Moss Rose

by Scottie Barrett

  "Yes."

  She blurted out her acceptance. "It would definitely be the stables."

  "I figured you might say that." Levi nodded, causing a thick strand of black hair to fall loose from its leather binding, exposing the shiny silver earring underneath. Jensen's breath caught for a moment as she found herself riveted to his startlingly handsome profile.

  "Do you think Thomas will be upset?" She glanced back at the poker-faced man sitting ramrod straight in the saddle, sunlight glinting off the gold braid of his livery. His horse's pace had slowed to a lazy trot, and he trailed well behind the wagon now.

  "Thomas will handle it like everything else I throw his way. He'll give me a raised eyebrow, questioning my good judgment, and then give his grudging assent." Levi slapped the reins to speed up the horses. "He witnessed how capable you were handling the mare yesterday. I don't think it will be hard to convince him. Besides, he's been complaining about having too much work. Now, telling Maggie that she's just lost her new maid might not be as easy."

  They rode in silence for a short while. The continuous creaking of the wagon lent a rhythmic counterpoint to the light, airy music of the birds.

  "Why do you wear an earring?" Jensen was as surprised as he was by the question that sprung from her lips.

  He slid her a sideways glance, and Jensen wanted to kick herself for speaking.

  "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be nosy. My uncle always scolded me for being overly so. He always told me I was more of a nuisance than a litter of curious kittens." After divulging that ridiculous piece of trivia, Jensen clamped her mouth shut, astonished by her sudden loquaciousness. She looked out toward the fields to hide the embarrassing blush flooding her cheeks.

  "Believe it or not, this," Levi reached up and gave the silver hoop a little tug before returning his hand to the reins, "saved my life once. You could say it's my lucky charm."

  Jensen turned to face him. His eyes were trained on the road ahead, and yet his gaze seemed far away. "You don't seem the type of man who would need luck. I--I mean it's just that you seem so capable of doing everything well."

  Levi's face registered surprise at her flattering assessment of him. "Everyone needs a little luck now and then, even me." His expression transformed into a cocky smile. "Now would you like to hear my story about the earring or not?"

  "Yes, please."

  "I was working on a merchant ship--"

  "A merchant ship?! Oh, sure. And I once dwelled beneath a toadstool as the wife of a leprechaun," the latter was said with an Irish accent.

  "A wee, bit of a thing you are, but a leprechaun?" His lilting brogue as faultless as her own. "Ah, the luck of the Irish," he said on a sigh and turned to look at her, his eyes finding her lips and lingering suggestively. Muttering something under his breath, he scrubbed his face for a second and refocused his intense gaze on her eyes. "So, you don't believe me, Duff?" he asked sounding a little insulted.

  With his dangerously handsome face, long black hair and dark skin, she could almost imagine him as a buccaneer. "Actually, I do believe you. Please continue, I promise I won't interrupt again."

  He nodded. "One night, after unloading crates of liquor for a twelve hour stretch, I collapsed into my hammock in a dead heap, and some joker on board thought it a worthy prank to pierce my ear. I decided to keep it when the others convinced me that women found a man with an earring irresistible."

  "Now I understand why you consider it a good luck charm," she said a bit peevishly.

  "Would you like to hear the whole story or not, Duff?" When she nodded her assent he continued. "It was one of those strange days on board when the ocean had a mind of it's own with the fickle sky wavering between cloudy and clear. We were just heading into port, and I was out with my mop scrubbing up the decks."

  Jensen snickered, and he gave her an irritated sidelong glance. "I'm sorry, I was somehow picturing you wielding something infinitely more deadly than a mop."

  "Why do women always have to romanticize everything?" he asked with a roll of his eyes. "Duff, it was a merchant ship not a pirate ship. And I, being the newest, youngest member of the crew, was assigned the worst jobs. Well anyway, the Serendipity--"

  "Serendipity? What a precious name," she laughed.

  His mouth quirked into a lopsided grin. "The ladies always were a little disappointed. Here I was swaggering and boasting like only a fool of nineteen would do, and then they'd ask me which ship I served. Damned if that wasn't the most deflating thing." Their laughter, his deep, hers sweet and husky, melded companionably.

  "We were heading into one of those seedy little harbors that run up and down the coast of Europe and are host only to less reputable captains and crews."

