***
Reagan found Amanda’s tracks as soon as he entered the forest. Yet, despite the trail being free of obstacles, it appeared her mount had skittered all over the road. He knew that a confined horse would make an unsafe mount and feared Amanda might be lost.
He swore, first at himself for leaving evidence for her to happen upon, then at Amanda for finding it. Fate had dealt him a royal flush in providing a reason to marry, and now his hand had been cruelly exposed. He would now have to explain his actions while at the same time, assuage her feelings.
From Reagan’s experience, young women thought marriage to be all romance with no obstacles to conquer. The best way to approach the situation, he rationalized, would be to impress upon his aggrieved wife that their troth was bound by contract. Along with that pledge came obligations and commitments. With the passage of time, he expected Amanda to see the necessity of their union. For despite his ruse in obtaining her hand, Amanda still needed protection from her accusers on both sides of the law.
To his chagrin, the hoof prints he had followed left the road. Reagan urged his steed to a brisker pace just as a powdery snow began to fall.
When the moon rose above the treetops, he came upon an area that seemed recently trampled. A large branch darkening the ground gave credence to his suspicions that something startled Amanda’s horse. If not for the tan coat contrasting against a dark trunk, Reagan might’ve missed the figure hunched against a tree. His heart lurched, for when he approached, Amanda didn’t move. Dismounting, he knelt beside her and turned her face. “Amanda,” he said and when her eyes remained closed, he shook her. “Amanda! Wake up!”
“Go away,” she mumbled, her head lolling against him.
Reagan wasted no time with useless words, but lifted her into his arMs. He positioned her in the saddle, and then holding her steady, mounted behind her. Gripping her tightly, he gave a savage kick, sending his steed racing toward camp.
Amanda struggled to unravel what seemed like conflicting bits of reality. She felt she was moving and she could hear the distant pound of hoof beats. Had she somehow recaptured her horse and was now fleeing through the darkness? Her body felt strangely upright, but bands of steel encompassed her. And, there was something else. She furrowed her brows, trying to interpret the rasping sound near her ears. She opened her eyes to visions of dancing branches and a moon that vibrated in a black sky. Unable to discern reality, Amanda drifted into a downward spiral from which she could not escape.
She became locked in a savage nightmare. A cacophony of voices tortured her with accusations of naïveté in the face of her betrayal. Visions of Elizabeth and Camilla whispering behind fans, taunted her. She imagined Beauregard gazing at her sadly while Reagan grinned lecherously nearby. The voice of Hogan drifted to her in stern reproval…“ain’t no man nor beast that won’t try to turn a situation to his advantage if’n a fool will let ‘em…” Amanda felt herself drowning in a pool of disgrace as she turned away from the blinding light of an overhead chandelier.
As Reagan neared camp, the trail became illuminated with lanterns, held high. The men holding beacons cheered as they detected the returning horse burdened with two riders. Soon after, Danny emerged from the woods, leading Amanda’s horse behind his own.
Reagan approached the cabin and quickly dismounted as Danny neared. “The palfrey dumped the little fool,” he said.
I’ll take the horses,” Danny said as Reagan gathered Amanda in his arms.
Reagan then kicked the cabin door wide before yelling over his shoulder, “Fetch Hattie!”
A fire had been laid in his absence and its warmth greeted him as he laid Amanda on the bed. Removing her hat and scarf, he became alarmed by her pale skin and bluish lips. He had just removed her boots when Hattie arrived with a tray, followed by Theo, whose arms were filled with quilts.
Pushing Reagan aside, she laid a hand on Amanda’s brow. “Put the quilts on a chair Theo, and git to bed. You need to git up in a few hours and start breakfast without me.”
“She gonna be a’right?”
“Pray, Theo,” she said. “That’s all I c’n say.”
After Theo left, Hattie unbuttoned Amanda’s coat. “Let’s git this girl warm,” she said. “Take off your coat and finish this while I heat them quilts a mite.”
