“I’m sorry to be so hard on you both, but I love y’all, and I can’t bear to think how bad things could be for us if we can’t fit into the life that Aunt Tilly and Uncle Chester have.”
“I promise I’ll try real hard to behave better,” Judith said. “But I like Mr. Stone, and I won’t lie and say I don’t want to get to know him better.”
“All right. All right. I give up.” Margaret Mary Campbell knew that all the Campbells were a stubborn, single-minded lot who usually chose to do things their own way, which was, most often, the hard way.
Once settled in her own seat and ignoring the chatter of curious passengers, Maggie tried to dismiss everything from her mind but the promise of the bright future that lay ahead. Mile after mile of Alabama passed outside the train window, acre after acre of month-old cotton, stretch after stretch of woods flowing into verdant grasslands. Maggie was fascinated by the way mountains gradually became smaller and smaller, and finally transformed into hills. Alabama, even the northwest section, was mostly flatland. She wondered if she would miss the beautiful mountains of her native state, knowing in her heart that she already did. She had been born and raised in Grovesdale, a farming community nestled snugly in the foothills of southeastern Tennessee near the great river. She had a deep-rooted love for the earth, an appreciation for the bounty it could produce, and a reverence for the power of nature.
She knew that she had to put the past behind her and forget about the life she might have had farming the land with a husband like Benny. She had to prepare herself and her family for life in town, with a small plot of ground behind Aunt Tilly’s house where she could plant a vegetable garden and a few flowers. Perhaps, she could plant a rosebush to brighten all their lives. There would not be a husband for her, at least not for a long time. Not until she had fulfilled her promise to Pa.
She smelled the tangy aroma of fried chicken seconds before she heard lips smacking with enjoyment. She opened her eyes and turned toward the tempting smell. Judith crunched busily on a crispy wing while Micah demolished a meaty leg.
“It’s delicious, Maggie. Want a piece?” her sister asked between bites.
“Don’t try to talk with your mouth full, honey. You could get choked,” Maggie said. “And no, thank you, I’ll eat my biscuits. I wouldn’t touch a morsel bought with that man’s money.”
Several hours later, Maggie almost regretted that she had not overcome her pride and feasted on chicken and fried peach pies. By the time the train backed into the Tuscumbia station, she was hungry, tired, and far more apprehensive than she would allow anyone to know.
“It’s not near as big as Chattanooga,” Judith said. “But it sure is pretty. Look at all the trees.”
“They even got a hotel.” Micah gazed up the street where the three-story brick building stood.
“We’re stopping!” Judith squealed, jumping quickly to her feet. “Is Cousin Wesley meeting us? I don’t see him.”
“How would you remember what he looks like? You were just a baby the first time you saw him,” Micah said.
“I was nearly six years old, thank you. I saw him when his ma married Uncle Chester.”
“Tuscumbia,” the porter called. “Fifteen minutes.”
The Campbells gathered their few meager belongings, preparing to depart. Three other passengers hurried ahead of them. As soon as Maggie stepped into the fresh air, she breathed deeply, thankful to be away from the smell of tobacco and sweat that had permeated the train.
She scanned the small crowd near the street. An assortment of people scurried here and there all around the old wooden passenger and freight station. She looked up the street to her left, getting her first close-up view of the town. An elegant hotel was situated on the right-hand corner of the next street, and beyond that lay tall buildings, wooden sidewalks, blossoming trees, and endless stretches of dirt streets.
From behind her came a gentle voice, oddly familiar. “Dear Cousin Margaret, I presume?” the immaculately groomed gentleman asked as all three Campbells turned to stare at their cousin-by-marriage.
Wesley Peterson stood almost six feet tall, his young body soft and flabby like that of a woman long past her prime. His brown hair was thinning on top, revealing a slight bald spot. His face and features were large and round, from big, silvery eyes to fleshy double chin. His black suit and white shirt had obviously been tailor-made to accommodate his wide girth.
“Cousin Wesley,” Maggie said, allowing him to take her hand. “It was so good of you to come to meet us.”
“I have a buggy.” He nodded toward the carryall awaiting them. “Your uncle wants us to stop at the store for a few minutes before I take y’all home.”
