To Whisper Her Name

by Tamera Alexander

  How long they stood that way, he couldn’t say. He only knew that when she slipped her hand around his neck and drew his mouth down to meet hers, he realized for the first time what bittersweet tasted like.

  Chapter

  FIFTY-SIX

  Monday morning, Ridley steeled himself and knocked on General Harding’s office door. Hearing the man’s reply, he entered.

  The general glanced up from his desk. “Mr. Cooper. Right on time, as always. Have a seat. Have you had a chance to review the figures from the auction?”

  “Yes, sir.” Ridley laid the report on his desk. “It’s all in here. The expenses, the yearlings, their trainers, what the winning bids were, what percentage each man is due.”

  “Well done, Mr. Cooper. So tell me …” Harding leaned back in his chair. “Have you changed your mind yet?”

  Ridley shook his head. “No, sir. I’m leaving this week. Wednesday, at the latest. I’ve got a few more … loose ends to tie up. Then I’ll be on my way.”

  Harding studied him for a moment. “You’re somewhat of an enigma to me, Mr. Cooper.”

  “How’s that, sir?”

  “Because I’ve done everything I know to do to get you to stay. And, within reason, I’d do more. Yet at the same time, I’d be almost disappointed if you changed your mind. There’s something about a man deciding to do something, and then doing it no matter the odds or obstacles. It demonstrates character, which is sorely lacking in so many these days.”

  Ridley couldn’t even come close to smiling. “No worries about me changing my mind, sir. How is Mrs. Harding today?”

  “She’s doing better. Still weak, but that’s been an ongoing struggle for some time, as you know. But thank you for your concern. She thinks mighty highly of you, Mr. Cooper. As do I.”

  Ridley met General Harding’s gaze straight on. “Thank you, sir. I return the sentiment.”

  “You told me where you’re leaving from before. To head west …”

  “St. Joseph, sir. At the end of the month.”

  “And yet you’re leaving Belle Meade so soon.”

  “I’ve got plenty to do to get ready for the trip.”

  “I’m sure you do. Well …” The general sighed and turned back a page in his ledger and withdrew an envelope. “This is, I believe, all the money that is owed you from the auction, plus a few days of work this month, minus boarding expenses for Seabird and Dauntless, of course.”

  That made Ridley smile. “You never miss a penny, General.”

  “Not when one is stood to be made.” The man grinned.

  Harding held out the envelope. But just as Uncle Bob had predicted that morning — after they’d talked and laid things out, settling on what was best to do — Ridley couldn’t bring himself to take it.

  Harding eyed him. “Is there a problem, Mr. Cooper?”

  Ridley knew he could take that envelope and leave, never having said a thing to the general about the war or what side he’d fought for. But he also knew in coming days and months — even years — he would think back to this moment and wish he’d been honest with the man. And yet … he also remembered how doing the right thing had turned out for him in the war and how that decision was still costing him. His thoughts turned to Olivia, and he tried to steer them elsewhere. He needed to be clear minded for the next few moments and thinking about her made him anything but. Yet thoughts about Olivia Aberdeen were nearly as persistent as the woman herself.

  He was certain about his feelings for her and thought he’d been certain about hers for him. He saw the affection in her eyes and felt it in the urgency of her kiss. He knew she loved him. But she’d made her choice, and he’d made his — painful though they were.

  “General Harding, I appreciate the opportunity to work at Belle Meade. But before I accept that check” — his gut knotted up — “if you still choose to give it to me, I need to tell you something …”

  As he spoke, painstakingly revealing more of who he was and of his part in the war, Ridley watched Harding’s expression. The only indication of General William Giles Harding’s anger was the beard reaching halfway down his chest. It began to tremble.

  “It was never my intention, General, when I first came here, to stay as long as I did. I was going to be here a month, maybe two, then be on my way. But one thing led to another, and two months led to a year. And the only reason I’m telling you all this now is because … during that time, I’ve grown to respect you, sir. Far more, I’m hesitant to admit, than when I first came.”

  A full moment passed.

