by Stephy Smith
The stage wriggled back and forth, then bounced a time or two as the stagehands loaded luggage and her trunk on top. They changed out horses for a fresh team. The drivers climbed on the buckboard. The coachman gave a quick slap of the reins and the horses jerked the stage forward.
One other passenger rode the stage from New Orleans. Uneasy at the stares of the extra man who’d boarded at the last minute, Zaidee leaned closer to Joseph. The silence in the conveyance chilled her. She leaned her head against the corner and peered out the window for a while.
The clouds of dust stifled the interior air. Her eyes stung, and she dabbed at the moisture pooling there.
Oh, Emmett, please forgive me for leaving home. I should have stayed behind and mourned your death properly. She closed her eyes before any more tears could slide down her cheeks.
Chapter Two
Traveling to North Carolina hadn’t been Joseph’s idea. But to continue making a profit for his and Stephen’s plantations, it had been a necessary trip. He’d met with the new broker who’d taken over Emmett Rogers’s business and found him a capable businessman.
One thing that bothered him was the sudden murder of his broker. Then the disappearance of Emmett’s sister not long after Emmett’s body had been found. According to the folks around town, the brother and sister had no enemies anyone was aware of.
The call from the young boy peddling papers on the street corner echoed in his ears. Joseph purchased the newspaper and read the article on the beautiful lady’s disappearance, printed on the front page.
The whole affair had shocked Charlotte. There were a few rumors she had killed her brother. Doubts had risen in Joseph’s mind. Miss Rogers had adored her brother, according to the prominent and reliable section of the town. When he’d asked about the murder, no one seemed to have an answer.
Most of the other clients had assumed, just like he had, that one of Emmett’s ventures had soured some hothead and the disturbed fool killed him.
He’d been standing on the deck when the frightened Zaidee Rogers rushed by him and stiffly walked down the hall containing the sleeping berths. The large boat had gently swayed with the waves. Here she was, fleeing on the same boat as the one he was going home on. Her eyes were wide with fright and dark circles had formed beneath them. She wasn’t wearing the colors of mourning, as she should have been.
Even as his curiosity grew, he’d vowed to keep her safe. It was the least and the last thing he could do for his deceased friend. When they’d disembarked in New Orleans, he’d finally worked up enough courage to talk to her. He had spared a few minutes to send the simple telegram to his brother, to advise he would be bringing a Miss Flora Reese with him. There was no reason why he should divulge her true identity. Not until he knew the extent of danger she was in. The less his family knew, the more natural their reactions to her would be.
Joseph felt the woman beside him tense when the new man boarded the stage. He tried to make her feel safe, but knew it was of little comfort to her. Whatever she was running from, he didn’t care. He would keep her safe no matter what it took.
Flora appeared to be honest, except for the lies about her name and the escort. The fear in her eyes gave away more than she was willing to tell. Her misfortune and the shake of her hands outraged him.
Joseph glared at the other passenger. Keeping his closed hand on the grip of the gun hidden beneath his coat, he retained the vigil over his ward. He didn’t like the way the other man’s gaze raked over the beautiful red-headed Miss Reese.
The stares of the stranger, who introduced himself as Randolph Lawrence, made Joseph nervous. His hateful green eyes narrowed, and the sneer on his lips obviously shook Flora. Joseph grew disgusted at the open glares. His trigger finger itched for Lawrence to make one wrong move, to make one off-color remark to Flora, and then he could set Randolph Lawrence to rest beneath the soil.
Joseph laid his hand on her arm; his confidence in himself was steady, and he prayed Flora could read it in his face. As an assurance of safety, he offered his shoulder for her to rest upon.
Although the beauty refused, he couldn’t help but feel an uncanny nearness to her. She’d worked her way into his mind, and she was all he could think about since he’d laid eyes on her. When she lowered her defenses, her smile set her troubled eyes to sparkling.
He feared, not for her physical safety—he could protect her from harm—but for her mental safety as well. Joseph witnessed the battle in her eyes. He sensed she didn’t trust him, but she trusted him more than she did Mr. Lawrence, sitting across from them.