  "In other words, the British Royal Navy was not likely to dock there?"

  "Not unless the Brits needed to deploy press-gangs to force some poor wretches into naval service."

  "Pardon me for saying, but you don't sound particularly loyal to the crown. I think you colonials pay lip service to English rule, but you seem a breed apart."

  He acknowledged her observation with an amused tilt of his brow before continuing his story. "Well, Captain Hobart was looking to pick up some--," he stopped to clear his throat, "--some maidens." He gave her a considering look. "I wonder if I should be telling you this?"

  "Pray you're not going to stop now, are you?" She placed her slender fingers lightly on his forearm. When he glanced down at her hand, still resting atop his shirtsleeve, she quickly withdrew it, tucking it in her lap.

  "I'd be hard pressed to deny those pleading green eyes anything," he said, to which she responded with a coy bat of her lashes.

  "To make a long story even longer, I threw my mop into the bucket and hurried below deck to get my earring, hoping to sweep the ladies off their feet. While below, the boat heaved sharply throwing me against the wall. I heard some yelling overhead, and I climbed back up on deck. A huge wave had washed over the bow. My bucket and mop went with it. Some of the crew were looking overboard shaking their heads. 'Poor kid,' they were saying, 'he'd have made a mighty fine sailor some day.'" Levi threw his head back and let out a marvelous laugh. "It was like watching my own funeral. I dropped the door on the hatch and they turned, staring open mouthed at me. Their eyes bulged like they were looking at a ghost. Unable to stop myself, I laughed at them and learned my most important lesson at sea--never laugh at a sailor. I spent the remainder of that day strung up by my ankles from the rigging."

  Jensen winced. "And you consider that a lucky earring?"

  "Hanging head down was a helluva a lot better than being shark bait. Which is what I would have been if I hadn't gone to fetch the earring."

  His smile deepened, making his dimple seem like a permanent crease in his cheek, and Jensen found herself captivated by it. 'Who was this charming man she was sitting beside?' she wondered. Could he possibly be the same man that a mere week ago had forced her to sign over four years of her life?

  She was jolted from her unsettling thoughts as the wagon suddenly lurched sideways. Levi's lightning fast reflexes saved her from falling face first into the mud puddles edging the fields. They came to an abrupt grating halt just as Levi pulled her back onto the splintery bench. The wagon listed badly on Jensen's side.

  Levi shook his head in annoyance. "Wheel's caught in the mud," he said with a sigh as he leaped out in a single motion, his black boots landing securely in the rich, moisture laden soil. Thomas rode up slowly, shaking his head in an identical gesture to Levi's. Easing himself off his mount, he gave Jensen an admonishing look as though she was to blame for the mishap.

  "That's a pretty mess. I'll find a branch to pry up the wheel, Mr. North," Thomas said heading off toward the wooded area.

  Levi crouched by the sunken wheel, rubbing his chin in thought. He rose to his full height, still staring at the wheel. His gray eyes lit a bit as he glanced up at Jensen.

  "I suppose you and Ginger better get out so we can pry her up easier," he said. H
is hands encircled her waist as he lifted her effortlessly from the wagon. "Not that you weigh much more than a goose down pillow," he quipped as Jensen found herself bracing her slender hands on his broad shoulders.

  He spun her around to a dry spot on the road, lowering her gently to her feet. Their eyes locked for just a moment, but long enough for Jensen's face to warm with a flush before she looked away. The heat of his hands penetrated through the thick fabric of her skirt. She could swear he lightly stroked the hollow of her back with his fingertips before releasing her.

  "Out, girl!" He turned toward the wagon and slammed the sideboard with the flat of his hand. The wolf emitted a protesting growl as she rose lazily to her feet and jumped off the back.

  Eyeing an unusual orange and black swallowtail butterfly, Jensen followed it, strolling through the perfectly manicured crops. She was immediately struck by the peacefulness of the gently undulating field. As she watched the breeze ruffle the tender leaves, it occurred to her that things were suddenly looking less bleak. She was filled with excitement at the thought of working with the horses. Grooming, feeding, and exercising the horses was not work to her. Ginger brushed by her skirt, waking her from her pleasant daydreams. Jensen followed her down the narrow path back to the wagon.