  Then Harding slowly, deliberately, came to his feet. “Why did you come to Belle Meade, Mr. Cooper?” He circled the corner of the desk. “To exact some sort of vengeance? To rob me of my honor? On my own land? In my own home?”

  “No, sir. I give you my word, I …” Seeing Harding’s eyes darken, Ridley continued. “I came here because I wanted to learn from Uncle Bob.”

  Harding scoffed. “And just how did you know about the talents of my head hostler?”

  “Because, sir …” Ridley drew in a breath. “I found him hiding your thoroughbreds up in the high pasture … back during the war.”

  Harding’s eyes narrowed, and Ridley could almost see the shards of truth jarring into place for him. General Harding walked to the window and stared out, his spine rigid as a post. After a moment, he turned back.

  “Andersonville,” Harding whispered.

  Ridley held his gaze. “They shot me coming down the mountain. After I left Uncle Bob.”

  “And after not confiscating my thoroughbreds.”

  Ridley gave a nod.

  “So … in an odd twist of fate, Mr. Cooper, it would seem that I have you to thank for the champion thoroughbreds on my plantation.”

  “No, sir. I’m not the one to thank. There’s only one reason I didn’t take those horses that night … Robert Green. He’s the reason you have what you have, sir. Not me.”

  Harding stared at him long and hard. Then finally walked back to his desk. Ridley glanced at the check again, then back at Harding. And received his answer.

  He headed for the door.

  “Mr. Cooper.”

  Ridley turned.

  Harding reached for the envelope and held it out. “A handshake is as binding a contract as any words dried on paper.”

  Remembering the general having said that, Ridley reached for the check. Then Harding pulled it back.

  “But I want you off my land by noon today. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Ridley took the check and walked to the door.

  “One more agenda item before you go, Mr. Cooper.”

  Ridley waited, detecting a glint in the general’s eyes.

  “Remember our agreement with Seabird. If she ever races again, I want fifty percent. No cap on earnings. For her lifetime.”

  “You may want fifty percent, General. But we shook on twenty-five.” Halfway out the door, Ridley looked back and caught the tail end of a smile on General William Giles Harding’s face. “I like a man with a sense of humor and a touch of stallion in him too, sir.”

  Ridley closed the door behind him.

  Chapter

  FIFTY-SEVEN

  You feel a little warm this evening, Aunt Elizabeth.” Olivia pressed a hand to Elizabeth’s cheek, then dipped the cloth in the basin of water, wrung it out, and laid it across her aunt’s forehead.

  “Mmmm …” Elizabeth sighed. “That feels good. You’re so kind to me, Livvy. I’m so grateful you’re here with us.”

  Olivia scraped together a smile. “I’m … grateful to be here too, Aunt.”

  Elizabeth’s brow furrowed. “Dear, it’s Monday,” she said in a softer voice. “Don’t you teach class tonight?”

  “Yes, ma’am, I do. But I wanted to make sure you were feeling better before I left.”

  Elizabeth waved off Olivia’s concern, her delicate wrist even thinner than Olivia had realized. Olivia adjusted the cloth on Elizabeth’s foreh
ead, and her aunt’s eyes slipped closed.

  Elizabeth had been embarrassed about fainting at the auction. But Olivia assured her Ridley had carried her inside quickly and only a handful of people witnessed it.

  Ridley … Olivia sighed. Even thinking his name hurt.

  She looked out the window toward the hills where approaching dusk settled in folds of purple and gray over the trees, the sun making its slow descent. Although she’d seen him at a distance, she hadn’t spoken with him again since they’d shared those few moments in the central parlor on Saturday. She’d wanted to go to church yesterday and had hoped to see him then, at least briefly, but Elizabeth had asked her to sit with her.

  But really, what more was there to say between them? He would leave on Friday to start his way west, and she would stay here at Belle Meade with Elizabeth and the Hardings before marrying General Meeks. A sickening weight pressed down inside her at the prospect. And for as long as she lived, she knew she would never, ever forget the promises Ridley had whispered to her.

  Even now they played tug-of-war with her heart and made her want to run and find him. To see him while she still could, before he left.

