Shelter from the Storm

by Patricia Rice

  The black field hands and hired help gathered in nervous little groups more for protection than anything else. There was anger in the air, a tension that too often had only one outlet. They were aware of their position as targets for much of the hatred that had caused this disaster. Jemima clucked and hushed the weeping among the house servants, but Jake stood warily silent to one side, clutching one of the rifles that had been handed out so freely earlier.

  Several of the white field hands wiped their brows and cursed among themselves. Some still clutched guns; others were making their way back toward the cabins where they kept their belongings. Laura had no idea which of them would be loyal to Cash and which might cause trouble. She just knew that trouble was brewing, and someone had to put a stop to it.

  She gave a last glance to the roof. The fire was out now except for a few sparks smoldering in dry pockets. The attic should have received the most damage, but the rain pouring in would drench the rooms below. The charred outline revealed only one corner had been seriously damaged. Perhaps something could be done to save the rest. It could have been worse. The house and its contents still stood—if no one decided to take this opportunity to rob the place.

  Laura located the familiar silhouette of Steve Breckinridge among the horses. There was no love lost between Steve and Cash. Steve had once hoped to acquire some of the lands that Cash had snapped up with Sallie. But he had come out to help in this time of need. Perhaps he could be persuaded to linger a little longer.

  Laura ran after him, catching him by his shirt sleeve before he could find his horse. He glared down at her warily, but covered in soot and wet to the bone, she scarcely represented a threat. He caught her elbow and supported her as she tried to get the words out through ragged coughs.

  “I can’t do it alone, Steve.” Appalled that she almost sounded as if she were begging, Laura straightened her weary shoulders and tried again. “Cash isn’t here. I don’t know those men . . .”

  He caught her meaning quickly enough and nodded. “You should have left with the women. I’ll take you with me. Ma and Eliza are still at the Springs, but one of the maids can look after you.”

  Laura shook herself free, angry that she couldn’t make herself clear. “No, I can’t go. There’s no one here. Don’t you see? I have to take care of the house. And the horses. There’s no one to look out for them. Help me.”

  Exasperated, Steve looked from the petite scrap of wet hair and cloth to the gathering of nervous and expectant servants on the front lawn, then up to the damaged mansion. With a curse, he tried to pretend he didn’t know what she was saying. He owed Cash Wickliffe nothing. But little Laura had never done anything to anyone. Except act like a stubborn mule.

  “You’re a damned fool, Laura, always were. Why worry about what isn’t yours? Come home with me and let them take care of themselves.”

  “And I always thought you a gentleman.” Voice dripping with scorn, Laura lifted her chin and turned her tired feet toward the lawn and the waiting servants. She would do it alone and damn them all to hell.

  In a moment heavy boots squashed through the puddles behind her and a loud masculine voice began shouting orders over her head. Almost collapsing with relief, she tried to throw him a grateful glance, but Steve was already marching off in the direction of the idle field hands.

  Following in Steve’s footsteps came the remaining farmers and neighbors who had lingered to see how the disaster would end. If a Breckinridge could help a Wickliffe, then it certainly behooved them to do the same.

  Laura stopped and closed her eyes, and with the rain beating down her cheeks, turned her face to heaven and gave grateful prayers of thanks.

  Chapter 26

  Workers hammered a temporary cover over the hole in the roof. Carpenters and plasterers ran in and out inspecting the damage to the interior. Few noticed the carriage pulling up through the muddy ruts created in the front lawn by the prior night’s traffic.

  Laura was vaguely aware of the activity around her as she led the maids through upper-story rooms attempting to salvage what she could after the drenching from the storm. The whole house reeked of smoke, but the fire itself had done little more than burn through the attic to scorch the molded plaster of the ceilings.

  The rain pouring through the roof, seeping through the plaster and down the walls, had created the greatest disaster. Entire sections of plaster had caved in, inundating the floors below, coating the rooms in shattered chunks of filth. The arrival of a lone carriage scarcely commanded her attention.

