“Yes, ma’am. Every night. That’s one of my chores. While the light holds, there’s chores that need doing. I slop the hogs and such. I bring in the wood. That comes first. Then, I poke up the fire and start the supper every night.”
Elizabeth raised her brows. “When do you find time to do the schoolwork assigned to you?”
Amy shrugged and averted her gaze. “I’m up early. I can fit in a few minutes before the little ones wake up.”
Elizabeth didn’t know what to say. “You take care of the children before school as well as after?”
Amy nodded. In a voice filled with bitterness, she added, “It’s the Blakes. Since my folks died, them Blakes reckon that’s all I’m good for. I’m no account to the likes of ‘em ‘cept for chores. My papa sent me here so I could go to school. He paid for my room and board, but I help with whatever needs doing, too. Papa always said some chores was reasonable.” She glanced up at Elizabeth, her serious little face twisted with resentment. “Neither one of em understands being reasonable or some chores neither. If one of them wants it done, then it’s reasonable.”
Elizabeth frowned. “What is reasonable?”
Amy edged a little closer to Elizabeth. “I can show you they ain’t reasonable.”
“Aren’t, not ain’t.”
The young girl shrugged at the correction. Intent on her tale, she continued, “There was a big dog come staggering up close to the house last week. A good thing it had the blind staggers so it didn’t see me cause Mrs. Blake made me take a pan of water and sit it in front of the hound. She wanted to see if it was mad. It was. The dog started foaming at the mouth before it fell down and had a fit.” In a miserable whisper, she finished, “I was plum near frightened to death.”
Elizabeth fought to control the rage seething inside her. The Blakes deserved a good hiding. She cleared her throat swallowing the harshness of her tone. “That doesn’t seem a reasonable request to make of a child.”
“They don’t consider me a child. I’m nine, nearly ten. The young’uns are only five, four, and two years old. Mrs. Blake says I have a old head. Don’t reckon I know exactly what that means, but I expect she means it in a nasty way.” A single tear slipped out of the corner of her eye. “Now my papa and brother are dead. I don’t have nobody.”
Elizabeth was tempted to take the child in her arms, but didn’t. The young defensive girl might not take such an action well. She swallowed to keep from spewing curse words. JP would hear about this, but first, she would make certain the tale had merit. She headed down the trail with a silent Amy beside her.
“You won’t tell nobody I told about Mrs. Blake, will ya?”
Considering, Elizabeth walked on. “That is important. What if I promised to only tell Mr. Honeycutt? Would you agree to that?”
Reluctantly, Amy nodded and hurried on ahead. She said over her shoulder, “I like him. He’s a right one so’s I approve.”
The baying of hounds called Elizabeth’s attention farther down the path. Riders crossed the road in a flurry of yelps and hisses encouraging the dogs after a huge boar hog. The beast ran into a tangle of brambles surrounded by a yaupon thicket. The men urged the horses in after the hounds, waiting with coiled ropes in case the hog escaped. From beneath the brush, loud squeals filled the air before a dog with a deep gash on its side bounded out of the scuffle.
Amy hurried back, grabbed Elizabeth’s hand, and pulled her to the side of the lane. “We better watch out. Those men are from the settlement.” She nodded her head with an emphatic dip. “Mr. Bob is a mean one. He nearly caught me spying on him when he stole some Rocking H pigs.”
“Stole? How do you know the animals belonged to the Rocking H?”
Amy gave her a look filled with scorn. “By the markings. Sakes alive, everybody knows that. Rocking H has two slits on the left ear, an undercut and overcut on the right one.”
“Oh!”
“Mr. Bob was marking the baby pigs with his mark. Plain as day, the piglets was running with a sow belonging to the Rocking H. That’s stealing.” She glanced up at Elizabeth before she continued, “Ain’t it?”
Elizabeth drew a deep breath. “Certainly.” She managed to keep her tone calm. “He didn’t see you, did he?”
“Naw, I was real careful.”
