But the burden of saving an entire farm weighed heavier than Dora's shoulders could bear. She had searched Carlson's desk for tax receipts. She had found his small drawer of coins and added her own, along with the money from the horses. Still, she shook inside, knowing her inability to deal with problems as serious as this one.
Assuming such responsibility terrified her. She had always had help, had always drifted into things without really taking on the responsibility of decision. The only things she had actually done on her own had all been wrong. The burden she carried inside her now was evidence enough of that.
But she simply could not just stand by and do nothing. She no longer had the luxury of assuming someone would take care of everything. She knew better than anyone that Pace most likely wouldn't return, and Charlie couldn't. And now she had a child to look out for. She must learn to be stronger than her mother and go out into the world on her own.
Nervously, Dora twitched the gold band she had placed on her finger. She wasn't in the habit of wearing jewelry. She certainly wouldn't flaunt Pace's ring in front of his family. But she needed the support it gave her right now.
Solly slowed the cart and spoke warily, "They's somethin' goin' on up ahead, Miz Dora. Looks like trouble. Mebbe we ought to turn 'round and go 'nother way."
They traveled the main highway to the courthouse. Little better than frozen mud and ruts, this road was still the fastest, safest route, and she didn't have time for the bends and turnabouts of unknown lanes. She twisted at the bag inside the muff and strained to see the activity in the road beyond that stand of trees.
Masked highwaymen, three or four of them, all on horseback. In broad daylight! Her heart jolted beneath her ribs, and the babe in her womb turned a dozen somersaults, causing her to catch her breath.
She rested her hand on Solly's arm to slow him down. Whoever they were, they hadn't noticed the cart yet, hidden as it was behind a wooded bend in the road. Engrossed in their depredations, they faced a different direction and didn't pay attention to what happened elsewhere.
Screams of fury emerged from beyond the band of masked men. She couldn't see what they did. Their horses jostled each other, and Dora caught a glimpse of a pistol in the hand of one man as he struggled to keep his mount under control. She squeezed her hand tighter around Solly's arm in warning.
"You can't do this!" somebody screamed. "I've got business at the courthouse! You can't stop me. I'll have you all hung!"
Dora closed her eyes in fervent prayer as she recognized the voice. Joe Mitchell. It had to be Joe. She hadn't seen him since Charlie left, but she'd been the object of his taunts enough in the past to know his voice. She released Solly's arm and nodded. "It's all right. Keep going."
Solly gave her an incredulous look but did as told, his eyes wide with curiosity as the cart creaked and rattled into the bend.
Dora began singing loudly, alerting the men ahead of their presence in case their business entertained them too much to hear the cart and horse. By the time the cart rolled around the curve, only one horse and rider remained on the road. No sign of a mask or highwaymen remained, although the horseman had a rifle resting loosely across his saddle. Dora recognized Tommy McCoy's younger brother, Robert, and she stopped singing to give him a smile of greeting.
"Heading my way, Miss Smythe?" he called in response to her hello. "I'm going in for court day."
She nodded gravely. "I'd be happy of the company, Friend, if thou doth not mind the pace."
"I mind Pace well enough," he assured her ambiguously. The capital letter in "pace" was distinct in his emphasis. "There's rascals on this road often enough. A lady shouldn't travel alone. I'll be happy to keep you company."
They both knew what he had just done. The unbuckled rifle alone spoke of trouble. These were perilous times for man or woman. Dora tried behaving as if Robert's company had no significance, but she couldn't help saying with some concern, "I do not wish for thee to find trouble."
Had anyone overheard, they would find the conversation stilted but not inappropriate. Dora trusted Solly, but Robert didn't know him, and sometimes even the trees had ears. Even now, somewhere behind the flimsy stand of sassafras, sumac, and dead vines lining the road, masked men held their victim captive. It wouldn't do for any of them to know just how involved she might be with the incident.
