by Beth White
He tried to interpret her expression. Fading anxiety, undoubtedly related more to the harrowing experience she had just come through than personal concern for him. She was chewing on her bottom lip, a tell which he’d noticed on a few other occasions. She wasn’t a flutterer, nor did she babble incessantly like a lot of women. That was one of the things he liked most about her. But he didn’t like worrying her at all.
Finally he’d had all he could take. “All right, Doc, that’s enough. I’ve had worse injuries and survived.”
“Be still, you ingrate,” said the doctor. “I’m trying to sew your ear back together.”
“Huh. Feels more like you’re splitting it down the middle.” Levi was relieved to see Selah smile. “Miss Daughtry is undoubtedly a better embroiderer than you.”
“I don’t know,” she said, bending to inspect Levi’s ear and giving him a tantalizing view of her smooth throat. “Doc’s developed quite a neat stitch.”
Kidd chuckled and nudged her out of the way. “Despite my best efforts, I’m afraid he’ll be left with a bit of a scar.”
“A scar is better than the alternative.” Selah scowled at him. “An inch closer to your head and you’d be dead, Levi. Joelle said it was a poacher. What do you think?”
Levi hesitated. She wasn’t going to accept some off-the-cuff nonsense for an answer. And he wanted to trust her—in fact, it had occurred to him that he might be endangering her and her whole family by keeping her in the dark. But Pinkerton had been adamant about the security of his mission.
“Not likely a poacher would be aiming that high, five shots in a row,” he said with a shrug. “But I’ll keep looking around and make inquiries in the neighborhood.”
The doctor gave one final tug of the thread in Levi’s ear and snipped it off. “If that wasn’t an accident, somebody here has got a powerful enemy. The war’s over, but emotions still get riled when Yankees come in trying to make a dollar off the backs of locals.”
Selah set down the bowl sharply. “Doc, you honestly think someone was shooting at Levi? Who even knows he’s here?”
With a crack of laughter, Kidd bent to wash his hands in the bowl of water. “Everyone in Tupelo knows he’s here. The fool’s been all over town trying to find people to work on his new hotel.”
“Levi? Is that true?” Selah searched his face.
“Yes, but that doesn’t necessarily correlate to attempted murder.”
Kidd turned, drying his hands on the towel he pulled off his shoulder. “It doesn’t necessarily not correlate either. I’d be watching my back if I were you.”
“Is that a threat?” Levi stood, wincing when his ear throbbed.
“More or less.” Kidd grinned. “Would you like me to give you something for the pain?”
Levi shook his head. “If people are coming after me for offering employment, I’ll need all my wits about me.”
Suddenly the door knocker sounded—loudly and repeatedly. Selah lifted her hands. “What now? We’re not exactly ready for company.” She hurried toward the rotunda.
Levi heard the door open, heard Selah’s intake of breath. There was a long silence.
Finally, an elderly female voice with haughty overtones demanded, “Well, aren’t you going to let us in?”
“Grandmama! Aurora!” Selah sounded stunned. “What are you doing here?”
“What do you think I’m doing here? I’ve come to sort out this disgraceful business venture in which you seem to have embroiled our family.” Grandmama pushed past, narrowly missing Selah’s toes with the end of her cane. Clearly her opinion of the word business equated to that of brothels and voodoo rituals. “Reminds me of that Edmondson girl, cavorting with opera singers during the war and actually carrying messages tied up in her petticoat across enemy lines.”
Aurora gave Selah a big hug and pulled back, eyes twinkling. “But Grandmama, everyone says Belle Edmondson was a heroine—”
“I’m sure she was,” Grandmama said with a sniff, “but that in no way mitigates the déclassé nature of her behavior.” She paused in the center of the rotunda to look up and around. “Well. If this place hasn’t turned into a fine pigsty.”
Suppressing a shudder, Selah thought about Mose asleep upstairs in her old bedroom, Horatia keeping watch by his side, and the library turned into a surgery, not to mention the blood, mayhem, and honeycomb in the cupola. She took her grandmother firmly by the arm and steered her toward the parlor. “It sounds like you had a difficult journey. Come sit down and rest your feet. ThomasAnne will be back any moment now with refreshments.”
