Radford grinned at his brother. “Close your shirt, Deputy Grayson, and come meet your niece.”
Duke’s eyes opened in surprise. With a laugh, he clasped Radford’s hand. “It’s good to see you!” He glanced at Rebecca. “Now there’s a fine-looking lass.”
“Must take after her uncle Boyd,” said their youngest brother as he emerged from the living room, tucking his shirt into his narrow waistband. Boyd’s hair was freshly combed and as dark brown as Radford’s. Though the youngest and much leaner in build than Duke or Kyle, he equaled them in height.
Radford grinned and his spirits lifted. “What makes you think I’d have a daughter and allow her to resemble you?”
Boyd charmed them with a matching set of dimples. “Because everyone claims I look like you, dear brother, so you’d have no choice in the matter.” He peeked at Rebecca, but she pulled her blanket over her head.
Radford laughed with the others and slapped Boyd’s shoulder, casually moving him back a step. “Better luck next time.”
Boyd shrugged. “I usually have better luck with the ladies.”
“Boyd Grayson! Mind your manners.”
He grinned at his mother’s reprimand and caught her in a hug, swinging her in a circle before planting a loud kiss on her cheek. “Don’t worry, Mother, you’ll always be my favorite girl.”
Radford took Boyd’s hand, giving silent thanks for the blessing of his youngest brother. Boyd’s reckless charm lightened Radford’s heart and he needed that now more than ever. Even Kyle was smiling, leaning casually against the wall beside Evelyn. Maybe Radford had misjudged him. Maybe Kyle had asked him to run the livery because he really did need help.
Rebecca yawned and laid her head on Radford’s shoulder. “I’d better get her settled,” he said, rubbing her back.
His mother touched his arm. “I know William wants you and Rebecca to stay with him, but I’d rather have you here.”
Radford was sorry to disappoint her, but at the moment, he didn’t want to share a house with Kyle. He leaned down and kissed the top of her head, hoping to ease her disappointment with a little “Southern sugar” as the Rebs used to call it. “It’ll be more convenient to stay there.”
“Why?” Boyd asked, his expression perplexed.
“I’m going to run the livery for William.”
Boyd turned to Kyle. “The livery is going to be your business, not Radford’s. Why not let him run the mill?”
Kyle scowled. “Because that position is taken. Would you prefer to work the livery in Radford’s place?”
“A pretty lady and a hayloft does have its appeal,” Boyd said, giving Evelyn a lusty wink that made her laugh and afforded Radford a glimpse of white teeth and a surprisingly nice smile. Boyd’s expression sobered and he turned to Radford. “Was this Kyle’s idea?”
By the scowl on Boyd’s face, the truth would only start a war that Radford was trying to avoid. “I’m repaying a debt to an old friend,” he said, answering as truthfully as possible. He would work the livery for William and let Kyle adjust to his being home. He owed him that much.
“You could have said no,” Evelyn told Radford on the ride home with him and his sleepy daughter. “You’re the eldest. Kyle would have had to respect that.”
Radford turned toward her, his eyes dark and unfathomable in the twilight as they met hers.
“It would have been wrong to say no to Kyle after he’s worked so hard to build the business,” he said.
It unnerved her to see him study her as though trying to remember an old acquaintance. They didn’t know each other. They may have been neighbors once, but too many years had passed for her to feel any neighborly connection with him. It didn’t matter that they would become related upon her marriage to Kyle. Radford didn’t feel like a brother-in-law, either. He was a stranger. The fact that his smile now reached his eyes didn’t lessen the sense of mystery surrounding him or the panicky feeling in her body when he looked at her.
Ashamed of her disheveled appearance, she ducked her head. Heat crawled up her neck and burned her cheeks. Why couldn’t he have arrived on a Sunday morning when she’d be wearing a dress for church instead of her father’s old work clothes?
Radford shifted beside her and settled Rebecca on his lap. “Why am I sensing that you don’t want me in your livery?”