Reagan took over the task of undressing Amanda before putting one of his heavy shirts on her. Meanwhile, Hattie dragged a chair next to the stove and draped a quilt over it. “Every few minutes I want you to turn this here blanket so it’s heated on both sides.” Returning to Amanda’s side, she gently prodded the girls’ bruises. “No broken bones, thank God,” she said before feeling Amanda’s pulse. “C’mon, girlie, it’s too slow. You’ve got to help me.”
Lifting a foot, Hattie rubbed vigorously. Her brow moistened while she worked from limb to limb, massaging her skin. “How’s that quilt a’comin’?” she snapped.
Reagan placed a blanket over Amanda while Hattie took the time to remove her coat. “Git another started,” she instructed, “and put that pot I brought, on the stove.”
She fussed over Amanda for another half-hour before noting the girls’ returning color and normal breathing. Feeling relief, the cook went to stir the contents of the pan. “This soup’s for your wife. But the rest,” she nodded toward the tray, “is for you. I’ll watch over your missy, whilst you eat. Ain’t no sense in me having to fret over both of you tonight.”
Reagan stoked the fire before going to his desk. He could imagine Amanda’s shock when she discovered he had used her dowry to keep his lumber business running. Now that she knew, he’d most likely lost her trust.
Hattie succeeded in getting a few spoonfuls of soup between Amanda’s lips before turning her attention to the pile of wet garments. She clucked while spreading them near the stove. “Cain’t figure why your wife would just up and skedaddle,” she said, looking askance. “Cuz when she left my kitchen, she wuz just fine.”
Reagan didn’t answer, but instead picked up several papers from his desk and tossed them into the stove.
Hattie watched with interest. “Well now, I bet whatever upset your missus is no more’n a pile of ashes! I don’t reckon that’s gonna fix your problem. She done seen what was on them.”
Reagan stared at Hattie’s defiant stance. “Thank you Hattie, for those words of wisdom. I can take over now.”
“You best fix what’s between the two of you,” she warned. “It’s a long time a’fore winter breaks, and you c’n take your missy home.” Putting on her coat, she headed for the door. “Amanda’s a good girl, not prone to airs. Remember, a good woman’s worth more’n all the riches in the world,” she said, yanking open the door. “The Good Book says so. And any man that don’t think so, is a fool!” Glaring over her shoulder, she slammed the door behind her.
Hattie’s words stung Reagan. True, he hadn’t been honest in his pursuit of Amanda’s hand, nor were his motives entirely honorable. Yet, fate had prohibited almost any other outcome. Now that same fate had shifted, giving him no slack and no way to maneuver the facts. Amanda knew the truth and within a few hours her accusing eyes would proclaim how his deceit had ensnared her.
Sitting by the bed, he thought of all the reasons he could use when his wife awakened and questioned him. He practiced one excuse after another, yet they rang hollow even to his own ears. The more he reasoned his position, the more contemptible he looked. Realizing there was no excuse, Reagan’s defenses rose to the fore. He decided he wouldn’t try to justify his actions. What was done was done. Amanda was his wife, and his wife she would stay.
Reagan dozed fitfully until the call to breakfast sounded. He left the cabin and instructed Danny to take the crews out without him. Not wanting a repeat of yesterday, he needed to be here when Amanda awakened.
Reagan returned with a pot of coffee. Opening his ledgers, he consumed half the pot’s contents before bringing his books up to date. While putting away the ledger, he noticed he’d somehow tor
n his cuff. He found a thread and needle and sewed the tear without bothering to remove his shirt. As he stitched, he recalled another time when Amanda had sewn a rip on one of his flannels. Although she basted the tear with cross-stitch precision, it had come apart within hours. Not wanting her to be embarrassed, Reagan had hidden the shirt in the bottom of his trunk. He smiled at the memory and lost in that thought didn’t hear Amanda stir.
Amanda’s first perception was feeling the warmth of several blankets. When she opened her eyes, she saw Reagan at his desk, snipping a thread from his cuff. Confused why he wasn’t out working when sunlight showed through the window, her memory suddenly returned and she felt a stab of pain. She must’ve made a sound for Reagan was soon beside her, halting her attempt to rise.