  “I’ve had a dream, Livvy …” Elizabeth’s voice was soft and breathy. “Twice now. And each time I awaken thinking of you.”

  Olivia leaned closer, noticing the crepe-like lines wreathing Elizabeth’s eyes. “Why me?”

  “Because it reminds me of something you told me.” Elizabeth smiled faintly. “When you first came here. About that door … in the carriage. The one that flew open. Do you remember?”

  Olivia nodded, thinking of the night she and Ridley had taken their first walk and of his opinion on why she hadn’t fallen out the door that day. Swiftly on the heels of that thought, clambered another, reminding her of how much the Hardings had done for her — Elizabeth, specifically — and of how much she owed them.

  “In my dream …” Elizabeth’s eyes closed again. “There’s a door. And somehow, I know what lies beyond is lovelier than anything I’ve ever seen. And I want to see it. So badly.” Elizabeth frowned, her eyes opening. “But I can’t, Livvy, because the door is always locked.”

  Olivia smoothed the lines of worry from her aunt’s forehead, eager to reassure her, knowing it was the laudanum talking more than Elizabeth. “You don’t think that has anything to do with the walk we took last week, do you? When Mr. Hunsaker warned us to keep the door closed on his prized roses?”

  Elizabeth blinked. “You know … It actually might, at that.” The furrows in her brow gradually lessened. She glanced toward the door. “You need to go, Livvy. But, before you do … I want to thank you again for being a friend to my Mary. She is … quite changed in recent months, thanks to you.”

  Olivia reached for her hand. “Mary is a delightful person. Intelligent and spirited, much like her mother.”

  Warmth softened Elizabeth’s eyes. “You’re giving her wings to fly.”

  Olivia shook her head. “We are.”

  Hearing the anticipated footsteps in the hallway, Olivia rose and pressed a kiss to Elizabeth’s cheek. “I’ll stop by again in the morning.”

  The door opened and Mary entered. “I’m here to spend some time with my favorite mother.” Mary tossed Olivia a look, pointedly touching the brooch at her neckline before giving her mother a hug.

  Olivia had splurged on the little treasure she’d put inside the painted box for Mary recently. But Mary’s reaction then — and since — had been worth it.

  Mary held up a newspaper. “I thought I’d read today’s news to you, Mother. There’s an article about Mrs. Acklen.” She tapped the front page and arched her eyebrows. “And also …” Her gaze swung to Olivia. “About the auction.”

  Aunt Elizabeth feigned sadness. “Susanna beat you to it, I’m afraid, dear. But I’d love for you to read more from this.”

  She held up a novel, and Mary laid the newspaper aside.

  Her own curiosity piqued, Olivia gestured to it. “May I? For later?”

  Mary nodded, opening the book.

  On her way to class, Olivia looked over at the old Harding cabin as she passed. No sign of Ridley, or Uncle Bob. Most likely, they were still working in the stables. If Ridley didn’t seek her out by tomorrow, she would seek him. Maybe even later tonight, if she saw a light in the window on her way home.

  With a flat stretch of meadow in front of her and the sun’s last rays reaching over the hills, she scanned the front page of the newspaper. She found the article about the auction and grew excited when she read the words “generous array of sumptuous food” and “yearlings second in excellence to none.” The servants would enjoy reading that after all their hard work.

  An adjacent title drew her attention …

  FETTERMAN MASSACRE

  81 SLAUGHTERED IN INDIAN UPRISING

  The words Nebraska and Colorado Territory jumped out at her. She slowed her steps as she read. Then finally stopped, her lips moving silently. Captain W. J. Fetterman gave orders to attack … small group of Sioux warriors … Soldiers from Fort Kearny pursued over the ridge … She swallowed. Two thousand Indians laid in wait … stripped and mutilated bodies … found by patrol. The newspaper crinkled in her grip. In retaliation for soldier attack … Sand Creek Massacre … Colorado Territory … Killing 163 Cheyenne, mostly women and children …

  She read the remaining paragraphs, then lifted her gaze. And this was where Ridley was going? Where he wanted to start a new life? Such savagery and barbarism. It made no sense. And fear clutched at her throat. Please, God, keep him safe.