Maggie glanced beyond Wesley and saw Daisy, who was toting a large cloth valise and a small case. “Oh, Cousin Wesley, there’s Daisy.”
Wesley turned, prepared to meet what he assumed was an acquaintance of his cousin, only to be duly shocked at the sight of the comely Negress.
“Who is this person?”
“This is Daisy,” Judith told him. “She lives with us.”
“Daisy’s been with us for a good many years,” Maggie said. “We could hardly go off and leave her.”
Wesley’s huge, round eyes glared at the servant girl. He rubbed his chin, cleared his throat, and grunted. “I see. I see. I’m sure Mama can make use of her. We can bed her down with Auntie Gem.”
Judith watched the busy activity at the station as people went about their routines. Fascinated by the fancy railroad coach at the end of the train, she noticed two tall, well-dressed men disembarking, their laughter filling the air. The big blond threw down his cigar, crushing it with his boot heel.
“There’s Mr. Stone,” Judith cried. “I’m going to run over and say good-bye, and thank him again for the chicken.”
“No, Jude,” Maggie said, but too late. Her young sister was halfway to her destination.
“Mr. Stone?” Wesley asked. “Not Aaron Stone? My dear Margaret, surely this is not the type of person with whom you would associate?”
“No, of course not,” she told her stunned relative. “I’ll just go fetch Judith, and we can be on our way.”
“Perhaps I should,” Micah said.
“No,” Maggie told her brother. “You help Daisy get our things in Cousin Wesley’s buggy while I get Jude.”
Aaron saw the flash of honey-red hair as the running child neared him. Slightly winded when she stopped in front of him, Judith Campbell took a deep breath and smiled up at the laughing man.
“My, my, Miss Judith, hasn’t your sister told you that young ladies do not run through a crowd of people?”
Judith knew he was teasing her, so she responded in kind. “And gentlemen never correct ladies in the presence of others.”
“This must be the baby sister,” Thayer Coleman said.
Judith took notice of the dark stranger standing beside Aaron Stone. He was not quite as big as the golden-haired giant, but he was very muscular and beautifully handsome.
“Miss Judith Campbell, may I present Mr. Thayer Coleman.”
“How do you do?” Jude knew her polite response would have done her sister proud.
“Jude, you come back here, right now.” Maggie’s hushed voice could not disguise her anger.
At the exact moment Maggie Campbell waddled between her sister and Aaron Stone, a gun fired. The sound alerted everyone of the happening, but Maggie was the first to realize that the blond rogue beside her had been hit. He slumped against her when the bullet entered his chest and blood began oozing from the wound. He was far too heavy for Maggie to hold, so she went to the ground with him in her arms.
“My God!” Thayer said.
“Get help.” Maggie cradled Aaron against her, her hands trembling as she touched him. “Get a doctor. He’s been shot!”
Chapter 2
Maggie, totally unaware of what was happening around her, held Aaron tightly. Her farm-girl strong arms clutched him with a tenacious grip. He c
ould not die. She would not let him die!
“Maggie . . .” Aaron’s voice echoed in her ears. “What . . .”
“Hush now,” she crooned as if to a hurt child. “You’re going to be all right.”
“Cousin Margaret!” Wesley Peterson gasped when he made his way through the throng of curious bystanders and saw his relative on her knees, the wounded man in her arms.
Micah moved up behind Judith, placing a protective arm around her. She turned into his arms as he lifted her.
“Oh, Micah, Mr. Stone’s been shot,” Jude said. “Who would do such a terrible thing?”
“I don’t know who he is, Jude,” Micah said, soothing her with tender strokes on her back. “But some men caught him before he could run away. He’s a big ugly fellow with a long beard.”
“Miss Campbell.” Thayer Coleman placed his large hand on Maggie’s shoulder. “If you’ll let go, these men will carry him up the street to the Parshall House.”
Maggie raised her head. Her topaz eyes, filled with fear, met Thayer’s, and they shared a sense of mutual concern. Maggie liked and trusted this young man immediately. She knew he was Aaron’s true friend.
