by Jenny Lykins
"I can be ready if I start right now." She stood on tiptoe and defiantly pecked a kiss on his cheek. "I'll have Mamie pack Katie's things." She turned to step into the house, but Hunter's words stopped her.
"No need."
"Excuse me?"
"Katie wants to stay home and keep Puffy and Angel company. Seems she's invited to a tea pary at the Galway's."
In spite of her anger at him, a delicious shiver skipped up her spine at Hunter's words.
Alone with Hunter for days! They had never been alone, just the two of them, with no worries about a mother or a daughter or someone else happening upon them. Maggie and William were certain to leave them to themselves. Maybe this was the chance to wipe all the doubts from Hunter's mind, once and for all!
*******
"The only thing that will cost much money initially is to build the dock so that all the riverboats on the Mississippi have access to us." Marin slipped her hand into Hunter's as they walked along the riverbank. She refused to acknowledge the little pang in her chest when he failed to deliver the usual gentle squeeze to her fingers. Give it time, she told herself.
The setting sun painted the landscape shades of muted orange, its dying rays glistening on the water that gently lapped against the dock. Hunter led her over to a large wooden bench that faced the river. He sat sideways on the bench, one foot propped on the seat, and Marin nestled between his legs, her back resting against his chest.
She could sit here like this forever, looking out over the water and listening to the occasional bird chirping. The frogs had begun to croak and a lone cricket tuned up somewhere in the tall weeds. The scent of freshly cut grass mingled with the river smells of muddy water and fish. As the sun set, the heat of the day gave way to something that resembled coolness.
"Why so quiet?" Hunter asked. She wished he would nuzzle his cheek against the top of her head, as he had done so many times before.
"Oh," she relaxed farther into his chest, inviting the coveted nuzzle, "I was just thinking how I could stay here forever. It's so serene and beautiful." She cocked her head and looked up at him. "Why do you live in Memphis? Tranquille is larger, and you'd be better able to see to the crops."
He studied the rippling water for a moment.
"I never really thought about moving here. I grew up at Pierce Hall. This was my grandparent's home; my father's parents. They died before the war was over, and when I returned home Maggie and William had already closed Tranquille with everything under control. Would you like to live here?"
Marin wasn't used to living the lifestyle at Pierce Hall. Now Hunter was offering her an even more grandiose home.
"Oh, I don't know. I wonder if it would be so special if we lived here every day." She looked up at him again and he grinned, his dimple deeply shadowed by the dying sun. She savored the little flip in her stomach. "Besides, we'll probably spend half our time here getting the house ready to open every season. That should keep it special for us."
"Tranquille will always be special, no matter how much time we spend here. There are so many happy memories here. So many stories."
"Oh, really? Tell me some."
Hunter leaned forward and helped Marin to her feet, then he stood and pulled her along the riverbank.
"I have something to show you. We should have time before the light is gone."
They walked to a slight bend in the river, then Hunter stopped. He shielded his eyes against the orange glow of the sun, then pointed Marin toward a dark spot on the river.
"Do you see that tiny little island out there?"
"Uh huh."
"When I was a boy, after I recovered from the fever, my sister, Blake and I would row out there and fight the 'hostile pirates' that threatened to capture our home. But that's not what I want to show you. Halfway between the island and the bank is a sandbar that's usually twenty feet or so under water."
"Yeah?" He wanted to show her a sandbar?
"During the war my grandparents had about eight hours notice that a Yankee battalion was on its way. Grandfather took as much silver, china, crystal, coins - whatever was small enough to pack, and he and Grandmother, along with William and Maggie, packed as much as they could in rolls of beeswax, then sealed that into huge barrels. They took those barrels out to the sandbar, tied them together, then sank them with a pallet of bricks to keep them from drifting or rising to the surface. They left them there until after the war was over. Maggie and William's sons salvaged them. The plates we use at dinner are from that china. The candelabra on the table, and most of the crystal are survivors as well."
