by Jo Goodman
"Do you trust him to get us to the landing?"
"You know I do."
"So do I. Salem? Are you going to take us?"
Salem didn't believe he had any choice. He lowered Ashley to the ground and tucked the blanket around her. "Stay here," he said roughly. "Smith and I need to put the skiff in the water." He turned his back, just missing her complacent smile. "Was there ever a man so easily maneuvered by a woman as I?"
Since Smith reasoned it was a rhetorical question, he wisely kept his counsel.
The men had the craft in the water in under ten minutes. Salem pronounced it sound as long as Smith used his cocked hat to bail the water that would inevitably leak in from a small hole in the bottom.
"We'll keep close to the bank and cross the river at its narrowmost point," Salem said, returning to Ashley while Smith held the skiff in place. He hunkered down in front of her, eyeing her gravely. "Ashley, for all his foolery, Smith knows the danger of what we're going to do. The skiff is small for the three of us, and it will be dark in a little while. We haven't so much as a candle between us and there will be very little moonlight tonight. I could leave you with Smith, take it up river myself, and bring back a safer transport."
"No. I won't let you leave us behind. I want to go with you."
"What if Smith could find you a refuge in town?"
Ashley glanced at the blazing skyline in the distance. "That's not likely. And even if he could, it wouldn't be safe for him there with the British in town."
"No, it wouldn't be, but he'd do it."
"I won't ask it." She drew one of her hands out from under the blanket and touched his solemn face. "Salem, he did save me today. The package he mentioned that was going to be delivered to the Arbus? That was me, dearest. Flannigan meant for me to be taken back to Nigel."
Salem swore softly, hugging her to him with a fierce possessiveness.
"C'mon, Salem," Smith called from the water. "It's damn cold in here. You got plenty of time for that sort of thing once we're all right and tight."
Salem assisted Ashley to the skiff, lifting her above the water and settling her on one of the seats. He took up the oars while Smith gave the boat a shove and jumped in, rocking the craft precariously. If not for the outrigger, they would have been done before they began.
Ashley's pride in Salem swelled as she watched him deftly handle the skiff, bringing it into obedience. When they reached deeper water he abandoned the oars, dropped the centerboard in place, and tacked the single sail, setting a course that used the brisk wind to his advantage.
She burrowed her nose into the fur trim of her hood, wondering how either man could tolerate the cold air rushing by them. She closed her eyes, believing in another few minutes she would be too numb to feel her labor pains. Perhaps there was a blessing in all this after all, she thought a little giddily.
"Smith, if you let my wife fall overboard, I'll kill you. Put your arm around her and keep her in place." He watched narrowly as Smith eased his arm around Ashley's shoulders, drawing her close. "That's right, keep your arm there. Any lower and I'll—"
Smith rolled his eyes. "I know. You'll kill me. You do seem bent on murder today." He felt Ashley relax completely against him. He wasn't sure if she had fallen asleep or fainted. He looked to Salem for help.
"Well, the rest will do her good. And now I'd like to hear the rest of your explanation. Ashley already informed me she was meant to be delivered to the Arbus."
"That was Flannigan's intention, but I only discovered that today. The man disappeared after our first meeting and I couldn't find him. You'll be pleased to know he somehow managed employment at the landin'. When I saw him today he was wearing your livery."
"Flannigan," Salem repeated softly as if placing the name. "Short fellow? Round face? Friendly countenance?"
"About as friendly as a rattlesnake," Smith said. "But you've got the man."
"I'll be damned. He's been working with the horses. Gareth just took him on."
"That explains in part how he was able to abduct your wife. I don't know the particulars. He showed up at the tavern earlier today and gave me the barest details of what I was to do."
"Why didn't you kill him when you found out he had Ashley?"
"I would have if I had known where she was. He brought all four of his crew together at the last minute and took us to the schooner he had hidden south of town. By then, the odds were a little out of favor."
"So what did you do?"
