White River Brides

by Frances Devine

  Tuck wrapped her arms around her shoulders and watched in disbelief and dismay as Sam rode away. Finally, she turned and went back to the cave, climbing slowly down the rungs of the ladder.

  Chapter 9

  Rafe peered through the narrow passage. He held his lantern aloft and saw another fairly large room. The oil in his lantern was low and he’d need to head back soon. As much as he hated the thought, he wouldn’t be able to help the boy if he was wandering around in the dark, getting lost himself.

  He took a step forward and slipped. Suddenly he began to slide down a wide crevice of some sort. He only slid a short distance before landing. He found himself in a small cavern beside a narrow opening.

  He heard a sound. Holding his breath, he listened. There it was again. Was that breathing? Could Tommy be in there?

  He eyed the opening, mentally measuring if he could fit through there. Only one way to find out. He squeezed through the tight opening and stopped still, his heart thumping. On the floor, next to a large, natural throne-like structure, lay a small boy, his blond hair resting on one small hand. Please let him be alive. Rafe stepped quietly across the way and bent over the tiny form. He breathed a sigh of relief as the child rolled over and opened his eyes.

  “You found me.” A smile split the small face and the boy sat up. “Will you take me to my mother now?”

  Rafe heard the quiver in his voice and felt tears behind his eyelids, but he didn’t care. He’d never felt the emotions he felt now at the sight of this small boy. “I’ll be happy to do that, Tommy. Can you stand?”

  “Sure I can.” Tommy grinned and jumped up. “Isn’t this a fine room? That looks like a throne over there, but it’s not. My father told me all about it before we came to Marble Cave. It’s a rock formation. There’s a bunch of them. Father told me water and stuff formed all these thrones and posts and things, but Ma said God made them like this.”

  Rafe’s eyes scanned the boy from his head to his feet. He appeared to be fine.

  “You must be a very smart boy, Tommy, to remember all that.”

  “Uh-huh.” He held his hand out to Rafe. “I’d like to go see my mother now.”

  Rafe swallowed past the lump in his throat. He took the small hand and started back the way he’d come, boosting Tommy upward then pulling himself up after him. When they reached the place where he’d separated from Jim, he placed two fingers in his mouth and gave a loud whistle. The signal the child was found.

  Tuck stared in admiration as Rafe handed the small boy to his father.

  Tears rolled down the man’s cheek. “How can I ever thank you?” Mr. Harris held his hand out and shook Rafe’s.

  “You don’t need to thank me, sir. Any one of us could have found Tommy. I just happened to be the one at the right place.”

  Mr. Harris nodded and looked around at the men who had followed Rafe and Tommy into the Cathedral Room. “There are no words to express my gratitude.”

  Tuck gazed at Rafe, pride filling her heart. A lot of men would be taking the credit to themselves, but not Rafe. He was good through and through.

  He turned and their eyes met. Tuck took a step forward, her heart racing, and then stopped at the memory of Sam’s face as he’d crawled out of the cave. She blinked back sudden tears as shame washed over her. Why couldn’t Sam be more like Rafe?

  Through a blur, she saw Rafe coming toward her. She threw him a sad smile then turned and headed for the ladder.

  “Tuck, wait. Where are you going?”

  But she was halfway up to the exit. She climbed out the top and ran toward Sweet Pea, who nibbled at the browning grass around her tether. Mounting, she urged Sweet Pea into a gallop.

  Halfway down the hill, Tuck heard hoofbeats. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Champ racing after her with Rafe leaning forward in the saddle, his face tense with determination.

  Tuck sighed. She might as well stop. Sweet Pea couldn’t outrun Champ. She pulled slightly on the reins, and Sweet Pea slowed.

  Rafe pulled up beside her. “What in the world are you doing, running off in such an all-fired hurry, Tuck Sullivan?” Rafe snapped, his voice fraught with impatience. “Is that any way to treat a friend?”

  Tuck gnawed on her bottom lip and threw him an apologetic smile. “Sorry.”

  “Well, I guess you ought to be,” he growled. “So where are you heading so fast?”

  Tuck shrugged. “Home, I guess. I need to let Mrs. Harris know her son is found.”

