How could a man convey the intensity of his desire without speaking such? A gentleman shouldn’t, he reminded himself. He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her closer into his embrace. He brushed away a few strands of her golden hair, then captured her sweet lips. She resisted for a moment, then allowed their kiss to deepen. It took all of his strength to pull back first, closing his eyes and asking the Lord for strength. “Ida Mae. . .” His voice was huskier than he’d hoped. He cleared his throat and proceeded. “I will not dishonor thee. . . .” He let his words trail off. Her brilliant blue eyes sparkled with understanding. She turned her head.
“I should have married you.”
Olin’s chest swelled with—what? Pride? Desire? Or was it confidence? Yes, confidence that their love was real. Young, but very real. “Ye weren’t ready.”
She turned to him and placed a finger to his lips. He kissed the tip of her finger. The fresh scent of lavender mixed with her unique scent gave him renewed determination to protect this woman.
“What did John say about the visitors last night?” she asked.
“Wasn’t much to say. Percy’s behind it. They searched the house, found evidence that you’d been there. My parents didn’t deny it. They told them the truth that ye came for dinner. They said they simply didn’t know where ye were now. John also said that because my parents saw you alive and in good health several of the men didn’t want to continue the search.
“Kyle gave them the impression that we might be visiting with the parson.”
“If I had married you they could have honestly said we were married and having some time to ourselves for a few days.”
“Sweetheart, don’t fret. There will be plenty of time for marryin’. Kyle will say he’s going into town in a couple days, but he’ll actually be meeting us at Paw Creek at noon.”
“Where do we go from here?”
To the parson, he wanted to say. “How about west and towards Kings Mountain?”
“Walkin’?”
“I could return home and pick up my horse and wagon. But I don’t want to leave ye here alone in the woods.”
“I can shoot.”
Olin smiled and wiggled his eyebrows. “Aye, but I don’t want it to be me when I return.” He’d never met a woman like this one. She excited him on so many levels. She wasn’t ruled by fear, and yet she had let her vulnerability show to him on more than one occasion. Lord, please help me protect her.
“We don’t have to run. I could bring ye back to town and let the rumors die down.”
“No, the sheriff wants us to hide. Someone is trying to get to me. Even if it is simply to discredit me, someone is out there. And I don’t like the thought that Percy is taking advantage of it to do some damage to you as well. We have to fight this, and I think giving the sheriff a few days to sort it out is the best way.”
“Mayhap.” Olin sighed. Did she have to be so logical?
“There is one problem that I see from our going on the road. Will that secret matter you can’t discuss with me be a problem?”
“Possibly. But it is in the Lord’s hands.”
“What if I go back to town without you? Then perhaps folks will think we aren’t together. I can slip out in the night and return to your parents’ farm.”
“No, I cannot allow ye to be out on the streets by yourself. Ye must trust me.”
“Olin, it isn’t a matter of trust. It is a matter of deceit. Can we fool people long enough to give us an edge and a way to get to safety?”
She had a point, but everything within him shouted no. “No, ye are safe with me.”
Fifteen
“Where are ye going?”
“Back to your house. I’m not walking to the mountains.”
Olin hustled up beside her. “And what makes ye think it is safe there?”
It’s probably not. She didn’t want to spend weeks on the road, in hiding, living off the land, even though she’d agreed with the sheriff the night before. Was it only last night? “Olin, I can’t do this. My sensibilities are screaming this is wrong. I should stand and fight.”
“Aye, and how long has your family lived in the area? Ye have a bit of the Hornet’s Nest blood running through them veins.”
“I reckon.” Everyone knew how their ancestors had fought and held off the British during the Revolution. It was a matter of history and pride that kept the community together. Which made this misunderstanding with Olin such a puzzle. Why would the townspeople hold it against him and not believe her that he wasn’t a threat?
She sat down on a fallen log along their path. Olin followed. “What’s wrong?”
