Saving Laurel Springs

by Lin Stepp

  Rhea’s eyes trapped his. “You thought you could buy my affection?”

  He scratched his arm in discomfort. “That sounds like an awful way to put it.”

  “If the shoe fits …” Her voice trailed off.

  Ignoring her eye roll, he moved on, a faint smile playing on his lips. “Four, you and I can easily take care of that baby-jealousy issue and create some little Dean-Layman kids to run around this place the same way you and I did.”

  He heard her gasp but ignored it. “And five, I’m building this house, exactly the way you and I always dreamed, to please you, not to upset you. I even used the stones from the old Costner chimney in the rock fireplace in the den.” He held up a key and dangled it. “I’d like you to see it—and show you through the house in its rough state. What do you say?”

  She studied the key. “This day couldn’t get any worse.” She sighed and stood up. “Besides, I might as well go along since you’re not going to leave me in peace.”

  Grinning in pleasure at this turn of events, Carter went to the front door to unlock the house. “You always said you thought we should build a house that looked somewhat like the old Costner place that burned down. Remember? The only picture we found showed a gabled two-storied house with a broad porch across the entire front… .”

  “To catch the fine view across the valley.” She sighed. “I remember.”

  Carter smoothed a hand over the panels of the front door. “You wanted the house painted white with shiny black doors and shutters in the Layman tradition. I plan to do that when it’s finished.”

  “And with a swing on the front porch.” She looked around.

  “I’ve ordered it. And rockers.”

  He watched her try to hide a quick smile as he opened the door into the foyer. “I still have my old notebook where we sketched out the plans we thought would be great for the house.”

  She looked at him in surprise. “You kept that old thing?”

  His voice dropped. “I’ve kept a lot of things you’d be surprised about, Rhea Dean.”

  She turned her attention back to the house, avoiding his eyes.

  He walked her through the downstairs rooms, framed and ready for the interior work to begin—finishing the baths and kitchen, hanging drywall, painting the interior walls, and laying the hardwood floors.

  “The architect’s plans are very similar to the old drawing—living room, family room, dining room, kitchen, and master bedroom on the first level, four bedrooms and baths upstairs.” He led her through the spacious rooms. “I added an office downstairs because I need a place to work at home, but I made sure the architect designed broad porches front and back, to enjoy the outdoors whenever possible.”

  She stopped in the framed-in kitchen area, looking to the left. Her voice came softly. “You remembered to put in a little breakfast area so it would look out into the woods and across the rock patio.”

  He made no comment, pleased she’d noticed.

  “What about furniture?”

  “There’s plenty of time for that.” He took a chance adding, “I hoped you might help me pick it out.”

  She didn’t answer—just stood looking out the kitchen window.

  When the silence lengthened, Carter asked, “Do you want to see upstairs?”

  She trailed him up to the second floor, watching her step on the partly finished stairs, walked through the bedrooms, and stopped to peek out the upper windows to catch the views.

  Rhea made few comments during the tour, but Carter noticed her mouth quirk in a hidden smile now and then, saw her eyes grow misty with memories, watched her trace a hand gently over the big rock fireplace just finished in the family room, recalling the crumbling chimney they’d leaned against so many times. She liked the house—even though she wasn’t saying so.

  Rhea stood quietly now, examining one of the small bedrooms. He could almost follow her thoughts. “We’d make better babies than you and Marshall Sutton.” Carter couldn’t resist the remark.

  She scowled at him. “You were doing pretty good at being nice before that snide observation, Carter.”

  “Sorry,” he said, but he knew he didn’t really mean it. “How’s that going with him, anyway? Marshall practically shoved me into the wall the other day when we met coming out of the Walmart at Newport.”

  Rhea blew out a breath. “He’s not happy with me because I won’t commit and say I’ll marry him.” She moved over to look out a window. “Sometimes I wonder why he wants to. It’s not very good between us when we …” She hedged. “Well, you know.”

  He wisely made no comment—this time of candor with Rhea was too precious to risk damaging.