  “Jim was going to take Mr. Harris and Tommy over to your place to get Mrs. Harris,” Rafe said.

  “Oh. All right, but I’d better get on home anyway.” Any place to get away from Rafe’s searching eyes. Sometimes she felt like he could read her mind.

  Rafe tossed her a sideways grin. “I’ve got a better idea. We ain’t been fishing in weeks. What do you say?”

  “Are you crazy? It’s getting colder by the minute, and look at those clouds. We’re liable to have a gully washer any minute now.”

  “Oh?” His eyes danced, full of challenge. “When did that ever stop us?”

  Tuck peered at her lifelong friend. There was no denying she missed him. Why not go fishing? At home, she’d just mope over Sam. Anyway, she was probably making a mountain out of a molehill and thinking the worst. She cocked her head and grinned. “Okay, but if we get drenched, Ma’ll be beside herself, and I’ll blame it all on you.”

  Rafe tossed his head back and laughed. “Sure, go ahead. She won’t believe you anyway.”

  He was more than likely right about that. She and Rafe had gotten into so much mischief over the years.…“Okay, but I’ll need to use one of your poles. I don’t think I can get past Ma with mine on a day like this.” She shook her head.

  “Why, Tuck. Scared of your ma, and you a grown-up woman?”

  “Oh, be quiet. I’m not half as scared of my ma as you are of yours. Race you to your place.” With a “hiya” and a slight kick to Sweet Pea’s sides, she took off.

  They reined in winded in front of Rafe’s barn, and he went inside and retrieved his fishing poles and a coat. Then they dug up worms for bait.

  Rafe’s old boat was tied up by the river. In no time, they’d shoved it into the edge of the water and jumped in.

  “I’m sure glad your ma didn’t see us. She’d have a fit if she knew we were on the river with the wind picking up like this.” Tuck baited her hook and threw the line over the side.

  Rafe glanced up at the sky. “I don’t think it’s going to amount to anything.”

  “Huh! That’s what you said the time we almost got swept downriver,” Tuck retorted.

  “We made it okay, didn’t we?”

  “Sure, because the Maxwell brothers jumped in and grabbed the boat.” Tuck laughed.

  Rafe roared with laughter. “Good thing those Maxwells are all big and hefty.”

  “Wow, Rafe. We couldn’t have been more than eight or nine. Just little tykes.” Tuck leaned back and sighed. “Do you ever wish you were a kid again?”

  Rafe’s eyes darkened with emotion. He started to speak then stopped.

  Tuck sat up. “What’s wrong, Rafe?”

  He exhaled and shook his head. Then gave a short laugh. “Nothing. Just thinking, I guess. But no, I like us the way we are now.”

  Tuck nodded and started to lean back when she felt a tug on her line. With a whoop she yanked. She grabbed the big mudcat and threw it into the bottom of the boat. “Ha, you’re slipping. I got the first one.”

  “Yes, I see you did. Enjoy it. It’s probably the last one you’ll pull in. I, on the other hand, plan to catch a whole passel of them.”

  The first part of his prophecy came true, but to their chagrin, Tuck’s mudcat was the only one either of them got. Too cold more than likely.

  “Oh well. At least you were right about the storm,” Tuck said as they moored the boat. “You know, this catfish would be mighty good cooked over an open fire.”

  “Well, I’ll be. I believe you’re finally ri
ght about something, Tuck. Let’s cook it and eat it right here.”

  They made short work of cleaning the fish then cut it in half. As they sat holding their sticks over the campfire, the tantalizing aroma caused Tuck’s stomach to rumble with hunger. After they’d eaten, she leaned back on her elbows, looking up at the clear sky.

  The familiar camaraderie she shared with Rafe was like a warm blanket. Relaxation washed over her, and she realized she’d been tense all day. Maybe longer. Realization hit her. If she married Sam, she’d have to give up her friendship with Rafe. Sam would never stand for it. Unease prickled her skin and she shivered. Could she give up Rafe? The very thought caused an emptiness inside her.

  But she loved Sam. Didn’t she? A memory of his smoldering eyes burned her flesh, and excitement rushed through her. Yes, of course she loved him. And she wouldn’t give him up.

  Tuck ran her finger around the rim of the pan then placed it in her mouth, tasting the sweet and sour tang of the gooseberry pie filling.