His astute question added to her discomfort and she clenched her fingers around the reins, wishing he would quit talking to her in that private voice that caressed her ears. “I’d rather work alone, that’s all. You might have made some sort of compromise with Kyle if you’d been more insistent,” she said, striving to calm her erratic heartbeat as she maneuvered her wagon down the dark road.
“Do you really believe that?” he asked softly.
She didn’t. Not after seeing the fire in Kyle’s eyes when Boyd had challenged him. But brothers could forgive each other anything, couldn’t they?
“I don’t blame him for being protective of the mill,” Radford said.
“You shouldn’t. Kyle has worked hard to build up the business and support your family.”
“I know that. I guess I just didn’t expect him to change so much these past few years.”
Neither had she, but Evelyn had seen for herself what responsibility and obligation had done to a boy who’d once embraced life with passion. Kyle had been crushed by his burdens until pieces of his laughter broke away and he became weathered and hardened by the weight.
Rebecca lifted her arms and Radford moved her to his shoulder. She snuggled against him and hooked her small fingers in his hair. “I can’t believe Kyle has had time to court you,” he said, turning back to Evelyn. “When are you planning to marry?”
She shied from Radford’s gaze. Kyle hadn’t needed to court her. She’d committed herself to him four years ago when his father died. At the time, she’d been Kyle’s friend for years, but it was the only occasion she’d ever seen him cry. Knowing he needed someone to lean on, she had promised she’d always be there for him. Their recent engagement was simply a natural extension of their joint promise to never leave each other.
“Was I prying?” he asked, breaking into her memories.
She glanced at him then turned her face to the breeze. “Of course not. Kyle and I plan to marry in November if he can finish the house that soon. I thought your mother would have written you about the wedding.”
“I told her not to reply to my last letter because I’d be coming home shortly.” He gave Evelyn a sheepish grin. “That was almost four weeks ago.”
“What took you so long to get here?”
His eyes darkened and he turned away. “Rebecca wasn’t ready for the trip.”
Chapter Three
Wondering if Radford sensed her father’s love, Evelyn observed them as they talked. Radford’s eyes reflected her father’s joy and he appeared as happy with their reunion as her father seemed to be. She didn’t know what had happened during the war to bond Radford and her father so closely, but there was no denying the special connection between them.
While he talked, Radford stroked Rebecca’s back. She lay on his shoulder with her finger tucked in her mouth and her eyes drifting closed. Evelyn recalled the numerous times in her childhood she’d fallen asleep on her own father’s shoulder. He’d been everything to her, especially after her mother died. He’d kept her close while he worked the livery and ultimately taught her their business. Until today, she would have never believed her father would overlook her feelings because of his respect for Kyle and his love for Radford, but he had.
As though Radford felt her assessing stare, he shifted his attention to her, his eyes questioning her reason for studying him.
She nodded at his daughter. “Rebecca’s asleep. You can put her in the nursery. It connects to your room, which is at the top of the stairs, first door on the left,” she said, wishing the nursery didn’t also connect with her room on the other side.
He pushed his chair back and stood. “Thank you,
Evelyn.” He turned to her father. “Thank you both for the hospitality.”
Her father waved away Radford’s appreciation. “It’s your home as long as you want to stay. Now go on up.” He watched Radford carry Rebecca upstairs then he turned to Evelyn, perusing her with that same loving, but probing, expression he’d used on Radford.
Thinking he’d seen her studying Radford, she dropped her gaze and fiddled with her cup. She wet a corner of her shirt cuff in her water mug and rubbed at an old coffee stain.
“You’re gonna scrub a hole right through that mug if you keep at it,” he said, clapping a hand over hers. Her braid had fallen forward onto her lap and her father lifted the tail, brushing the curled end across her cheek as if to tickle a smile into existence. The playful gesture was one he’d performed a million times since she was old enough to remember, but for the first time in her life it made Evelyn’s eyes mist.
Why hadn’t he told her about his plans to have Radford run the livery?
“I didn’t do this to hurt you,” he said quietly.
From years of confiding in him, Evelyn spoke from her heart, without reservation, trying not to place blame, but feeling too upset to keep it to herself. “I know, Papa, but it does hurt. You’ve never kept things from me before. Don’t you trust me anymore?”