What a wonderful story! She'd heard of the war-ravaged Southerners burying their valuables, hiding them in wells, even loading them on box cars and following them around the Confederacy, but this was a new one.
"Hunter, that will be a great story to tell the visitors that come through! We can display the items that were hidden in the Mississippi. Do you have any other stories?"
"Of course. And we should ask Maggie about any she might recollect that happened before my fever." He took her hand again and steered her back toward the house. "Would you be interested in a secret passage or a hidden room?"
"You're not serious!" Marin exclaimed. That would be too good to be true.
"On the contrary, do you see the column on the far left?" he asked as the front of the house came into view. "It's hollow."
"No! You're teasing!"
Hunter slapped his palm against his heart and struck a dramatic pose.
"You doubt the word of your husband?" he asked in a wounded tone.
It'd been so long since she'd seen this playful side of him that she loved so much.
"Yeah! Prove it!" She shoved him toward the house, anxious to see this hollow column and secret room, and to prolong this moment when he seemed so like his old self.
Hunter told his story as they made their way through the house.
"Tranquille was built between 1833 and 1836. There was still a large population of Indians in the area at that time. Grandfather had the column built out of wood, then a brick facade built around it, so that if they ever had to escape the Indians the family was to run to the attic and descend through the column into the room below the porch. At one time there was a tunnel that came up inside the old barn, with the entrance hidden in a stall, but it collapsed not long after the war was over."
Marin cursed the damned corset that kept her from breathing while she climbed the stairs to the attic floor. But the idea of hidden rooms and passages was too intriguing to put off seeing until she was more comfortable.
When Hunter threw the door open to the attic, a blast of heat engulfed them.
"Still want to see the hidden entrance to the column?" he asked as he wiped a bead of sweat from her temple. The finger that slid along her skin dipped down along her jawline, then trailed a lazy path downward to trace the high neckline of her gown. As she looked into his eyes, his gaze changed from playful, to heated, to one of regret. She didn't want to lose the moment! Didn't want the teasing Hunter to turn back into the jealous husband.
"Yeah." She shivered even in the heat of the attic. "But then I think I'm going to need to take a dip in the lake before supper. And I'll need a big, strong man to go with me. Know anybody who would care to wash my back?"
He didn't answer. He just continued to look at her, his eyes sad, his dimples nowhere in sight. Finally he let out a short breath he'd been holding, lowered his head and ducked into the blasting heat of the attic.
*******
Harold Cabot had been watching the house for days. Money was running out, and if he didn't get a break soon he might have to do something drastic.
Pierce and that meddlesome wife of his left the house yesterday afternoon, leaving the brat and a sour-looking old woman behind. It looked to him as if they had taken enough luggage for several days, but it was hard to tell. Since he couldn't be sure when they would be back, the sooner he made his move, the better. Patience was all he needed now.
The inside of the closed carriage turned into an oven as the heat of the day increased. And as the temperature rose, so did Cabot's foul temper.
Damn the chit! Every day he'd watched she'd been outside nearly from dawn to dusk, but always with Pierce and his wife or a servant. And never without that infernal, enormous dog. Well, he was prepared for the dog if he could just catch the brat alone.
Perspiration ran in rivulets from his armpits, down his temples, even from his knees, drenching his clothing with huge, dark stains. The feel of the sweat snaking along his skin was reminiscent of the cooties that had been his constant companion during the war years while he'd dodged both Yankee and Confederate soldiers and terrorized their women. Just the thought of the war and the injustices he'd suffered started his blood boiling.
Damn, he was hungry! He'd eaten only a stale biscuit since that slut of a wife hadn't bothered to come home. The "customer" she'd been servicing had damned well better make it worth her while or she'd be wearing matching shiners.
"Rube!" he yelled and banged on the side of the carriage with his walking stick. The small window behind the driver slid open and a face the color of wet coal appeared with crossed eyes and a blank expression.