Although Elizabeth tried to sound confident. With her voice lowered, it cracked. “Do you suppose he is stealing that hog?”
“Naw, I mean, no, ma’am. It’s only a piney woods rooter. It had a big head and sharp snout. Of course, the Rocking H might have a few woods hogs, but I didn’t see no marks.”
“You didn’t see any marks,” Elizabeth corrected.
“That’s what I said. No marks. Let’s make tracks out of here while those men are busy.” Amy moved with stealth and sped away from the stand of trees separating them from the men. “You might want to head on home before dark catches you on the trail. I wouldn’t want to be out at night. It’s scary enough when I’m close to the house and I can see the lantern glowing, but full dark . . . naw.”
Elizabeth hesitated then said, “I-I should walk with you until you get home.”
“I can make better time and hide easier if I’m alone.” Amy smiled at Elizabeth. “I’ll be fine. Go on with you, now.” She took off in a steady run.
Elizabeth watched her vanish down the trail. Then she turned to make her way back to Bittersweep.
Now, what’s to be done? Bringing the situation to JP’s attention when the truth of the matter is uncertain isn’t possible. He warned her against such action. Still, Amy missed too much school. JP would want to know about that.
Elizabeth strode along swiftly, her skirt swishing against her legs, her steps matching the turmoil in her thoughts. How could she get a message to him? Mrs. Ledbetter would know, but JP didn’t want everyone in on his business. The dilemma plagued her while shadows slipped across her path and the evening star appeared in the heavens. Dusk faded into a velvet gray sky. She stepped up her pace all the way back to the boardinghouse.
How utterly ridiculous. She could leave a note at general delivery for him, the practice of most of the folks in town. She would give the child’s failure to appear one more week before taking further action. Hopefully, JP would respond before the situation worsened.
Chapter 6
Elizabeth slipped books into her satchel beside her pistol, shut her desk drawer, and pulled the windows down before leaving the building. The schoolhouse was a couple of miles outside the town of Bittersweep proper. She’d best make haste if she didn’t want full dark to catch her on the lane. Dust puffed up beneath her hurried steps covering her boots with a fine gray powder.
A wolf howled in the distance, and she shivered. A chorus of coyotes yelped in reply. Nothing to worry about. All the children would have reached home long before now. Staying late to give the classroom a proper clean may not have been a wise decision after all. Glancing into the surrounding woods, she spied a skunk and picked up her pace.
When she reached the turnoff to the Clarke homestead, she stopped and stared at the weed-infested tract. Her heart raced. She hadn’t found the opportunity to search for her mother’s box yet. The thought of finding the tin container terrified her, but the thought of not finding it was even worse. Reluctant to return to the burned-out shell of her home, she kept putting off the dreaded moment. A fierce tide of possessiveness swelled her chest with determination. No matter what occurred, her mother’s box belonged to her, and she intended to claim it—one day soon—but not yet.
This certainly wasn’t the proper time to explore. She took a deep breath with a measure of relief. Dusk slowly invaded the trees and hovered above the lane. Another day would be much better for the search. An owl gave a mournful hoot and swooped over the path with wings spread wide reminding her she should move along.
Before she’d taken more than a few steps, Elizabeth heard a low rumbling growl. Hoping to climb out of harm’s way, she ducked behind a tree with low-hanging limbs and peered around to locate the source of the noise. She spotted a huge, gray wolf staggering down the rutted track from the Clarke place. The animal’s mouth dripped white foam with his fierce yellow gaze fixed ahead, a terrifying sight. With the frenzy of her pulse raging in her ears, she couldn’t move for a single heartbeat.
A rabid wolf! The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Not daring to move and draw the wolf’s attention, she very slowly drew her pistol from her satchel and took aim, her fingers trembling. She must allow the animal to get closer so she wouldn’t miss. Before she managed to shoot, the beast fell to the ground kicking with convulsions, thrashing, and snapping its jaws all the while emitting a strange howl. The animal lurched to its feet and lunged forward.
