Shelter from the Storm

by Patricia Rice

  It had been a lovely house once upon a time. With a little love, it could be a lovely house again. But love was a commodity in short supply these days. Jettie nodded approval as her children waved good-bye to the empty windows.

  The last of the Kincaids had gone. The house would die of loneliness now.

  Chapter 36

  Laura held a cool hand to her aching head as she rested in the darkness of Jonathan’s parlor. Jettie’s children were running up and down the loft stairs in celebration of their return to town. Ward’s son was entertaining Cash’s son with a pot and spoon in the tiny kitchen. And that was only the chaos on the inside. Outside, Laura knew a storm of curiosity brewed.

  She could handle it. She had done so before. She just needed a moment’s rest before the preacher’s wife showed up at the doorstep with a covered dish to ask if she could be of any help. Undoubtedly she would bring along one of the church ladies. And before long they would ascertain that Laura had no intention of marrying Jonathan, and the gossip would swirl all over again.

  What did it matter? Had she stayed at the farm with Cash, the talk would have been far worse. At least in town it was evident that Jonathan and Dr. Burke stayed at the hotel. Should she have stayed with Cash without benefit of marriage, she would have become the victim of cold shoulders all over again. Dear lord, even if she had married Cash, she would have been greeted with just as many cold shoulders, only the reasons would have been different.

  Only then it wouldn’t have mattered, because she could have been happy with just Cash. Well, she had burned that bridge. There was no use crying over spilled milk.

  Reluctantly smiling at the state of mind that had brought her to these old chestnuts, Laura relaxed a second longer before tackling whatever task awaited her now. She didn’t hear the sound of Jettie’s bare feet or cotton skirts until the other woman was in the room.

  “That Mr. Cash done gone and lost his haid,” she announced without preface.

  Laura let that sink in while trying to imagine what catastrophe had wrought that statement. But Jettie was waiting for a reply, and Laura obliged with a sigh. “What has he done now?”

  “He’s lettin’ that Breckinridge fella have all his horses and he’s loadin’ everythin’ else up in wagons. They ain’t gonna be nothin’ left there atall.”

  Laura was certain that made some kind of mad sense if she just had time to think about it. “And how do you know that?”

  Jettie shrugged her thin shoulders beneath the loose cotton. “You don’ wanna know.”

  Now that Laura thought about it, she really didn’t. The farm was ten miles out in the county. By all rights, not a soul but the people on the farm ought to know what was happening there. But she had already learned that the network of black lives intertwined along the back roads and the hidden parts of town was a formidable telegraph without need of wires. There wouldn’t be a white man in town who knew what Jettie was telling her.

  Laura stirred uneasily. Trying not to show her concern, she dismissed Jettie’s unspoken question. “I daresay he’s selling off everything with any value to recoup his losses. I can’t say I blame him. He put a fortune into that farm, and all he got was burned-out tobacco and trampled corn in return. Let him sell the whole damn farm. I don’t care.”

  Laura wasn’t certain that Jettie accepted this explanation, but at least she left without argument, probably to pass on this information to the network. Cash would undoubtedly be surprised when a few strange black faces showed up to ask if he needed any help with the loading. She doubted if he would begrudge the others that would appear to scavenge whatever he threw in the trash.

  But she didn’t like the feel of it. She wished she didn’t know Cash so well. It would be much easier to sit here and resent his high-handed appropriation of all her family’s possessions, but she knew better. Cash could very well be in need of funds to return to California. He had bought and bred the horses himself and he could sell them with impunity. But he would never touch her family’s treasures. Why was he loading them into wagons?

  She had to know. She couldn’t sit here and let the world collapse, as restful as it might be. When she was old and gray she would rest. Right now she was going to see what the Sam Hill Cash was up to.

  Remembering the time Sallie had flung that phrase at them, Laura smiled. Sallie had been a pure caution. She would have to remember her cousin’s good points and try to keep them alive. There wasn’t anything wrong with being lively and flirtatious and beautiful.

  Rising from the chair, Laura headed for the bedroom and her riding habit. Jonathan had gone to the hotel. No one would miss her for a little while. She’d have accomplished what needed to be done before they came looking for her.

  ***

  Laura had thought she’d seen the last of Stone Creek, but she should have known better. Riding her horse up the lane, she stared up at the imposing mansion rising out of the trees and wondered how she had ever called it home. It didn’t even look familiar any longer.

  It looked even less familiar when she rode up to find the half-dozen wagons scattered about the lawn, more or less filled with the house’s contents. Cash had been busy.

  She didn’t have time to linger and examine the furnishings. Night came early this time of year, and the sun was already well down near the horizon. Tying her horse to the hitching post, Laura wondered where everybody was.

  Her boots clicked hollowly on uncarpeted floors as she entered the front hall. Off to the right she could see the piano and the recently recovered couch still in the formal parlor. In the smaller family parlor much of the older furniture remained. She hadn’t really done much redecorating in there, thinking the children would only destroy it. The pieces were shabby and scarred by dozens of kicking feet and restless bottoms, and she smiled at long-ago memories of restless afternoons in the presence of the low murmurs of Aunt Ann’s gossiping friends.