"What else?" He laughed. "I set about changing them." Night fell around them, obscuring Smith's face as he finished telling Salem what had happened on board the schooner. Nothing could obscure his chilling voice as he described Ashley's pathetic plea to have her hands loosed, or his last dealing with Sid. Salem's curt comment was only that the man had died too quickly. At the finish of Smith's tale, he found macabre humor in that Chubb and Hank had been sent to the landing.
"You really told them to say that you had Ashley?" Salem asked.
"Did just that. Figured your father would nail their hides in no time flat."
"He did if he was around when they arrived and not out looking for Ashley."
"Damn, I never thought of that." Smith felt water seeping in his boots. Hat in hand, he began bailing, careful not to dislodge Ashley.
Neither man said anything for the remainder of the trip. Smith's head, glinting pale gold in the meager moonlight, bobbed up and down as he bailed tirelessly. Salem's dark figure remained shrouded, his existence confirmed only by his guiding hand as he tacked the skiff. Unknown to either man Ashley feigned sleep, biting on the fleshy ball of her thumb to keep silent against her pain. She had woken in time to hear most of Smith's account and the telling stung her. More than that, it lashed at her heart, wounding her almost beyond bearing. She prayed as she never had that no one at the landing was hurt because of Nigel's obsession to have her back at Linfield.
She estimated her contractions were coming seven minutes apart when Salem announced they were at the landing. She heard him swear softly as he struggled to secure the skiff to the dock. She made a production of waking up, yawning hugely, as Salem told Smith to hand her to him.
"It's all right, Mr. Smith, I can stand." She did just that, reaching out to Salem who lifted her on the dock. He swung her into arms and strode toward the house, Smith dogging his steps.
Rounding the knoll, they each knew a moment of ineffable calm as they caught sight of the landing. Candles or lamps had been set on every sill, and the house was fairly ablaze with light, every window winking at the approaching trio. It was the McClellans' vigil as well as their welcome. Salem and Ashley moved toward it, pulled by the flickering greeting. Neither of them immediately noticed that the third member of their party had stopped following them.
Uncomfortable with the thought of being part of Salem and Ashley's homecoming when he was not part of their home, Smith stepped off the path and hid behind a tree until he heard the landing's bell ring wildly in celebration. He turned, his shoulders hunched slightly against the cold, and headed toward the stable. He doubted if anyone would begrudge him a fresh mount. He'd be damned if he was going to step foot on that rattletrap skiff again.
Chapter 12
A noise at the front door made Rae pause on the stairs. She remained poised between steps, afraid to turn, almost afraid to hope. It was the familiar sound of her brother stamping his muddy boots as he entered the foyer that lightened her heart and filled her with laughter. Imagine Salem wiping his feet at a time like this! She whooped with the most unladylike laughter, bringing family and servants running to the entry hall to see what ill had befallen her.
Salem and Ashley found themselves surrounded. For a moment it looked as if they were going to topple to the parquet floor as Salem swayed on his feet under the impetus of Leah's well-intentioned hug. Robert reached out to steady them while Charity touched the corner of her misting eyes in an attempt to stay her tears. Gareth hugged his wife fiercely, something bright in
his eyes also. Tildy took a moment to shout her thanks to the Lord before she ran to the kitchen door where she announced their arrival by ringing the bell with energetic abandon.
Salem took the warm reception in stride, grinning boyishly at Ashley. "What a fuss just because we're late for dinner." His dimple deeply slashed one corner of his mouth.
Ashley looked at him in astonishment and promptly burst into tears.
Salem's shock was obvious as she turned her face into his charred linen shirt and sobbed as if she were never going to stop. After a bewildered look at his critics, he responded in the only way that seemed reasonable to him: charging up the stairs two at a time and announcing to everyone that birth was imminent. Above the flurry of activity that followed, Ashley cried all the harder.
He kicked open the door to their room and laid her on the bed, bending on one knee at her side. "Ashley, we're home safe and everything is going to be fine now."
