them with you in case you couldn’t sleep.”
Lilly was right. No one could have touched the books during
the night, and she’d brought them down with her this morning.
If the last journal had been on top she would have seen it.
Wouldn’t she?
Recalling that this was the same journal that had jumped
off the table last night, she shivered. It felt as if someone or
something wouldn’t rest until she read this portion of her
namesake’s life.
***
Caleb circled the lake for the third time. His luck had
changed over the last twenty-four hours, and not for the better.
He’d been too angry to ask Becci for breakfast, and he’d worked
through lunch. Now he felt the tremor from the pit of his
stomach to the tips of his fingers. At least he’d found the spigot
by the back door. The water had a strange taste, but it satisfied
his thirst.
He laid the hand-whittled spear down and stretched out
along the bank. No fish were turning near the edge, and he
couldn’t ask Becci for anything to eat. He had to think.
It wouldn’t be right to sneak into the house to look for the
medallion, and he’d said he would be gone before dinner.
Without the amulet, leaving would be impossible. Still, he’d
told her he would leave, and he was a man of his word.
By his calculations, darkness would descend in about an
hour. It didn’t matter if night fell before he got to Raleigh. He
knew the trail, and the full moon would light the path. Someone
in Raleigh would put him up one more night.
Caleb rolled to his feet. If he planned on leaving by
nightfall, he’d better get moving. He’d already delayed long
enough. The last boat going to Memphis would depart from
below Sanderlin’s Bluff before he arrived, and there wouldn’t
be another until morning.
Most of the town folks were probably turned in for the
night, but he had several other options open to him. He would
just ask Brother Robert if he could sleep in the new church
building. Or better yet, Old Man Tapp, the prospector who
lived down by the Wolf, would be glad to share his campsite
with him. They’d supped together many times over the past
year. What would one more time matter? It would give them
the chance to discuss the thefts going on around town.
Caleb cursed and slapped his hat against the ground. He
knew for a fact that neither Brother Robert, Old Tapp, nor any
of the people of Raleigh he’d met would be alive. With a
hundred and sixty years of changes, he doubted he’d even be
able to find the bluff or the old familiar path without a guide.
“Who knows?” he muttered aloud. “The boats might not
even be leaving from below the bluff anymore.”
First he would rid himself of the rancid odor that three
days of hard work had created. If he didn’t, no one would
welcome him. Not even the old prospector.
Caleb pulled the chunk of what he hoped was soap out of
his pocket and tossed it on the ground before shrugging out of
his clothes. With luck, the small piece of soap would last long
enough for him to get the odor out of his shirt and off his body.
***
Becci rubbed her damp palms on her slacks. After washing
and drying the clothes she’d found in the attic, she’d neatly
folded and laid them aside until she garnered her courage to
face Caleb and apologize. She couldn’t delay any longer.
Becci drew in an encouraging breath. It had never been
easy for her to admit to a mistake, and this time was no different.
She gathered up the clothes and headed in the direction Caleb
had disappeared. She’d seen him go toward the lake with his
homemade spear and a small box.
Hopefully he hadn’t been leaving without a word. She still
owed him for the work he’d done.
Whether or not Caleb accepted the clothes as a peace
offering was questionable. She hoped he would, but according
to Rebecca’s journal, he wouldn’t look favorably on charity of
any kind. Rebecca had spent two pages ranting about Caleb
refusing to take money she offered him when his funds ran
short. She’d closed the section with a note praising him.
In words soft but firm, he called my full name and
proceeded to tell me to put my money away unless I had work
for him. He had no intention of accepting anyone else’s charity
or mine.
Becci sighed. It sounded exactly like the man she’d fought
with less than ten hours earlier. The more she read about the
1800’s Caleb Harrison, the more she believed her Caleb had
come from the past. As for the secondhand clothes, the work
he’d done in the last three days would more than pay for
everything.
Besides, he hadn’t even eaten one meal today. By the time
he caught and cooked a fish, he would be starving. He deserved
dinner, but how could she convince him to accept it?
As she neared the lake, she heard water splash. She glanced
at the lake. Fear sent a cold chill up her spine. No one dared
walk into Berclair Lake among the snakes to swim or bathe.
Yet Caleb stood fifteen feet from the bank with a circle of
bubbles lapping at his chest.
She gasped and wavered between calling out a warning to
him or turning back toward the house. She knew he probably
wouldn’t heed her warning, so she decided to leave. She would
bring the clothes back later.
“Becci,” Caleb called.
“Hi,” Becci called back over her shoulder. “You’re in the
water.” She heard the tremor of fear in her own voice.
“Yes. If you’ll give me a minute before you turn back
around, I would appreciate it.”