“This ain’t about trust, pixie. It’s not about you or me at all. It’s about keeping Radford at home this time.”
She raised her eyes, noting how tired and frail her father had become, how thin his white hair had grown in the last year. She didn’t want to upset him, but after working the livery with him for so many years, and managing it alone for months, she deserved to be included in his discussion with Kyle. “I know you own the livery, Papa, but it’s home to me. It’s all I’ve got.”
He shook his head. “You’ve got Kyle. He’s honest, dependable, and proud, all the qualities a woman would want in a husband. Radford has nothin’. Without that sawmill or his brothers, he don’t have a reason to stay. That’s why I’m askin’ him to run the livery.”
“What if he doesn’t want to do it?”
“There’ll be trouble if Radford goes back to the mill right now. Kyle’s a good man, but he’s young and blinded by ambition. Without the livery, Radford has no choice but to force his way back into the mill.” He met her eyes with tired certainty in his own. “We both know Kyle won’t stand for that.”
She didn’t want to admit it, but her father was right. That mill was Kyle’s life. “Maybe you could talk to Kyle. He would listen to you.”
Her father shook his head and leaned back in the chair with a long sigh. “Kyle’s his own man now. He don’t need my advice anymore and wouldn’t appreciate it if I gave it. He has fought hard to drag that mill out of the muck. Radford will have to earn his way back, too. This is their fight. I’m just offerin’ those boys a little breathin’ space and a chance to work things out.”
Breathing space? What about her? Evelyn hadn’t drawn a full breath from the moment she laid eyes on Radford. After enduring his probing gaze and inquisitive questions on the ride home, she was certain she didn’t want Radford in her livery.
“Why doesn’t Radford just find other work if he thinks he can’t settle things with Kyle?” she asked, fishing for a way to suggest bringing in a different man to help in the livery.
“He’s got his pride. Radford won’t stay where he’s not welcome. That boy’s still strung with tension. It’s like a volcano stirring inside him that ain’t gonna die until it spews its poisons. He’s gonna keep runnin’ and fightin’, carrying all that baggage until he finds a way to make peace in his life. Challengin’ Kyle for the mill won’t give anybody peace. It’s just gonna drive Radford away again.” Her father reached out and patted her cheek. “Trust me on this, pixie.”
Knowing she had no other choice, Evelyn swallowed her apprehension. “How long do you think this will take?”
“I don’t know. Maybe a week. Maybe a year.”
She groaned under her breath and hoped he would leave in the morning.
After helping her father to his bedroom, she went to her own room. The creak of floorboards and deep murmur of a man’s voice in the adjoining nursery captured her attention as she changed into her nightrail and crawled into bed.
The slow, methodical rumble of wood rolling over wood told her Radford was sitting in the rocking chair with Rebecca, perhaps reading her a story or trying to calm her fears. Evelyn lay in the dark listening... imagining... envisioning Radford sprawled in the rocker, feet bare, his tanned hands resting on Rebecca’s back, or brushing the curls away from her sleepy eyes. He was too tall to rest his head against the back of the chair. Instead, he would close his eyes and press his lips to his daughter’s dark head as the motion of the chair lulled her to sleep.
The image came so vividly, Evelyn was embarrassed at how intimately she had studied him that evening. She tossed off the sheet and rolled over, trying to chase thoughts of Radford and Rebecca from her mind. She didn’t want to think about them, didn’t want to know about the poison-filled volcano inside Radford, and didn’t want to know his secret pain. She didn’t want to know why Rebecca shied away from everyone except her father’s tender touch. She wanted sleep. Not this powerful curiosity that was consuming her.
In the predawn hours, Radford finally surrendered to sleep, his mind slipping from his rigid control as it unfurled toward the world he tried to keep at bay. He dreamed he was in Georgia in the middle of a slow-moving river, swimming through the darkness toward the enemy.