“You’re staying in bed,” he said quietly.
Amanda shoved away his hand. “Get away from me,” she said, pushing herself upright. Her look of loathing gave way as a wave of nausea washed over her. When she began to gag, Reagan grabbed the washbasin and held it beneath her chin while she retched putrid liquid. When her sickness subsided, he fetched her a cloth before emptying the bowl outside.
Hattie came in with a tray, followed soon after by Reagan.
“Brought your lunch,” she informed Amanda cheerily. “Hot from the oven.”
“I don’t want it,” Amanda said, looking away.
Hattie set the tray near the bed. “I brought tea and biscuits. Your favorite kind.”
“I’m not hungry, and I have a headache.”
“But child, you gotta eat.” Hattie looked at Reagan who shrugged while replacing the washbowl.
“She got sick.”
Hattie felt Amanda’s forehead. “Ain’t got no fever,” she said. “The headache comes from being out in the cold too long.” She then turned to Reagan. “Now, I don’t know what happened yesterday, but if this girl don’t eat, she’s gonna git sicker. Her body got froze and needs nourishment. You’uns can figure it out cuz I got work to do.” With those words, Hattie stomped from the room.
Reagan placed the tray on Amanda’s lap and then stood back; giving her the space she obviously wanted. But she only stared at the food as tears formed in her eyes.
“I’m sorry that you had to find out that way,” he spoke softly, his heart tugging at her wretched misery.
“Sorry?” Amanda choked as she gazed at him. “I believe sorry is the last thing you’d be. Now, I know why you couldn’t wait to marry me.”
Reagan tried to speak but her anger tumbled forth in a raging flood. “What a fool I’ve been! All this time I believed you were protecting Aunt Ella. But no, you only wanted my dowry to build this camp--the mill. How you must’ve laughed at my stupidity! You took advantage of my circumstance, you betrayed me, my family--”
Reagan knelt down, looking into Amanda’s eyes. “Despite what you believe, the situation was real, your trouble genuine. Gabriella was guilty of breaking the law. She could’ve been prosecuted and sent to prison. You were with her that night and would’ve been found guilty as well. This marriage helped both of us,” he said, laying his hand on hers.
Amanda felt as if her heart had been savaged. He didn’t apologize. An apology would’ve at least expressed sorrow for her pain. Neither did he ask forgiveness, for that would’ve admitted wrongdoing. Instead, she heard only an argument that rationalized his bartering of her innocence to further his fortune.
Her pain congealed into a lump that wouldn’t be softened by matter-of-fact words. Her heart demanded more tender regard. “I hate you!” she said, wiping away her tears. “I was nothing but a plaything that came with my dowry! I…”-she struggled to inflict as much pain as she was feeling- “…I will never again be a wife to you!”
She stared in triumph as it dawned on her what avenue of revenge she could take. “I’ll never bear you children. You shan’t ever touch me again.”
Reagan’s face clouded at her refusal to accept his attempted contrition. Had he considered the shock of her painful discovery, he might’ve overlooked her anger. But all he could see was her refuting the soundness of his reasoning. By marrying Amanda, he’d not only silenced rumors that would’ve destroyed her, he’d also thwarted Jebediah’s attempt to prove Gabriella’s guilt.
He stood, clasping his hands behind his back. “Listen Amanda, despite what you think, this can be fixed. I’ve already made plans to repay the funds--”
“Fixed!” Amanda shrieked. “How can you fix a fraudulent marriage? There’s only one thing to do and that’s to expose you as the charlatan you are!”
“You don’t have to threaten me, my love,” he said with restrained anger. “I didn’t force you to the altar. Though, when it suited you to take my name, you didn’t act outraged at my disadvantage. You didn’t protest my efforts to keep Gabriella from being arrested and said nothing when I became your alibi when Jeb caught us. Neither did you refuse my offer of marriage though you knew rumors of your defilement were false and made me appear as a rake. As you can see, we both had something to gain. So, my dear, don’t portray yourself as innocent,” he said, ignoring her furious look. “There’s only one thing I demand. As my wife, you’ll not dishonor either of our families by airing our private affairs. I’ve had enough of gossips picking at my bones.” Though Reagan voiced no threat, Amanda felt the warning in his tone. For the first time, she felt she was seeing his iron core nature. “There won’t be a repeat of yesterday, either. I didn’t ask for you to come, but since you’re here, I’ll say when you leave.” As they stared at each other, Reagan noticed her trembling hands. “Please eat,” he said. “I don’t wish for you to be ill.”
