Cora whispered between clenched teeth, "What are you doing? I can't stay in a room with you."
The owner went on ahead and Frederic faced her and whispered, "You can and you will."
"But–"
"Ah, here we are." They rushed to catch up as he opened the first door on the left. Cora stood in the entryway and gasped. The large room sported a four poster bed covered in a bright yellow quilt, a paisley sofa, and a writing desk complete with chair, pen, and paper. Double doors swung outward onto a private balcony.
"Feel free to go outside and enjoy the breeze. When the days are warm the wife and I leave the doors open so the room doesn't get stuffy."
Vaguely she recalled Frederic thanking the man as she stood at the balcony door and let the fresh air waft over her. The smell of water mingled with flowers and she closed her eyes and inhaled.
"I hope you don't mind, but I'll tell the missus about your loss and I'm sure she'll want to gather some old clothes for both of you."
"Thank you," said Frederic.
"I'll go fetch them and bring them up."
The door clicked closed but Cora didn't move. When Mr. Monroe returned Cora turned to see his arms laden with gowns, breeches, and shirts. A pair of boots and slippers dangled from his fingertips.
"The lady's boots ain't exactly fit for wearing in public, but our daughter left them here when she married and since you've been doing a lot of walking I thought…" he stopped and shrugged.
With a swell of gratitude, Cora took them, and a tear slipped from the corner of her eye. Finally she would have a pair that fit better than those borrowed from the church.
"Don't cry now, miss. Trust me when I say these things were just waiting for the moths to get them. Much better that someone can use them. Now I'm going to leave you two youngsters alone and go downstairs. Listen for the bell."
Frederic promised they would and Cora turned to the clothes laid neatly on the bed. The gowns were made of thin cotton material much cooler for the summer weather than the velvet monstrosity she now wore. Fresh underclothing was buried inside the pile and Cora blushed as she stroked the silken material. "We really should have told them we were only traveling companions."
"No, we shouldn't have. The men looking for you know that we aren't married. So they'll be searching for a man and a woman, not a married couple."
Cora frowned. "Are we putting these people in danger?"
Frederic didn't answer.
She placed her hand on his forearm. "Well, are we?"
Frederic shrugged. "Maybe."
"Then we can't stay! Let's just take the clothes, pay them, and go."
"I can't do that."
"What do you mean you can't do that?"
"I don't have enough money."
"You don't have enough money," she said, the last three words drawn out slowly.
"I noticed he has a downed tree in the backyard, and I'm going to offer to chop it into firewood in exchange for letting us stay here."
"Don't you think you should have told him that first?"
He shrugged, and his lips twitched into a smile. "He didn't ask."
Cora forced her hands to her sides and balled them into matching fists as she fought the urge to pound them against Frederic’s broad chest.
"Why don't you wash up, find you something nice to wear to dinner, and I'll go downstairs and offer my services? If they say no, then we'll leave everything behind."
Defeated, Cora dropped into a rocking chair and nodded in agreement.
The door clicked behind him. She undressed and threw her old gown into the corner next to the fireplace. Grabbing a rag, and a bar of soap, she cleaned herself as much as she possible. The chilly bowl of water soon had her teeth chattering.
She rifled through the pile of gowns. A lavender one with mid-length sleeves and silken material would be perfect for meeting her family. The thick woolen fabric of dark brown gown scratched her hand and she considered leaving it behind since space on the horse or stagecoach would be limited.
Lightly she stroked a cerulean blue gown. The material glimmered in the afternoon light. If she closed her eyes she could imagine strutting along a boardwalk in such a creation. Why she might even add a plumed hat! The thought reminded her of the ostentatious lady on the stagecoach, and she giggled under her breath.
She settled on the side of the bed. She needed a comfortable gown for this evening's meal. Something she could relax in. Eyeing each gown one more time, she chose one buried at the bottom, it was a pale yellow. She pulled it over her head and it slid along her body like water cascading over her. Lace trimmed the edges and swept the floor with her movements. A smile spread her lips as she twirled before the mirror. Perfect.