“What are you doing?”
Caleb chuckled. “I think it’s called bathing. The water is
refreshing.”
She tried to keep her gaze averted, but her eyes had a mind
of their own. As long as he stayed in the water, what would it
hurt? She walked back to the water’s edge.
“I don’t think anyone has gotten in that water in over twenty
years.”
His mouth cocked into the half-smile Rebecca commented
on frequently in her journals. “I didn’t have much of a choice.
Besides, I’d begun to smell worse than Jacobs.”
He held up something, but she couldn’t tell what it was
from where she stood. “I found the soap in one of the boxes. I
hope you don’t object to my using it.”
“Not at all.”
Becci rested her chin on the clothes she carried and inhaled
their freshly washed scent. She needed every ounce of courage
to offer them to him. If he refused, then what?
“I found some things I thought you might be able to wear
while I clean yours. If your clothes are from the 1800’s, they
will probably need special attention, and I’d like to keep them
preserved for the antique dealer coming to the party. He might
be willing to pay you a lot of money for them.”
“Does that mean you’re not kic
king me out of the shed?”
Becci tipped her head back and drew in a deep breath.
“I’m not kicking you out. I would like you to come to the house
for supper. And I know you didn’t take the whiskey.”
“You saw Jacobs?”
Caleb lowered himself neck deep in the water, and waited
for her answer.
“No. I still don’t know who stole it, but after you—after
we kissed, I knew you didn’t. I should have apologized
immediately, but the kiss shocked me. Then you left, and there
wasn’t time to say I was, um, sorry. But I don’t want
you…us…to kiss again.” Heaven, help her she was babbling
worse than Aunt Lilly.
“I get the point, Miss Berclair. You’re just stating what I
told Rebecca when the rumors about my lack of a name started
spreading through Raleigh. It’s wrong for a man with no name
to make advances toward a respected lady like you. I’m the
one who owes the apology,”
No, she wanted to shout. It isn’t your fault. It’s mine. You
don’t know what that kiss did to me.
But she couldn’t say that. She stared at him while he treaded
water, mesmerized by the way his muscles moved under the
slick coating of bubbles.
“You’ve found my work acceptable. You no longer consider
me lazy, but if I step out of line you’ll pack me off down the
river. You don’t have to worry, I know my place.”
That said, Caleb raised his arms and dropped below the
water. He knew his place all right, but his body didn’t care
about propriety. Here he was neck deep in cold water, but that
didn’t stop the desire raging through him. Didn’t Becci know
what just being around her did to him?
He surfaced a few feet closer to the bank.
A gasp escaped from Becci as Caleb resurfaced, and she
backed up a step. “Caleb, get out of the water. There’s
a...a...snake.” Her throat closed around the words, fear making
them barely audible.
“Where?” Caleb asked. He didn’t act alarmed. He simply
went perfectly still. “And what kind?”
“Behind you. I...I think it’s a moccasin”
He didn’t turn around. Slowly he inched toward the bank.
“How close?”
“Less than six feet. Hurry! It’s coming right at you.” Caleb
twisted around slowly, trying not to draw the snake’s attention.
It dipped under the water and Caleb dashed to the shore and
crawled out, slipping twice at the muddy edge before dragging
himself to safety. The snake appeared at the bank just as Caleb
pulled his feet out, and then it slithered away.
With the same fluid motion he’d used last night, he came
up off the ground and stood before Becci.
“Are you okay?” Becci asked. “It didn’t bite you, did it?
What can I do to help?”
She stopped abruptly, her gaze sweeping the length of his
naked, dripping body. Caleb stood there silently as she scanned
him from head to toe not once, but twice. He felt his face heat.
“You’re....”
From the moment she’d appeared he’d burned with a desire
to lay her on a soft bed of pine needles. The hunger in her eyes
fueled the fire inside him. But he couldn’t let it happen—not
now. Not ever.
“Yes, I’m fine.” He flashed a grin at her. He knew she
hadn’t been about to ask about his health, but he didn’t dare let
her finish.
He shook his head. “And, no, the snake didn’t bite me.
He’s probably more afraid of me than I am of him, but there’s
no use taking a chance. Now, if you’ll hand me those clothes
and hightail it back to the house as fast as you can, I’m sure no
one will know of this little meeting,” he said. “I’ll be there as
soon as I’ve finished dressing.”
Becci whirled away and started up the hill.
“Miss Berclair?” She stopped, her back ramrod straight.
“You forgot to leave the clothes.”
Without glancing back, she dropped the stack, saying,
“Becci. You can call me Becci. I’ll go across the street and
pick up something for supper. Wait for me in the kitchen. Aunt
Lilly wants to discuss Rebecca’s murder with you.”