  When her silence lengthened, Carter walked across the room and stood behind her, slipping his arms around her, looking out the window with her at the panorama below.

  “It’s nice here,” she offered in a small voice.

  She leaned against him with a soft sigh of resignation, and Carter’s heart ached with pleasure.

  Interrupting the moment, Taylor’s high and frightened voice called from downstairs. “Dad, Dad … where are you?”

  Even Rhea turned toward the door in alarm, hearing the upset and anguish in Taylor’s voice.

  “Here, Son. Upstairs.” Carter sprinted toward the door, but Taylor plowed into him before he got there, throwing his arms around him.

  Tears streamed down his face as he wrapped himself tightly against Carter’s legs. Carter squatted to pull him closer into his arms.

  He sobbed, literally shaking.

  Finally beginning to calm down, he leaned away with a sniff and saw Rhea. “Hi, Rhea.” He smiled, remembering to be polite even when upset.

  “Hey, Taylor. What happened to upset you?” Rhea put a kind hand on the child’s back, patting him gently.

  “Yes, what’s wrong, Son?” Carter sat down on the floor, pulling Taylor down to sit beside him. Rhea dropped down to join them, so that they formed a little circle, Taylor still leaning against Carter for support.

  More tears slid down Taylor’s cheeks. “I came looking for Dad. Mamaw said he’d gone over to the Gilliland place to check on the springhouse that got vandaled.” Taylor took a shaky breath. “When I didn’t see him, I went up the road to the old Sutton cabin, thinking Dad might have gone there.”

  His eyes widened. “I heard someone inside the cabin. I thought it was Dad, so I called and went in, but someone threw a quilt over my head and grabbed me. A man, I think. It felt like a man. I couldn’t see much.”

  Carter’s heart began to beat an angry staccato. “Did the man hurt you?”

  Taylor shook his head. “No, but he scared me real bad. He threw me over on that old bed in the cabin, all wrapped up in the quilt, and then he ran out before I could get the quilt off. He shut me in the cabin, too, Dad.” Tears threatened again. “He put something against the door so I was trapped and couldn’t get out.”

  Rhea patted his leg reassuringly. “But you did get out, Taylor.”

  He sniffed. “Don’t get mad but I broke the window at the back so I could climb out.” His words poured out in a torrent now. “I heard the man run down the walk out front so I tried the door to get away but it wouldn’t open. I started to get scared he might come back so I decided to sneak out the back window. It’s low and near the ground, but the window wouldn’t open easy. I couldn’t make the latch move, so I hit it with the miner’s shovel to try to make it open. Some of the window broke but then the latch thing moved, and I pulled up the window and climbed out.”

  He took a deep breath. “As soon as I got out, I ran back through the woods and started across the ridge away from the cabin. I didn’t know if the man was still around and if he might try to get me again.”

  Carter hugged the frightened boy tighter against him.

  Comforted, Taylor continued his story. “I felt scared in the woods at first until I found the trail along the ridge, then I knew where I was.” His eyes found Carter’s. “I was going to go to Rhea’s
house to call you, but when I saw the door open at our new house, I thought you might be here.”

  He threw his arms around Carter again. “I was really scared, Dad. I thought that man might do something awful to me, come back and smother me or hit me with a big stick like what happened to you.”

  Taylor rubbed his tear-streaked face on his sleeve. “Do you think this was the same mean person that hit you?”

  “I don’t know, buddy.” He rocked the boy lovingly against him, deeply grateful he hadn’t been hurt.

  Rhea leaned over to pat Taylor’s knee again. “You were very brave, Taylor, to keep your head and climb out the window and run. That was smart of you.” She flashed Taylor a smile when he looked at her with a touch of pride. “And don’t worry for one minute about that old window. Your dad and I can replace it easily. The important thing is that you’re okay.”

  She looked down at a spot on his leg crusted with a little blood. “Did you get that cut on the window?”

  Alarmed, Carter began to examine his son, finding a cut or two on his legs and one on his hand. He noticed angry scratches on his arms and legs, too. “What happened here, sport?”