“If I say it doesn’t make sense one more time I think I’ll scream, but I have no other explanation for all of these bizarre occurrences. Why would someone steal items from my room and hide them in yours?”
“To make ye suspicious of me.”
“Yes, but why?” She turned to him and reached for his hand. “Olin, I can’t believe this is all about you and your past. As we said before, and the sheriff agreed, there is someone out to get me. But why?”
“Is your business a competition for another in the area?”
“No, and neither is yours.” So what are they after? Ida Mae wondered. It couldn’t be her wealth. There wasn’t any. But some men would like the farm. “Olin, are you interested in me because of my inheritance?”
He opened his mouth in quick defense but closed it before saying a word. His eyes explored her own. A strong sense of honesty and love poured over her ruffled senses. “As we talked about before, a man could profit from your farm and the properties in town, but I am not that man. I never liked to farm. . .which bode well with my being the third son. Father has given me ten acres of land to build a house on. I do not need your farm.”
A smile escaped. She knew it, but it was nice to hear it in his reassuring words once again. “But another man might.”
“Perhaps. But ye professed your love to me.” He wrapped her in a protective hug. “And I’m inclined to hold ye to it.”
She fiddled with a loose thread on her skirt, rolling it to a ball. She silently counted to ten, willing herself not to respond to his touch. A part of her wanted to slip away and dissolve into his arms, to put an end to all the foolish thoughts that had been plaguing her since he moved into town. Another part of her wanted to stand and fight these attacks. To simply give in to Olin’s protective love wouldn’t accomplish a resolution to the problem. It would only forestall it.
He massaged her shoulder.
Then again, it would be so nice not to think about everything. She leaned into his chest and closed her eyes. She wasn’t giving in to her emotions, she told herself, just taking a respite from circumstances.
“Father,” he quietly prayed, “give us wisdom and strength. Help us find our way through this problem. Reveal to us how to expose our enemies. Guard our hearts, refine us as Ye would refine gold and silver. Thy Word says, ‘The fining pot is for silver, and the furnace for gold; but the Lord trieth the hearts.’ Help us to be worthy of this test.”
Only a man who works with metal would equate the heart and metal, she mused. “Amen.”
A surge of confidence welled up inside. “Olin, bring me home.”
“But. . .”
She placed a finger to his lips. “Trust me on this. I need to return to my home, my business. I’m confident of that after your prayer.”
“As ye wish. Come. . .”
They walked an hour in silence until they reached his parents’ home. With each step closer, Ida Mae grew in her confidence that this is what she should do, for now. A time may come for her to go into hiding again, but for now she felt she needed to be in town, protecting her own property.
❧
“Good morning, Mrs. Baxter, how can I help you?”
The older woman hoisted a fleece of wool onto the counter. “Been saving this for a while. I hoped to get around to it but I simply couldn’t find the time. Ain’t no sense letting
it gather dust. What’s it going to cost me?”
Ida Mae scanned the fleece. The sheep had been sheared properly. “It’s not sorted.”
“Nah, ain’t seen much use for sorting. Them discolored parts can be sorted when you’re spinning it, can’t it?”
“Yes, I can sort it.” But I should charge you for sorting. “When do you need it done by?”
“No real rush. As I said, it’s been gathering dust.”
Ida Mae rubbed her hand over the wool. It needed a good cleaning.
“Ain’t seen nothin’ like it, I tell ya.”
Realizing she had missed something in the conversation, Ida Mae tried to recall Mrs. Baxter’s words. Nothing came to mind. “Pardon?”
“Sheriff said it was chicken blood on your door the other day. I ain’t seen nothing like that before. No good will come of it.”
“Yes, very unusual.” She’d been fielding questions from her customers for hours. If nothing else, the incident certainly brought in more work. “Three dollars.”
“How about two?”
Ida Mae held back a chuckle. “Three. The fleece needs scoring and sorting before I can even begin to work it.”
Mrs. Baxter’s jowls wagged. “Oh, all right. I knew I shouldn’t have left it for so long.”