"Suh?"
"Do you have any food up there, you idiot?"
The expression never changed as Rube stared for a moment, then mumbled, "No suh."
Damn! He reached for his pocketwatch, then remembered he'd pawned it. He dared to pull back the curtain on the window far enough to check the sun. It must be five o'clock! No wonder the sides of his belly were rubbing together.
Just as he was about to order Rube to go steal some food nearby, the front door of Pierce Hall swung open. That enormous dog and equally huge cat pitched through the door to circle the yard in predictable fashion. The brat skipped out behind them in all her innocence. Cabot watched intently to see if anyone would exit the house.
Damn! The sour-faced woman who must be Pierce's mother followed the brat out, carrying an embroidery hoop and small basket. She marched down the steps and crossed the manicured lawn to sit, stiff-backed, on a bench under a linden tree. Cabot sat back and watched from the depths of the carriage. There must be a way to separate the brat from her grandmother.
To his utter astonishment and wonderful good fortune he watched the woman rummage for a moment in the basket, pull out several skeins of thread, then say something to the child and return to the house. The dog, which had been sniffing the shrubbery beside the veranda, suddenly unearthed a ground squirrel and disappeared in a yelping blur behind the house.
Without wasting another moment he banged on the carriage.
"Pull to the front of the house immediately."
The carriage jerked as the horses trotted around the slight curve of the street to stop at the bottom of the drive. Cabot slicked back his hair with the palms of his hands and struggled back into his damp coat. A pat on the pocket insured that the parcels were still there.
He walked up the drive with all haste, then wheezed as he knelt beside the child who was busy mixing dirt in a cooking pan.
"Hello there." He tried out his most congenial tone.
"Hello," she returned, continuing to stir her dirt. "Do you want some stew? Me and Gwandma are going to have stew for supper."
He ignored this apparent non sequitur. There was no time for idle chitchat with the little twit.
"You must be Katie."
"Uh huh."
"How delightful! My name is Harold. Your mother was my cousin and we were very close. Do you know I have a little girl just your age?" he lied. "Would you like to go with me and play with her?" He started to rise but the brat continued to stir her dirt.
"No, thank you. I have to fix the stew for Gwandma. Can you bring your little girl here?"
"No. No, that won't be possible. But look what I have for you."
He reached into his pocket and rummaged for the bag. Surely the candy would lure her away. A long licorice whip dangled enticingly from his fingers. Her eyes brightened at the sight, but she didn't take the candy.
"Mama says I mustn't eat sweets before supper."
Just as he was about to foist the candy into her hand that blasted dog streaked from behind the house, leapt wildly beside the child for a moment, then snatched the licorice from Cabot's hand. Huge, sharp, glistening teeth chomped three times and the candy was gone.
"Puffy!" The child rose and stood with her hands on her chubby waist. "Naughty doggie. No no no!"
The dog's tail wagged so hard its entire body wagged. Cabot glanced around to the house, then pulled the other parcel from his pocket. The moment the package left his coat the dog's ears perked. Cabot found himself with the front paws of the dog in the middle of his chest, its nose frantically poking at the oiled paper. The child stomped her foot and bossily ordered, "Puffy, get down!" The dog ignored the command, slobbering all over Cabot's good suit as it hopped toward the package on its hind legs. The monstrous black cat appeared out of nowhere, arched its back, raised its hackles and hissed menacingly.
"What the devil you doin' to them animals, Miz Katie?"
Cabot jerked his gaze to the side veranda where a mountain of a woman came waddling out of a pair of French doors, wiping her hands on her apron. The front door opened and Pierce's mother stepped outside.
Time to get the hell out of there. He ripped the paper off the large beefsteak and hurled the piece of meat with all his might in the opposite direction. The dog immediately left him to chase the meat. Cabot snatched the brat around the waist and ran down the drive.
"Here now! What are you doing?"
"Oh lordie, Miz Lucille! He takin' our baby!"