“I did have a nasty, sooty journey on that cursed train. But I’ve been sitting for half the day, so I prefer to stand for a while, although some Lapsang souchong would be lovely, along with a nice teacake, if you please.” Grandmama paused in the parlor doorway, absently tapping her cane, apparently carried mainly for effect. Her silver hair was coiffed in a mass of puffs and braids, with two great black feathers waving from the top of the pile every time she moved. Her suit of bottle-green linsey-woolsey, tailored in the current bustle style, showed off her tall, still straight figure in a manner that Selah could only admire. “Well? Where is the pretty one—and my pathetic niece, ThomasAnne?”
“Aunt Winnie,” came a quavering voice from the doorway behind Selah. “How nice to see you. What a surprise.”
Grandmama turned sharply. “If that isn’t like you, ThomasAnne, creeping up on one in that mousy fashion. How a woman of your size contrives to be so invisible defies all laws of nature. Come put that tray down before you drop it.”
As ThomasAnne bit her lip and moved to obey, Selah charged into the fray. “Grandmama, I wish you had let me know you planned to come. I’m afraid there is no place adequate—”
“I’m quite sure that’s the case, considering the forethought typical of this branch of the family. The Daughtrys always were a flighty lot. How you propose to run a hotel with no experience—”
“Grandmama!” Selah raised a hand. “Stop. I beg you, just stop.”
Grandmama’s thin eyebrows rose in astonishment at this unprecedented rudeness, but at least the impending tirade seemed to have been arrested. Temporarily, anyway.
Selah looked at Aurora. “How did you know about the hotel? We only just decided to take it on after we got home.”
As Aurora opened her mouth to answer, the door knocker sounded again.
Exasperated, Selah stomped to the door and yanked it open to find Schuyler Beaumont standing there with a broad grin on his handsome face. “I heard there was a party,” he said.
Selah stepped back to let him in. “So that’s how they got here.”
“You needn’t sound so bitter.” Schuyler removed his hat and laid it on a table. “They were going to come anyway, so I offered transportation as the price of admission to the show. I left the carriage next to the wagon and the other horse. I assume there’s no livery service as yet.”
Selah couldn’t decide whether to laugh or slap him. As a compromise, she rolled her eyes. “When Wyatt comes back, I’ll have him tend to the horses.”
“Perfect. Who’s Wyatt?” Schuyler laughed at her expression. “Never mind. Where’s your redoubtable grandmama?”
“Terrorizing my cousin in the parlor. You might as well join her, I suppose.” She turned on her heel.
“You’re going to be just like her one day, you know,” Schuyler observed.
Refusing to dignify that sally with a response, she poked her head into the library on the way past. “Gentlemen, it seems we’re having tea in the parlor.”
“Sounds like quite the soirée,” Doc said, grinning at Levi, who was already on his feet.
Selah sighed and marched into battle with the three men trailing after her.
In the parlor, Grandmama had finally deigned to sit on the dusty settee—after protecting her skirt with her handkerchief. She lowered her tea cup and fastened a freezing blue gaze over Selah’s shoulder. “You must be the Yankee.”
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nbsp; “I am,” Levi said gravely. He took Grandmama’s hand and kissed it as elegantly as Sir Walter Raleigh making his obeisance to Queen Elizabeth. “Levi Riggins.”
She sniffed, but allowed it. “Mr. Riggins.” Her birdlike gaze took in Levi’s trim waist and broad shoulders, then moved on to the doctor.
Kidd executed a simple bow. “Ma’am. I’m Dr. Kidd.”
Resigned, Selah moved to the tea service laid out on a small gated table under the window. “Gentlemen, this is my grandmama, Mrs. McGowan. Beside her is my youngest sister, Aurora. And I believe both of you are acquainted with Mr. Beaumont.”
Aurora preened under the three admiring male gazes fixed on her glowing countenance. She smoothed her striped wool traveling dress, the color of which echoed the dark-copper curls tamed in a loose chignon at the back of her head. “Isn’t this a lovely party? I think we should host a ball this month and invite the whole neighborhood.”