  Hysterical screams brought her back to reality. With a jolt of recognition, Laura picked up her skirts and flew toward the stairs. Sallie was home. That meant Cash would be, too.

  He was bellowing staccato questions at the men who rushed in upon his arrival. Sallie whimpered and looked helplessly at the muddy footprints trailing through house and hall. Laura’s arrival focused both their attentions on her, and she slowed her mad rush to a more ladylike speed.

  She’d had no sleep to speak of and had only managed to change from her drenched clothing into a dry cotton gown that had been buried in the back of her wardrobe and survived the downpour. She was conscious that she looked little more than a dirty servant, but there were more important things on her mind than appearance.

  Cash cursed and started after her as Laura stumbled on a particularly large piece of plaster on the stairs, but Sallie’s faint scream and swoon forced him to stop and catch his wife. Laura recovered her step and watched with a wry smile as Cash carried Sallie into the parlor and ordered it cleared of drying objects so he could lay her down. When it came to attention, there never had been any contest. Sallie had it all.

  Apprised of Cash and Sallie’s arrival, Steve Breckinridge strode in. Seeing Laura in the hall and glancing to the parlor where Cash bent over Sallie, he grimaced and ran a weary hand through his hair. He wasn’t as good-looking as Ward, but there was a stability to him that could be relied on. Laura touched his sleeve.

  “You’d best go home and get some sleep, Steve. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your staying. Without you . . .” She shuddered to think what could have happened. The possibilities were limitless and all unpleasant.

  “Well, that’s what neighbors are for, I reckon. I hope Wickliffe is man enough to handle Sallie as well as this mess. I sure wouldn’t want to be in his place.”

  Cash was beside them before they knew it, his expression grim and hard as he acknowledged the man speaking. Both men were well aware that Breckinridge had not once crossed the portals to Stone Creek since Cash had taken up residence. Their dislike dated back to childhood, but neither man mentioned their animosity as they stood amid the ruins of last night’s disaster.

  “I trust I owe you thanks for helping out with whatever in hell happened here. If I can do anything for you . . .” Cash’s gruff offer went unfinished, since he was in no position to know what he had left to offer.

  Neither man extended a hand to the other, Laura noted with annoyance. She wanted to kick Cash, but she understood he had been rejected enough not to want to suffer it again, not now when everything was crumbling around him. Instead, she turned to Steve, prying at the stony wall between them.

  “They’ve got coffee and hotcakes ready in the back. Won’t you have some before you leave? I hate to send you out hungry.”

  The offer of hospitality should have come long ago, but at least it was said. Steve glanced down at Laura, then back to the man looming protectively near her. With a nod to both, he agreed. “I’ll go out the back way and grab a cup, if you don’t mind.”

  He glanced back to Cash, then into the parlor, where maids waved smelling salts beneath Sallie’s nose. “You might want to send Sallie over to our place while things get righted here. You too, Laura. We’ll be happy to have you.”

  It wasn’t enough, but it was a step. Laura saw the slight relaxation of Cash’s shoulders. Cash hadn’t been invited to join them, but under the circumstances, it wouldn’t have been
appropriate. That Steve hadn’t openly rejected their meager hospitality was sufficient for now.

  After Steve left, Cash returned his gaze to Laura, and his grim expression dissolved into concern. “I’ll find someone else to tell me what happened. I’ll get Sallie back into the carriage, and you go with her. Where’s Mark?”

  If Laura hadn’t been so exhausted she might have taken some satisfaction in noting Cash thought of her before Mark and Sallie, or that he had so much confidence in her care that he hadn’t worried about Mark until now. But his immediate command was all that registered.

  Shaking her head, she answered, “Jettie should be bringing Mark home shortly. I have to stay here to look after the servants. Send Sallie away. Her room’s a disaster.”

  Cash’s lips tightened, but he couldn’t argue with her. Seeing the tall black man at the back of the hall, he called, “Jake, is there a room anywhere that the ladies can rest in?”