"Stop! Help! Nathan, help!"
Cabot was halfway down the drive when he heard a yowl that was almost human, then a heavy thud hit the center of his back, immediately followed by countless claws piercing his skin. Before he could react, the tearing claws climbed his coat. Black, darting paws came from behind his head to rip at his cheeks and eyes. With one hand he held the screaming brat. With the other he fought to knock the hissing cat from his shoulders.
"Stop! Help!"
The crunch of running feet on the drive behind him spurred him toward the carriage. The door stood open. Rube waited with reins in hands. Only a few more feet. With one mighty effort he grabbed a handful of fur and tore the cat from him. Claws sliced deep into his cheeks before he flung the cat to the ground. Just a few more steps.
A hand snatched at his coat, catching a fistful of coattails. He stumbled and fell back a step. The dog, who should have been dead from the poisoned meat, charged at him from the side. He grabbed the carriage frame and dragged himself in. The hands still held his coat and he kicked viciously behind him, satisfied when his foot connected and he heard a muffled "Ooph," then a body hit the ground. He swung the door shut just as the snarling dog leapt at him. The horses bolted sideways, and as the carriage careened recklessly out of control the rear wheel jolted over something in the road. As they sped away he turned and looked to see if they were being followed. He smiled at the sight that met him.
The huge servant woman waddled down the drive, waving her apron and screaming for help. The cat lay motionless at the foot of the drive. The dog stood in the path the carriage had taken, whining and licking the face of the now unconscious body he'd kicked...the body of Pierce's mother. And not another soul was in sight.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The distant, nonstop sound of someone banging on the front door woke Marin out of a deep sleep. Hunter was already scrambling for his trousers in the dark when she realized what the noise was. She quickly lit the lamp, then rammed her arms into the sleeves of a dressing gown as she ran behind Hunter down the stairs. When they reached the front door Hunter threw it open.
Nathan stood on the other side, a fine film of dust coating his sweat-covered face. His chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath.
"Miss Katie," he managed to rasp out, "she done been kidnapp
ed!"
Nauseating alarm weakened Marin's knees. Hunter grabbed Nathan by the shoulders and shook him.
"What do you mean Katie's been kidnapped? When? Who? Dear God! William!" He swung around just as Maggie and William shuffled into the entrance hall. "Saddle two horses! We leave in five minutes." He turned back to Nathan. "Go to the kitchen. Maggie will get you what you need to refresh yourself. You can tell me what happened on the way."
Marin was already running back to the room when Hunter passed her. Two hand guns and a rifle lay on the bed by the time she got to the door. Hunter grabbed his discarded shirt and shoved his arms in as Marin snatched a pair of his trousers and yanked them on.
"What are you doing?" he asked as he pulled on his boots.
"I can ride easier in slacks," she said, rolling up the legs.
"Marin, it's too dangerous for you to ride at that speed. You can't keep up."
She snatched up her boot and stopped only long enough to glare at him.
"Have you ever seen me ride?"
"No, but - "
"Then shut up! I can keep up and I'm going!"
He didn't take time to argue. It would have been a waste of breath anyway. She put on her other boot, buttoned three buttons of his shirt she'd pilfered and tied the lower half in a knot at her waist.
"I'm going to saddle my horse. I'll see you at the barn."
She took the stairs two at a time, then ran to the barn just as William finished saddling three horses.
"Ol' William ain't nobody's fool," he said at her surprise. "I knowed you weren't no way gonna stay behind."
"William, you're a sweetheart!" She kissed his leathery old cheek, then they led the horses to the front of the house. Nathan and Hunter burst through the front door just as Marin swung into her saddle. Without a word the two men jumped astride the horses and the three of them thundered down the drive toward Memphis.
"Mistah Hunter, they's something else you need to know," Nathan shouted above the pounding horses hooves. "Yo mama hurt real bad. She try to stop the man and a carriage wheel runned over her."