"Trouble finds me more often than not," Robert replied carelessly. The cart had moved far enough down the road that he could speak a little louder without fear of his companions hearing. "I haven't much left to lose."
Dora glanced at him. He was younger than Pace by a few years, a slightly built man with a reddish mustache and hair already threatening to recede. But he held his shoulders straight and rode his horse with ease, exuding a degree of pride and male arrogance that brought a smile to her lips. She knew very little of Pace's friends, but she should have known they would match his arrogance.
"I was sorry to hear of thy brother," she finally answered, the smile slipping away. "He was not treated fairly."
Robert shrugged. "They drove him into thievery. He may not have committed the crime they hung him for, but he committed others. It was just a matter of time. Mostly I just want to see other criminals around here get the same treatment."
That was a perfectly innocuous statement that any law-abiding citizen might make, but Dora heard the tense undercurrent behind it. He held Joe Mitchell responsible for the McCoy family problems. Charlie's band of Home Guards had seen Tommy McCoy arrested. Neither Joe nor Charlie was precisely innocent of all wrongdoing; they were just a little more refined in their thievery and had never been caught. Dora understood that. But Robert's reply made her shiver.
"Thou canst not take the law into thy own hands," she admonished.
He gave her an amused look. "No? Seems to me that's what's been happening for some time now, but it hasn't been me or mine responsible for it. Nor yours, either, from the sounds of it."
Dora heard the gentle reproof in his words and held her tongue. If she understood what had just happened here, Robert and his friends had stopped Joe Mitchell from reaching the courthouse—for her. They knew she was trying to save Pace’s home.
Spitefully, she hoped they had taken Joe's money as well as holding him hostage. Lately, she had found herself saying the peaceful phrases she had been taught, but thinking of bitter, worldly things. Was this the result of daring the world on her own?
The conversation became desultory as they approached the crowded county seat. Court day always drew crowds. Solly dodged other farm carts laden with hay or winter greens or jars of canned goods. Robert helped him find a place to tie the horse on the back side of the court square, down a street, away from the line of horses and mules tied up by owners looking to trade or sell.
Dora's clenched her hands nervously inside her muff as she realized the moment had come. Keeping her small bag of money inside the muff, she took Robert's offered palm with her other and climbed down from the cart. If he noticed her girth when the cloak swung outward, he said nothing. A gentleman wouldn't.
Setting her teeth and jutting her chin, she marched down the unpaved back street in the direction of the spire-topped courthouse. The clock in the tower donged three o'clock. What if they were too late?
Robert stayed at her side; Solly remained a step behind them. Their presence reassured her, but she didn't think they knew where she should go any more than she did. Several farmers stepped out of her way as Robert guided her through the crowds gossiping in the street, but nobody paid any particular attention to her. Nobody should. No one knew her here.
"The auction is usually held from the courthouse steps," Robert whispered near her ear. "We'll go around there."
Dora nodded in understanding. Her heart pounded furiously, and she was thankful the weakness that had made her faint early in her pregnancy had passed. She needed all her faculties about her now.
An ominously empty circle opened in front of the courthouse steps once they fought their
way through the crowds to get there. A small clump of men stood on one side, chewing and smoking, exchanging small talk. Wearing galluses and felt hats, they didn't seem dangerous, but Dora kept a wary eye on them. Only these men stood near enough to the steps to follow the auction.
"Is there time for me to find the sheriff and pay the taxes?" she asked Robert nervously.
"I'd say not. Miss Dora," Robert replied resignedly, taking in the gathering group of men on the lawn. "That's the sheriff over there. They've already started."
Dora's eyes widened as he hurried her across the lawn toward the small group of men. She'd seen auctions before. They were loud and boisterous with much yelling of prices and persuasive selling. She didn't hear anything at all here.
"Two thousand dollars, boys, that's the price." A man wearing a black derby rocked back on his heels, waving a paper with one hand and gripping his suspender strap with the other. He didn't seem much interested in selling. His gaze drifted across the crowd, seeing Dora and passing over her in search of someone more interesting.