“This fan was poking me in the back. Would it happen to be yours, Miss Reese?” A strange spark in Randolph Lawrence’s eye caught Joseph’s attention.
“Why, no, it isn’t.” Her voice was calm.
“Are you sure you didn’t drop it when you boarded the stage?” There was an edge to his voice.
“I’m quite sure, Mr. Lawrence.” Her tone hardened.
Joseph’s anger grew when he looked Lawrence’s way. He’d listened as the hideous brute tried to agitate Flora, and he didn’t like it one bit. Joseph restrained himself from putting a bullet between the shifty eyes of Mr. Lawrence. He was no killer and didn’t have the right to separate this man from the living. Just give him time, Joseph, he’ll give you a reason to take him out of this world. Give him time.
Outraged, he fumed at his own bitterness toward a fellow he didn’t know. There was something about Randolph Lawrence’s arrogant temperament he couldn’t put his finger on, though it caused him to dislike the cad.
Whatever misgivings Mr. Lawrence had with Flora were none of his business, other than he had given her his word no one would harm her while she was in his presence. He intended to fulfill his words if it was the last thing on earth he did.
Lawrence’s repulsive glares invited nothing but trouble. They were aimed at this lady whom Joseph barely knew. Outrage burst the barriers of his intellect, devouring morals inbred into his soul.
Vile and vulgar thoughts crossed his mind. Why couldn’t he close his eyes and dismiss Lawrence as easily as Flora? What was the role of this auburn-haired beauty? He pursed his lips tighter to keep from muttering oaths at Lawrence.
All Joseph knew was, she was the missing woman he’d read about in the newspaper. What he couldn’t understand was why there were so many rumors of her involvement in the murder. His mind was etched with doubt that the talk was true. She hadn’t shown him any reason to believe she was involved in anything sneaky or underhanded. The only thing he could comprehend was that something had frightened her, and she had to get away from whoever or whatever it was.
Until she was willing to confide in him with all her heart, he would stand true to his promise and strangle the urge to ask questions she wasn’t ready to answer.
Joseph glanced at Flora and noticed worry lines cutting across her face. A vibration of deep fear shook her long, flowing skirt that lay against his thigh. Without another thought, he turned back to Mr. Lawrence.
“What’s your game, Mr. Lawrence?” His cold and angry voice slipped easily from his lips.
“Why, whatever do you mean, sir?” Lawrence’s skittish movements and shifty eyes blazed, as if he had just been caught in a criminal act.
“What brings you this far from the east coast?”
“How do you know I’m from the east coast?”
“Do you always answer a question with a question?” Joseph raised his brow. “As far as I can tell, you dress and sound as if you’re from the East. You’re not from around here, for I know most of the folks in the area. No one has spoken of having any visitors coming anytime soon. Not to mention, by the looks of your smooth hands, you have never done an honest day’s work.”
“On your assumptions, sir, you have me poised as a wandering criminal.”
“Well, are you?” Joseph took the opening with great pleasure. He relished the opportunity to give Lawrence what he had been trying to force on Flora. Humiliation and inti
midation, his own disturbing concoction of revenge.
“If you must know, I’m here on business.” Lawrence’s voice rumbled with sarcasm. His forced smile matched his apparent struggle to stay calm.
Joseph glared at the brute a bit longer. “What kind of business?”
“Are you in the market to buy into my business? I can always use partners. It’s a profitable—”
“I doubt you could tell the truth if you even knew what it was. Your business is a plot to take away from others and is less likely to be a legitimate one. Save your breath, Lawrence; the folks around here don’t take kindly to swindlers like you. Heed my words. You aren’t apt to find any takers in the area and more apt to find yourself swinging by your neck.”
Joseph averted his attention out the window.
Chapter Three
Zaidee tried to escape the torment. She closed her eyes to avoid looking at Randolph Lawrence. Even while pretending to sleep, she could still feel his cold stares. A strange instinct told her to move closer to Joseph.
She struggled with the terror of the moment. Trusting either one of them didn’t come easily. Nothing seemed real to her any more. Her only consolation was that Joseph was considerate enough to defend her from the glares of Mr. Lawrence.
