Home to Caroline

by Adera Orfanelli

  Travis leaned in the doorway and watched his wife kneel by the field. She scooped up a handful of dirt and squeezed it before letting it fall back to the ground. She must not have liked what she had seen, because she did it again with a little shake of her head. He wished he knew how to read the dirt like she could.

  He waited, ready to duck back into the barn and start hitching up Dolly for the drive into town. When she didn’t turn around, he watched her continue to a higher part of their property, maybe thinking it was dryer up there and ready to plant. Travis frowned.

  Caroline worked too hard. He’d laid in bed last night, his wife in his arms, and listened to heavy rain. He knew the ground would be too muddy to plant, and he looked forward to taking his wife into town, taking care of her. Caroline was a woman who deserved to have a man care for her. Once they were in town he’d buy her the prettiest bauble he could.

  He watched the sway of her hips as she strode toward him. Though a scowl marred her face, she was as beautiful to him as she’d been on their wedding day. Those scandalous trousers made his cock rise. He loved seeing her long legs and imagining them wrapped around his waist.

  She stopped in front of him. “We’re not going to plant today. I’ll change into a traveling dress if you’ll hitch up Dolly. Hopefully the weather will hold.”

  He glanced at the sky, seeing nothing but blue and a few wispy white clouds. “I’m sure it will,” he said with more authority than he felt.

  “I hope you’re right.” She rose on tiptoe and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, then hurried to the house.

  Travis stepped into the dim barn. He touched the spot his wife had kissed, holding onto her faith. Hitching up horses he could do, and by the time he led Dolly from the barn, hitched up to the buckboard, his wife came down the steps wearing a pretty blue day dress. She’d done something to her hair and pinned it up off her neck, only a few golden tendrils framing her face. Setting the brake, he stepped from the wagon to help her into it.

  “You look lovely.” Travis offered his hand, thinking he should have changed into better clothes. He gave a half bow.

  “Thank you.” She flushed prettily and allowed him to help her into the buckboard. “It’s nice to wear a day dress for a change. It’s been so long since I’ve gone into town.” Her almost wistful tone made him stop.

  The horse snorted, urging him to get into the buckboard and get the journey started.

  “You haven’t gone into town?” He hated to think of her out here, far from their nearest neighbors, all alone. “Did something happen?”

  “I made it just fine,” she insisted. “I had supplies.”

  Wisely he kept quiet, choosing not to mention her empty larder. “I don’t like to think of you working by yourself. What if something had happened? I’d heard stories—” He stepped into the wagon, grabbing the reins as he sat. “I wish I’d been able to come home sooner, but my unit needed me.”

  “So did your wife.” Her soft words floated away on the breeze.

  “I know, honey. I know,” he answered. Travis flipped the reins, sending Dolly forward into a spritely trot. He might be taking his wife into town for supplies, but he’d never escape the ghosts of all the times he wasn’t there for her.

  Chapter Three

  Travis approached this trip into town the same way he did the battlefield. Scout the terrain, be stealthy, gain the objective and get out unscarred. Before he left for the war, he’d been into town, mostly the saloon, sometimes the blacksmith’s shop helping out, which was how he’d happened to meet Caroline. Her father had brought Dolly to the blacksmith to be reshod and he’d seen her dashing down the street to the mercantile to look at newly arrived bolts of fabric.

  The vision sitting next to him stole his breath. With his absence, she’d matured into a woman as striking as the Ozark views. He’d guessed at the strength of her spirit to bring her through the war, though he figured he’d never know its true measure. Knowing what she’d gone through with the war only made him love her more. He feared his wife had needed him more than his family or his country. Too late to change things now.

  She clung to the pouch she’d carried from the house, her fingers wrapped around it so tightly her knuckles were turning white. It jingled softly. Not coins but jewelry, he guessed, and wondered if the items were hers or her mother’s.