  The rest of the rooms were much the same. The good pieces, the valuables, the smaller pieces were all gone, most likely to the wagons, even the china from the china cabinet. Laura hoped Cash had someone responsible packing that. There were a few pieces of battered and peeling silver plate left in the pantry, along with the old china and pewter and whatnot, enough to make the place look used but poor.

  Laura pursed her lips wryly. It had never really occurred to her or Sallie or Ward to sell the silver or china or crystal. They were part of the house. And of course it had never occurred to them to sell the house.

  But it very much looked as if it had occurred to Cash.

  Striding more purposefully now, Laura started for the back and the stable yard. She supposed he would be stripping the tack room by now. It had been his money that had rebuilt the stables and everything in them. She just wished he’d said something to her first.

  Cash saw her coming across the yard. At first he thought he was seeing ghosts. More than once today he’d felt as if the house’s previous owners were breathing down his back, but he hadn’t seen a physical emanation until now. The gray riding habit and the long veil flowing from the hat startled him floating past the hedge of wilted mock oranges. But when it reappeared again on the other side, Cash recognized the furious if dainty gait. He strode forward to meet her.

  Catching Laura before she could say a word, he lifted her from the ground and all but shook her with rage and fear. “Where in hell is Jonathan? All I asked the damned man to do was keep an eye on you, and he can’t even do that. For one tiny woman, you sure are a large baggage of trouble. Get out of here, Laura, and don’t come back, whatever you do.”

  Shocked by his harsh words, Laura stared into Cash’s dark eye. Surely he hadn’t gone mad. There was enough inbreeding in these parts to produce the occasional witless aunt and eccentric uncle, but they were relatively harmless. Laura had never known a truly mad person. But Cash bordered on that description now.

  “Just tell me what’s happening, Cash,” she said against the fierceness of his reaction. His hands crushing her
arms hurt, but not so much as the violence in his voice.

  “Nothing is happening, Laura. You haven’t seen anything today. No one has seen anything. Do you understand me?”

  Cash’s hands gentled as they lowered her to the ground again, but his grip was still tight while he awaited her agreement. Laura clung briefly to his shirt, then let her hands fall when she saw he wouldn’t give her any explanation. “No, I don’t understand. I don’t understand anything at all. Where is everyone?”

  “They’re eating supper. They’ll be back at dark. Now, get out of here before they return, and tell nobody what you saw.”

  “That’s ridiculous.” Laura easily removed herself from his grip and started toward the house, knowing he would follow. “Every Negro in the county knows what you’re doing out here. How do you think I found out?”

  Cash swore slowly and viciously as he followed her up the hill. By the time they reached the kitchen yard, he had run out of curses. He caught her arm and swung her around. “You’re the damnedest white woman I’ve ever known. Are you sure you don’t have a touch of tar in your background? I don’t know of one damned black who would volunteer that information to a white man or woman. You’re the only one who has come riding out here to see what’s going on.”

  Laura shrugged off his hold. She wanted tender words and phrases. She wanted to be in Cash’s arms, feeling his kisses, hearing his reassurances. She wanted his warm body next to hers and the belief that he needed her as much as she needed him. Instead she got curses and insults. Once more she had fallen for a scoundrel and a rogue. She must be out of her mind, but she couldn’t stop loving him for all that.

  “My father was a Kincaid and my mother was from France. Believe what you would like to believe, it makes no difference. I really don’t think being part black and part white makes it any easier to get along with both races, not any more than being wealthy makes it easier to get along with wealthy people. It might make it easier to get to know them, but knowing isn’t liking. You, of all people, ought to appreciate that.”

  Cash’s mouth twisted as the barb hit home. “I appreciate your reminding me. Now, get out of here, Laura, or I’ll throw you over my horse and carry you back.”

  “I guess you’d better do that, because it’s almost dark now and I’m not leaving until I know what’s going on. You can do whatever you want with this place, it makes no difference to me, but I think I am entitled to some explanation.”

  She was right, but now wasn’t the time to tell her. Cash had a brief wild vision of riding off into the sunset with her, finding a sheltered glen, and making passionate love in the scent of the grasses with the doves calling above them. He clenched his fists against the swell of heat in his loins.

  She was so damned beautiful when she looked at him like that. He knew she wouldn’t object if he took her right here on a crushed patch of herbs. That idea had its merits too, except he knew that the wagon drivers would be returning shortly.

  From somewhere deep inside himself, Cash drew the only words he knew to explain and drive her away at the same time. “There’s only one explanation I can give you right now. I love you. I daresay I’ve loved you since that day you saved my life, but a man doesn’t admit these things, even to himself. So I’m a fool; go on and say it. But I love you too damned much to let you know what’s happening here tonight. This is my decision, not yours. You have your own to make. Now, get the hell out of here and make up your mind, Laura. My patience is running out.”

  Struck dumb, Laura could only stare at the harsh angles of Cash’s face. There was no softness in the bend of his mouth when he spoke. He practically gritted his vow of love from between clenched teeth. No lover’s caress, he dug his fingers into her upper arm again. Her heart fluttered frantically against her rib cage like a caged bird just discovering the open door and not knowing whether to light or flee.

