thank God you are ok,” she cried out as she ran to her husband’s side.

  She could feel Jefferson’s arms as they wrapped tightly around her. Kissing the man that had just saved her from a fate worse than death, she slowly pushed back far enough to see his face.

  “How did you get here? Are you OK?” she asked, confused at his presence and attempting to check his wound while still in his grasp.

  “We moved south, back into Florida. My unit is in Olustee at the moment, so I came home to check on you.”

  He studied her face with a look only love could inspire.

  “I am so glad you did.”

  She buried her face in his chest once more. Looking back into his eyes, she could see a tiredness there, one that made her worry over what he had been through these last few months.

  “Why don’t you and the young’un’s go collect those horses, while I drag the bodies to the river. No use wasting precious time burying these three,” he replied as he finally released his wife.

  Charlotte did as her husband instructed, assisting the children as they collected the interloper’s horses, removing anything incriminating, should the Union troop come snooping once more. Stabling the three and disposing of the unwanted items in the river, she returned to the house just in time to meet Jefferson on the back porch. She quickly climbed the steps, stopping beside the man that she missed so desperately.

  Turning to face him, he kissed her before taking her by the hand and leading her into the house and upstairs. Entering the washroom, she could see the white porcelain bathtub they had purchased in London during their honeymoon, filled with water. Originally considered a wasteful extravagance by Charlotte, the cost of shipping greater than the purchase price due to the fragile material it was made of, she had come to enjoy the bath as he said she would.

  “Come stand here,” Jefferson had instructed softly as he led her next to the body of hot water.

  At first thought a novelty by her architect, a separate upstairs room with a hand pump for water and a draining washbowl had proven popular with overnight guests. The addition of the bath was Jefferson’s idea and Charlotte knew that he must have had someone carry several buckets of hot water up the stairs to prepare this bath for her.

  How he had managed to do all this without her discovering it was a surprise. She watched his face, studying every inch as he slowly began removing her clothing, letting each piece drop to the floor as he untied or unbuttoned it. Soon she found herself naked before her husband, unashamed in the lamplight as he extended a hand to help her step into the tub.

  “No, let me,” he’d said as she reached for the soap and sponge.

  She had watched as he first rolled up his sleeves before taking the soap in one hand and the sponge in the other. Dipping both into the hot water, he worked the soap into the sponge before bathing her. Starting at her shoulders, he had worked his way down her body, leaving no place untouched.

  Then, just as she had assumed he had finished bathing her, she felt his hand on her shoulder, stopping her attempt at standing. She watched as he began to undress himself, dropping his own clothing on top of her discarded garments. Once he was completely bare, he slid carefully behind her, gently pulling her back to rest against him.

  He continued his actions as before, his hands roving about her body, only now she could tell a difference. His touch was light and sensual, his fingers stroking her skin lightly as his hands wandered over the more sensitive parts of her body. She closed her eyes as she leaned back into him, her head resting against his shoulder. She could feel his warm breath on her shoulder, his beard rough against her cheek, adding to the conflicting sensations of rough and smooth.

  After several moments of his attentions all over her body, Jefferson began to concentrate his focus on just a few places. She could feel the need building inside her as she lifted her arms above her head, encircling his head behind her and drawing him to her
from behind. A gentle kiss on her cheek was her reward as she thrust her chest out, arching her back and driving her shoulders back into his chest. Her actions were willing his attention to the sensitive parts of her body, the unspoken demand understood by her man.

  She heard a slight gasp escape her own lips, unintended but uncontrollable, as he found the spot she had hoped. Her breath becoming ragged and irregular as he slowly worked his magic on her under the lukewarm water they shared.

  “I need you, now,” she heard herself whisper to him as she turned in place to face him, both their bodies lying the length of the bathtub.

  Pressing her breasts into his chest, she hungrily searched for his mouth with hers. By the time they exited the bath and gently toweled each other dry, the water had long gone cold. They shared a passionate kiss as he dropped the towel, taking her in his arms and drawing her close against his body.

  Not bothering to dress, he then led her into their bed-chamber where they spent the night exploring each other’s bodies until, both exhausted, they drifted to sleep. It was a night she had hoped to repeat many more times to come.

  Foxworth House, Present Day

  The work in town was starting to wind down as the two restoration projects there entered the final phase of Robert’s 3 Phase philosophy. Thankfully, much of what was left to be done in the church didn’t require large deliveries of materials or appliances.

  Fortunately, neither project had required significant structural work either. The lion’s share of what Robert needed to have done was removing specific modern touches to restore the period correct charm that both clients desired. While he hesitated in saying the devil is in the details in a church, the sentiment still held true.

  With his crews scouring both the inside and the outside of the structure, they had patched, plastered, painted and polished just about every inch of the building. The stained-glass windows were all inspected by expert restoration specialists to guarantee their future, repairs made as needed.

  The Sammis Plantation house was treated to the same detailed efforts. The plantation-style front pillars were stripped, inspected and then refinished as was all the structural parts of the house. The siding was removed and replaced with period correct materials, all treated to extend their life. Robert was particularly proud of the work they did in the kitchen, giving the owners the same design as he had made for his own home.

  Due to several large trees dangerously close to the house, Robert contacted a local arborist to trim them up, removing some of the roots while insuring their survival. The owner had insisted that unless the trees proved to be a direct danger to the house, they were all to stay. Robert was happy to be able to save them all.

  The church was the first of the two renovations to get final approval from the customer, as the majority of the renovations at that location involved the interior of the building. The final walk through was more like a parade as a large number of people wanted to see the work that had been done.