  A flash of frustration hit him. She was bringing jewelry because she didn’t think he’d have enough money for the things they needed. The length of her list bothered him. Yes, provisions were scarce all around, but this part of the country had been spared everything except some raiders. She had no reason to have cupboards as empty as she did unless it was the lack of ready cash that made it so. Though no one had much cash these days. He had what he did because he hadn’t sent it home, not trusting that it would arrive safely. He should have. He saw that now.

  “You can set that between us. I promise it’ll be safe.” He patted the wooden bench between them, hoping she’d close the space between them as much as her hoop skirt would allow.

  “It will be better if I hold it.” Her stiff manner hinted at that prickly pride of hers.

  “All right.” Travis listened to the discordant jangling coming from the pouch. It had to be jewelry. He couldn’t question her. Well, he could. He was her husband and by law he ruled the household. He’d just returned home. Right now, she knew far better than he what they’d need. He could, however, get her to speak about the farm. “You showed me the list of what we need. What else would make the farm run smoothly?”

  Caroline turned to stare across a vista of the Ozark Mountains. To his left, a small stream bubbled among the rocks. To his right, a few trees scrambled to find purchase on the rough ground. The terrain rose, merging into the tall hill they ascended, the peaks and valleys making it difficult to see beyond more than the next bend in the road. “Too much,” she said at last.

  “The plow probably needs sharpening. And I bet the harness needs mending.” Travis mentioned the things he knew his father had tended to on their farm. “We’re getting Dolly reshod in town.”

  Caroline gasped.

  “Don’t worry, honey. I’ll take care of things.” The blacksmith owed him a favor; he’d saved the blacksmith’s son during a battle. The young man had come home wounded too much to fight. With some nursing, he should’ve still been able to run the forge and bellows. “So tell me what we need.”

  She did, and the length of the list left him reeling. Though he’d guessed she had limited herself on the list for town, he had no idea she’d hidden so much. And he wondered why she hadn’t gotten some of the items sooner. It was almost as if she hadn’t come into town on purpose. He didn’t like the direction of his thoughts.

  “Thank you for telling me,” he said. “As your husband, I need to know these things so I can start to take care of them.”

  Caroline fisted her hand in her skirt, bracing the pouch beneath her wrists. “You can’t fix them, Travis. No one can. I doubt even the governor has the money to cover all the things we need. We’ll have to make do.”

  Transferring the reins into his left hand, he reached across the seat with his right. He patted the only part of her he could reach, her arm. “Why don’t you come over here and ride next to me?” He halted Dolly.

  Caroline eyed the space between them. “It isn’t seemly.”

  “Darlin’, I just returned home from the military. I think having you all the way over there is what isn’t seemly.” He smiled, using the same tone of voice on her he would with a reluctant filly. A bit of his natural drawl slipped in, and he figured it wouldn’t hurt. “Now why don’t you join your husband?” He held out his arm.

  She slid across the bench to sit next to him.

  Travis rested his arm around her waist, holding her against him. With one hand, he managed the reins. He turned his head just enough so he could nuzzle the sweet-smelli
ng skin behind her ear. “Now isn’t that better?” He flicked the sensitive area with his tongue.

  “Keep your eyes on the road,” she admonished, but her words were a little softer.

  “Dolly knows the way.” He drew the fleshy pad of her earlobe into his mouth and suckled. One tug and a shiver wound down her spine. Though layers of her chemise, corset, under dress and day dress kept her breasts from his touch, he bet her nipples hardened. A glance down her chest showed the soft globes plumped inside her corset, a seductively demure show of décolletage. If their lists hadn’t been so long in town, he might have pulled Dolly over to a secluded cove and showed Caroline just how well he could take care of her.

  They couldn’t. The farm’s needs were too great to be forgotten in the pleasures of the moment. Straightening up so he could focus on the road, he contemplated once more everything she’d told him. Perhaps a letter to his parents would help. Anxious to get back to his wife he hadn’t ridden to their farm, though one of his brothers had been stationed with a different company at Memphis, so he’d been able to send word back home. Funny how a war, and a wife, had made him change his mind about the family trade.