"That's ridiculous, Harley," one of the listeners protested. "Nobody pays those kind of taxes."
The man in the derby shrugged. "Taxes ain't been paid for a while. Then there's interest and whatnot. Gotta cover costs, boys. These are hard times. I've got a couple of smaller places here. Want to look at them?"
While the men gathered around to look at the sheaf of papers he produced, Dora crept closer to the man Robert had indicated as sheriff. Hesitantly, while the others were distracted, she asked, "Sheriff?"
The man in the derby turned and glared at her. "This ain't no place for women. Can't you see I'm busy?"
Robert elbowed a man out of his way so he could stand beside her. "She's come to inquire about the Nicholls place. There's some mistake about the taxes. Mr. Nicholls passed away in December, but he always paid his bills on time."
The sheriff’s bushy eyebrows drew upward as he looked down at Dora in her gray cloak and hood, then glared at Robert. "Well, I've got papers here that say he ain't. We don't auction off people's property without reason."
Timidly, still hiding behind Robert's bulk, Dora produced the little stack of papers she had found in Carlson's desk. "These look like receipts to me, sir. I don't see one for this year, but I looked and couldn't find a bill either. If thou couldst tell me how much is owed, I will make the payment."
The sheriff growled and grabbed the papers. The farmers shuffling through the other items up for auction lost interest in the small lots. Hearing the sounds of contention, they crowded a little closer. The sheriff elbowed a man peering over his shoulder, but everyone had already seen the distinctive receipts. He grudgingly handed them back to Dora.
"These look in order, ma'am," he said reluctantly. "I'll consult with the proper authorities, of course, but that don't take care of this year's taxes. I'm sorry for the widow, but the law's the law. She's got to sign the papers when she pays the bill. If she ain't here, then I've got no choice but to sell the place."
"I can pay the bill," Dora said quietly, her voice shaking. She sensed the sheriff's resistance while he waited for someone in authority to tell him what to do. She suspected that someone was Joe, mayor of the town where the bill would be collected. Joe wasn't going to arrive, but she didn't know if that would help her predicament.
"You ain't the widow, are you?" the sheriff asked belligerently.
"No, but Friend Carlson's son inherited. He's in—"
Robert interrupted. "He's fighting for the cause, Sheriff, and can't be here right now. This here's his wife. She can sign your blamed papers. You ain't got no right keeping women and children from their proper homes while their husbands, sons, and fathers are fighting for our constitutional rights. Just tell her how much it is, and we'll be out of here."
Dora gasped at this outright lie. Josie was sick in bed back home. She couldn't sign Josie's name. She certainly couldn't sign Charlie's name. And Charlie wasn't fighting; he was rotting in a federal prison. And Pace wasn't fighting for what these men stood for. But the sheriff finally looked at her for the first time, seeing her clearly. To her horror, she realized she rested the hand with Pace's ring on it across her distended abdomen. Perhaps she had done it out of instinct, to protect the child, but that instinct gave all these men the wrong idea. She wasn't married. The ring didn't belong to her. The babe had no name. How could she blurt such calumnies to a crowd of strangers?
The sheriff glanced around, seeing no one coming to his rescue. The farmers around him watched expectantly, spitting their tobacco juice at the ground, and waiting. The sheriff was an elected official. An incident like this could break him. He wavered, until one of the older men finally said in a wry tone, "Looks to me like if she's got the receipts, you ain't got a case, Harley. Let her pay what's owed and let's get on with this."
The sheriff's belligerence collapsed like a balloon. He made some hurried calculations on the bill and stated an amount. Horrified at the number, Dora still started drawing her bag of coins out, but the gray-haired stranger grabbed the bill and looked it over.
"You cain't go collectin' interest on money that's been paid, Harley. The lady don't owe half that amount." He struck out a few more figures and came up with a new total, handing it to Robert for inspection.
