And Ethel was no saint. If later she remembered the things she’d said, she never admitted it to Grace, but for those few minutes, the lady was filled with righteous anger and spewed forth a series of accusations and promises for revenge such as Grace had never thought to hear from those prim and proper lips.
“I was here to keep an eye on things and look out for you, Grace,” she said finally. “Now I have to tell Simon that I failed in my assignment. Except that I did manage to hit him with my metal bowl. I hope I left a good bruise on his forehead.”
“You haven’t failed in any way. No such thing,” Grace said fiercely, for she would not have the housekeeper feel guilty for the misdoing of another. “We’ll find the sheriff first and tell him what has happened. In fact, we’ll go right now. I think even Simon would agree that we’ll be safe on the road in front of the house for a few minutes. There are people in buggies and wagons out there going past, I’d venture to say.”
They walked to the front door and looked out upon the road before the house. Within their view were three different vehicles bearing folks in or out of town. The two woman made their way down the walkway to the gate and then hurried down to the church, which sat next to the parsonage. They’d barely reached the side door where Simon’s office was located when Simon himself opened the door.
“What happened? Why are the pair of you wandering around alone? You should be indoors with the bolts thrown.”
In but a few seconds they made him aware of the happenings, and he stood before Grace, his eyes dark with anger as he allowed them to scan her slender form. “Where are your shoes?” he asked finally, as if that were of some major importance.
She waved a hand as if to brush aside the senseless query and he snatched at it as it passed his chest, holding it between his palms, against his heart. A heart that beat so rapidly, she could feel it through his clothing.
“I’m sorry, Simon. We didn’t think of anything but notifying the sheriff, and shoes were the last thing from my mind.”
He nodded as a buggy slowed and the man driving the mare called out. It was Mr. Aldrich, the president of the bank. He jumped from the buggy seat and approached the three who stood before the parsonage.
“Are you all right? What’s going on?” he asked, his voice harsh as if he feared some vile deed had been done.
Simon told him the bare facts, and Mr. Aldrich offered to escort them to the jailhouse. He assisted the ladies into his buggy, then walked beside Simon with his hand on his mare’s bridle as they hurried to find the sheriff.
Charlie Wilson appeared in the open doorway of the jail before his visitors could reach it. He stepped outdoors, buckling his gun belt around his waist, and within a minute had been brought up-to-date on the news of the bungled efforts of Kenny Summers, his ploy to attack Ethel, and perhaps even get into the house to where Grace sat in the kitchen.
“I’ll find the men Judge Hale recommended to me yesterday. I’m going to get a man in place to guard your house twenty-four hours a day. He mentioned three or four who would be reliable deputies and I’m going to provide all of them with a badge and we’ll set out, leaving one at your house. First off, don’t let anyone into your garden, Simon, for if there are tracks there or any trace of where the man might have gone, we don’t want stray footprints to damage the evidence.”
And then Charlie spoke quietly, words that Simon understood, vague as they might seem to an outsider. “Are you carrying it, Simon? Don’t be fearful of using it.”
Simon nodded and waved the banker on to his destination before he walked with the two women back to his house. “We should have set a guard for the daylight hours before now, I fear,” he said, entering the gate and looking to where the man sent by the sheriff had watched the house till dawn. The grass was flattened by his presence, and an empty bottle, once filled with sarsaparilla, was the only remnant of his hours of nighttime duty.
Ethel walked over to pick it up, clucking her tongue in disapproval as she gripped it loosely, preparatory to tossing it in the rubbish bin. “A good thing it wasn’t booze, or he’d have slept the night away,” she said with a sniff of disapproval.
“No matter, Ethel, at least he was there and we slept knowing there was someone alert and caring for our well-being,” Grace said, smiling at the frown Ethel wore, even as she muttered under her breath about men leaving messes behind, expecting someone to clean up after them.
Simon glanced at Grace, meeting her gaze, and they smiled, a moment of unity that pleased him. They went into the house and Ethel offered to make a pot of coffee for him, an offer Simon was pleased to accept, for it meant a few minutes with Grace at the table, perhaps an opportunity to mend some fences.
They spoke but little, but their eyes met and lingered, as if each rued the memory of the night past, and Simon thought the coffee he drank was the best he’d ever consumed. Grace drank a fresh cup of tea, and when Ethel went out into the yard, remembered to call after her to stay away from the back of the garden, as the sheriff had instructed them.
With a wave of her hand, Ethel went only as far as the green-bean patch, bending to fill her apron with enough of the fresh vegetables to prepare for dinner. She made her way to the tomato plants she had plundered with careless feet and propped several back up on the cages she had built for them from narrow pieces of wood lath. When all was in order she returned to the house, then sat upon the back porch with her lap full of beans.
“Grace, would you bring me a pan for these,” she called out, and Grace was quick to oblige, handing a metal dish out the door before she returned to where Simon sat.
“Can we speak for a moment, Grace?” His words were quiet, almost a whisper, and she nodded, leading the way toward the parlor. But he would not follow her there, but took her hand and changed course, making the bedroom his destination. She glanced back at the kitchen and he only tugged at her, enclosing them in their bedroom without delay.
