In a Stranger's Arms

by Hale Deborah

  Slightly.

  Caddie coaxed a question out of her mouth, which had suddenly gone dry as sawdust. “W-who are you?”

  Part of her felt a fool for asking. Who could the man be but Delbert Marsh? The husband whose reported death she’d never truly mourned.

  Difficult as her life was now, it would become a hundred times more complicated if Del had suddenly risen from the grave.

  Chapter Two

  “THE NAME’S MANNING Forbes, ma’am.”

  He had a hard job forcing those words out. Seeing Caddie Marsh up close robbed him of air and made his vocal organs balk. He hadn’t been prepared for her to look so beautiful.

  Another man might not have seen past the threadbare dress or the shadows of toil and worry beneath her eyes. Manning scarcely noticed those things. Instead, his gaze fell on the glory of her red-brown hair and the striking eyes that mingled misty gray softness with emerald fire. Something about the way she held herself stirred his admiration, too. Like the exiled aristocrats of old France, who had lost everything but their nobility.

  Her children clung to her in the mute certainty that she would protect them at any cost to herself. Just watching the little family brought a wistful ache to Manning’s belly—as though he’d been hungry for so long he’d begun to doubt the existence of food.

  Clearing his throat, he continued. “I came to speak to you on a matter of business, Mrs. Marsh. When I overheard your discussion with this gentleman, I thought you might need my help.”

  Her gaze held equal parts fear and hostility, each vying for control. Manning shrank from the look in her eyes, even as he owned that he probably deserved it. Had he done a stupid thing, rushing to her aid uninvited? It seemed likely. But when he’d heard the bullying contempt in the squatter’s voice and the impotent desperation in Caddie Marsh’s, Manning hadn’t been able to stop himself from striding to her rescue. When she parted her lips, he braced himself to be sent packing.

  Before she could get any words out, the squatter challenged him. “This little misunderstanding is between me and my sister-in-law, sir. You’ve got no call to meddle in our affairs. Certainly not at gunpoint. Whatever business you want to discuss, I think it’s safe to say we aren’t interested.”

  Sister-in-law? The word rocked Manning. He’d believed Mrs. Marsh and her children alone in the world, without menfolk to look out for them. If the children had an uncle, perhaps they wouldn’t need him as urgently as he’d assumed. Particularly when that uncle looked to have come through the war unscathed.

  A queer mixture of relief and disappointment washed over Manning. What if Caddie Marsh didn’t need his help, after all? How would he ever make good the vow that had expanded to fill his empty life? Without a word, he stepped back and let his rifle barrel droop lower.

  The dapper Virginian abruptly shifted his attention back to his sister-in-law, clearly satisfied that he’d dismissed Manning, and expecting him to slink away.

  “Don’t let’s quarrel, Caddie. Not on the first day of your visit” The man had a voice like molasses taffy—warm and sticky. “You’re welcome to stay a good long spell with us.”

  He took a step toward Caddie Marsh and her children. “We’d like to get to know young Templeton, here. He was just a wee scrap when you left for Richmond. The boy needs a man’s influence what with his pa gone and all.” Mrs. Marsh drew back from the man’s approach, clutching her daughter in one arm, while groping for her son with the other. Reacting instinctively to a perceived threat, Manning swung his gun up and fired into the dirt at the other man’s feet.

  The Virginian jumped back and the women both screamed. The old mare shied as if startled by the sudden loud noise but too tired to rear or bolt. The little girl in her mother’s arms stared at Manning as she popped a small thumb between her lips and began to suck. Her brother covered his ears and blinked his eyes rapidly, making a manful effort to fight back tears.

  Much as the child’s quivering fear reproached him, Manning tried not to let the boy’s uncle see him wince.

  “Hold your horses, mister.” His voice sounded harsh and threatening, even in his own ears, as he reloaded the rifle. “Move back from the lady and let her speak for herself. If she tells me to clear off her property, I will. Until then, I’m staying put. I suggest you do the same.” Snapping the breech of his weapon closed again, Manning made himself meet Caddie Marsh’s wary, searching gaze. “What do you say, ma’am? Should I go?”