In reality, you should be paying me five dollars. “I’ll try to have this done by the end of next week.”
“That’ll be just fine. Can you use some summer squash? My cupboards are overflowing.”
“I’d love some.” Ida Mae missed fresh vegetables.
“Bless your heart, dear.” Mrs. Baxter leaned over the counter and whispered, “Have you been treated properly?”
“Yes.” Again, a question that had been asked so often she’d given up being angered over it. Folks meant well, they just didn’t realize the effect the question had. “I had a pleasant visit with my family and with the Orrs.”
“I heard—”
“Olin Orr is a fine and decent man, in much the same way as his father and brothers. I don’t understand what his cousin has against him.”
The methodical nod of Mrs. Baxter’s head showed she comprehended the true source of Olin’s problems. “I’ve seen Mr. Orr’s work; it’s mighty fine.”
A smile creased Ida Mae’s cheeks. “He made me this candle-stick holder.”
The older woman picked it up and examined the intricate design Olin had laid out in the thin metal. The tiny tin roses at the base made the piece quite ornate. “Very nice. I might just order myself a pair.”
Perhaps the blood on the doorway would be a boon to both our businesses, Ida Mae mused. “Do you want me to save the discolored wool?”
“Ain’t got much use for it.”
The bell over the door rang as another customer entered the shop.
“Gracious, look at the time. I must be running. I’ll be in the end of next week to pick up the wool yarn.” Mrs. Baxter hustled out the door with a quick greeting to Elsa Perkins.
“How can I help you, Elsa?”
“Mother’s wondering if you’ll have time to spin this.” Elsa plopped a bundle of cotton on the counter. It was too early in the season for cotton.
“I can. What does she want?”
“Thread to sew rugs with and other thick materials.”
Ida Mae scribbled a note and attached it to the bundle. “How soon would she like it?”
“Right away. Are you staying in town or going off visiting again?”
“I should be here for a while.”
Elsa leaned over the counter. “Are you married?”
The sting of heat flashed across her cheeks. “No.”
“I heard you had a—”
“Friend who put out a fire, nothing happened. I don’t know what people are claiming they saw, but we simply spoke for a few minutes in my hallway.”
“Ma said you wouldn’t behave that way. I kinda figured, but it’s hard when you are alone and kissin’ a boy.”
Ida Mae’s heart went out to the young woman. “Remember, if he’s a man worth marrying he’ll behave proper.”
“That’s what I keep telling Michael.” Tears trailed down Elsa’s cheeks.
Ida Mae ran around the counter and swept Elsa up in her arms. “Shh, now it will be all right. Have you?”
She shook her head no.
Relief washed over Ida Mae. “Good. You tell Michael you can’t see him any longer. He’ll be apologizing to you right quick if he can get past your father. I suspect if you tell your parents you don’t want to see Michael for a while, they’ll let him know in no uncertain terms he’s not welcome in your home. If he truly loves you, he’ll come back and he’ll be apologizing to you and your parents and be asking for your hand in marriage as a young man should. If not, he’s not worth losing sleep over.”
“But don’t you love Olin? He’s not a perfect man.”
Ida Mae chuckled. “No man is a perfect man, but Olin isn’t the man others say he is. I have yet to meet more of a gentleman in all of the county.”
“Really? But they say—”
“Elsa, I know what they say. You can’t go by what others say. You have to judge people on their actions. Olin has never put me in the same situation Michael has put you. Who do you say is more honorable?”
Elsa took in a deep breath and released it slowly. “Mr. Orr.”
“Remember, a man is only as good as his words and actions. I’d say Michael has some improving to do.”
“Do you really know what folks are saying about you?”
“Yes. Thankfully, I have enough people who know me and believe my word.”
“Including the sheriff. He’s real upset about what happened the other night. Why do you think someone poured chicken blood on your door?”
To implicate Olin.