His confusion brought a tender, watery smile to her lips. "Someday you'll feel like I do now, and you'll cry." Her smile vanished and she reached out with both hands to clutch his arm, needing his strength when pain sharply tore at her insides.
Charity walked in at that moment, followed closely by Meg carrying a porcelain bowl of water and fresh linens. "How close are your pains, Ashley?" she asked.
"I'm not certain." She continued to clutch Salem's sleeve, her eyes tightly closed against the pain. Finally she let go, her hands falling weakly to her side. "Each one is lasting a little longer now."
"They come about every six minutes, Mother," Salem said. He took the washcloth that Meg dangled in front of him and with infinite gentleness began wiping Ashley's face. He looked gravely into her dark emerald eyes. "Brave, brave soldier. It's still not over for you, is it?"
"No, it's not," Charity interrupted with a briskness belied by the catch in her voice. "But it is for you, son. You'll have to leave us now. Meg and I will care for Ashley, this is no place for you. Tildy is making a poultice for your burns, and Rae is prepared to take care of your injuries. Jacob is readying a bath for you in the master bedroom."
Salem gave up his place beside his wife reluctantly. He watched for several minutes as Meg and his mother stripped off Ashley's damp clothes, worrying over her in the best tradition of mother hens. Seeing that she was in excellent hands and that he was distinctly out of his element, he backed out the door, shutting it quietly behind him.
A little more than an hour later he was bathed, bandaged, and nearly beside himself with worry. The continued silence from down the hall unnerved him. Even though he had only been a child himself, he could remember how quiet the house had been when his mother had labored with Rae. And that delivery had almost killed her. His hands shook inside the deep pockets of his dressing gown as he retreated to the library, seeking his father's company.
Robert was alone, seated by the fire with a closed book on his lap and a glass of whiskey in his hand. His head rested comfortably against the back of the chair and his eyes were closed. Thinking him to be asleep, Salem began to go.
"No, don't leave," Robert said, looking up. "I've been waitin' for you. There's a drink for you on the table. Get it and join me."
Salem took the drink and sat across from his father. Almost immediately he was on his feet again. He missed Robert's narrow smile.
"These things take some time, son. Tell me what happened today. The two miscreants who showed up at the landing told me there was a battle going on in Norfolk."
Salem knocked back half his drink. "Damn. Smith should be here making these explanations."
"Then he's all right? When he didn't come back with you, I wondered."
"He was right behind me on the path to the house, then he wasn't. You know how he is. Once he decided everything was fine he just disappeared. I think he would rather face a redoubt of redcoats than accept anyone's thanks." Salem topped off his glass and with half an ear alert to any noise above stairs he told Robert of the day's events.
In turn, Robert supplied the information Salem did not know. "It weighs on all of us very heavily that it was the noon meal when we missed Ashley. Charity thought she was in her rooms having a lie in. I don't often see her in the morning and never gave it a thought. She told Rae and Leah where she was going when she left for the stables. Unfortunately they were preoccupied and decided between them they must have missed her return.
"When we found the chaise gone I roused everyone to start a search. That was the first I realized Flannigan was no longer here. Meg told anyone who would listen that if Flannigan was really Irish, then she was the queen. The only person more deeply grieved by his betrayal was Gareth. He and Darlene arrived in the midst of all the confusion and he was furious for hiring the man."
"He couldn't have known."
Robert nodded. "It would be good of you to tell him that. He couldn't be reasoned with this afternoon."
"Where is he now?"
"With Darlene and the girls in the music room."
"I'll be sure to talk to him. If there is fault in what happened, it is that I have underestimated Nigel's obsession. Ashley would have been safer if I had heeded her warnings."
"You don't know that."
Salem agreed tiredly, sitting down again. "But at least I could tell myself now that I had taken precautions to prevent this. In truth, I thought her safe enough here."
"As did we all," Robert said heavily, sharing the burden of responsibility.
