Sudden Storms

by Marcia Lynn McClure

  “What happened, Rivers?” Jolee asked, retrieving the broom from its place behind the kitchen door.

  “We were…I was cutting Paxton’s hair…and that rock just came crashing through the window,” Rivers stammered. Her skin began to prickle at the knowledge being fed to her mind by her sixth sense. “It was Mrs. Dupree, Jo. You sense it too, don’t you?”

  “Oh, come on, Rivers,” Jolee argued, though Rivers did not for a moment miss the involuntary shiver wracking her friend’s body.

  “She’s obsessed with your brother, Jo. You know it as well as I do.”

  Jo bent down, pushing the rock out of her way and sweeping the glass into a pile. “You’re obsessed with my brother, and you don’t go throwin’ rocks through folks’ windows,” she teased.

  “What do you mean by that?” Rivers snapped.

  “Oh, Rivers,” Jolee giggled. “I’m only teasing. But you have to admit, I’m a very kind sister. Why do you think I left you in here to cut his hair? I know how bad Paxton likes to corner you by himself. Shoot, I feel the same way about Weston. Our time alone together is very precious.”

  Rivers’s heart began to break. She felt as if it were literally bleeding to death somehow. She had to confess—Jolee had to know the truth.

  “Jo…he only pretends to…to be interested in me because he’s been afraid you wouldn’t marry Weston if…if you thought he would be alone. He…he wanted you to think he…he and I…he wanted you not to worry about him,” she explained.

  “What?” Jo asked, shaking her head in disbelief. “You’re teasing me, right?”

  “No,” Rivers admitted. “He asked me to stay until you were married because he was afraid you’d feel guilty about leaving him alone and not marry. He’s only been…he’s only been pretending all the time.” The confession hurt, caused Rivers’s very soul to ache. With speaking the words aloud to Jolee, she’d realized how thoroughly she’d been fooling herself where Paxton was concerned. It was all a scene, an act in some horrible play. Even their moments alone—no doubt he’d just figured on enjoying himself while waiting for Jolee and Weston to marry.

  “Rivers, Paxton would never use ya like that,” Jolee scolded.

  “Yes. I would,” Paxton affirmed as he reentered the kitchen.

  Jolee looked from her brother to Rivers and back. Then, reaching out and taking Rivers firmly by the shoulders, she said, “He’s lyin’, Rivers. I don’t know why, but he is,” she pleaded.

  “Well, at least you know the truth. And you will marry Weston, won’t you?” Rivers asked, forcing her lips to curve into a pleading smile.

  Jolee looked to Paxton angrily and answered, “If for no other reason than to spite my brother, yes!” Then to Rivers she said, “He’s lyin’, Rivers. He’d never let ya leave him. There’s somethin’ he’s not tellin’.”

  Rivers sighed, smiling and feigning relief.

  “Well, at least the truth is out. No more play-acting. I’m tired. You don’t mind if I leave you with this mess, Jo?” Without waiting for an answer, she left the brother and sister standing in the kitchen together, went to her room, and bolted the door firmly behind her.

  Going to her wardrobe, she reached deep into its belly, retrieving the pair of boy’s pants and the shirt she’d worn when first she’d arrived at the Gray farm. Mechanically, she removed her dress and petticoats and slid her legs into the trousers. As she watched her own fingers fumbling with the buttons of the shirt, her attention was captured by the lock of Paxton’s hair tucked inside the top of her corset. She removed it, drawing it to her lips and kissing it gently before replacing it near her heart.

  “You all right, Rivers?” came Jolee’s concerned voice from the other side of the door.

  “Just tired, Jo. Good night,” Rivers answered.

  “Well…good night then.” Jolee sounded unconvinced.

  Rivers sat on the edge of her bed, letting miserable tears of heartbreak flood her cheeks as she listened to Jolee’s and Paxton’s voices talking. They spoke for some time, but when she at last heard each one retreat to their rooms, the two doors closing behind them, she brushed the tears from her cheeks.