She donned the donated slippers.
A breeze lifted the curtains and Cora rushed to the balcony and peered around the fluttering material to study the vast property. Tall trees decorated the backyard. Interspersed in no particular pattern, one could spot colorful blooming flowers. She shielded her eyes.
There he was. His shirt lay over a growing pile of wood. The muscles in his shoulders and back rippled as he swung an axe. Over and over he chopped. Butterflies danced in her stomach as she watched the repetitious movement. Sweat glistened on his chest causing it to glow in the afternoon sun. Hair fell across his forehead and he twisted his head to swoop it back. Their gazes collided, and Cora gasped. He’d caught her staring. How mortifying! Then he winked. She dropped the curtain and moved away, heat rushing to her cheeks.
With her back to the wall, she placed her hand over her fluttering heart. The clamor of a dinner bell rang and she jumped.
Gathering her wits, she bunched the folds of her skirts into her hand and affected a regal walk as she headed downstairs. The aroma of fresh-baked bread assaulted her senses and her mouth watered.
She reached the front door at the same moment Frederic stepped inside. His shirt lay open exposing his chest and she quickly glanced away.
"Go ahead and eat. I'll be down in a moment."
She avoided his gaze and nodded.
The oval dining room table was set for ten people. Mr. Monroe sat at the head, while his wife spread dishes on the sideboard. Cora stood in the doorway until he motioned her forward and offered a seat to his left. She took the chair and he pushed her up to the table.
She folded her hands in her lap and waited. Miss Monroe moved around them like a buzzing bee. Her hair had once been in a bun, neat and secure, but now fluttered about her face in graying wisps. She muttered to herself and Cora contemplated offering assistance.
Moments later Frederic slid in beside her. Relieved by his presence, she sent him a half-smile, hoping he would catch on to her melancholy.
"You look lovely this evening." His smile and his words sent her heart beating triple time.
She lowered her head and studied the table as heat flushed her face.
Mr. Monroe grabbed his wife's arm and urged her to sit. He rose and said a quick word of prayer. Cora barely paid attention to his words as she struggled with the sound of her pulse in her ears. Once resettled, their host began dishing portions of food onto his plate. Cora hesitated. Where were the other people?
"Go ahead and dig in," said Mr. Monroe.
Frederic complied, even scooping portions onto her plate.
"Where is everyone else?" inquired Cora, trying to forget Frederic's nearness.
This sent the woman into another tizzy. She stood, muttered some more, and ran to the kitchen. Mr. Monroe sighed. "You must forgive my wife. Over the years our house has been very full. Even though all the children have left the nest, she still thinks they're coming. Everyday she sets the table as if they're all here." He scooted out his chair. "Feel free to enjoy your supper, I'll be right back."
The man left and entered the kitchen. Hushed whispers were followed by both husband and wife returning to the table.
"So tell me Francis–"
Cora choked and Frederic patted her back. Francis? "S
orry," she said, trying to hide her curiosity.
Mr. Monroe frowned and started again. "Francis, what brings you to these parts?"
"We're newlyweds looking for a place to settle down."
"Oh, do you have somewhere in mind?"
"We've been thinking of traveling west."
"Oh, west. Lots of people leaving on those wagon trains or those new fangled iron beasts, and heading that way. Would try it myself if all my family wasn't close by."
"Precisely my thinking…go before you form any attachments."
Frederic and Mr. Monroe conversed about the beauty and the dangers of the western part of the country. Cora kept her gaze riveted to her plate, afraid she would give away their secret.
Frederic pushed back from the table and patted his stomach. "That was delicious. Thank you kindly," he said sending a glance at the mistress of the house.
She blushed at the praise and rose to clear the table. Cora offered to help but Mr. Monroe said, "Just let her. This is her only joy."
Frederic and Mr. Monroe retired to the parlor and Cora followed along. A bookshelf lined the wall and she studied the volumes of poetry.
Frederic said, "Thank you kindly for letting me work off my debt."