  Caddie struggled to rein in her galloping pulse and to keep her words from leaping out in a breathless rush. The Yankee’ s warning shot was only partly responsible for her agitation. Now that she’d had a better look at the stranger, Caddie realized she’d been mistaken about his resemblance to her late husband.

  Or had she?

  Manning Forbes was a shade taller than Del had been... perhaps. His voice was certainly different than she remembered Del’s. A difference that lay in more than just the stranger’s Yankee accent... maybe.

  What kind of woman, she silently chided herself, could let the memory of her children’s father dim to such a bewildering degree in such a short time?

  Prompted partly by uncertainty and curiosity, Caddie made her decision. “I’d like you to stay, please, Mr. Forbes.”

  “Have you lost your mind, woman?” barked Lon.

  A twitch of the Yankee’s rifle barrel chased the sharpness from his voice. “Come to your senses, now,” Lon coaxed. “You don’t want to wash all our family linen in front of one of them, do you? Send him away. Then you and I can discuss Sabbath Hollow peaceably.”

  Varina grew heavier in her arms with each passing minute, and Caddie’s last square meal was a distant memory, but she couldn’t bring herself to stay at Sabbath Hollow even one night as Lon’s guest. Or Lydene’s. It would set too dangerous a precedent.

  Besides, she’d heard the unspoken threat in Lon’s voice when he said Templeton needed a man’s influence. If she gave this pair any leverage, they’d be scheming to get their hands on her children in order to secure their hold on the plantation.

  “There’s nothing to discuss,” she replied. Lon was right about one thing. She didn’t like airing their family squabble in front of a Yankee, but he’d left her no choice. “I am not moving back to South Carolina, now or ever. I’m also not a visitor at Sabbath Hollow and neither are my children. The plantation belongs to us and you need to leave.”

  “Now, Caddie...” With a sidelong glance at the Yankee’s rifle, Lon kept his voice hushed. His tone sounded wheedling yet vaguely hostile. “How can I leave one of my womenfolk alone with an armed Yankee? Think what he might do to you.”

  Lord in heaven, she hadn’t thought of that. She also hadn’t thought it was possible for her heart to race any faster. This must be what Jessamine’s foreman had called “betwixt a rock and a hard place.”

  As she studied on the problem, which seemed to admit no good solution, Manning Forbes spoke up. “I don’t mean you or your children any harm, Mrs. Marsh. If it will make you feel safer, you can take my gun.”

  That decided her. “Go, Lon. And take that woman with you.”

  Caddie strove to sound more resolute than she felt. Turning out kinfolk went so hard against the Southern grain. No matter how great a threat they represented to her children’s future. No matter what other resources she knew they had at their disposal.

  “Mr. Forbes has demonstrated he isn’t spleeny about using that gun, and I don’t reckon a Yankee would land in much trouble if he did shoot you. I’ll let you hang on to the rifle for now, sir. You’ll be a better shot than I am.”

  As if taking his cue from her warning to Lon, Manning Forbes cocked his rifle and took aim. Lon looked from Caddie to the Yankee and back, like a gambler trying to predict the strength of his opponent’s hand. Would he see through her bluff?

  Likely. From that long-ago honeymoon barbecue when she’d first been introduced to Del’s younger brother, Caddie had sensed Lon saw beneath her facade of assurance
. She’d sometimes felt he was looking straight through her dress and corset and layers of petticoats, admiring her in a way he had no business doing.

  Yes. Lon might recognize her vulnerability and try to exploit it. But what about the Yankee? Caddie had little doubt he’d put a bullet into Lon if push came to shove. Or was that just a ruse on his part? If so, Manning Forbes had nerves of iron and a poker face. Right now, Caddie was grateful for both.

  “Have it your way,” Lon snarled. Clearly, he wasn’t prepared to call the Yankee’s bluff. “Lydene and I were talking about moving over to Hemlock Grove for the summer, anyhow. A few months trying to fend for yourself out in the country and you’ll come begging me to take the place off your hands by fall.”

  With every word, Lon’s easy confidence returned and slapped Caddie in the face. Pulling out another cigar, he gave it an appreciative sniff and grinned at his wife. “Go pack up what you need for tonight, sugar. We’ll collect the rest in a day or so.”