  Ma Lexie smiled and wagged her finger. Tuck grinned. Ma was a good sport. Always had been, since the first day she’d taken two ornery little girls into her home. It couldn’t have been easy for her, caring for eight-year-old twins with minds of their own. Not that Addy gave her much trouble, but Tuck knew she herself had been a handful.

  “Really, Abby, why do you do that?” With a toss of her head, her sister grabbed the pan and scraped the clinging gel-like substance into the slop bucket, then put the pan into the dishwater.

  “Oh, don’t pretend you never sneak a lick, Miss Priss.” Tuck snapped a dishcloth at her sister’s retreating back, and Addy threw her a grin then stuck her tongue out.

  Ma opened the door in the front of the stove and placed the pie inside. She wiped her hands on the dish towel Tuck had proffered and smiled. “Is Sam coming to supper, dear?”

  Tuck frowned and shook her head. “He had a political meeting in Forsyth. I don’t know when he’ll be back. Tomorrow I guess.”

  “He’s away an awful lot, isn’t he?” Addy blurted then bit her lip.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Tuck felt anger soaring up from somewhere deep inside. “He’s a busy man with his medical practice, and he’s involved in a lot of political stuff. What’s wrong with that?”

  “Nothing.” Addy turned back to the dishpan. “I was just asking. Sorry.”

  Tuck grabbed a clean dishcloth and started drying the dishes. “Okay. Sorry I snapped. To be honest, I’m a little put off that he’s gone so much. But I know he’s a very busy man.”

  “Of course he is.” Ma Lexie took a small pot off the hook and some potatoes out of the bin. With a sigh she sat at the table and started to peel the small brown globes.

  Addy tossed the dishwater out the back door and wiped the pan. “Here, Ma. Let me do that for you.”

  “Oh no. It feels good to be off my feet for a while.” She smiled and patted a chair. “Sit down. You, too, Abigail. I have something to tell you.”

  Dread clutched at Tuck. Ma had looked a little peaked lately. What would she do if something happened to Ma? She stared at the woman who had raised her as her own child.

  “Is something wrong, Ma? You’re not ill, are you?” Leave it to Addy to voice what Tuck was feeling.

  Tuck leaned forward, her eyes glued to Ma.

  Ma gave a little laugh. “Heavens, no. I couldn’t be better. I have good news, not bad.”

  Impatient now that her fear was absolved, Tuck waited.

  “You girls are going to have a brother or sister soon.” Pink washed over Ma’s face. And something else. Joy. That was it. But surely she didn’t mean…Ma was nearly forty and had never had a child. Tuck had just assumed she never would.

  “Do you mean—?” Addy had a grin from ear to ear.

  Ma nodded.

  “When, Ma?” The joy had somehow jumped onto Tuck as well, and excitement welled up inside her.

  “The early part of March, I believe.” So that was the reason Ma’s clothes were looking a little tighter. She must be around four months along.

  Addy jumped up and threw her arms around Ma. “What does Pa think about it? I’ll bet he’s hoping for a boy.”

  Ma laughed, a tinkling little joyful sound that rippled across the air. “He says he doesn’t care, but I think he’s secretly hoping for a son.”

  “Who can blame him?” Tuck grinned. “After being surrounded by females all these years.”

  “Blame me for what?” Papa Jack stepped into the room and planted a kiss on Ma’s cheek, a lock of hair falling across his forehead. Sandy colored hair without a speck of gray. “Ummm. Is that gooseberry pie I smell?”

  “Yes.” Ma’s eyes sparkled. “And don’t you go getting any ideas. It’s for after supper.”

  “Shucks.” Pa shook his head. “But I reckon I can wait.”

  Tuck watched her parents. It was obvious to anyone they were still very much in love. Pa was always so tender with Ma, even while being playful.

  Tuck sighed. Would Sam ever look that way at her? Would he ever touch her softly on the cheek the way Pa was touching Ma. She swallowed past the lump in her throat. Would she ever have with Sam the deep devoted love Pa and Ma had together?

  Chapter 10

  How in the world had she let herself get roped into this? Tuck shoved a stack of baskets aside and kicked at a tied-up bunch of cornstalks. “I don’t know why people just bring things and dump them off. It wouldn’t hurt them to stay and help.”