"No, thank you. My son only visits once a month and I feared our visit would be short if he spent it cutting wood."
They continued on in this vain until sunset.
"I believe we should retire. My young wife has let her lids droop."
"For sure. Would you like a wake up call?"
"I don't think so. I'm sure the sun peeping through the windows will be enough. Again, thank you kindly."
"You're welcome."
Pressure from Frederic's hand at the small of her back urged her to ascend the stairs. They entered their shared room and Cora stopped.
What now?
Chapter Seventeen
Although not unaccustomed to physical labor, Frederic's shoulder muscles ached and burned after chopping wood. He rolled his arms in a circular motion hoping to work out the stiffness.
The heat from Cora's gaze was palpable. No doubt she wondered at the sleeping arrangements. He shared her concern. Without a good night's rest he wouldn't be prepared to protect her. But sleeping in the same bed, side-by-side, could ruin her reputation. Not to mention the temptation it presented.
Cora stalked to the bed, grabbed the night dress, and carried it to a tiny closet off the main room. Frederic sat in a straight back chair and removed his boots. He wiggled his toes over the reed carpet and sighed in ecstasy.
He lifted his eyes to find Cora staring at him.
"Your turn."
He entered the closet, removed his clothes, and drew a long night shirt over his head. The fabric struck the back of his knees.
He cracked the door and peeked into the bedroom. Cora stood at the window. Her blond hair cascaded along her back in waves. She fingered the sheer curtains and multiple breaths parted her lips.
He slipped from the closet and stopped behind her. "What are you thinking?"
She faced him. Tears welled in her eyes and spilled onto her cheeks. She swiped them away and a downhearted smile tilted her lips. "I was thinking about why I left home in the first place."
"Ah, perhaps this isn't the best time for those thoughts. Often when we are tired and not at our best, we make things worse than they are." His words were a mistake.
She poked him in the chest as she ranted. "Worse than they are? How could I imagine my situation at any point in time? Tiredness has nothing to do with it. I'm being chased by crazy people over a sack of dirty clothes!" She fell into the chair and stared at the empty fireplace. "All I wanted was a few years to travel, to be free. I just wanted to be employed and then return home to settle down and marry. Just a few years to feel like I had accomplished something on my own that had nothing to do with my father or my husband. Where everyone could say at my funeral, 'she really lived', not just 'she had babies'. That's all I wanted." She rose and shuffled her feet across the floor.
She threw up her hands. "What a mess I've made of things." She flopped onto the sofa, and huffed a sigh. "If I'd just told Amelia the truth then she wouldn't have had to send someone to find me. She could have come herself. Or the letter would have arrived earlier and I could have made my way home sooner." Rapidly, she stood again, lifting her finger to the air. "If just one thing had changed, just one, I wouldn't have pretended to be a boy at the fish house and Jeffers would never have confronted me. Just one thing…" She fell backward and buried her face in her hands.
Any other words were drowned out by her sobs. Frederic knelt before her and clasped her hands. "Cora, this may not be what you want to hear and for that I'm sorry, but the truth is that what is done is done and it can't be undone. All we can do now is get you to safety and hope that you remember the face of the man who shot Jeffers."
Tears flowed in a mad dash and he wiped them away with his knuckle. She hiccupped and said, "What good will that do?"
His heart beat hard and fast against his chest as he told the lies. "If you can tell me who the man was, or give me an adequate description, then I can give it to the authorities and they can catch him and put him behind bars. After that he won't be able to hurt you any more."
She studied him, her eyes wide. "So if I can remember his face, the authorities can find him and I'll be safe?"
"Yes," he said, fighting a cringe.
"Then I will try."
He nodded and escorted her to the bed. The covers were pulled back and she climbed on top of the cool sheets. Her eyes were big and round as he pulled a thin blanket to her neck and tucked her in before planting a chaste kiss on her forehead.
He turned to walk away and she asked, "Where will you sleep?"
"The sofa is sufficient for one night."
She nodded and faced opposite him.
