Christopher, Barbara - Keeper of Key.txt

by Keeper of Key. txt (lit)

  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