Selah found herself staring into Levi’s eyes, which mirrored her own horror at this insane proposal. She was about to blurt out something suitably dampening when Levi winked at her and said mildly, “And we shall, once the renovations are complete.”
“How long is that going to take?” Schuyler looked around with undisguised skepticism. “I was hoping we could open this summer.”
“Well, there’s the roof . . . ,” Selah began.
Levi gave her a cautioning look. “And I’m afraid the kitchen is a bit of a shambles.” He smiled at Aurora. “We want to put our best foot forward, so to speak, don’t you think?”
“I suppose.” Aurora looked disappointed. “This summer? Really?”
“Or possibly in the fall, when the weather is cooler,” Selah said firmly.
Into the ensuing depressed silence, Dr. Kidd said, “Miss ThomasAnne, I’ve been meaning to ask how you’re feeling. No more fainting spells, I trust?”
Every eye in the room focused on ThomasAnne, who turned a violent shade of pink and nearly lost her tea cup. “I didn’t—I haven’t—”
Grandmama frowned. “If that isn’t like you, ThomasAnne, drawing attention to yourself with these nonsensical fits.”
“I assure you,” the doctor said, “losing consciousness is nothing one has any control over. She could have been badly hurt if I hadn’t been there.” He smiled at ThomasAnne.
“If you hadn’t been where?” Grandmama demanded.
“It was really nothing to worry over,” ThomasAnne said, hands fluttering. “I’m just fine now. Selah and I were—” She looked wildly at Selah for rescue.
“We were just coming out of church,” Selah said. “ThomasAnne wasn’t feeling well, and Dr. Kidd happened by.”
“Hmph.” Grandmama looked unsatisfied, but she could hardly object to churchgoing.
Aurora laughed. “That sounds interesting, and I’m sure we’ll hear more about it later, but Selah, where is Joelle? Is she hiding in a corner with some dusty old book?”
Selah had opened her mouth to answer when the back door slammed. The sound of boots approached down the breezeway into the rotunda, and Wyatt burst into the parlor.
“Where is every—oh!” Wyatt halted to survey the three strangers, then shouted over his shoulder, “Here they are, Miss Jo! Looks like there’s some kind of party going on.”
Selah sat frozen, her worst nightmare fully realized as Joelle and Nathan appeared in the doorway behind Wyatt. All three were covered in honey, beeswax, dead leaves, and dirt. If she hadn’t known that was her sister, Joelle would not even have been recognizable as female.
Nathan recovered first. “Wyatt, we best get these muddy boots back outside. We can eat later. Come on.” He grabbed Wyatt by the sleeve and hauled him back the way they’d come.
Joelle was left standing there alone in her dirty male attire. “Hello, Grandmama.” Removing her hat to let her hair tumble about her shoulders, she scowled at Schuyler. “What are you doing here?”
“I might ask you the same question.” Schuyler sat back, looking amused. “This is not your usual bluestocking entertainment.”
“Nor is this your usual gin-soused choice of companion,” Joelle said sweetly. “Were you bored, poor dear?”
Schuyler laughed aloud while Grandmama thumped the floor with her cane. “Young lady, what is the meaning of this outlandish attire, not to mention such blatant discourtesy to a guest?”
“Bees,” Joelle said through her teeth.
Selah jumped to her feet. “What she means is, we have been studying the age-old art of beekeeping, and Joelle has perhaps entered a little too enthusiastically into the natural aspect of the enterprise. She will go to the cottage and change immediately, won’t you, Jo?”
“I suppose I’d better.” Brushing a hand down her filthy pant leg, Joelle glowered at Schuyler. “We seem to have become infested with all sorts of vermin.” She quit the room with her nose in the air.
Grandmama thumped again. “Who was that boy? And the Negro?”
“That was Wyatt. He has come to live with us after the—” Catching herself just short of blurting out the truth about the train wreck, Selah glanced at Doc. “He is an orphan who will be apprenticing with Dr. Kidd. And Nathan is our new blacksmith.”
“What was he doing in the house?” Grandmama sounded more confused than scandalized. “Is he studying beekeeping too?”