  Levi was hunched over the lever, his muscles straining as he hoisted the wheel. "Pull now!" he shouted to Thomas who had hold of the horses' bits. Levi wiped his sweaty brow with his shirtsleeve as the wagon pulled free.

  "Christ Almighty!" Levi cursed as a huge, muscular arm reached round to grab him in a chokehold. Jensen fell back against the wagon, screaming in terror, as the vicious-looking savage brandished a gleaming blade near Levi's face.

  "I've found myself a nice Virginian scalp," the Indian hissed through clenched teeth.

  Jensen shook in fear and looked to Thomas for help. But he just watched the whole scene with lazy indifference from the wagon bed. Ginger's reaction was even more puzzling. She stood staring at the stranger, wagging her tail furiously. Jensen snatched up the stick Levi had used to jack up the wagon.

  "Go on and scalp me you bloody heathen but leave enough skin so that the hair'll grow back, I'd be damn ugly bald," Levi said as he flung the large constraining arm from his shoulder. He turned to face the Indian. Both men laughed heartily.

  "God, it's good to see you man!" Levi said, giving the man a resounding slap on the back.

  Jensen dropped the heavy branch to the dirt with a thud, catching both men's attention. "Hell, that would have hurt," the stranger said with a chuckle.

  "No doubt," Levi agreed with an amused smile.

  The Indian bowed graciously to her, one hand across his muscular stomach, the other out to the side still clutching the deadly scalping knife. "Who is this little protector of yours, Hawk?" His obsidian black eyes shone as he boldly surveyed her from head to toe. "My name's Malaton. I'm Hawk's oldest friend." It suddenly occurred to her that he had been speaking fluent English.

  "Jensen Mar--Hawthorne," she returned the introduction in a shaky voice.

  "Mar--Hawthorne, why that's an unusual name," Malaton said with a chuckle.

  "Yes," Levi agreed, his eyes finding hers. "Isn't it though."

  Finally, the man sheathed his knife, and Jensen felt her shoulders relax. He was a big man, only a few inches shorter than Levi, and almost as broad, wearing only a buckskin loincloth and leggings secured at the knees with red strips of leather. The sides of his head were shaved clean. A long plait of hair trailed down the center of his back to his waist, held tight by a string of eagle feathers. The top of his head was crested with a tall, black roach. The entire rim of each ear was pierced with at least a half-dozen earrings strung with copper beads and pearls. From the lobe of his right ear dangled the long yellow taloned foot of a large bird. A tattoo brand, strikingly similar to Levi's, circled his heavily muscled arm, lending a chilling authenticity to the rumor she'd heard that as a lad, Levi had run away to live with an Indian tribe.

  "Hawk, where are you off to in such a hurry that you managed to get stuck in the mud?" the man inquired. He eyed Jensen up and down speculatively. "Or perhaps you were too preoccupied with this little lady to pay attention to the road."

  "Not that it's any of your business, but I'm taking my new stable hand to be fitted for some skirts more suited for riding horses," Levi said with a wary glance toward Thomas who just about fell off the wagon with this revelation.

  "This tiny thing? What on earth could she be doing down in the stables?" He shook his head and then shifted his knowing gaze to his friend. "But then, you did always have to do things differently. This time, though, I think you've really lost your mind."

  "Everyone else I know questions my judgment, Mal. I certainly don't need you doing the same." Levi unrolled his sleeves. "And would you be kind enough to pay notice to Ginger. She has not taken her eyes off you for a moment."

  Malaton leaned over and gave Ginger a hearty pat on the shanks. "Hey, sweet lady, is this guy feeding you too much or have you been out hunting plump squirrels?"

  "She's as lazy as an old bloodhound. Spends most of her day soaking up the sun on the front steps," Levi said, patting Ginger's head. Jensen couldn't help smiling at these two fierce looking giants making over the wolf, like two old women cooing over a baby. Thomas cleared his throat impatiently. "Why don't you head up to the house, Mal. Once I've got these errands done, I'll join you for some kill devil. And whatever you do, don't sneak up on poor Maggie again," Levi warned Malaton, slapping him hard on the chest with the back of his hand.