Who was going to protect her from Joseph? What if he didn’t have a brother to meet them in St. James Parish? Could it be he was a partner with Mr. Lawrence? Neither one of their voices was the one that continually echoed in her ear, saying “I’ll kill you, Zaidee.” That one coarse voice she would remember for as long as she lived. And she feared that would not be a long while.
She glanced at the two men again and doubted there was any connection between them. Surely Joseph and his brother weren’t out to kill her. Zaidee tried to close her eyes and push her mistrust out of her mind.
The coach pulled to a halt and the dust from outside swarmed them. She pretended not to notice Lawrence’s offered hand, taking her time to gather her valise from the floor. His hand fell to his side, and he twirled away and stomped into the depot.
“Let me assist you with that.” Joseph reached in and clasped the handle of her valise. He raised his free hand to help her down. The tingle of his touch coursed through her veins.
Heat rose up her neck and crossed her cheeks. “Thank you.” Her voice was no more than a whisper. She turned her gaze from his startling face. None of the suitors back home had ever left the strange quivers running to her inner core. This was the last thing she needed to have to deal with—some wild infatuation with a handsome fellow she knew nothing about.
Her body ached from the bumps she’d received inside the stagecoach. She looked forward to exiting its confines, stretching her legs, eating a warm meal, and sleeping in a soft bed provided by the stage depot.
Mr. Lawrence followed Zaidee. She couldn’t seem to rid herself of the eerie little vermin. Joseph tried to intercept, but Lawrence refused to back off by side-stepping him. When he tried to follow her into the privacy of the room, a little gray-haired lady stepped up and raised her brow. Mr. Lawrence turned and walked away with a frown on his face.
The owner’s wife served a breakfast of biscuits and gravy. She was a sweet little gray-haired woman named Lucy Coggins. She made Zaidee feel welcome to their home by offering a room off the dining room for privacy, which she was relieved to take without argument.
Earlier that morning, the stage drivers ate before the passengers. Then they hooked up the team of horses and announced they would pull out in fifteen minutes. Two men were already on the buckboard, waiting as the passengers entered the stage, and with a jerk from the team, the stage proceeded on to St. James.
“You’re a fine beauty.” Mr. Lawrence’s words were cold. His laughter followed and sent shivers through Zaidee’s body.
Zaidee lowered her head then held it high, feigning a strong will; she gazed out the partially covered window. The older passenger who’d boarded with them cleared his throat. He glanced at her, and his eyes were just as cold. His lips clamped shut, and he cast a sideways glare of disgust toward Lawrence.
“Leave the lady alone, Lawrence. Can’t you see she doesn’t want to be bothered?” Joseph’s cold voice and piercing dark eyes threatened.
“She needs the touch of a gentleman to soften that heart of hers.” The beady eyes of Mr. Lawrence focused on Joseph.
Silence filled the coach again. Zaidee was grateful at Joseph’s attempt to quiet the unpleasant brute’s mouth. She wasn’t sure what made her distrust Lawrence other than his arrogant ways. Under normal circumstances, she could dismiss people like him as ignorant.
She shifted back to the window, where dust threatened to choke the life from her lungs. Zaidee glared out despite her discomfort. The stage slowed. Through a stand of trees, she saw two men and four horses. Nudging Joseph in the side, she pointed them out to him.
Joseph squeezed her arm and slipped his free hand into his coat. He smiled as if to say, “Don’t worry.” The stage rolled to a stop.
The older passenger stepped out the door. “This is where I get off. Have a safe trip.”
He walked to the rider waiting in the middle of the trail. Zaidee listened as he spoke. “She’s not on this stage.”
They walked to the clearing, mounted their horses, and rode away. Zaidee glanced at Lawrence. His face paled, his eyes bulged, and he held his breath. His body shivered as if he’d robbed the bank.
She stifled a laugh. I wonder what he’s running from. The stage once again lurched forward.