  For the blessed and brief time in the kitchen when Paxton held her and kissed her so thoroughly, Rivers had begun to believe perhaps he did need her, want her, and even love her to some degree. But now she admitted to herself he did not—the time had come to leave. The train would pass the farm just after midnight. She knew it would, for each night since she’d come to the farm, its mournful whistle had interrupted her dreams of Paxton, calling to her, urging her to run away with it.

  And so, she waited until the deepest hour of the night, when darkness was at its loneliest and the moon would illuminate the way. Picking up her boots, Rivers quietly left her room, creeping through the kitchen and closing the door softly as she stepped into the night.

  Her tears had yet to cease. As she pulled on her boy’s boots, she hatefully wiped at them, resenting their presence on her face. The night was cool and clear, and the stars winked in the blackened sky like a million silvery gemstones. Yet, ominously, a thick cloud cover was inching in from the north. Rivers saw a light flash within their depths and knew that a storm was nearing. She only hoped it would hold itself at bay until she was on the train and sheltered.

  Her heart seemed to hurt more intensely with each step she took away from the farm and toward the tracks. Her body began to ache for Paxton’s embrace, not unlike a fatally wounded animal would ache for release from its existence. She thought of his mischievous smile, of the feel of his hair between her fingers. She smiled, remembering the look on his face after returning home one day having found the fly of his flannels sewn shut. She trembled at the remembrance of his lips on hers, the hot temperature of his kiss the day the rain had surprised them on their outing.

  She stumbled then, catching herself just before her head would have hit a large rock. As she sat on her knees for a moment, her attention was drawn to the rock by a shiny thread twinkling in the moonlight. Bending forward to investigate, she was immediately seized upon by a sense of panic as she saw the large, shiny black body of the spider sitting amidst the sticky, silk threads of its web. The witch was quickly moving toward a moth entangled in her trap, and Rivers’s mind was suddenly plagued with visions of Mrs. Dupree. Standing quickly, she turned and looked back toward the house. All was still dark within. She wondered if the frightening, unbalanced woman would try to hurt Paxton somehow. Sighing heavily, she turned and trudged forward, finding a pathway around the hideous spider and her pitiful, helpless victim.

  Paxton’s eyes strained to watch Rivers as she stumbled, paused, and then stood, moving onward toward the track. He tugged on his trousers, irritated and mumbling to himself, “You’re a dang fool, Paxton Gray. What did you expect her to do?”

  As he struggled with the button at his waist, he looked down for only an instant, but when he returned and looked to the pasture once more, a fear like none he had ever known washed over him. The skin over every inch of his body began to crawl as he stood for a moment unable to believe the sight of the graceful being clothed in a flowing white gown following Rivers at a distance. In the next instant, without a care to his shirt or boots, he dashed from his room, shouting Jolee’s name.

  “Jo! Jo!” he hollered. “Get up, girl!” Jolee peered out her doorway.

  “What in thunderation, Paxton?” she snapped.

  “You run over and get Weston. Send him on over to the tracks to help me,” Paxton shouted as he dashed toward the kitchen door.

  “What’s goin’ on?” Jolee asked.

  Before he disappeared into the night, Paxton paused for an instant—just long enough to growl, “Rivers has run off to the train, Jo. And I just seen Marianna Dupree followin’ her.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Rivers uneasily waited by the tracks. She gazed with deep remorse at one large and brilliant star hanging in the heavens. Her father taught her to find direction by this magnificent beacon, but
this night she felt lost and unable to sketch her way. She had never before worried about being caught hopping a train, but now something nagged at her. She was frightened, insecure, and terribly, terribly alone. As tears began to flow down her cheeks once more, she buried her face in her hands and let herself sob bitterly. She had never imagined there could be such heartache in mortal life, and she hated it with every breath of her soul.

  “So, my little stone did scare you off.”

  Rivers jumped and quickly glanced up. She was horrified to see Mrs. Dupree standing before her. The woman wore an elegant white gown accentuating the ivory skin of her shoulders. Raising one daintily gloved hand to her mouth, she covered a small yawn before continuing. “I had meant to completely bean you with it, you understand. But I missed my mark, silly goose that I am,” she sighed.

  “Mrs. Dupree…you shouldn’t be out like this. It’s not safe,” Rivers said.

