A Season Beyond a Kiss

by Kathleen E. Woodiwiss

  Must he give her ease of his presence? Jeff mentally groaned. As much as he loathed the idea, perhaps it was the only thing he could do for her sake. Tormented as she was, she’d never return to that place of free abandon within his arms until he had slain the demons that haunted her and proven himself completely blameless in her sight.

  THE CONSTANT PATTER OF RAIN FALLING UPON THE ROOF finally ceased in the wee hours, and at length, the wind eased its vicious lashing of the trees. Somewhere within close vicinity of the cabin, a fox yelped. Raelynn’s eyes flew wide, and a faint, indistinct murmur slipped from her lips, but she was still caught up in the throes of some dreadful nightmare. Jeff reached out for her, and she moved closer, instinctively seeking his strength and protection. Grateful that she would allow him to comfort her, he drew her within his sheltering arms. After that, she seemed to sleep more easily, allowing him to doze for a time, at least until he heard the horses whinny.

  Jeff shook his wife awake. “Hurry, Raelynn! Get dressed! Someone’s outside!”

  Startled out of a sound sleep, she struggled to disengage herself from the blanket as Jeff leapt toward the chair where he had left her garments. He tossed them to her and wasted no time snatching on his riding breeches. He was just reaching for his pistols when the front door was kicked open, wrenching a startled gasp from Raelynn. The rough-hewn plank rebounded against the far wall as Olney Hyde limped through the portal with his left arm bound up in a poorly improvised sling, a long ragged rent flapping open in the left legging of his hide breeches, and an ominously large pistol clutched in his right hand.

  “Drop yer weapons, dammit, or I’ll put a hole through this bitch’s head!” the young rogue barked, lowering the sights of his flintlock upon Raelynn, who sat frozen on the bedroll with the blanket clutched beneath her chin. She had barely managed to doff her husband’s shirt and don her chemise before the door had been flung wide.

  “I’m lowering them,” Jeff stated, taking great care as he placed the pair of flintlocks on the table in front of him. “Now turn your pistol away from my wife.”

  “Not till ye lay yer rifle there, too, like a good lad,” Olney replied, his voice taut with pain. He waited until Jeff had complied once again with his directive, and then thrust out his chin, indicating the lantern hanging from a peg. “Now, listen carefully so’s I don’t have ta repeat meself. I want ye ta light a lamp so’s I can sees ye real good like. After ye do that, move yerself away from the table. An’ if’n I were ye, I’d be very cautious ’bout what ye do, lest ye riles me temper.”

  Olney eyed his adversary warily until that one stepped around behind the girl. Then he limped forward to the rough-hewn table, slid the matched pair of pistols into his belt, tucked his own in the crook of his useless arm and then retreated slowly to the hearth where he lifted the rifle and settled it into the vacant hooks jutting outward from the stone. “ ‘Twill be safe there for the time bein’, seein’s as how I’ll blow both o’ ye ta smithereens if’n ye try anythin’.”

  Olney’s yellowed teeth gnashed in a painful grimace as he took his own pistol in hand again and pressed the butt of it against his injured shoulder. Lifting bleary eyes to meet Jeff’s, he rasped through his agony, “That damned fool mare o’ yers scraped up against a tree whilst we was goin’ at a run. Shaved me off’n her back just as clean as a woodcutter. Knocked me senseless, she did. When I come ta, the ornery beast had taken off. Lucky for her she did, ’cause I was in a mood ta cut her up in li’l pieces. She left me wit’ me leg skint from knee ta crotch an’ me arm hangin’ useless, just like Mr. Fridrich’s, ‘ceptin’ ye’re gonna set mine back the way it was, Mistah Birmin’am.”

  “Me?” Jeff scoffed. “I’m not skilled at working dislocated joints back into their sockets. You’ll have to search out Dr. Clarence to have that properly done.”

  “Too far an’ too painful for me ta let the arm remain as it is ‘til I find him. If’n ye don’t mend it, I swears I’ll part yer wife’s hair wit’ a lead shot.”

  The inducement was certainly enough to convince Jeff. “I’ll do my best, Olney, but I must warn you that I have little experience or knowledge about such things.”

  “Then ye’d better do yer very best ’cause yer wife’s life will depend on yer fixin’ it. Do ye understand me?”

  “But I told you . . .”

  “Well, I’m tellin’ ye, Mistah Birmin’am,” Olney railed back. “Ye set it right the first time or by heavens, ye’ll be buryin’ yer wife!”

  “All right,” Jeff agreed worriedly. “I’ll just have to take my time working it back into place.”

  Olney took a gulp of air, as if relieved that he had crossed that hurdle, but he nearly writhed as a careless movement renewed his agony. Grimacing, he spoke through his pain. “I need somethin’ ta deaden the pain. Got anythin’ stronger’n water ’round here?”

  “I haven’t looked.”

  “Well, look!”

  The rogue’s bellow wrenched a start from Raelynn, who glanced in burgeoning alarm toward her husband. Nervously she returned her attention to the other man. “I’ll see what I can find, Olney, if you’ll just let me get my gown on first.”

  The man smirked through his pain, but gave her a consenting nod and then watched in wry amusement as she drew the blanket up over her head. She formed a protective tent around herself, securing it to the degree that he was forbidden even a brief glimpse of what she was doing. “Ye needn’t be so timid ’bout showin’ me what ye’ve got, yer ladyship. Ye can bet I’ve had me some o’ what ye’re tryin’ ta hide, probably a damn sight more’n ye’ve had him.”

  Raelynn ignored his boasting as she yanked on her clothes. When she lowered the enveloping shroud a moment later, she held her gown carefully clasped together behind her back as she rose to her feet. “My husband will have to fasten it for me,” she informed their captor. “Will you permit him to do so?”