  “But, Lon...”

  “Now, Lydene. I’ll go hitch the buggy.” Lon gave Caddie and Manning Forbes a jaunty salute with his cigar and ambled toward the stables.

  Lydene glared at Caddie, her ruddy complexion grown pale as skim milk. “We’ll be back. You ain’t the lady of the manor anymore, Miz Caddie.”

  As she stood there with her children, waiting for Lon and Lydene to go, every sign of damage and neglect around the once proud plantation rose up to mock Caddie’s dream of reviving it. Sabbath Hollow had once bred some of the finest stock in a state famed for its horseflesh. Who in Virginia was left with the money to buy pedigreed beauties like the Marshes had once produced? And if anyone did, how would Caddie raise the capital to get back into such a costly operation?

  Would the sheer scope of Sabbath Hollow defeat her as the Yankees had failed to do?

  Watching Lon Marsh’s buggy trundle off down the lane, Manning sensed the tightly wound tension seeping out of his shoulders. His taut grip on the rifle stock eased. Unsure if he could have brought himself to shoot the Virginian, Manning breathed a little easier since he hadn’t had to find out

  His gaze came to rest on Caddie Marsh and the children. His muscles tightened again. Now that he’d served his purpose in getting rid of her unwanted in-laws, would she send him away with a flea in his ear, as she’d sent them?

  Holding the gun out to Mrs. Marsh, he approached them. The little girl continued to regard him gravely, while the boy scuttled behind his mother. From the look on Caddie Marsh’s face, Manning could tell she wanted to draw back from him, too. Perhaps for the benefit of the children, she held her ground and studied him with a determined gaze.

  “Thank you for making my brother-in-law go, Mr. Forbes.” Her words were a correct and proper expression of gratitude, but they lacked a single degree of warmth. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, my children are hungry and tired from our trip.”

  He would like to have allowed her the luxury of settling in before he made his offer. A little time might have made her more receptive to the notion. But he could not ignore the subtle threat posed by Lon Marsh. It was against such threats Manning had sworn to defend her.

  “We need to talk, Mrs. Marsh, and I’m afraid it can’t wait. I’ve known men like your brother-in-law. Smooth as cream when everything’s going their way, but deny them what they want and you’d better watch your back.”

  She stiffened. “I’ll thank you not to speak slightingly of our kin, Mr. Manning. I’m certain when he sees I mean to stay and make a go of this place, Lon will come around.” The turbulence in her eyes betrayed doubt. “As for talking to me, I have more pressing concerns just now. Good day, sir.”

  He wasn’t going to get anywhere by forcing the issue, Manning realized. Opposition would only strengthen her contrary resolve. He needed to take a different tack and stall for time. Give Caddie Marsh an opportunity to change her mind.

  “I apologize for upsetting you with my harsh assessment of your brother-in-law’s character, ma’am.” He wouldn’t retract what he’d said, though, for it was the truth. “Let me make amends by stabling your horse and unloading your wagon.”

  When she looked ready to refuse, he laid the rifle at her feet “If I wanted to steal anything, I’d just hold you at gunpoint and take it, ma’am. Why don’t you go feed your children and put them to bed?”

  The boy peeped out from behind his mother’s skirts. “Can we eat, Mama? I’m awful hungry.”

  When the child ventured to look him in the face, Manning shaped his features into an encouraging smile. Winning this young fellow’s trust would be as tricky a challenge as taming a yearling fawn—and perhaps just as rewarding.

  Manning nodded toward his camp and addressed his offer to the boy. “I caught a pair of fine fat trout in your creek, so I guess they belong to you. Would you like fresh fish for supper?”

  With a jerky movement like a wooden puppet, the boy nodded his head.

  The little girl withdrew the thumb from her mouth and announced solemnly, “I like fish.”

  This time Manning did not have to make himself smile. “That settles it, then.” He turned away before Caddie Marsh could refuse. “I’ll go fetch you that trout and some cornmeal. Then I’ll see to the horse and wagon while you folks eat.”