  Taylor wrinkled his nose. “There were some blackberry bushes or something behind the cabin, and they got me, I guess.”

  Carter saw Rhea grin at his words. “Well, we need to get you over to your Mamaw and Papaw’s house so we can clean those scratches and cuts—and put some medicine on them.” Rhea stood up and offered Taylor a hand. “I’ll bet we could rustle up some cookies and milk, too. A guy who’s had a close encounter with danger deserves a cookies and milk snack, don’t you think?”

  Taylor nodded, his eyes brightening. “And maybe even banana pudding. Mamaw was making some before I left the house.”

  Rhea laughed. “I am absolutely certain Mary Jane Layman will decide your escape from danger is worthy of banana pudding, too.”

  Carter stood up, taking his son’s hand as they started toward the stairs.

  The next hour or two passed quickly for Carter, walking back to the Layman house, calming Wes and Mary Jane, tending to Taylor, calling the sheriff and going over all the details again with him. Taylor, worn out from the trauma, finally fell asleep on the living room sofa.

  Carter motioned to Rhea, and they slipped through the kitchen and out onto the screened porch. His parents had already gone back outside to finish gardening chores they’d dropped in a flurry when Carter arrived carrying Taylor earlier.

  “Whew, what a day,” Carter said, leaning back in a wicker chair and propping his feet up on a stool.

  Rhea settled in the corner of the porch swing and curled her feet up under her. “I want a sip of your lemonade.” She reached across to snag Carter’s glass from the side table.

  “Help yourself.” He sighed and leaned his head back against the chair.

  “Carter, do you think the same vandal that scared Taylor today hit you?”

  “Even the sheriff thinks it’s probably all linked, Rhea, that it’s either the same person or a part of the same group or gang.” He retrieved the lemonade she’d put back on the table and drained the glass.

  Rhea drummed her fingers on the arm of the swing. “I just don’t get all of this at all.”

  “Me neither. But I especially don’t like the idea that my son might have been injured.”

  Rhea shifted her position. “I think the vandal thought Taylor might recognize him, don’t you? That would explain why he threw the quilt from the bed over Taylor’s head. My guess is that Taylor caught him unexpectedly in the cabin looking for something.”

  “Like what?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. I wish I did.”

  They sat and thought about this for a few minutes.

  “You know what I think?” Carter asked, leaning forward.

  “What?” She looked at him with interest.

  “I think whatever the man was doing, he got interrupted.” A faint smile played on Carter’s lips. “My guess is he’ll come back.”

  Rhea’s eyes flashed. “Or he might come back because he’s afraid evidence could have been left behind.”

  “Maybe.” Carter considered her point. “Ursell went to the cabin to search and look around. He didn’t find anything.”

  Rhea smiled. “But the vandal might not know that. Besides, only the vandal knows why he was there and if he left evidence behind that Ursell didn’t find.”

  A muscle in his jaw bunched. “When do you think he’ll come back?”

  She scratched her chin, thinking. “I’d go after dark, wouldn’t you? When there was less chance to run into anyone.”

  “An interesting thought.” Carter flexed his fingers. “I think I’ll be visiting the old Sutton place tonight.”

  Rhea sat forward. “That might be dangerous, Carter. Maybe we should suggest Ursell or one of his deputies stake out the place.”

  “Ursell wouldn’t do it. The idea would seem too much of a whim to him.” His eyes narrowed. “But not to me. I think there’s a good chance the man might come back. I’d like the chance to take a piece out of him if he does.” He shrugged, conscious of Rhea’s indrawn breath. “Even if the vandal doesn’t come back, I’d like an opportunity to look around the place.”

  Rhea slanted him a warning glance. “You shouldn’t go by yourself.”

  “I’ll be careful.”

  She shifted again on the swing, dropping her feet to the floor. “Then I’m going with you,” she announced.

  He frowned at her. “I’m not so sure that’s such a good idea.”

  She gave him a saucy look. “I’m not so sure you have any choice.”