Chapter Twelve
“I can’t tell you I’ve changed my mind, Grace. For I haven’t. I still want you to stay inside the house, unless something happens as did the events that took place an hour ago. I won’t apologize for making you angry with me or set you free of restraint. But I would have you know that I wish things were between us as they were before yesterday.”
She stood before him, remembering the regret she’d felt as she dressed earlier, her thoughts as she realized he had risen without her knowledge, had left her to sleep with the window locked, the room quiet without his presence.
“I don’t know what to say to you, Simon. My first urge was to run to you for safety when I saw Kenny out back. You’ve made me dependent upon you, and sometimes I feel that I’m less of a woman because of it.”
He made a movement to halt her words and she put her hand against his mouth, closing his lips effectively. She thought she felt the pressure of that mouth move against her fingers and she almost smiled. Simon was Simon, no matter the circumstances, for he seemed unable to resist the touch of her flesh against his.
“Listen for just a moment. Hear me out. I would no doubt feel the same way should I be in your place, for I would protect you with my life, should it come to that. But there needs to be a partnership here, a coming together that will be pleasing to both of us.”
He grinned and she realized she’d put her foot in her mouth. “I know what would please me. My thoughts on the matter are available should you want to hear them,” he said, and she could only blush, for his intentions were obvious to her.
His penetrating gaze had made her blush. His hands lifted to fit themselves around her waist and he stepped closer to her, until their clothing provided but fragile layers of fabric between them. She knew the pressure of his wide chest against her breasts, the rise and lift of his arousal against her belly and the muscular strength of his thighs as he pressed her close. One hand rested in the small of her back, the better to bring her in line with his tall, masculine frame, and she felt a rush of feminine power as she reco
gnized her effect on him.
He would, should she offer it, be more than willing to undress her, here and now, would lift and carry her to the bed, and would join her there, their bodies naked in the sunshine that made a mockery of the anger that had been so alive in the bed just hours ago.
She looked up into the dark gaze of a man who awaited her choice, who would walk away even now should she step back from him. And she could not do it. Could not deny his unspoken plea for her body.
And so she wrapped her arms around his neck, clung to him as might a child to her mother, seeking out his warmth, asking without words for his forbearance and offering herself with every scrap of humility she could summon.
“I was wrong, Simon, to withhold my body from you last night. For though I offered, it was not from my heart, and my arrogance overwhelms me when I remember the hurt in your eyes. I can only ask you to forgive me and help me to get past this time.”
“There’s nothing to forgive, Grace, for we were both at fault. I was harsh, demanding, and you were rightfully angry with me. I could not take one single embrace from you, without it being given freely, for it would be a mockery of the vows we made on our wedding day.”
He stopped, his voice stilled, and she stepped back from him, recognizing the sudden flash of disappointment in his expression as she broke contact with his body. And then her fingers moved to the buttons she’d for the first time put in place such a short time ago. The dress fell from her to circle around her feet on the floor, and fast behind it flew her undergarments. She was already without covering on her feet. It was a simple enough matter for Simon to lift her and place her on the sheets that were still crumpled on the bed.
He watched her, his gaze filled with the beauty of creamy skin, a slim waist that he could almost circle with his hands and an expression on her face that invited his look and touch. His Grace was fast becoming more than a temptation to him. She’d become more than a desire he could take in his arms and then put aside when satisfied. For the passion that rose in his chest seemed to almost choke him. Certainly it did not allow him to speak, for he felt a fullness in his throat that guaranteed his voice would break should he allow it to invade the silence between them.
His clothing was removed in record time, his body seeking hers with a desperation he could barely contain and his kisses bathed her in warmth that knew no beginning and no end. Together they were utterly and unconditionally as one, for no matter that the future might hold harsh words and times of distress to come between them, for now, they existed as one being, one heart and one mind.
Early the next morning a group of men swarmed over the acreage behind the parsonage, for the vacant land behind the garden continued on to the river, a vast area, partly wooded where a man might easily be hidden amidst the treed area. Charlie led the hunt, intent on the footprints that had been left on the far side of the garden fence.
A man’s boots had made deep impressions in the soil where the berry patch grew. The metal bowl that had been a missile against Kenny’s flesh lay abandoned on the ground, the spill of red berries surrounding it seeming almost obscene. It was a desecration of the garden where the women had worked and felt safe.
But no longer, thought Grace as she watched the proceedings behind the house. For Grace and Ethel had lost the complacency they’d once enjoyed, able to come and go as they pleased. Now they cast fearful eyes on each man who came in view, until convinced of their purpose for being there, near the parsonage.
The group had been scouring the garden and the dirt beyond the fence for over an hour, several of them tracking into the woods and then returning to where Charlie led the search. He came to the house finally, meeting Grace at the back door, and she invited him into the kitchen.
There she offered him water and Ethel took a full bucket and a tin cup out to the men who still sought some clue as to Kenny Summers’s direction once he’d left the garden.