  Caroline stood at the counter in Mr. Nash’s mercantile. One of his boys helped Travis load the wagon with enough supplies to see them through for a while. Her husband had taken Dolly to the blacksmith, and she swore when he’d driven the wagon up in front of the store the draft mare had pranced with delight.

  The bell above the door jingled. “The wagon’s all loaded. I think we’re ready to go.”

  Caroline pulled her fingers back from a bolt of cloth the same rich blue as her husband’s eyes. “Thank you again, Mr. Nash, for everything.”

  “It’s the least we could do, Caroline. Your pa was a good friend, as was Samuel. If you hadn’t come into town, why, we’d have come out there with a wagon.” Mr. Nash smiled, the lines around his eyes crinkling. His wild crop of white hair curled around his head like a thundercloud, his clothing impeccably tailored as always. “Glad to see you home, Travis. You need anything just let us know. I know you’ll take care of Caroline, especially after—”

  “You’re always so generous.” Caroline cut off his words. “Next time I come into town, I’ll bring you and your wife one of my apple pies made from my momma’s recipe.”

  “You sure we’re settled?”

  “Fair and square.” Mr. Nash paused. His gaze shifted between Caroline and Travis.

  Silently, Caroline willed him not to say anything. Please let me keep my secret. Let me tell my husband on my own time.

  “How much is the blue cloth?” Travis asked.

  Caroline stilled her fingers, unaware she’d again stroked the soft-spun fabric. She stepped back from the counter.

  Mr. Nash named a fair price.

  “Would you like the cloth, Caroline?” Travis crossed the store to stand behind her. “I’d be happy to add it to our purchases.”

  She nibbled on her lower lip, knowing exactly how many seeds or how much flour the expensive fabric could buy. She shook her head. “Let’s get through planting first. I won’t have much time for sewing.” She touched his arm and fixed a smile on her face. “Ready to go?”

  Travis frowned and didn’t press her further. “I am. Thank you again, Mr. Nash.”

  “Very welcome,” he replied.

  Caroline allowed her husband to steer her from the mercantile and all the fruitless dreams it contained. Fine spun cloth to make shirts, a new kettle to replace her dented one…so many things beckoned with the siren song of an easier life. Not for her. Not until she eased her burden. Her mind stewed with worry over what the men might have said while loading the wagon. If one of them had let the loss of her child slip—she nibbled on her lip until they were well away from town.

  Travis cast furtive glances at his wife. Back at the store, Mr. Nash had tried to tell him something, but then another customer had entered and the topic had never returned. Then, when he and Caroline had left, once again Mr. Nash had tried to reveal something. Caroline sat stiff on the bench, once more distant from him. She clutched her pouch between her fingers.

  He opened his mouth to ask about Mr. Nash’s statements. Sitting here making assumptions would only darken Caroline’s character and make him mad. Even David, the shop owner’s son, had mentioned about being very sorry for his loss. He’d nodded, said the appropriate things, even as he wondered what it was he’d lost.

  “That blue fabric looked nice,” he said, hoping to start a conversation. Sitting in brooding silence made for a difficult journey. “What were you going to sew?”

  “A shirt for you,” Caroline replied.

  Her thoughtfulness touched him. Though he’d come home with a few changes of clothes and some of Samuel’s and her father’s shirts remained in the wardrobe, a new shirt sewn for him by his wife would be nice. “Thank you.” The heavy load rode in the back of the wagon, a stark reminder of his lack of farming abilities. Caroline offered so much more than her love and responsiveness, she offered a chance for him to finally settle down and be the man his father wanted him to be. He reached across the seat to clasp her hand. “That’s very nice, but a color as rich as that one would undoubtedly make a beautiful dress.”

  She ducked her head, her eyes downcast. “I have dresses aplenty. I need no more.”

  Travis squeezed her fingers. “Were we in Memphis, I’d have you dressed like a southern belle, with more clothes than you could possibly ever wear. A true southern belle.”

  A soft smile tilted the corners of her lips. “Were we in Memphis, no doubt we’d be hungry and beleaguered by the war. I’m glad we’re here. Working the farm has left me few opportunities to wear my dresses. For you, though, when possible, I shall be the perfect southern belle.”