  Jemima’s cousin hesitantly stepped forward, but seeing Laura nearly wilting on his employer’s arm, he nodded. He was unaccustomed to being in the house or dealing directly with his employer, was only here now at Jemima’s command and as a result of chaos, but he had been in the army and didn’t shirk his duty. “The rooms on that side ain’t too bad, suh.” He jerked his head toward the east.

  “Good.” Gesturing toward one of the maids with Sallie, Cash pointed at the stairs. “Take Miss Laura and Mrs. Wickliffe to my room. When Jettie comes, have her take Mark up to them. Under no circumstances is Miss Laura to be disturbed for anything else for the rest of the day.”

  Laura struggled to protest. There was too much to do, too much that couldn’t be left to untrained servants, but Cash was already walking off, shouting orders to every unfortunate close enough to hear him. The house was his, not hers. Why fight at all? Closing her eyes and swaying, Laura gathered enough strength to climb the stairs.

  She did manage one small rebellion, however. Refusing the use of the large suite where Cash slept, she ordered a couple of workmen to locate a dry mattress and take it into the sewing room. Farthest from the fire, it had come through the night unscathed, although it was one of the few rooms that had not yet undergone renovation. Still, its shabbiness suited her, and Laura sighed in relief as they hauled in a mattress from the nursery.

  There were still things that needed to be done before she could rest. Cash had been a fool not to take Steve up on his offer to house Sallie. She could hear her cousin complaining all the way down the hall, and Laura knew from experience that Sallie wouldn’t be quiet until she had what she wanted. It was more or less like dealing with a spoiled child. Steeling herself, Laura walked down the hall to Cash’s chambers.

  She had never been in them for more than the time it took to measure the windows for new draperies. The room received only the morning sun; in the afternoons it was cool and restful with the curtains drawn. She had consulted Cash on the hangings of the massive tester bed, but he had shrugged and said he didn’t care, so she had chosen the brown-and-gold design. She thought it went well with the expensive Aubusson rug her uncle had installed. The airy design of the wallpaper had been a little difficult to find, but the brown fern fronds had seemed more masculine than the usual roses and nosegays, and she was quite proud of her creation. Cash had never said a word about it.

  But Sallie wasn’t so reticent. Propped against a half- dozen pillows, she querulously pointed at the heavy velvet draperies and ordered them removed. At sight of Laura, she struggled to sit upright. “I can’t live with these monstrosities. Have them clean my things and bring them in here. I vow, Laura, how could you let him ruin this room like this? It looks like a mausoleum. What’s been going on here? Did lightning finally strike us down? It’s a pity he couldn’t have been here. I’m sure God meant it for him.”

  Since there was only one “he” she could be referring to, Laura held her tongue. It wasn’t her place to come between husband and wife. “The draperies in your room are drenched and reek of smoke. I don’t know that they can be saved. I can have someone take down the bed hangings in here, and perhaps the curtains in my room will dry fast enough. I’m not certain there’s enough to cover all these windows, though. Maybe if we just open these up you won’t notice them so much,”

  “Oh, never mind. Just leave them alone. I’ll see to it myself just as soon as I get a little rest. Get out, all of you.” She made a commanding gesture, shooing the maids from the room. When Laura turned to leave, she stopped her. “Not you, Laura. Stay. I need someone to talk to. I need someone here when that beast comes in.”

  Laura cursed the wall, then smoothed her expression into impassiveness, and turned back to her cousin. Sallie had truly come down in the world if she needed her to talk to. She more likely had some request that she didn’t wish the maids to hear.

  “The heat must be making you miserable,” Laura said quietly, heading for the washbowl. “Why don’t you lie back and rest for a while? I’ll fix you a cool compress.”

  “I don’t want a cool compress.” Sallie sat up and flung one of her pillows at the far wall. “I don’t want this rotten child. I’m sick to death of the heat and the company out here in the middle of nowhere. And just when I was beginning to enjoy myself a little, that miserable cur had to drag me back here. My God, what does he think I can do in this condition? I’m having his brat, for pity’s sake, what more does he want? And if he thinks I’ll hang around this dump after it’s born, he’d better think again. I don’t need him to get me out of here anymore.”