  “Now Abby, don’t be like that,” Addy said. “You enjoy the harvest festival as much as anyone. No one forced you to volunteer.”

  “Maybe they didn’t force me, but I sure feel like I’ve been hornswoggled into it.” She snorted. “Do we have to spend every spare minute we have in this place?”

  “We do if we want to get everything done. And don’t act like no one else is helping.” She motioned to several women who scurried around sweeping straw from the floor of the Jenkinses’ old barn. Since they’d built a new one, the old barn was used pretty much to store anything and everything. And of course to hold community parties and such.

  “Who’d believe we had a dance here in the spring.” Tuck shook her head. “Maybe they should do some barn cleaning in between times.”

  “Abby!”

  At the distress in her sister’s voice, Tuck looked up and caught sight of Mrs. Jenkins standing just inside the door. She couldn’t tell if the kind woman had heard her or not. Why couldn’t she learn to keep her lips buttoned up? She whirled around and lined a basket with straw, then placed small pumpkins inside.

  Addy leaned over. “I don’t think she heard you,” she whispered.

  Tuck sighed with relief. “I didn’t mean it. I don’t know why I blurt things out like that.”

  “Remember that time you called Mrs. Batson an old sow, and she overheard you?” A giggle rippled from Addy’s throat.

  “Yes, and the seat of my pants remembers, too. That had to be the hardest spanking Pa ever gave me.” Tuck recalled the pain only too well, and she had to restrain herself from reaching back to rub her backside.

  Addy giggled. “If you’d called her an old bear you’d have been closer to the truth. I never saw anyone so grumpy.”

  Tuck grinned. “She was grumpy. But I guess I gave her good reason to be.”

  “Yes, you did,” Addy said, grinning. “Many good reasons.”

  “Sam was supposed to help today, but at the last minute he had to go to Forsyth on business.” Tuck bit her lip and frowned. He seemed to have a lot of business lately. He was always going somewhere.

  “Hmmm.” Addy ducked her head and focused intently on an engraved walking stick that someone had dropped off for the festival.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Addy hadn’t said two words to Sam lately, and it wasn’t like her to be that rude.

  “Nothing. Nothing at all.” Addy glanced around. “I think I need to help them get those corn shocks up. They seem to be having tro
uble getting them to stand.”

  Tuck watched her sister scurry away. Addy wasn’t fooling her a bit. She had something against Sam, and Tuck meant to find out what. Surely she wasn’t still upset because Sam had chosen Tuck over her. She shrugged and got back to work.

  “Abigail, what a pretty dress.” Anne Lofting, a seventeen-year-old who thought she was God’s gift to the male population, smiled at her. But the smile looked more like a smirk to Tuck. Anne had made fun of her more than once.

  Maybe she was being overly suspicious and Anne really was sincere this time. After all, Tuck had thought Sam would be here, so she’d taken extra care with her hair and dress today. She knew she looked nice. “Thank you. They say blue is my color.”

  “Oh definitely.” Anne giggled and sauntered away.

  Tuck shook her head and continued filling a basket with apples and oranges, the aroma tantalizing her nose. The festival was only a couple of weeks away. She and the oldsters would be playing for the crowd. Their first time to play in public since the Lynch sisters got back last week.

  There was a loud gasp behind her and she whirled around. Her twin stared at her with wide eyes, her hand over her mouth. “Abby,” she choked out, rushing forward.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Turn around,” Addy whispered through her teeth.

  Tuck did as instructed and felt a tugging at her back.

  “Your dress was tucked up. You must have caught it on something. Your bloomers were showing.”

  “Oh.” Tuck blushed. “Must have happened when I went to the necessary earlier.”

  “You really must be more careful, Abigail.”

  “Oh, don’t get your drawers twisted. Nobody saw them but Anne Lofting.” But Tuck inwardly seethed. Her bloomers were pale blue.

  “Abby! Don’t you care that she probably told everyone?”

  Addy’s scandalized whisper tickled Tuck’s ear and she grinned. “Nope, not a bit.” That wasn’t strictly true, but Addy was such a prude, it was fun to shake her up sometimes.