  But he didn’t give her time to decide. Spying one of the returning men, Cash whistled piercingly, bringing him to a trot across the field.

  “Jake, get this fool woman back to town. Take one of the cart horses and that Spencer rifle I left in your wagon. She’s more valuable than the damned furniture, though at the moment I can’t remember why.”

  He strode away without another word, leaving Laura to stare at his back. She wanted to scream and run after him, fling herself at his feet and plead with him to take her too. But she had too much pride to do any such thing. She had thrown her pride aside once before, with disastrous results. She wouldn’t do it again. She had to have something left to hide behind.

  When Cash disappeared in the direction of the stables, she returned to her horse. He loved her, and he was leaving her. To Cash, that would make sense. What she had to do was decide whether or not to follow. He had said he was giving her a choice. It was time that she made it.

  They met Jonathan and Dr. Burke riding hell-bent down the road from town. The men reined in at sight of Laura and her bodyguard, their gazes switching nervously from Laura to Jake and back down the road to the farm. Laura knew then that they were in on Cash’s plans, and she straightened her mouth in a grim line.

  “Jake, you can go on back to Cash now. These gentlemen will look after me. I suspect Cash needs you more than I do.”

  The men exchanged looks over her head, but she was in no humor to placate them. Kicking her horse into a canter, she started off without their accompaniment.

  When they caught up with her, Jake wasn’t with them. Satisfied, Laura rode silently, not giving them the satisfaction of her questions or her thoughts. She didn’t care what they thought, what anyone thought. She had to decide for herself.

  Cash would never have told her he loved her and asked her to make a decision if he didn’t mean it. But he didn’t necessarily mean what normal people meant. He hadn’t loved Sallie, but he’d asked her to marry him anyway, because that’s what he’d expected of himself.

  But if he truly loved her, Cash would want to protect her. Laura knew that from her own experience. She wanted to protect Cash and Mark both. It was akin to forming a circle of wagons against the world. So if Cash loved her, he would want to guard her against gossip, and the gossip would certainly fly if they did anything so rash as to marry within weeks of Sallie’s death.

  The conversation about the brush of tar came back with new meaning. Cash was still too aware of his own origins. Unlike Sallie, if Laura married Cash, society would turn their backs without a qualm, muttering things like “blood will tell.” So there was the decision he was telling her to make.

  Laura looked to the man riding close to her, throwing her anxious looks. If she married Jonathan, she would be accepted everywhere. Cash knew that. He was practically throwing her into Jonathan’s arms. Stupid, stupid man.

  Laura threw her head back and set a careful pace back to town. Perhaps blood did tell. She had grown up with a gambler and a French singer for parents. She had spent her early years on riverboats and trains. She had desperately looked for that same happiness in the home and family at Stone Creek. Maybe, just maybe, happiness couldn’t be found in a place.

  She’d have to think about that a bit, but her heart already knew the answer. Mark’s heritage was here, in the rolling acres of bluegrass that had fed and housed his ancestors, but he was half Cash’s too. And the Bluegrass hadn’t treated him very kindly.

  And knowing that, Laura thought back on Cash’s words and the emptiness of the house, and a new desperation grew.

  Death was much more final than California.

  Chapter 37

  Laura heard no word from Cash that night or the next day. Rumors abounded. She heard he’d been down at the tavern drinking and carousing all night. She heard he’d taken one of the prostitutes from the hotel to the house. She heard he was broke and selling off the property. She heard many things, but she could believe only what she saw for herself.

  Since she had no mind to go down to the tavern on her own, she would have to wait and see what happened. Jonathan wanted
her to go into Lexington and stay with family. She probably ought to, just so she wouldn’t be putting him out of his house, but she dragged her feet with one excuse or another. She had to see Cash, to know that he was all right, and she couldn’t do that from Lexington.

  Another night went by without word from him. Laura knew he was still around. No one would let her forget. If she walked down to the store to pick up thread, she was stopped by half the town to ask after Cash’s plans for the farm and to advise her of where they had seen him last. He was here, and he was alive, but he was avoiding her.

  She was being foolish to linger, hoping he would come to her if she stayed. In all likelihood Cash was waiting for her to leave to carry out whatever presumptuous plans he had in mind. Jonathan obviously knew more than he was letting on, and he wanted her out of town.

  And since no one would tell her anything, she couldn’t leave. Steve Breckinridge stopped by with an invitation from his mother to go shopping in Lexington for a few days, and Laura knew then that he was in on this plan too. It was hard to imagine Cash dealing with the Breckinridges, but they had never offered to take her under their wing before.

  Steve expressed impatience at her refusal. Jonathan looked even more harried. Laura felt sorry for them, but she was tired of taking care of everyone else. This time she was taking care of herself. And taking care of herself meant taking care of Cash.

  The next day she heard that Cash had torn up the tavern the night before, after the Raiders hanged another poor soul just outside of town. Laura had an uneasy twinge that the two incidents might be connected, but she wasn’t exactly certain how. No one else saw it that way. They just clucked their tongues and expressed a certain malicious sympathy that Cash was going to pieces now that his wife had died.