“More or less.” Selah gathered herself. She was the manager here. Sticky situations were bound to occur, and she might as well practice getting herself out of them. Tact. She must exercise tact. “Grandmama, you know we’re all glad to see you, but as you can see, we are not ready to entertain guests just yet. Perhaps Dr. Kidd would take you and Aurora back to the hotel in town, since he is going that way.”
“I was just about to leave,” Doc said, setting down his coffee cup. “I’ll go retrieve my hat and bag from the library. You ladies can meet me out front.”
“But I wanted to stay here!” Aurora exclaimed. “This is my home too.”
“Of course it is, Pete,” Selah said gently. “But the rooms aren’t ready here in the big house, and we don’t have any more bed space in the cottage.”
Aurora’s lower lip might have protruded just a bit, but to Selah’s surprise, she sighed and said, “All right. But I’m coming back tomorrow with a broom and mop in hand. I’m going to help in whatever way you need me to.”
The baby was growing up. Selah nodded. “We’ll loan you some clothes so you won’t ruin yours.”
“But not Joelle’s.”
Selah laughed. “No. At least not the breeches.”
Eighteen
IN THE DARK, Daughtry jerked rusty nails out of the boards across the door of the old hunting shack, tossing them out into the woods. He’d built this little deer stand when the older two girls were small, a refuge from the carping of a miserable pregnant wife and unending responsibilities. In following years, a few days out of each month during the winter, he’d come here with his gun, get his head on straight, and kill everything in sight, whether it could be eaten or not. Then he’d go back home to drive the plantation and work on the mansion.
His and Penelope’s dream home, Ithaca. Cotton palace.
He had not planned to shoot in broad daylight. It had been a stupid, foolhardy thing to do, and he would never have done it if he’d known Joelle was anywhere near the cupola. He couldn’t imagine what she was doing dressed in the boy’s clothes. And why had she been in such companionable conversation with that young Negro blacksmith? The thought of that black hand touching his beautiful, golden daughter made his blood boil.
The other question he couldn’t satisfy was the identity of the white boy. He could almost swear he was the same boy the Yank had pulled from the wreckage of the train car at Buckner’s Ravine. The car in which Priester had died. The thought buzzed in his head like one of those angry bees: What if that boy had been with Priester? What if Priester had said something to him, told him he was being hunted?
Wondering, debating with himself, he’d
slipped along behind them in the woods. He’d listened to the three of them discuss the noisy box of bees the Negro carried, how they’d removed it from the cupola, and their reaction to the gunfire. It sounded like one of Daughtry’s shots had hit Mose—apparently the old gardener was still employed here at Ithaca—and maybe someone called Levi Riggins. That must be the name of the Yankee spy. Clever. “L. E. Vine,” the name on the “attorney’s” card, had been derived from “Levi.”
Scully said the Yank was looking for Priester’s kin. Then the boy turned up with him in Tupelo.
Coincidence? Maybe. Wouldn’t hurt to find some way to question the boy.
No devil’s spawn of a Yankee was going to lay claim to his home, not while he lived and breathed. So he hadn’t been able to resist taking a shot at him when he had the chance. He’d missed this time. Well, he’d be more patient, wait for a better opportunity.
Then he’d blow his arrogant head off.
Nineteen
DURING THE IMPROMPTU TEA PARTY, Levi had learned a lot about the Daughtrys and their extended family. Selah had exaggerated neither her grandmother’s strong personality nor the level of tension created by their impecunious circumstances.
As he followed Selah and Schuyler up the stairs to assess the damage in the cupola, he mentally ran through what he knew so far. Most crimes could be traced to the acquisition of money and materials, everyone involved had a clear motive, and they all possessed the mental acuity for planning, executing, and covering up any level of complex plot.
At first glance, dreamy, bookish Joelle seemed an unlikely conspirator. But today she had demonstrated the ability to literally get her hands dirty. The arrival of little sister Aurora, previously an unknown and distant quantity, reminded him that family loyalty could play an important role in whether or not people took part in extra-legal activity.
Which brought him to Selah, head of the household by default. She loved her home and seemed to be willing to do anything to keep possession of it. She loved her sisters and would protect them at all costs—preferably keeping them with her, but willing to let them go for their own safety.