  That didn’t sound at all promising for this marriage or the child’s future, but Laura could remember days during her pregnancy when she had felt like throwing herself off a cliff or shooting someone. It came with the territory. Sallie would calm down later, when she had a little one in her arms.

  Laura poured a glass of water and offered it to her cousin. Sallie really didn’t look well. There was a puffiness around her eyes that had never been there before. Stripped now of her voluminous petticoats, she looked almost fragile. Blue veins lined the skin of her swelling breasts, and her abdomen appeared abnormally large for the sixth month of pregnancy. Laura made a note to herself to call Dr. Burke.

  “This is your home, Sallie. The people here love you. You’re just tired because of the baby. Drink this and get some rest. Cash will straighten out this mess.”

  “Cash is the reason for this mess.” Suddenly breaking into tears, Sallie wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand and collapsed into the pillows, sobbing almost soundlessly as she buried her face in the down-filled cases.

  Whatever the mess Sallie referred to, Laura could almost be assured that Sallie was as much the reason for it as Cash. The night sky might as well have married the sun for all they would ever be together on anything. But they were both too headstrong for Laura’s poor powers of persuasion to help. She could only sit at the side of the bed and wipe her cousin’s forehead with a wet cloth and wait for the crying jag to end.

  “You don’t know what it’s like being married,” Sallie finally whispered into the pillow.

  No, she didn’t, but Sallie didn’t know that. She was merely dismissing Laura’s early “marriage” from her mind, assigning her the role of younger cousin. That Laura had a life of her own never occurred to Sallie

  “They only think of themselves. All they want a woman for is to ease themselves between their legs. Even Ward wanted that. It’s disgusting, Laura. Disgusting. And this is the result!” Sallie made a gesture of derision to her swollen belly. “His child! Not mine. Not ours. His. Because he put it there. Well, I don’t want it, and I won’t have it. I won’t!”

  Laura heard this tirade with uneasiness. Sallie was spoiled, yes, but usually she was rational. Denying the child she carried wasn’t rational. Laura didn’t know how to respond.

  Triumphantly Sallie pointed to the trunk one of the grooms had carried up. “I’ve got my escape in there. I won’t ever have to put up with a man in my bed again. I’ve found a real gentl
eman, a proper Boston gentleman, and he won’t ever make me do those disgusting things again. He promised, Laura. He said he only wants to make me happy, that he’ll take me anywhere I want to go. He just enjoys looking at me; he doesn’t need any of the rest. I knew there were real gentlemen out there somewhere. These awful hillbillies around here are uncivilized degenerates.”

  Laura’s uneasiness built, but there was nothing she could do or say. If that was the kind of life Sallie wanted, she should have sought it before she married Cash, before she got herself with child. It was too late now, her head said, but deep in her heart she wanted to tell Sallie to go find her Boston gentleman and leave Cash alone. Only Cash would be crushed by such a rejection, so she said nothing.

  Sallie sank back into the pillows, squeezing Laura’s hand. “I knew you would understand. You may not be pretty, but you’re smart, Laura. You don’t have any man telling you what to do. But I have to have someone to take care of me, and I’ve finally found him. I’m going to ask for a divorce, Laura.”

  The ugly word resounded through the quiet room even after Sallie fell asleep. Laura remained where she was for a while. Divorce. Such a thing had never occurred to her. She had no idea of the ramifications of such a scandalous act. She had never known anyone who had been divorced. She felt certain that such a woman would be kept outside of polite society, so she never would have the opportunity.

  At the sound of Jettie Mae’s voice, Laura rose and drifted from the room, but Sallie’s words lingered in the back of her mind. They played there all day, even after Mark had been fed and everyone left her alone to nap. She couldn’t sleep. She dozed to the sounds of male voices and the pounding of hammers on the roof and footsteps up and down the hall. Throughout the cacophony, the refrain still wove in and out of her dreams. Divorce. Cash and Sallie could get a divorce.