Salem set aside his glass and stretched his legs in front of the fire. He spoke to fill the silence rather than out of genuine interest. He thought he already knew the answer to his question. "What happened to the men Smith sent here?"
"They're dead," Robert said without preamble.
"Then you were here when they arrived?"
"No. Gareth and I were leading separate search parties. Your mother, Darlene, and Leah were virtually alone in the house when they came. Chubb and Hank would not state their business to any of the women or servants so they allowed ol'Jacob to leave to find someone they could talk to." Robert's look was grim. "Your brother Ray is the one who returned to the landing."
Salem sat upright, brows lifted almost to his hairline. "Brother Ray? As in Rahab?"
"The very same. I sent her back from my party when I realized she was there, telling her her place was with the women. She was dressed in some of Noah's old things, looking very much like a stripling lad, and with about half as much sense. When Jacob ran across her she was still in a pique over my orders and decided to show me her place. She told Jacob where he could find me and went back to the house herself."
"Your mother nearly fainted when she came swaggering in, looking for all the world as if she ran the whole plantation. Everyone was so afraid for her, they simply played along. Rae found out everything she needed to know from the men and was prepared to turn over the money. You see, Smith's name meant nothing to her; she thought Ashley was still in danger."
"Rae left the parlor to get the blunt and Darlene invented an excuse to join her. Chubb followed them, leaving Hank with the others. Chubb's interest was solely on Rae as she fumbled with the drawer where I keep the ready. Darlene clubbed him over the head with that poker."
"My God."
"Exactly. Smith's name and carefully worded message carried some weight with your sister-in-law. I have revised my opinion of what is best our women should know."
"And the other fellow?"
"When Rae returned to the parlor she was armed. She put a pistol ball through his shoulder. Darlene and Charity trussed Chubb like a Christmas turkey while Leah helped Rae keep her sights on Hank. When Gareth and I returned there was nothing left to do but turn both men over to the authorities. I don't believe there is any doubt as to their fate."
Salem shook his head. "It's hard to credit that Rae and Darlene could be so fierce. Inventive, yes. But to actually strike and shoot?"
"I've been trying not to imagine any of it," Robert said feelingly. "I find I am torn between
anger and pride. These women we love have a strength I'm only beginning to realize, Salem, running deeper and truer than I had known. I am coming to think that if we are their protectors it is because they permit us to be, not because they can't fend for themselves. It was quite a revelation to see even young Leah with a musket in her hand."
"You taught her to use it," Salem reminded him. "I think, given the circumstances, it was best that she knew. And I want you to teach Ashley."
Robert's smile was wry. "No more bluffng with unloaded weapons, is that it?"
"I die a little inside when I think of her foolish courage. Believe me, it is better that Rae and Leah know what they are about. Be proud that you taught them so well. When the time came they were unafraid to act."
Robert opened his mouth to make a reply but closed it abruptly when a muted scream from upstairs reached his ears. He saw his son pale and his own knuckles whitened as he gripped the arms of his chair. Silence thickened in the room. Robert dropped his unopened book on the floor and got up to pour himself another drink. "I don't know why I am surprised by anything women do," he said.
"Will it be much longer, d'you think?"
"Each woman is different as is each babe, Salem. There's no way of knowing for certain. Why don't we join the others in the music room? They're nearly as anxious as you are, but they're bound to be more lighthearted about it."
Twenty minutes later, in the middle of a tuneful lullaby that Leah was playing to ease the babe's way in the world, Charity entered and quietly announced the birth of her first grandchild.
"You have a beautiful girl, Jerusalem."
Something was not quite right in his mother's tone. Though she was smiling there was look of terrible sadness in her eyes and tears were threatening. Salem had never been so frightened of the unknown before.
"Ashley?"
Charity blinked, brought to awareness by her son's rough voice. "She's fine, son. That is, she's tired and—and she needs you now. You must tell her it was nothing that she did..." Charity trailed off as tears slipped down her cheeks. "She blames herself, you see."