❧
“How much is this?” A constant stream of women had been in his shop all day. Eyeing him and sizing him up, no doubt.
At this very moment he’d prefer to be alone with Ida Mae in the woods, or stuck on the farm, anywhere away from these busybodies. Not one item had been purchased, but if there were a way to count fingerprints he’d have the most in a day to be certain. “Fifty cents.”
“What’s wrong with it? The tin man last summer tried to sell me a candlestick holder that looked very similar for two dollars.”
“It’s a fair price. I made the items here so I can pass on the savings to you.” And keep ye from getting overcharged by the Yankee traders.
“Heard you married Ida Mae McAuley. Is that true? Ain’t no ring on your finger. Not that a man has to wear a ring, but my Tyrone, God bless him, always wore his wedding ring.”
“No, ma’am, we are not.” He’d known gossip would spread like wildfire, but he didn’t anticipate it would remain, burning like coals in a firepot. For the past two days he’d been answering similar questions.
“She’s a fine girl.”
“Aye, that she is. Can I help you with anything else?’
The gray wisps in the woman’s dark hair had him guessing her age to be around forty. The wrinkles on her hands added a few more years. Mayhap forty-five. Her features were somewhat familiar. Olin examined her a bit more closely. Who is she?
She picked up a snuffer and twirled it in her fingers, then placed it back on the table. “Are you truly an honorable man?”
“Pardon?”
“I’ve heard tales that make a person question your intent with my niece.”
Olin relaxed. Seeing no one else in the shop, he closed the door and offered the customer a seat. “Mrs. Jacobs?”
“Yes.”
“For you I will answer whatever ye ask. To strangers, I shall not.”
Mrs. Jacobs’ hands shook. “Forgive me for being direct, and I know you spoke with my husband, but for the sake of my dear departed sister’s only daughter, I feel I must ask.”
“I do love your niece and I hope to marry her one day. Only God knows that I’ve been a gentleman. There have been too man
y moments when we have not been in the companionship of others to vouch for my conduct. Ye may ask Ida Mae. I know the rumors circulating about the events that transpired seven years ago. Sheriff. . .”
She waved him to silence. “I am not concerned about the past, only the present. Am I correct in understanding that you spent a night alone together?”
Olin pulled at his collar. “Aye, that is the truth.”
“Do you see my concern?”
“Aye, but we were trying to keep Ida Mae safe. The sheriff felt it best that Ida Mae go into hiding.”
“Then why are you here now? No one has been caught.”
“Ida Mae thought it best that we return. She did not want to live on the run.” He still hadn’t settled whether he agreed with her or not. Danger still lurked out there and he, for one, wouldn’t rest until the person was apprehended.
She thought for a moment, then nodded before she spoke. “Yes, she can be that way. She’s like my sister in that regard.” Olin shifted as his guest scanned the room. “Do you make enough to support a wife?”
“Not at present.” The words slipped out before he had a chance to think.
“Then why ask Ida Mae to marry you?”
“Because I love her and I have a savings to live on while I develop my business here.”
“I see.” Mrs. Jacobs narrowed her gaze. “And business is developing?”
Olin pulled at his collar once again.
“Are you planning on living off of Ida Mae’s inheritance?”
“No, ma’am.”
The steady drum of knocking on the closed front door made Olin grateful for the distraction. “Pardon me.”
He opened the door to see Sheriff Thatcher with his arms across his chest. “Why do you keep doing this?” the sheriff asked Olin.
Sixteen
The bolt clanged in the lock and relief washed over Ida Mae. Two days of nonstop customers and busybodies. The customers were all too curious and asking far too many questions for Ida Mae’s liking. She leaned against the closed door and sighed. Her gaze settled on the various materials needing to be spun that were piled in a corner. The sight of it caused her back to spasm. She flipped the sign telling customers she was now closed, then pushed off the door to go to work. The constant stream of customers hadn’t allowed her much time to actually spin.
Corduroy Road To Love Page 12