She gulped in harsh mouthfuls of air and attempted to fire. Her hand trembled so badly she had to lower her weapon for a moment. Drawing in another deep breath, she tried to steady her gun again. She made two more attempts to control her hand before squeezing the trigger. Noise exploded around her. The beast yelped once then collapsed. Although stifled with the smell of gunpowder, she kept her gaze locked on the thrashing animal, alert, watching. Finally, the wolf succumbed and lay still.
A moment later, she crumpled against the rough bark of the tree to keep from falling. She trembled all over, her legs barely able to support her, and her hand still vibrating with the recoil from the gun. While she fought to recover, the light faded into the grayness of twilight. Finally, she regained enough composure to step out and rush toward Bittersweep.
The woods came alive with sounds, the chirping of crickets, the wind rustling leaves, and the scurrying of small creatures. At least she hoped the noise came from rabbits and other harmless critters furtively scrambling through the underbrush. She broke into a run and with each step, her satchel bumped against her side in rhythm with her headlong flight. Slowing her pace to wipe the moisture from her forehead, she peered ahead and viewed lights beyond the next rise—almost home. Nearly back at the boardinghouse, she drew a deep breath of relief.
She couldn’t wait to get inside to safety, to four walls between her and nature. Finally making it to the porch, she rushed forward and burst inside. Shutting the door, she gripped the brass knob with both hands behind her. She leaned against the wooden panel for a brief moment waiting for her breath to slow.
Betty entered the hallway. “What happened? Your hair’s all blown about and you’re breathing like a bellows.”
Elizabeth shook her head, still leaning against the doorframe. “I shot a rabid wolf.”
“A wolf? You better come on in and tell my mom about your upset. She’ll want to hear all about it.”
Elizabeth pushed away from the door making the glass pane rattle. “I’m going to my room. I’ll be down in a second.”
Taking the steps two at a time, she made it to her room. She collapsed on her bed, taking several deep breaths until her pulse steadied. Thoughts of JP able and willing to face a challenge for the children gave her ease. If only she could contact him tonight instead of tomorrow, she would sleep much better. She heaved a big sigh, changed her dusty boots for a pair of slippers, and headed downstairs to face Mrs. Ledbetter’s curiosity.
After explaining everything at least twice, Elizabeth allowed the landlady to shove another cup of dandelion tea at her. By Mrs. Ledbetter’s reckoning, the tea would help her sleep, steading her nerves after such an ordeal. Elizabeth ate her supper and headed off to bed. When she passed the front door on the way to her room, a horse snorted outside the house. She peered out the glass in the upper door. A bridle jingled and a saddle squeaked under the weight of someone dismounting. A dim shape, wrapped in darkness, formed and strode across the porch. Tall and powerful, exuding the essence of strength even in his stillness, JP knocked on the doorframe.
The need to straighten her hair and scan her reflection in the glass tugged at her. Being in his presence always had this unsettling effect on her, one she couldn’t explain. Brushing the urge away, she took a deep breath and opened the door. “Ah, Mr. Honeycutt. You are the very person I wanted to see.”
He doffed his hat in greeting. “Would you mind stepping out on the porch?”
Alarmed at his serious tone, she swallowed. “Is there something wrong? We can have the parlor to ourselves if necessary.”
“I need some answers and I don’t want to cause a ruckus if I can avoid it. Asking Betty to give us a minute would never do. She would make every excuse to interrupt in hopes of hearing something.”
Elizabeth stepped out and pulled the door shut. “What’s the question?”
“Did you actually shoot a wolf with hydrophobia? After an animal is dead, there’s no way to make certain it had rabies. You’re positive it wasn’t your imagination?”
A heavy silence grew and resentment at his doubt washed through her. She glanced down at her hands clasped at her waist. Her fists were easier to contemplate than the firm line of his mouth depicted in light shining through the pane.
She knotted her hands even tighter and averted her gaze. “How did you hear I’d shot a wolf, much less a mad one?”