  The church leadership were all delighted with their new, old structure, and invited both Robert and RD to the dedication. It was to be a BBQ and the Methodist Congregation had a special ceremony with Robert and RD as the guests of honor. The building exterior and interior work had come out splendidly, and Robert was particularly pleased at the steeple, as it glistened white in the bright Florida sunlight.

  The review of the Sammis Plantation house was a much more subdued event, the owner onsite for the first time since Robert had started the project. With just the immediate family on hand, they toured the house, while Robert indicated the changes required in the renovation.

  It was projects like this that mattered most to Robert. While the work at the church was important and demanded every bit as much of his attention, this was going to be someone’s home. For that reason, Robert worried about the emotions his work evoked.

  The love and care that people put into their homes was something that touched a part of him deep inside. It was that same desire that drove the work he was doing for Charlotte and his soon-to-be new home.

  ----*----

  If Charlie could have slammed the phone down as she hung up her cell phone, she would have gladly done so. The motivation for such drastic action was the owner of her current residence. Her standard agreement was half the house-sitting fee up front and half on the owners return.

  This guy had just informed her he wanted her to stay on a few days after his return before paying her, to be sure everything was till in good working order. Between that and his constant comments that they should get to know each other better had her positive he intended to short her on her fee or was looking for additional services she had no intention of providing.

  To make matters worse, he was coming home early, and she had not yet found another job. The combination left her homeless and short the funds necessary to bridge the gap until she did land work.

  Frustrated, she stepped outside and grabbed the afternoon mail from the box, questioning why she was still doing her job. She absently sorted through its contents as she walked back to the house, her mind racing for a solution to her predicament. Stopping before she reached the front door, she stared at a letter with no addressee, just this address on its front.

  Flipping it over, Charlie found a red wax seal with the Letter F centered in the impression. Hesitating at first, she impulsively broke the seal and cautiously peeked inside. Her heart skipped a beat as she noted several large denomination bills inside as well as a folded piece of paper.

  Slipping the paper out but leaving the money inside, she opened the folded parchment and read the short message within. It took her several minutes to absorb the meaning of the words in her hand, but as she did so she recognized the solution to her problems.

  “I am so outta here,” she said aloud as she headed inside to collect her meager belongings and plan her escape.

  ----*----

  The day he had been looking forward to, finally arrived. As the last of the furniture was placed in the living room, Robert was ready to declare the renovation complete. He and RD wandered from room to room trying to find something they had forgotten, to no avail.

  “Man, this place is a time capsule,” RD commented as he studied the detail work on one of the refinished sofas.

  “The stuff we found in the attic was a lifesaver. A lot of this I was able to find listed in Charlotte’s diaries. I can tell you where it came from and even why she bought it,” Robert replied proudly.

  “What about the stuff still out there?” RD asked as he pointed to the carriage house.

  Not to be forgotten in the renovation, Robert had diverted a portion of his crew to the restoration of the old structure as they came available. Sound as the day it was built, it had taken far less work than expected to bring back its luster.

  As they cleared the first floor of furniture, RD had moved all the leftovers to the second floor before jackhammering out the old concrete and replacing it with a new pour, properly reinforced and finished.

  They had installed both lighting and electrical outlets on both floors, the lighting providing good illumination inside even in the darkest of nights. The outlets supplied power for the workshop Robert planned for one end of the first floor. Others were there for whatever might come up.

  The three sets of double doors were plenty wide enough to allow Robert’s truck to pass and the building deep enough to accommodate its length with room to spare. Robert had even joked that he now had a place to store a boat, had he one to put in there.

  The final touch was the air conditioning and heating he had cleverly installed, hidden from view, but more than sufficient to cool both floors of the newly sealed structure. With everything closed up, he could work inside in comfort in the hottest of Florida summers.

  “It’s all safe out there for now, I have the AC set to keep the heat and humidity down inside,” he replied.

  “Just make sure you invite me to the housewarming party!” RD said as he headed out the door with a wave a
nd a nod.

  “Will do,” Robert replied as he followed his friend out onto the front porch.

  Giving him a wave in return, he watched him drive out the gate and noted the newly installed automatic gate opener was working flawlessly. He almost burst out laughing as he considered his fixations on a resident spirit, noting she could now relinquish her gate duties.

  Leading Hunter back inside, Robert decided that work ended early today and he headed upstairs to shut down his computer. Organizing the loose paperwork spread across his desk, he then went back downstairs, pausing a moment to enter the parlor.

  “Well Charlotte, what do you think of the place now?” he asked the portrait recently restored to its rightful place over the fireplace.

  Pausing in the silence that followed, Robert couldn’t decide whether the warm feeling enveloping him was Charlotte’s approval or his own satisfaction at a job well done. With a laugh, he and Hunter went out to the pool to relax and celebrate. He knew tomorrow he needed to make arrangements to have the last of his things shipped from storage in California, severing the last tie with his ex-wife there.

  ----*----

  Robert was just starting to get into a routine now that he had been in the house for a full week. All of his things had arrived from California in a single shipping crate, and he had moved a good portion of it into the carriage house second floor for safekeeping as it clashed with the current décor.

  Heather had taken some care in having the crate packed, but he could tell by the way she used his best clothes to wrap some of the breakables that it wasn’t entirely without malice. Fortunately, the weather difference between San Francisco and Florida made a good portion of them unnecessary.

  It was just before sunset and Robert was settling down at his desk in his study after dinner when he heard Hunter downstairs, barking his someone’s coming bark. He enjoyed working in the study, with its decor done in a fine Victorian fashion. Here, the dark wood furnishings and woodwork were offset by the white plaster ceiling and walls.