  “I followed you just to make sure he didn’t, you understand. I was witness to your beguiling manner of tricking Paxton into kissing you earlier this evening. And I’m not as yet convinced you haven’t got my boy completely bound in your clutches. So—I thought I’d just come out here and wait with you.”

  Rivers was frightened. The woman was talking with her as casually as if they were at a church social sharing a glass of punch.

  “It…it was only to make Jolee think he cared for me. He’s afraid she won’t marry if…”

  Marianna Dupree lunged forward as she drew a knife from a pocket in her gown. Holding the blade at Rivers’s throat, she growled, “Kneel, you little Jezebel! You kneel down!”

  Rivers slowly dropped to her knees and watched in horror as the whites Marianna Dupree’s eyes burned red. “Do you really think he would even consider you when I’ve come back?” she asked. Slowly, Marianna Dupree again reached into her gown pocket and pulled out a larger knife with a jagged, serrated edge. Placing the tip of the knife to Rivers bosom, she chuckled, “My husband uses these when he’s hunting. They’re very efficient weapons, you understand.”

  “Please, Mrs. Dupree…” Rivers pleaded in a whisper.

  “Quiet, Jezebel. We’ll just wait for the train…but don’t upset me any further. If you do, I may just have to quiet you somehow.” She smiled—the sweet smile of fleeting innocence of mind.

  Paxton paused, commanding his angry body to remain unseen. His first impulse was to rush forward and pull Marianna away from Rivers. He had to take time to think. Marianna held the knife firmly against Rivers’s throat. If he startled Marianna, one little movement could fatally slice Rivers’s throat. He had to think! He couldn’t risk Rivers’s being hurt.

  “Marianna,” Paxton said, stepping from the darkness to stand directly behind her. Rivers felt Marianna press the knife harder against her flesh. She dared not draw more than shallow breaths.

  “Paxton,” Marianna whined in a disappointed voice. “Paxton, you shouldn’t have come. I would’ve let her leave. But now you’ve come for her and…”

  “I’ve come for you, Marianna. Remember?” Paxton corrected.

  Rivers looked at the puzzled expression suddenly crossing Marianna’s face.

  “What?” she asked.

  “We planned to meet. Remember, today we talked about it and planned to meet here,” he said, his voice calm and soothing.

  “I don’t remember! Don’t confuse me!” Marianna shouted. Rivers gasped as the knife at her bosom moved down, tearing open her shirtwaist before Marianna stopped.

  “I’m sorry, Marianna. I’m sorry. Don’t be angry,” Paxton said, kneeling beside the woman, but glaring at Rivers. Rivers met his gaze and knew her own eyes pleaded with his for deliverance.

  “Don’t look at him, you Jezebel!” Marianna screamed, slicing down and cutting Rivers’s front corset lacings.

  Rivers gasped and closed her eyes, afraid of what would happen should she dare to again look to Paxton for deliverance.

  Paxton held his breath, and his inner voice silently shouted for help. Marianna was deranged—utterly mad! He dared not look at Rivers again for fear Marianna would make her threats a reality. He wished Marianna would turn her madness on him, enabling his precious Rivers to escape. A vision of Rivers dressed in his flannels and asleep on the straw pile in the barn burned through his mind—the first vision he really had of her—the moment his suspicions had been confirmed. He winced at the pain the memory sent ripping through his heart.

  “Look at this, Paxton!” Marianna suddenly exclaimed, hurtling his mind away from remembering and back to the present. “Look what she’s stolen from you! Take it! Take it from her!”

  Rivers opened her eyes as she felt something moving at her bosom. Marianna’s hands were occupied with holding her weapons to Rivers’s throat and heart. It was Paxton who drew the lock of hair from Rivers corset, studying it closely as it lay in his hand.

  “Ah, let her keep it, Marianna…as a memento of what she can never have,” Paxton said, smiling. He chuckled as he returned the lock of hair to its hiding place in Rivers’s corset. Even for the danger of the situation, even for her life being threatened, still Paxton’s touch sent goose bumps rippling over her body.

  “Let’s go, Marianna. Let the girl catch the train,” Paxton said.