She picked up her fork, gaining a small measure of privacy as Reagan retreated to his desk. Yet, despite her hunger, she could only swallow a few morsels. Setting the tray aside, she gained Reagan’s attention.
“I-I have to get up,” she said.
“You need rest. You should stay in bed.”
Amanda’s cheeks reddened. “I…nature calls…” she sputtered.
The effort of dressing and visiting the privy exhausted Amanda, and once she was back inside she knew she couldn’t leave. It wouldn’t be until she returned to Cantonsville that she could decide how to free herself from Reagan’s entangling threads of betrayal.
Chapter Fifty-Six
Thomas sat in the library reading The Cantonsville Daily. Though he scanned headlines that heralded the inauguration of Abraham Lincoln, his mind kept drifting over events that occurred between the election and the President’s oath of office. After South Carolina shook the country with its Ordinance of Secession, it started a wave that surged through the South like a billowing flood. On the heels of Amanda’s departure, Mississippi left the Union on January ninth. Florida and Alabama followed suit on the eleventh, Georgia on the nineteenth, and Louisiana on the twenty-sixth. In February, Texas voted for secession to take effect in March. Southern states began seizing Federal forts and arsenals. In the midst of this upheaval, the reins of power passed from the willing hands of Buchanan into the more dubious grip of Lincoln. Thomas was now reading the president’s inaugural speech, reprinted in the Daily.
“In YOUR hands, my fellow countrymen, and not MINE, is the momentous issue of civil war. The government will not assail YOU. You can have no conflict, with-out being yourselves the aggressors. YOU can have no oath registered in Heaven to destroy the government, while I shall have the most solemn one to preserve, protect, and defend it…”
The wily fox! How clever to proclaim to be the aggrieved party instead of the one laying groundwork for battle. Thomas sighed. Either that, or Lincoln was an ignorant fool, as yet unaware of the government’s involvement in war preparations. It’s the innocent who suffer, he thought sadly. Those with principles end up broken, while the corrupt bend pliantly with the storms of change. Thomas rubbed his brow as if to relieve a dull pain that kept itself just under the surface of his skin. The events of the last few months seemed to haunt him. If his providing lumber fo
r the government resulted in war, men like Lincoln would be dangled as scapegoats. It’s men like us, he thought darkly, who put Lincoln there.
Thomas found solace in a glass of brandy he poured from the sideboard. Unable to share his ruminations with anyone now that Reagan was absent, he felt more alone than ever. But, Reagan would soon be returning and a log-jammed river would keep his mind occupied.
He stared into his snifter as he recalled the telegraph Amanda sent while supposedly visiting Gabriella. Katherine had burst into his office, her hands shaking as she handed the missive to her husband. He’d immediately sent men to find her and bring her back. But due to severe weather, they had returned empty handed. Next, he had the unpleasant task of informing the Bruesters. When Emily stared at him with pain-hardened eyes, he felt he had caused her suffering. After promising he’d keep them informed, Thomas left. It was only afterward that it had struck him how thin Emily had become.
Thomas drained his brandy as he returned his attention to the paper. More now than ever, war seemed to be the only means by which the country could resolve the question of slavery. He’d never been one to withhold his opinion and yet he remained quiet while others appealed for restraint. If he, like some, urged for peace, he felt himself a hypocrite. On the other hand, if he sided with those who demanded war in order to preserve the Union, he’d be sacrificing his pragmatism for profit. His very silence thundered in his ears. Nothing! Nothing! He said nothing. Thomas sighed again and then laughed at his own melancholy. He retired early. Sleep had become his last vestige of relief and he sought it with increasing regularity as a way to escape despair.
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