Caleb knelt down beside the pile of clothes. Rebecca’s
murder! Who had murdered her? Jacobs? Obadiah?
If he returned, would he hang for a crime he didn’t commit?
Nine
Musical notes floated through the house. Lilly paused, her
hot-pad, mitten-covered hands hovering in front of the open
oven door.
“What in the world is that?” Caleb gasped, then inwardly
groaned. After Lilly’s lecture on electricity, he’d promised
himself he wouldn’t ask any more questions. The music sounded
again, followed by a rattling noise and then a sharp rap.
“It’s just someone at the front door. I’ll explain about the
doorbell later,” Lilly answered. “Right now, though, I need for
you to see who’s there. My pies are ready to come out of the
oven.”
“Sure.” Caleb marked his place in the encyclopedia Lilly
had given him to study and shoved his chair back. He reached
the door just as the music sounded a third time and the visitor
knocked again.
He opened the door. The man standing on the porch
squinted at him with angry disapproval, and a prickle of
recognition struck Caleb. He ignored the uncomfortable
sensation. He knew only Becci and Lilly from this era, and he
didn’t care to meet anyone else.
The stranger’s dark-eyed glare swept over Caleb. Caleb
followed the man’s scrutiny down the clean, but faded britches
Becci had given him to his mud-encrusted boots. Then he turned
his gaze on the stranger and mimicked his actions. Not one
speck of dirt soiled his clothing.
The stranger swallowed and, with deliberately slow
motions, ran his hand over the funny cravat that covered the
row of buttons on his shirt. He made a show of tightening the
knot at his neck.
“May I help you?” Caleb asked.
“Who the hell are you?” the stranger snapped with
authority.
“Caleb Harrison. And you are?” Caleb replied evenly.
“What are you doing here?”
Caleb frowned. Twice the man had answered his question
with a question. “I asked if I might help you, sir, and who you
are. You have not answered me. I insist that I at least know
with whom I’m speaking.”
“My name is Ascott. Michael Ascott. Becci’s fiancé.”
Caleb tightened his grip on the door. So this was the man
Becci planned to marry. She should reconsider her choice of
men, Caleb decided. Surely she could do better.
What was he thinking? He had no right to pass judgment
on this man because of his own attraction for Becci. Especially
since she obviously didn’t feel likewise.
True, she’d responded to his kiss, but she’d made it clear
she’d only done so because he’d caught her off-guard. She’d
chosen Michael Ascott to be her mate.
>
Caleb locked his gaze on Ascott’s hand as he drew it down
his cravat. A tiny scar threaded its way across the knuckles of
the man’s right hand. Something tugged at a long-ago memory.
He’d seen a scar like that before, on a man whose face he’d
never seen. The man who had lain with his Elizabeth.
This couldn’t be that same man, not a century and a half
into the future. That man was dead. He’d killed him.
Ascott slid his right hand out of sight, cleared his throat
and shoved the door open wider with his left.
“I’m glad to finally meet you. Becci has mentioned you
several times since I arrived,” Caleb said as he extended his
hand in greeting
“I’m sure she has. Where is she?” Ascott asked as he pushed
past Caleb, ignoring his outstretched hand.
Caleb curled his fingers into a fist, then opened it and gently
closed the door.
“Becci’s out. Miss Lilly is in the kitchen.”
“Becci’s out? Where did she go?”
“She’s picking up something for us to eat,” Caleb said,
tossing the words over his shoulder as he passed Ascott on his
way to the kitchen.
“Not for herself, I hope. We have a date.”
“Oh.” Caleb shrugged with a nonchalance he didn’t feel.
Ascott had come courting. Would they use Rebecca’s parlor?
Caleb cringed at the thought of them together.
He felt trouble brewing. Just as he had the day Elizabeth
died. Same as he had the day he’d loaded the dresser in his
wagon to deliver it to Rebecca. He’d let his guard slip on both
occasions. He wouldn’t make that mistake a third time.
Ascott strode past Caleb and entered the kitchen as if he
owned the house. No one in Raleigh had treated Caleb as an
outcast. They’d feared him, even disliked him, but they’d
accepted him.
Caleb pulled out his chair, took his place at the table and
opened the encyclopedia to the place he’d marked. The man
wouldn’t run him off. He belonged here as much as Ascott did.
“What are you doing here?” Lilly asked, sounding
surprised.
Caleb breathed a little easier. At least Ascott hadn’t been
expected.
“Are those fresh apple pies? They smell absolutely
heavenly,” Ascott said.
Did the man always avoid answering questions? Caleb
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