“There’s a lot of prints as far as the woods out back, some leading to the river, but it’s hard to tell much, for a lot of men go fishing there, not to mention several of the neighborhood boys. They’ve even built a tree house, way up in a tall—”
Charlie’s words halted abruptly and he rose from his seat at the table, heading for the back door as if the hounds of hell were behind him. “Jake Green, come on up here.”
From the rear of the garden, a man made his way to Charlie’s side, and the two men spoke together for mere minutes, their attention seemingly caught by something far beyond the garden fence.
“I’ll check it out, Charlie.” With a flurry of movement, Jake Green got the attention of two other men and they ran almost full tilt to the area of woods where the men had searched fruitlessly. With a shout of discovery, one of them waved at Charlie Wilson, and he jammed his hat down on his head and cleared the back fence in one leap, followed by two others who’d been sworn in as deputies. They disappeared just beyond the edge of the woods and in less than half an hour returned to the back of the house, Charlie doffing his hat as Grace and Ethel met him in the yard.
“He’s been out there, apparently hiding in the tree house and in the bushes some. Those young fellas have put steps up in a tree and a platform up high. Should have checked it out right away, but none of the men thought of it. I sent Hank up and he found signs of someone being there, bits and pieces of food and a torn shirt.”
“A dark plaid shirt?” Ethel asked and at Charlie’s quick nod and another man’s agreement, she explained further. “The man who came after me, and I’m sure it was Kenny Summers, was wearing a dark plaid shirt and I noticed he caught it on the fence and tore it. Happened to turn back for just a moment and almost forgot about it till now.”
“There’s no doubt about it, the man was Summers. I got a good look at him,” Grace said firmly.
“It’s a valuable piece of evidence. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get back to the investigation,” Charlie said, flagging down a deputy as he headed back out the door.
“You and Shorty stay here with these two ladies till either me or the preacher comes back.”
It took less than ten minutes for Simon to return, Belle close behind him. “Belle said she wants to talk to you, Grace. I knew there was no putting her off, so I brought her along with me.”
Belle came into the hallway and sat down on a chair next to the clothestree. “I thought of something, Mrs. Grafton, and I wanted to talk to you about it.”
“Talk away, then, Belle. And please call me Grace. Let’s go into the kitchen and we’ll make a pot of tea.”
Grace cast a look at Simon which sent him out the front door and apparently allowed Belle to feel she could freely speak her mind to Grace. She hesitated but for a moment and her voice was hushed as she looked at Grace, seeming to notice all the younger woman’s attributes.
“I remembered something that happened when that idiot was in my room, Grace. He got really mad, started yelling at me. Something about my hair being the wrong color. He accused me of changing the color to confuse him. I thought he seemed about half out of his mind, the way he was goin’ on. He didn’t like the color of my eyes, either, said they ought to be blue, not brown. And the good Lord knows I can’t help the color of my eyes.
“I’ll admit I lighten my hair with lemon juice. Have for years. If you sit in the sun, it makes your hair get lighter with the lemon on it. Men seem to go more for yellow hair for some reason and it was kind of dishwater blond when I was growing up.
“But I’ll be doggoned if I could make head or tail out of the man’s ramblings. He acted almost like he was crazy, saying he’d change my eyes back to blue. And that was before he started punching me. Before he bit me.”
As though the pain were new, she flinched and bent her head. “I didn’t think about it again till after you came to see me and then I remembered that your eyes were a pretty blue, something a man would notice, and your hair is real dark. It made me shiver to remember. It was like he wanted me to look different, maybe lik
e you.”
Grace placed the teapot on the table as she felt nausea grip her. Her legs seemed to be unable to hold her up. Without speaking she slid down the wall to sit on the floor. Belle scooted over, off the chair, and joined her, kneeling beside her and reaching for her hand.
“Sounds kinda silly, I guess, Grace. But I felt like we, you and me, was in this together. Like he’s after both of us, maybe gets us mixed up in his head. I swear, the man’s insane.”
Simon appeared in the kitchen doorway, and Grace suspected he had listened to Belle’s rambling narrative, for he pulled another chair from beside the table and joined them.
“I don’t think you’re far off, Belle. He’s had a…a fixation, I guess you’d call it, for Grace, ever since she lived at her uncle Joe’s place. And now, since he can’t have her, couldn’t even find out where she was for a while there, he’s been looking for her all over.”
Belle pointed a finger at Simon. “Well, he found out she was living in your house, and he surely knows you’ve married her. I’ll bet that really got under his skin if he was wanting her for himself. Makes you wonder how safe she is now.”
Grace felt a sense of danger nearby, a dreadful feeling of evil looking on.
“What is it, sweetheart?” Simon asked, lifting her face, the better to see the expression she wore.
“Do you think he’ll hurt people who know me? Maybe the Blackwoods or even my uncle? Uncle Joe is a good shot and well able to cope, but what about the people who were so good to me that first day when you and I went there to visit? They come to church every Sunday and always have a nice word for us. Do you think they’re in danger and need protection? After all, they’re two old people living out in the country alone, and—”
Saving Grace Page 15