  Rivers blinked, causing tears to trickle down her face. He was saving her life, and she knew it, but the tone in his voice was so completely cruel, so mocking.

  Marianna wasn’t convinced. She wickedly glared at Rivers. “I don’t know, Paxton. You refused me once before. I’m suspicious that perhaps you really do care for this little Jezebel, and you’re only trying to…trying to confuse me.”

  “Naw. Look at her, Marianna!” Paxton said with feigned disgust. “Dressed up like a man. How could she ever compare to you…you’re womanly perfection,” he flattered.

  Rivers gasped as she felt the blade of the knife at her chest cut her flesh just below the hollow of her throat. The wound was short in length but deep, and she could feel the blood from the wound beginning to trickle down into her corset, gruesomely staining the lace edging.

  “Wait!” Paxton shouted. His voice was not as calm as it had been a moment before. “Don’t waste your time, Marianna. Let’s go—you and me. Let’s just leave her here and go,” he urged.

  Marianna looked to Paxton. She pressed the larger knife against Rivers’s bosom once more. The smaller weapon she still held firmly against the young woman’s throat. “You care for her, Paxton. You’re lying to me.”

  Without any further warning, Marianna drew the knife from Rivers’s bosom. Flinging her arm wildly in Paxton’s direction, she severely sliced him across his bare chest. He groaned and put a hand to the wound.

  “Look at you, Paxton,” Marianna growled. “You didn’t even take time to pull on your boots before chasing after her, did you?”

  Rivers looked and found that, indeed, Paxton’s feet were bare and unprotected. In fact, the only clothing he seemed to be wearing at all was his trousers.

  Marianna still held the smaller knife against Rivers’s throat. Rivers dared not move and could only gasp in horror as the woman again sliced at Paxton with the large knife, leaving a deep wound across his stomach. Paxton was angry, and Rivers knew his restraint was for her sake. By the benevolence of the bright moonlight she could see every visible muscle in his body was tense and barely bridled.

  “Let her go, Marianna. You can’t butcher me good while you’ve still got one hand on her!” he shouted.

  Marianna shook her head and said calmly, “I can’t decide which one of you to butcher, you understand—you for being unfaithful to me or this little tramp of yours for seducing you at every turn.”

  Rivers was further assured of Marianna’s complete deterioration of mind as she saw Marianna hold the knife she used to cut Paxton to her lips, kissing its edge, still moist with his blood.

  “I’m reminded of that spider we were discussing…when was that? Remember…what’s your name again? Rivers? Yes, Rivers. The
spider that kills her lover when she’s tired of him. Do you remember our talking of it?” Marianna asked, as if involved in no more than a casual conversation.

  “You’re mad!” Rivers cried out, unable to stifle her fear and frustration any longer.

  “Quiet, girl…unless you want me to open your throat here and now!” Marianna growled, pushing the knife tighter to Rivers’s neck. Rivers felt blood begin to run from the wound.

  “Cut my heart out then, Marianna!” Paxton shouted, suddenly rising to his feet. The anger on his face was nearly as disturbing to Rivers as the madness of the woman who held her prisoner. “Right here!” he shouted, pounding on his chest with one mighty fist. “I hate you! I’ve hated you since the very first time I laid eyes on you! You make my stomach churn just lookin’ at you! I would never consider…”

  Marianna was at him then! One long, shrill scream and she released her hold on Rivers, flying at Paxton in a crazed hatred. Paxton was startled, and though he moved aside to avoid her attack, Marianna managed to drive the small knife she had held at Rivers’s throat deep into his shoulder at the base of his neck.

  Paxton shouted in pain. Rivers flew at the woman, trying to grab her wildly flailing arms, for the knives were still in her hands.

  “You devil!” Marianna shouted. Turning, she struck Rivers across the face with barbaric force. Rivers stumbled to the ground as Marianna again turned on Paxton. Paxton grabbed her by the wrists, squeezing until she dropped the knives.

  Paxton pulled Marianna to him, holding her arms at her back so she could not free herself.

  “Paxton,” Rivers breathed as she watched the deranged woman struggling in his arms.

  “She’s mad. Completely insane,” Paxton muttered.