At the sight of Thorndyke McCutcheon, Radford’s heart lightened and he met him a few rods from shore. Lowering his feet, he searched with his toes until they touched the muddy bottom of Peach Tree Creek. He removed the packet clenched between his teeth and held it above the brown Georgia water that slapped against his neck. “This better be worth the bloodsuckers attached to my backside.”
Thorn laughed quietly. “Well, if it ain’t Rad the Radical. I thought that was the 149th making camp over yonder. Haven’t seen you New York boys since last winter in Alabama. I’m glad you’re well.”
“And you, my friend. Anything worthwhile in that bag?”
“Y’all know us Southern boys got the best tobacco ever grown.”
“Then hand it over so I can get my feet out of this muck.”
Thorn glanced at the water. “Disgustin’, ain’t it?”
Radford grinned at his Confederate friend. “My smoke better be worth it or I’ll swim back over here and plant you in it.”
Thorn chuckled. “Y’all keep makin’ me laugh and we’ll get blown outta this river. Now tell me you got coffee in that sack.”
He swapped bags with Thorn, who immediately opened it and stuck his nose inside. “Ummm…haven’t had a good cup of coffee in ages.”
Radford smiled, but it faded fast. “How many men did you lose today?”
“Too many,” Thorn said. “I cain’t do this much longer.” Water splashed his face and he wiped it with the back of his hand. “Sometimes I’m not even sure I can make myself do it again tomorrow.”
“I know, Thorn, but the fact is, we will. I hope you’re nowhere near my brigade when it starts.” Their regiments had fought each other on the same battlefield before Radford and Thorn had become friends. Now they dreaded the possibility that it could happen again.
They hated the fighting, but if not for the war they wouldn’t have met at Gettysburg and become friends. They’d met again at Stevenson, Alabama, when Thorn was posted as picket on the opposite bank of the river from where Radford’s brigade was camped. Thorn had spent his days hollering across to Radford’s regiment, sharing jokes, news, and his sweet tobacco then meeting Radford after dark to play cards and share their homesickness.
“I have to get back before I’m missed,” Radford said, gripping Thorn’s wet palm. “God be with you.”
“Same to you, Radical. Stay well, my friend.” Thorn stuck the coffee packet in his mouth, gave a two-fi
nger salute and shoved off.
Radford swam through the dark, feeling the pull of the Georgia waters swirling around his weary body, dragging him deeper into the darkness. Disjointed images swirled in his head then ignited into bright flashes of men killing each other. His heart pounded and he was running across a cornfield at Collier’s Mill, the smoke eating holes in his sinuses and stinging his eyes. Through the haze he saw Thorn running toward him, blond hair flying, rifle raised, his bayonet glinting in the fierce July sun as the Confederate line charged the Union ranks.
Thorn! Radford lowered his rifle. Nooooo...
Evelyn called Radford’s name for the second time, but he thrashed in oblivion. It was indecent and intrusive of her to be in his bedroom, but she had been unable to ignore the tormented moans drifting through the nursery into her own room. And now that she’d seen the agony etched in Radford’s moon-shadowed face, she could not leave him writhing in the throes of such misery.
Biting her lip, she bent close to his handsome face. Touching his stubbled jaw, she called his name. Like a bolt of lightning, his arms streaked out and knocked her to the mattress. He rolled atop her and covered her legs with his knee, his thumb pressed hard on her throat. “Don’t move!” he hissed by her ear.
She froze obediently and stared into his deadly glittering eyes, knowing with blossoming certainty there was something terribly wrong with this man. “Ra-Radford,” she croaked, growing frantic for air.
Radford shot to his elbows, his eyes wide with disbelief that quickly turned to horror. He jerked his hand away and vaulted from the bed, his frightened face cast in golden moonlight before he moaned and dropped back on the bed. He yanked a blanket across his lap and ran trembling fingers through his hair. “What are you doing in here, Evelyn?”
Shocked by his attack, Evelyn tried to scramble from the bed, intending to race from the room.
He caught her arm. “Are you hurt?”
She whimpered and recoiled from his touch. Her throat burned and she wasn’t about to trust him after his crazed response. With caution, she inched toward the end of the bed.
Twice Loved Page 3