  Not wanting to be late for class, she hurried on, tucking the newspaper in her book and pushing the all-too-vivid images from her mind.

  Big Ike was waiting for her as usual. He didn’t seem much in a mood to talk, which suited her fine tonight. By the time they reached the clearing, the sun had set and the brisk walk had helped to clear her mind. Hearing the laughter and conversation coming from inside the cabin did her heart good.

  She paused at the door. “Will you be joining us tonight, Ike?”

  “I don’t know, ma’am.” He glanced down at his feet, then toward the cabin. “I ain’t sure I was meant for this.”

  “Ike.” She waited for him to look at her again, remembering a similar moment when she’d doubted herself. “It’s fine if you don’t want to learn to read or write. I won’t blame you one little bit if that’s what you decide. But!” She smiled. “I want you to know that you can do this. You’re able to do this … even if you choose not to.”

  He stared, his expression all but lost to the dark. “You in cahoots with my Susanna?”

  Olivia grinned. “If you come to class tonight, I’ll tell you.”

  His laughter was deep and hearty. “I be in directly, ma’am.”

  “… and the Belle Meade … auc —” In front of the class, Betsy squinted at the newspaper, sounding out the second syllable of the word.

  Holding the oil lamp higher so Betsy could see, Olivia liked how some of the other students, both young and old, leaned forward, waiting expectantly. A few of the older ones doing so from new desks. Well, new to them anyway.

  Off to the side, little Jolene sat on the floor, having come by herself tonight. Her mother felt poorly and Jimmy had chosen to stay home with her. Olivia gave Jolene a little wink and that earned her a grin. They’d already decided to walk home together.

  Olivia leaned closer to Betsy, but Betsy glanced up.

  “Now don’t go tellin’ me, Missus Aberdeen. I can get it.”

  “I know you can,” Olivia said. “Because you’ve seen part of that word before.” She glanced back at the door, wondering where Big Ike was. He’d had plenty of time to make his rounds. She hoped he hadn’t changed his mind.

  “I got it!” Betsy suddenly turned. “Auc-tion!” she said, and did that little dance she always did when she got a word right.

  People clapped. A few whooped and hollered.

  Betsy held up a hand. “I got a fe
w more words, y’all.” She looked at the newspaper again. “And the Belle Meade auction,” she said with some sass, “was a great …” She squinted again, then made a face as if to say this was easy. “Success!”

  Everyone laughed and clapped as Betsy curtsied, holding out one side of her apron — until a rifle shot sounded outside. Followed by another.

  The room went silent.

  Olivia started for the door when a window exploded somewhere behind her and fire rained in. People screamed and grabbed their children as the door to the cabin burst open.

  Big Ike strode through. “Run for the woods! Don’t stop!”

  Olivia took a few steps and felt a hot wind behind her, breathing up her legs, like she’d stood too close and too long by the hearth. Then she smelled something.

  “Missus Aberdeen!” Betsy jerked her arm. “You burnin’, ma’am!”

  Olivia looked behind her to see the bottom of her skirt on fire, and while the world around her moved at a fever pitch, her own motions felt slow and lethargic.

  “Turn ‘round, ma’am!” Betsy screamed, untying her apron. She whipped at the flames, then knelt and covered the back of Olivia’s skirt. She briefly grabbed Olivia’s hand. “Come on!”

  Smoke burning her eyes and throat, Olivia reached the door and heard a deep, throaty rumble behind her. She turned to see the flames devouring the old cabin. Then caught sight of something moving behind one of the desks. Not something — someone!

  Jolene …

  Seeing Betsy already halfway to the woods, Olivia turned and ran back inside. Jolene cowered behind a desk, coughing and covering her head. “Come here, honey! I’ve got you!” Olivia scooped her up, and Jolene’s thin little arms clamped tight about her neck.

  Almost to the door, Olivia heard glass breaking and another explosion behind her, but she didn’t turn back. She ran for the woods like Big Ike had said. Betsy was there, waiting, with the others. Betsy put her arms around little Jolene and kissed her head.