For the rest of the trip, there was no conversation. Zaidee sighed with relief. Joseph, sleeping next to her, heightened her senses to his presence. His hard thigh rubbed up against hers. Her pulse quickened. She glanced at him and couldn’t pull her gaze away from his long, lean form slouched in the corner.
Dark lashes rested against his glowing skin. His strong, well-defined face softened in slumber. Tension eased from her shoulders as she gazed upon him and hoped someday she would be rewarded with a husband who was as handsome as Joseph. She caught herself dreaming of a life she couldn’t have.
The coach slowed as it approached the station. Arrival at St. James was a welcome relief for Zaidee as she exited the coach. The assistance from Joseph gave her ease of mind. She would no longer have to tolerate Mr. Lawrence. A brisk surge of hope coursed through her veins.
“How was the trip?” the equally handsome, smaller mirror image of Joseph asked.
Zaidee breathed in deep and scanned the surrounding area. Her nerves dimmed at seeing Joseph’s brother and family waiting for them.
“It was good. I found some new buyers for the cotton and indigo. They seem honest. They are taking Emmett’s place since his death,” Joseph told his brother.
Zaidee’s knees grew weak and the blood rushed from her head. Could he know? Oh, dear me. Why would he have brought me here if he knew Emmett was my brother? And yet, he hasn’t said a word about him. If he knows—he can’t know, or he would have taken me to the nearest sheriff and turned me in or had my body buried somewhere by now.
“Joseph, where are your manners? You could at least introduce the young lady before you conduct business.” A woman with a soft voice pushed her way in front of Joseph.
Joseph’s face reddened a shade. “I’m sorry. Miss Flora Reese, this is my lovely sister-in-law, Clara, my brother Stephen, the twins Hezekiah and Ezekiel, Hannah, Emma, and little Thomas.”
Zaidee covered her smile with her hand. Her heart thundered in her chest.
The twins and Hannah were all over Zaidee, while Emma hid behind her mother’s long blue skirt. Little Thomas closed his eyes for a nap, safe and snug in Clara’s arms.
“Mr. Solomon, would you be so kind as to tell me where the sheriff’s office is?” The wretched voice of Mr. Lawrence rang out, silencing the people in the immediate area. His laughter assaulted her ears.
“Down the block.” Joseph half-pointed and then glanced back to the twins and Hannah, hiding behind Zaidee’s sk
irt.
“I don’t like that man.” Clara leaned close to Zaidee.
“I think your children feel the same.” Zaidee pulled them closer to her.
Zaidee didn’t miss Joseph’s upturned lips. It was the first time she’d received a true, heartfelt smile since she’d started this journey. Her heart and mind were relieved to know she would like Clara and hold great affection for the children.
“Shall we head home?” Joseph suggested. “We should leave before Mr. Lawrence comes back to harass the women and children.”
Zaidee nodded. Before he comes back with the sheriff and has me tossed in jail.
Joseph was still watching her, and when she met his eyes he winked. She knew her cheeks grew rosy from the heat rushing up from her neck. She looked down at the children.
The twins tried to lift the heavy trunk. Joseph chuckled at their effort. With well-muscled arms, he reached down, picked it up, and carried it to the wagon. Stephen helped Clara up onto the buckboard while Zaidee held Thomas. Joseph helped the twins, Hannah, and Emma to climb in the back, and then reached for Zaidee to help her up.
The warmth of his large hands on her waist intrigued her. When it was time to leave St. James, the only thing she would take with her was a broken heart if he continued to make her feel like this. The sensation burned in her inner core.
She stiffened, the gooseflesh traveling down her body as he gripped her sides. Joseph’s massive arms strained against his shirt when he set her in the wagon. The twinkling golden specks of his eyes pulled Zaidee into their depths. Staring at him longingly, she fought the urge to run her fingers through his dark brown hair.
“Can we sit on your trunk, Miss Reese?” Hannah quietly asked.
“Yes, you won’t hurt a thing in the old trunk.” Zaidee smiled and was thankful for the intrusion to draw her attention away from the handsome Joseph Solomon. His hands lingered on her waist longer than they should have. She let out a sigh when he released his hold.