  “You already are.” Their gallant banter threatened to chase away the demons in his mind. The blue sky overhead dotted with a few wispy clouds promised a good day to dry out the soil. “What did Mr. Nash try to say in the store?” The question fell from his lips before he could stop it.

  Caroline stiffened and pulled her hand away, holding it primly in her lap once more. “Nothing. Nothing at all,” she hastily answered.

  Travis’s jaw tightened. “It didn’t sound like nothing. Has something happened? Has there been further loss?” His stomach knotted. “Is it something else?”

  Caroline grew pale. “No, I’m sure he was just glad to have you home.” Her pulse fluttered at the base of her throat, a telltale sign of her distress.

  “It didn’t sound like nothing.” He clucked to Dolly and the mare broke into a lumbering trot. The sooner they arrived home, the sooner he’d know the truth.

  Chapter Four

  Caroline’s stomach churned like cream into butter. Her husband drove the buckboard, his visage like a thundercloud ready to explode. Guilt nagged at her. Tell him now and get this over with. If he leaves, he leaves. Her heart twisted at the thought of her husband’s departure. She thought he loved her and couldn’t imagine his leaving, but she had to consider the possibility; she’d known women abandoned for less. Damn Mr. Nash. He had known of her plight. She’d purchased supplies for the coming baby, only to pack them away in a trunk. The doctor worked in the building next to the mercantile, and he’d come to her aid. No doubt gossip about poor Mrs. Dunworth had spread throughout the town, no matter how Samuel might have tried to quell it. Her father had been dead by then.

  Two hens squawked in their crate. Her neighbors had promised a rooster to celebrate Travis’s return home. Surely the two fowl could be better mothers than she.

  Caroline forced herself to reach across the wagon seat to take her husband’s hand. She clutched her jewel pouch in the other, half afraid to have it spill all over the ground. Should Travis decide to leave, she’d need every ounce of gold to try and see her through. At least until Dolly and she could get the crops in the ground and pray
that they grew. She breathed deep, relishing Travis’s warm touch. His fingers curled around hers, the strength in them reminding her that he’d fought a war. If he’d faced down his fellow man, she had no reason not to tell him.

  Starting the conversation troubled her. Admitting that the mercantile owner had tried to tell him some news made her look like a liar. The tangled webs she’d created with her aversion to his knowing wrapped around her. She opened her mouth only to close it again and stare across the green valley in the shadow of one of the larger peaks in the Ozarks. The road wound down the mountain, a twisting switchback that demanded Travis’s concentration.

  “You know this war’s been tough on all of us,” Caroline said, each word carefully chosen. “I’m sure that’s what Mr. Nash wanted to tell you. Especially after the way things went.” She refused to mention the Confederate loss. Though she’d cheered the Union in spite of her husband’s family’s leanings, several of her neighbors hadn’t. The Bushwhackers had left her alone, but just barely.

  “I’m sure that’s all,” Travis said, the assurance in his words not matching his stern expression. He glanced at their clasped hands. “You don’t need to explain for him.”

  I need to explain for me. “We were safe. We made it through.”

  The road straightened, giving Travis a bit more leeway to focus on her. He squeezed her hand. “I know you did, sweetheart. I’m proud of you for keeping the farm going. I’m sure it wasn’t easy, especially after Samuel’s death.”

  It wasn’t Samuel’s death that hurt the most. She drew a deep breath. Now or never. “Some things happened while you were gone. I…” Words failed her. “I’m just glad you returned.” Coward! Stupid, simpering coward. Just tell him. He’ll understand. He’s home now. You can make other babes together. Her stomach twisted, because the truth was she didn’t know if she and Travis would get another chance. The doctor told her it’d been clean, just one of those things that happened sometimes. She swallowed hard, hating the sting of tears in her eyes when she thought about the tiny blue body the doctor had held. She’d caught a glimpse though she wasn’t supposed to have seen anything except the shrouded bundle that they lowered into the ground a few days later.