  Carter knew how Rhea could be when she set her mind to something. “Oh, all right. We’ll both go after I get Taylor down for bed—and when I can sneak out. I’ll come to your window to get you.”

  “Okay.” She stood up now, stretching her shoulders. “I think I’ll go home to get some rest. I’ve really had a killer day.”

  He grinned at her. “Watch your choice of words.”

  She shivered. “Don’t try to scare me, Carter Layman.”

  “Don’t think this is a joke. We’ll need to be very careful.” He paused to think. “Wear all black or dark clothes tonight. Bring a light jacket and a few essentials packed in the pockets, or in a waist pack, just in case we need to stake out for a while. I’ll do the same.”

  Rhea gave him a thoughtful look. “Should we tell anyone where we’re going?”

  He shook his head. “They’d try to talk us out of it. You know that.” He stood up from his chair to see her out. “Besides, this little trip may all be a wasted venture. The guy will probably lay low and not even come around Laurel Springs for weeks after this incident with Taylor.”

  She nodded. “You’re probably right. Hardly anything happened for several weeks after you got injured that time.” She paused, considering this. “You want to call off going up there tonight?”

  Carter flashed a teasing grin at her. “No. What’s the matter? You afraid old Jonas Sutton’s ghost might come floating in and scare you?”

  He watched her bristle. “Don’t be ridiculous. You know I don’t believe in ghosts.”

  Carter laughed. “You were scared enough that time in the cemetery when I came floating in wearing a white sheet and moaning.” He raised his arms and waved them dramatically.

  She kicked at him in annoyance. “I was ten years old. And you tricked me into going to that cemetery so you could sneak up and scare me.”

  He laughed. “Son of a monkey, we had some good times growing up, didn’t we? A whole wealth of wonderful moments.”

  Her eyes shuttered over unexpectedly. “I’ll look for you about dark,” she told him, starting out the back door of the porch. “You better go check on Taylor.”

  Carter reached to stop her, not liking her change of mood, but then hesitated. They were both tired. He needed to catch a nap, too, before tonight. They could talk later.

  CHAPTER 17

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nbsp; Rhea heard Carter’s footsteps on the roof as darkness fell over the valley.

  “You’re late,” she said, opening the window to him.

  He scowled. “I know. Taylor had some trouble getting to sleep.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me.” Rhea fastened on the waist pack she’d loaded earlier and tucked her flashlight into one of its side loops.

  Eager to move on, Carter didn’t climb in the bedroom. “Are you ready to go?”

  “Yes.” She climbed over the sill, pulled down the window, and followed him carefully across the roof to the tree.

  Staying in the shadows, they cut through the trees behind Nana Dean’s herb garden and started along the familiar trail snaking upward through the woods to Low Ridge. At the rock wall, they turned to follow the familiar grassy lane below Low Ridge to the Laymans’ farm.

  When they neared the turn to Rocky Prong Road, the gravel side road leading to Gold Mine Springs and the old Sutton place, Carter turned to put a hand on Rhea’s arm. “Let’s don’t take the road to the cabin. Let’s continue across the road and then swing right to cross the creek, climb up to Rocky Hillside through the woods, and come in behind the Sutton cabin.”

  “Good idea.” Rhea nodded, following Carter as he headed up the path along the stream. “Do you think the vandal will really come back?”

  “I don’t know.” Carter held out a hand to help Rhea over a fallen tree by the stream.

  The darkness deepened, and Carter flicked on his flashlight.

  A short time later, they crept cautiously toward the back of the old Sutton place, squatting behind a rocky outcrop to survey the dark shape of the cabin. Night had fallen heavily now, but they could see the back of the log house in the moonlight.

  “I don’t see any light moving around,” Rhea said after they watched for several minutes.

  Nodding in agreement, Carter led them closer to look in the back window, two of its panes still cracked from Taylor’s escape earlier. “There’s no one here now.” Carter brushed off the last of the glass fragments from the sill and pushed up the window. “Let’s climb in here.”