“I’ve sent a boy to fetch the doctor,” Thayer told her when he noticed she had not loosened her hold. “I’ve sent for Dr. Cooper. He’s a fine physician.”
“He’ll be all right,” Maggie said.
“Of course I’ll be all right,” Aaron said. “I wish . . . oh, hell . . .”
“You are in pain,” she said with tears in her eyes.
“Margaret, I’m afraid I must insist you remove yourself from that man at once,” Wesley said. “Whatever must people be thinking?”
“I’ve been hurt worse,” Aaron told her, trying to smile. His right hand jerked, clutching at his chest, his finger inching inside his vest pocket to stroke the gold watch nestled there. “You go with your folks and come and see me when I can appreciate being in your arms.” Even though dazed by the pain, he could make out the bulky silhouette of the man speaking to Maggie. Who the hell was he? Surely not a would-be husband. “Get her away,” he told Thayer.
“Come on, Miss Campbell,” Thayer said, gently prizing her arms from Aaron’s body. “These men are going to take him now.”
Thayer helped Maggie to her feet, his strong arms steadying her as she stumbled. Three big men moved quickly, lifting Aaron. Maggie gasped and reached out for him when she saw his blood-soaked clothing. Her fingers touched his once-white linen shirt, the crimson stain leaving its mark on her white skin. The men walked on, hurrying up the street.
As Thayer walked away, Wesley stepped forward, taking both of Maggie’s shaking hands into his meaty ones. “Let me get you to the buggy, Margaret.”
“I want to go see about Mr. Stone,” Judith said from her perch in her brother’s arms. “Please, Maggie. We can’t leave him now.”
“I’m all right,” Maggie told Wesley. “I’ve never fainted in my life.”
“Maggie!” Judith claimed attention as her brother set her on her feet. “Let’s get on over to that hotel.”
“Nonsense, child,” Wesley said, already tugging Maggie away from the station, prompting the other Campbells to follow. “I’ll send someone later to inquire about Mr. Stone’s health. This entire incident has been totally improper.”
“Maggie, please,” Judith pleaded.
Maggie was torn between necessity and desire. She wanted to go worry and pray in secret. This was not something that could be kept from Aunt Tilly, and she was sure to demand an explanation.
“Cousin Wesley is right,” she told her little sister. “We hardly know Mr. Stone.”
“But—”
“Hush now.”
“We do know Mr. Stone. He helped us in Chattanooga.”
“I said hush. We’ll talk about all this later.”
When they got to the buggy, Micah and Daisy loaded their meager belongings. Wesley reached out to assist Maggie, but stopped suddenly, his cool gray eyes inspecting the front of her pale blue dress.
“My dear girl,” Wesley said, hesitating to touch her. “I’m afraid your dress is ruined. Mother will be quite displeased. Perhaps you should change at the store before I present you at home.”
“Oh.” Maggie looked down at her bloodstained dress, her hand smoothing the damp bodice. She opened her palms, staring at the mixture of dark dried and moist red blood covering them. How much blood did he lose? she wondered. Too much? How long will it take for the doctor to arrive?
A rather loud ruckus near the station gained Judith’s attention as she settled into her seat on the buggy, Daisy beside her. Jude jumped to her feet, climbed on the seat, and stood gazing toward the group of men struggling with a burly, gray-bearded ruffian.
“What are they doing to that man?” she asked. “Who is he? Did he shoot Mr. Stone?”
Micah, stepping into the carryall, turned to the questioning child. “I don’t know who he is, but he’s the one who did the shooting. They must be holding him till the law comes.”
Maggie raised her foot, braced herself, and climbed into the buggy without waiting for Wesley’s assistance. She might have stood there all day before he could have overcome his disgust at her appearance enough to help her.
“That’s Rube Whitcomb,” Wesley told them as he sat down, taking the reins in his wide, smooth hands. “He’s some of that bunch moving into Sheffield looking for work.”
Wesley adjusted the reins, motioning the horse, which began trotting down Railroad Street. Behind them lay the old station house. Bellows of smoke coming from the steam engine clouded the clear sky. Ahead lay rows of two-story brick buildings occupied by merchants, the local newspaper housed in the corner building.