  “Mr. Forbes.”

  Her voice stopped him, but Manning couldn’t bring himself to look back. “Yes?”

  “Thank you.” The words sounded less forced than the first time she’d uttered them. “You’ve been most kind.”

  Her gratitude hit him like a minié ball in the back. Manning’s eyes stung. Without a word or gesture of acknowledgment, he began to walk again.

  He didn’t deserve Caddie Marsh’s thanks. He owed her this simple meal and every other comfort he could provide for her and her children. He owed her the protection he’d extended them today. Now, and for as long as they needed it.

  Expressions of gratitude did no more to assuage his guilt than carbolic acid soothed an open wound. But he dared not tell her that, or she would spurn his help. Then he would be left with no way to make amends.

  Manning could not bear that thought.

  Caddie struggled with her conscience as she returned to the dining room after tucking the children into bed.

  For the first time in years, her little family had eaten more than their fill, yet a generous helping of fish remained on the plate. Her ears picked up the sound of Manning Forbes stowing her meager possessions in the entry hall. She’d expected him to invite himself to dine with them, but he hadn’t.

  Slowly, Caddie began to clear the table. A small, bandy-legged piece of furniture, it had once held pies to cool in a corner of the pantry. Caddie missed the magnificent creation of tastefully carved cherry wood that had occupied this grand room before the war. One that could sit two dozen for a hunt breakfast, if folks didn’t mind rubbing elbows. One that a pair of house servants kept polished to a dark sheen. For Caddie, the Sabbath Hollow dining table was now a lost symbol of the whole congenial, hospitable way of life Southerners had once enjoyed.

  Its absence tore at her heart.

  She didn’t know what had become of that table in the dark days since Fort Sumter. And she didn’t want to know.

  It would only rile her up, and to no good purpose.

  At last only a single plate remained to be cleared away. Part of Caddie insisted she cover the uneaten fish and put it down in a cool part of the cellar for the children’s breakfast. If the Yankee wanted fish, he had the means to catch more.

  Her early upbringing reproached her for such ill-bred selfishness. If the hard years in Richmond had made her mean and ungracious, then the Yankees had won a most distressing victory. She refused to concede it to them, even if it meant treating one of their number with greater courtesy than such people deserved. Battling her more practical inclinations, Caddie fetched a fork.

  For a moment she stood in the doorway of the dining room, watching as Manning Forbes brought the last of her provisions in fr
om the wagon. He carried a wooden box perched on one broad shoulder, steadied by large, long-fingered hands. The rough clothes hung loose on his lean-muscled frame. Blue trousers—Union army issue, no doubt, held up by leather suspenders. A white shirt, open at the neck.

  Nothing about that garb should have stirred her memory of the well-tailored frock coat Delbert Marsh had worn to the Charleston cotillion on the first night they’d met. Smitten with admiration, Caddie had set her cap for Del... and lived to regret it. Now, heaven help her, a stray draft of foolishness breathed upon the cool ember of her long-ago fancy and made it glow again.

  The Yankee looked up and caught her watching him. His sternly handsome face grew crimson, as though he could read every preposterous thought that flitted through her mind.

  “You must be hungry after carrying in all this gear.”

  Her voice came out an octave higher than normal. Caddie coughed. “There’s still some fish left, and a pone of fresh cornbread, if you’d care to eat.”

  A strange look came over his face, as though she’d done him an injury. Perhaps one of the new masters of the land would take offense at eating the leavings of folks they had conquered.

  Caddie’s pride savagely uprooted the tiny seed of interest she’d taken in Manning Forbes. “Of course, if you’d rather not—”

  “No!” The word exploded from him. Then, as if shamed by his own eagerness, he added quietly, “I’d be glad of a bite to eat Thank you, ma’am. I’ll just go wash up first”

  Before she could recover her composure enough to tell him where he might find a water pump, he had gone out the front door. Caddie wasn’t certain what made her follow him.

  Perhaps it was her fear he’d take too long hunting for the pump out behind the old smokehouse. Darkness had begun to gather on the eastern horizon and she didn’t want to be entertaining a strange man—a strange Yankee—in her dining room after moonrise.