“Johnny Clemens heard you telling Betty. He’s the delivery boy for the general store.”
JP regarded her for a long, tense moment, searching, probing. Lowering his lids to slits, he said, “Walking alone and coming across a wolf is a scary proposition.”
“It wasn’t my imagination and being alone had nothing to do with it. Are you implying I couldn’t know because I am a female, or that my word is less reliable than a man’s?” Anger at his attitude boiled through her.
“Of course not,” he snapped. “I merely need to establish your frame of mind at the time. A dose of fear, in such a situation, is a good thing, but how did you decide the wolf was mad?”
She straightened her shoulders and tilted her chin. “It was most definitely mad. The animal had the blind staggers and was foaming at the mouth like he’d been lathered for a shave. Then the wolf had convulsions in the middle of the lane. He tried to stumble off before I shot him.” Clutching her hands together, she added, “I couldn’t let a mad wolf escape.”
“You did the right thing,” he said in a soothing tone. “I just needed to make certain.”
Lamp light shining through the lace curtains formed patterns on his features, flickered against the edge of his belt buckle and encompassed his wide chest. She took a deep breath. Mrs. Ledbetter was right. His mere presence did fill up the space around him.
Relieved by his explanation, she relaxed, glancing up at him. Wasn’t this what she wanted, to have a chance to tell him about Amy and leave everything in his hands? “I’m glad you’re here. I need to talk to you about Amy.”
He glanced at the door window. “We must talk. But not now and not here.” He motioned behind her. “Betty has her ears cocked this way at this moment. I don’t care to let folks know of my interest in Amy yet awhile.” He shifted and glanced away. “Folks like to make dirt where there is none. Look, could you have dinner with me at the inn tomorrow evening?”
Her pulse quickened, and she wasn’t certain if the invitation had brought it about, or if his mere presence caused a little flutter in her chest. Having dinner with him tomorrow evening, however innocent, seemed dangerous. It didn’t matter how often or hard she tried to distance herself from him, circumstances kept pushing her attempts aside.
She decided being with him had nothing to do with her heart’s mad fluttering. “We can discuss everything at supper tomorrow night.”
“My riders and I will be out at the break of dawn on the hunt for the wolf pact. I’ll be back late, but not too late.”
“All right. I’ll be ready.”
His gaze lingered on he
r face for another minute before he tapped his Stetson against his thigh. “I’ll be here as close to five-thirty as I can make it.”
“See you then.” Elizabeth entered the house shaking her head. Well, he was exactly where she wanted him, prepared to listen to her concerns. She slowly climbed the stairs. Tomorrow, JP could decide how to proceed about Amy. Splendid, she would see him again—naturally for Amy’s sake. All the same, it was a comforting thought.
~ ~ ~
JP crossed the porch and mounted his horse, his mind reeling. Thinking about Amy had brought memories of the little Clarke girl to mind. In a way, his actions to support Amy made up for loading that other young girl into the wagon all those years ago. He’d been unable to help the little Clarke girl, but he could help someone else.
His thoughts drifted back to Elizabeth. When she’d blinked up at him, his breath caught at the memory she invoked. Larkspur blue eyes! From the Clarke child’s tear-wet gaze to Elizabeth’s eyes, daring him to call her a liar wasn’t a far leap.
No, it couldn’t be. The new schoolteacher and the child couldn’t be one and the same. No way. When he gave further consideration to the color of her eyes, melting, mesmerizing, and compellingly displayed in the new teacher’s face, he had to acknowledge she possessed the exact same eyes, the same shape and color. He’d bet his bottom dollar the girl had grown into the woman. I’ll be a tongue-tied bullfrog. What’s she doing back in town?
The past flooded over him and he couldn’t brush it aside again. He must discover the truth of the matter. Why had she returned with a false identity? Questions, questions, along with more questions, all needing explanations and he’d better be quick about finding the answers.
Chapter 7
Bittersweep Page 5