He curled onto the sofa and covered with a quilt. Crickets chirped outside the dark room. The sound mesmerized him, and he drifted to sleep.
****
Cora stretched her arms over her head and rolled to face the sofa. The quilt lay folded across the back and the sofa was empty. The sound of an axe whooshing through the air and falling into a log reached her ears.
Slowly she rose and walked to the window. Frederic stood in the axe yard. His shirt untucked, his hair unkempt, he lifted the tool over his head and let it fall. Sweat glistened along his chest. The sight made her heart rate increase and she closed her eyes and drew in several deep breaths. Memories of his lips touching hers raced through her mind and she imagined she was with him now touching his exposed skin and placing her lips to his. Heat infused her cheeks and she leaned forward, and laid her cheek against the window pane. The early morning breeze wafted through the open balcony door and cooled her heated flesh. Thinking about the past wouldn't help her get home. She left her position and dressed in one of the donated gowns. Before the mirror she studied her appearance. The light purple creation mixed with her tanned skin and made her look like an Easter flower. She smiled to herself and drew her slippers on. Later when they rode in the coach she would carry the boots from Mr. Monroe just in case she needed to walk again.
Downstairs, she entered the dining room. The sideboard was filled with breakfast items. She grabbed a plate and added eggs, bacon, biscuits, and gravy before taking a seat at the long table.
"Good, you've found the food," said Mr. Monroe as he leaned against the door facing.
She swallowed. "Yes, thank you."
"Your husband has been hard at work. Too bad you want to head west. I could have used someone like him around here."
She smiled and shoved a biscuit in her mouth to avoid telling the truth about her and Frederic's relationship.
"You'll want to finish eating. I saw dust from the coach about ten minutes ago."
Cora shoved back her chair, and swallowed, before asking, "Does Fr-Francis know?" She swallowed hoping Mr. Monroe hadn't caught her slip on Frederic's alias.
&nbs
p; The man scratched his head. "I didn't tell him, but I guess he could have seen it himself."
Cora left the table, raced outside, and skidded to a halt. She whispered loudly, "Frederic! Frederic!"
He dropped the axe and grabbed her upper arms. A smile lifted the corner of his lips. "Whoa, calm down, I'm right here."
"Oh, yes, I just wanted to let you know the coach has been spotted."
He drew his brows into a frown. "Already?"
"Yes. Mr. Monroe said it is about ten minutes out."
"We can't leave yet," he said, pushing her away and lifting the axe.
She dropped her jaw until she gathered her wits. "What? But if we aren't ready when it is time to go then there may not be another coach for a week!"
"I'm not leaving until I cut this wood, just like I promised."
"B-but–"
He released the axe, clasped her hands, and gazed into her eyes. "Go into the house and pack our things then sit on the porch and wait for me. I promise we'll make it."
She opened her mouth to protest, and shut it just as quickly. The folds of her skirts in her hands, she raced around muddy areas in the yard and headed back to the house. Ignoring the kitchen she headed to their room, found a canvas bag left by the proprietor, and stuffed the blue and yellow dresses and her slippers inside. Next she folded Frederic's items and placed them on top. She pulled on the boots from Mr. Monroe and carried the bag to the front porch to wait.
Their gracious host came out to check on her and she explained their situation. They were leaving for the station but not until Frederic finished his work. Mr. Monroe smiled and skipped back inside with a whistle on his lips.
Cora was glad someone was happy because she wasn't. What was Frederic thinking? Sure he wanted to be a man of his word and finish what he said he would do, but staying here any longer only put Mr. Monroe and his wife in more danger. What if Zeke and his merry men found their trail? What if it led them to these two kindly old people? What if they harmed them because they wouldn't tell what they knew?
Cora gnawed her lip and stared over the porch railing at the still large pile of logs. There was no way Frederic could finish chopping wood in time. How long would it take for the coach to arrive at the station and then leave again? No time had been posted on the walls of the station office. Did they just go when they were ready or did they leave at set times?
Cora (Southern Hearts Book 3) Page 9