Wesley slowed the buggy as a large carriage careened around the corner, nearly colliding with them. Everyone tensed with the expectation of collision, and sighed with relief when disaster was avoided. Daisy quickly jerked Judith into her lap. Thick swirls of dust flew upward, covering all of them with a fine layer of dirt.
Maggie coughed several times, then turned around to check on Jude and Micah and Daisy. Seeing that they were unharmed, she tried to smile before turning back around. So much had happened to her family today that she was certain none of them could endure another calamity. When she had received Uncle Chester’s letter the month after Pa died, she began making plans. She’d been forced to sell what few possessions they had in order to buy their train tickets, but she had been so sure that coming to Tuscumbia to be with her mother’s relatives could help her keep her promise to Pa.
Meeting Mr. Stone at the railroad depot in Chattanooga ruined everything. He did not fit into her plans. But if he died . . . She didn’t want him to die. She wanted him to live. She couldn’t bear the thought of what might be happening to him this very minute. He was little more than a stranger. His welfare shouldn’t mean so much to her. Oh, why did I meet him? she wondered. And why did all of this have to happen?
“Why would this Whitcomb man shoot Mr. Stone?” Maggie asked, knowing she would probably only whet Cousin Wesley’s curiosity by inquiring.
“I have no idea,” he said, but was apparently eager to continue the conversation. “Whatever acquaintance y’all might have with that man, I wouldn’t mention it to Mama.”
“I understand.” Maggie’s eyes caught sight of the Parshall House Hotel. She wanted to jump from the buggy and rush inside to find Aaron. She had the strangest sense of urgency, as if he needed her, as if he were calling to her. As they passed the hotel, it was all she could do not to turn around and continue staring.
“Well, I don’t understand,” Judith said, pulling free of Daisy and bracing her arms against the back of Maggie and Wesley’s seat.
“Sit back, heathen,” Micah said. “I heard some men saying that they’d sent for the town marshal. It seems that fellow’s got a daughter who’s been after that black-haired man who was with Mr. Stone. It was him that Whitcomb fellow aimed to shoot. Mr. Stone just got in the way.”
“But why did he want to shoot Mr. Stone’s friend?” Judith asked.
“I heard them whispering and laughing about it,” Micah said. “It seems Mr. Stone’s friend had his way with the gal, and her pa didn’t take kindly to it.”
“My word, Micah,” Wesley said. “Is this a proper subject to be discussing in front of the ladies?”
“I don’t suppose so,” Micah agreed, but finished his tale all the same. “They said the daughter isn’t any kind of lady. They said she was a—”
“Micah!” Maggie warned.
“Most regrettable,” Wesley said. “Sally Whitcomb is, unfortunately, one of God’s poor creatures who has allowed her body to lead her into a life of sin. Stone and his friend Coleman have quite a reputation with women of her sort.”
“Do you know Mr. Stone?” Maggie wanted to know more about the man who had mesmerized her, whose emerald eyes had looked into her heart and claimed it.
“He’s been around here for about a year,” Wesley said. “No one knows where he came from or how he acquired his fortune.”
“He’s rich,” Micah said. “See, what did I tell you?”
“He’s making investments in Sheffield,” Wesley said. “Coleman purchased land back last year when they had the big three-day auction and sold off lots cut from the old Winston and Habbeler cotton fields. They say the two of them have money in the Alabama Improvement Company and the Sheffield Land, Iron and Coal Company too.”
“Is Mr. Coleman rich too?” Judith asked. “And is he married?”
“Why yes. Thayer Coleman is one of the wealthiest young men in the county, and from one of the finest old families. Unfortunately, he seems to be trying to single-handedly ruin their good name.” Wesley shook his head in a display of sorrow and condemnation.
“Is he married?” Judith repeated her question.
“No,” Wesley said. “He’s a bachelor and quite a hell-raiser, if you ladies will pardon my saying so. Why do you ask, Cousin Judith?”
“Well, I’m mighty glad he’s unattached because I plan to marry him,” Jude Campbell said.
The Right Wife Page 3