Dora had a suspicion that Robert couldn't make heads or tails of the figures, but she let him nod importantly over it before taking it from his fingers to look at it herself. She studied the prior-year figures the sheriff had crossed off, decided the new amount wasn't much different, checked her receipts to make certain they agreed, then cautiously withdrew her bag of money. She was starting to learn a little about dealing with these people.
"The Yankees gave us these notes for the horses. Will they do?" she asked in a deliberately plaintive note. If she had these men on her side now, she darn well meant to hang on to the gold.
The sheriff frowned and started to protest, but Robert took the notes from her hand and counted them out. He shoved them in the sheriff's hand and demanded a receipt.
They had to go inside the courthouse for that. The men grumbled at the delay, but allowed as how the little lady ought to have a receipt. Dora shook all over again when they were inside and the sheriff produced a paper for her to sign, but she forced her fingers to the task. The only exception she took was to sign it "Mrs. Pace Nicholls" instead of with Charlie's name. She didn't know how that would affect the legalities of the transaction, but it looked to her like the law had been twisted so many ways by now that it wouldn't make much difference if it took another turn or two.
She almost collapsed in a heap when the sheriff rolled up the paper and handed it to her with the words, "Here's the deed, Mrs. Nicholls. Looks like you bought yourself a farm."
Chapter 20
Horror and doubt distract
His troubled thoughts, and from the bottom stir
The hell within him; for within him hell
He brings, and round about him, nor from hell
One step no more than from himself can fly
By change of place.
~ John Milton, Paradise Lost
"I can't take a deed," Dora whispered in horror as Robert hurried her out of the courthouse. "The farm belongs to Charlie."
"Not anymore," Robert chortled. "You just bought it at auction. Harley ain't too bright. He only knows one method of handling the transaction. Charlie didn't pay the taxes on time, so he sold the farm to you."
"That's not right!" Dora protested as Solly fell in step with them behind the courthouse. "I have to do something."
Robert shrugged. "You don't have to do anything right now. Mitchell can't get his hands on the property, and that was our main purpose in coming here. Whenever Charlie gets home, you can arrange something with him. Transferring a deed isn't any big deal. Let's just get out of here before the boys let Joe go."
That made sense. Leaving hurriedly without straightening out the mistake began to seem like the wisest thing to do. She
wasn't particularly interested in crossing Joe Mitchell when he discovered what had happened. Of course, if Joe made too many inquiries, he might discover the false deed. Dora began to pray as she climbed into the cart.
"I signed Pace's name," she whispered miserably as Robert rode his horse up next to the cart to guide Solly into the traffic of passing horses and pedestrians.
Robert shrugged again. "Good. Let Pace settle it. I apologize for not knowing the two of you got hitched, but I wasn't around the last time Pace was in town. I don't keep up with gossip much. How's he doing?"
She had never lied in her life, and now a sticky web of deceit had her caught. She wasn't ready for the real world yet. She needed Papa John's advice, but she already knew what he would say. She should never have signed Pace's name.
"We haven't heard from him," she answered truthfully. "Thou needs not follow us if thou wishes to stay for court day," she added for good measure. Her conscience was horrid enough company without adding another witness to her lie.
"It's not a good idea for a woman to travel alone. I haven't got any money to buy anything with, anyhow."
Dora thought guiltily of the coins still in her purse. "Could I pay thee for thy services today?" she asked hesitantly. "I could never have done it without thee."
Robert grinned cheerfully. "I would gladly have paid you for the entertainment. Joe will be a long time living this one down, bested by a woman! Ask me to dinner and tell Pace the score is even."
She would have to write Pace and warn him what she had done. She didn't know if she could commit such sin to a piece of paper. She would have time enough to think of it when she got home.
But when she arrived at the farm, she had dinner to fix and Amy's cough to see to. Friend Harriet had had a restless day and needed comforting. Dora meant to tell Josie, but Josie had relatives visiting and wasn't interested in business details. She stayed up entertaining Robert after dinner, while Dora retired to the sickrooms.
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