  "I hear ya. Last time she nearly knocked me senseless with a broom." Malaton rubbed his head. "I just hope Cook's got something tasty stewing in the kettle. I've been trapping in the Blue Ridge Mountains all spring, and I'm about wasted away to skin and bones."

  "I can see how scrawny you've become," Levi commented in a dry tone.

  They watched as the towering man lumbered up the road toward the manor.

  "Shall I drive, sir?" Thomas asked superciliously.

  "No, I think I can handle it, Thomas."

  ***

  The country store, a long barn-like building, was actually located on the massive acreage of the Moss Rose Plantation. Small landowners from surrounding areas purchased supplies there as well.

  A small ferret faced man glanced up from his books with a cursory nod for Levi. One area was stocked completely with horse supplies, from saddle blankets to grooming brushes. There was a wooden horse, which displayed a beautiful leather saddle intricately embossed with vines and trimmed in silver. Food and grain for livestock took up a large center section of the store. Huge burlap sacks, piled high, emitted the heavy odor of alfalfa and oats. The opposite end of the store held the most interest for Jensen. Aside from dishes, saucepans and gridirons, there was an assortment of brightly dyed calico dresses, bonnets, perfumes, silver combs, and brushes. Jensen was immediately drawn to a delicate gold bracelet, a braid of fragile gold chains studded with pale green stones. Jensen picked up the bracelet to admire it.

  "Peridots, they are almost a match for your eyes," Levi's deep voice came from behind.

  Jensen let the bracelet drop, pushed past Levi, and headed toward the work clothes. She could hear his heavy footfalls behind her. "Polly, come here please," he said turning to the store clerk.

  The cherub-faced store clerk smiled pleasantly at him. "Mr. North, what can I do for you?" she inquired.

  "We need some skirts that would be suitable for working with horses, in her size," he said inclining his head toward Jensen.

  Polly looked befuddled. "For this slender thing?" she asked hesitantly. "We don't stock a lot of ready-made clothing, but I suppose I could find something." She snapped her fingers suddenly and hurried over to a shelf buckling beneath the weight of heavy woolen garments. "I've got this rather odd skirt. Never could find a buyer for it. Buckskin, a smidgen shorter than is fashionable. But it's easier to get things accomplished when you're not tripping on your hem." She dug b
eneath the pile and pulled out the leather skirt, and from a rack, snatched two other practical ones fashioned from such a coarsely woven fabric they reminded Jensen of the sails of a ship.

  "I'm sure those will suit her fine," Levi said, gently squeezing her hand, instantly transforming Polly into a blushing schoolgirl.

  "I'll take her into the back so she can try them on," she replied with a wink of her crinkly blue eyes.

  "She'll need a few, so if you don't have enough in stock just order some for the next shipment," he said as he left to find Thomas.

  Polly peered over a pair of wire framed spectacles that perched on the slope of her upturned nose. "Seems strange to have a dainty little thing like you handling the horses." She pulled a tape measure from the pocket of her apron and wrapped it around Jensen's waist. "I don't believe I've ever seen you in these parts before. How did you get hired on at Moss Rose?" she inquired, her nostrils fairly twitching with curiosity.

  "I placed an advertisement in the newspaper, and Mr. North took me on," Jensen summarized simply, thinking to herself that it was really none of the woman's business.

  "With that accent, I'd wager you haven't been long in the colonies."

  Jensen nodded her head politely, deciding not to impart any more information than necessary.

  The buckskin skirt had obviously been on the shelves for far too long, because when Polly unfurled it and shook it out, the braided trim unraveled, and the waistband nearly disintegrated in her hands. Polly tossed it to the side with a sour look. Jensen tried on the other skirts and found them as stiff and scratchy as tree bark, far too cumbersome to be practical in the stables. "You know, I noticed some boy's breeches on the shelves just outside this room. I think I'll just go out and--"

  "Dearie, you can't possibly be thinking of wearing a pair of boy's trousers. Why, it's unheard of. Mr. North would never permit it."

  "I'm certain Mr. North would agree that these horrid skirts would make work impossible. I'd be better off mucking out his stables in my undergarments."

  Polly's glasses slipped off the tip of her nose with this last revelation. She readjusted them and cleared her throat. "Well, we certainly can't have that. I'll just step out and see what I can find."