  “Guess I’ll have ta, considerin’ me arm is useless,” Olney jeered, sweeping her with a prurient perusal. There was no real threat behind his inspection; he was in too much pain to think of appeasing himself with any wench, much less one Fridrich fancied for himself. It was one thing to satisfy fleshly cravings, but quite another entirely to court certain disaster.

  Resenting his rude inspection, Raelynn struggled to subdue a shudder and to keep her expression carefully passive as she sidled toward Jeff. She dared no comment as she felt the lean fingers begin to work their way up the back of the gown. Apparently her husband wasn’t shaking nearly as much as she was, for the task was completed without delay.

  Once the placket was secure, Raelynn set about searching for a jug of whiskey or something of similar strength to placate the bully. She found such an item in a small, rough-hewn cupboard in the adjoining bedroom and hurried back to the main room where she poured the brew to the brim of an earthen mug. Olney promptly tossed down the contents and passed the cup back for a refill. As Jeff approached him, the scamp brandished his pistol.

  “Wait ‘til the pain eases,” he bade and downed another swallow. “I ain’t wantin’ta bellow me head off like Mr. Fridrich did in front o’ yer wife. She might be o’ a mind ta make one o’ her nasty li’l comments again or do somethin’ just as foolish. Then I’d likely lose me temper an’ ye’d be out a wife. That might leave ye a mite reluctant ta fix me arm.”

  Jeff grew concerned over the rogue’s ability to control his emotions. “I give you my pledge to be as gentle as I can, Olney. You’ve got to believe that. In return, I’d like your promise that you won’t shoot my wife because you might become vexed with me.”

  “That’s right gentlemanly o’ ye, Mr. Birmin’ham, but ye’ve gotta know somethin’. Mr. Fridrich wants the wench real bad like, enough ta pay a weighty purse for her, an’ thoughs I ain’t in any shape ta take her wit’ me now, ye can bet I’ll be collectin’ her fairly soon.”

  “Is that why you killed Nell?” Jeff prodded and heard Raelynn gasp in surprise. “You brought her out to my plantati
on, didn’t you, probably hoping that by murdering her you could force a wedge between my wife and me? What I can’t understand is why you took the mare and did so in such haste, not even bothering to put a saddle on her.”

  “Ye bastard! Don’t go blamin’ Nell’s murder on me,” Olney snarled savagely. “I brought out the li’l hussy, all right, ta make trouble for ye, so’s I could get meself the thousand dollars what Gustav promised Cooper Frye. But I didn’t know ye had it in ye ta kill the twit. She left me waitin’ in the stables wit’ her kid whilst she went ta yer bedroom ta speak wit’ ye, mainly ta warn ye that if’n ye didn’t own up ta fatherin’ her li’l bastard whelp she’d be showin’ all yer guests how much the babe looks like ye. That fool mare o’ yers almost stomped me ta death when I tried ta slip inta her stall. She startin’ kickin’ up such a ruckus an’ carryin’ on, I had ta flee ta the next stall wit’ Nell’s kid under me arm. It got real quiet in the barn after yer man put her in the paddock outside, though, an’ I figgered I’d be safe in her stall whilst I waited for Nell. Then I seen ye haulin’ Nell out wit’ yer hand clamped o’er her mouth an’ yer high almighty self twistin’ her arm behind her back nigh ta her shoulder. Good thing I scrambled up the wall an’ dropped inta the next stall, ’cause ye took her straight ta the one where I’d left her kid.”

  “And, of course, you saw me kill her, too,” Jeff jeered derisively.

  “That’s what I did, alright,” Olney acknowledged with a sneer. “I was peerin’ through the slats, thinkin’ ye meant ta rape the li’l bitch, but then, I seen yer knife an’ heard Nell’s muffled scream when ye thrust it inta her gut.” Raelynn gagged and clasped a shaking hand over her mouth, causing Olney to glance around. His lips curved in a taunting jeer before he faced Jeff again. “I don’t recall what I did, maybe gasped or somethin’, ’cause ye came a tearin’ outa the stall after me. Guess yer long legs are good for somethin’ ’cause ye were a lot faster’n I’da’ve e’er imagined. I was sure ye’d be skewerin’ me just like ye did poor Nell. That’s when I saw yer mare in the paddock. Takin’ her seemed like me only chance ta live. I barely pulled meself astride afore ye were upon me, tryin’ ta drag me off, but I gave the mare a hard kick, an’ she took off. Cleared the fence wit’out so much as a stumble. I thought I’d lucked onto somethin’ fine the way she raced off. As fast as we was goin’, I had every hope o’ reachin’ Charleston in good time so’s I could tell Mr. Fridrich o’ yer murderin’ deed. It would’ve made him real happy. But that fool animal threw me, an’ here I be.”

  Jeff sneered. “Come now, Olney. You planned all this to entrap me in your foul deed so you could collect your filthy lucre, but it won’t work. I sent Elijah out to track the murderer down, and he told Red Pete that he was chasing you.”

  “I knows all that,” Olney growled irascibly. “Elijah followed on me heels ‘til late last night. As much as I tried, there was no gettin’ free o’ the man. I got tired o’ runnin’ wit’ me bad leg an’ arm, so’s I waited in the brush for him. Shot him in the leg, I did, an’ sent him limpin’ home on that ol’ nag o’ his.”

  “You seem very capable of disposing of anyone who gets in your way,” Jeff retorted caustically. “Believe me, wounding Elijah will be one more crime for which you’ll be held accountable. Once Sheriff Townsend catches you . . .”

  “If he e’er catches me, I’ll have a story ta tell ’bout ye killin’ Nell,” Olney snarled. “There was no mistakin’ ye. Ye were all decked out for yer fancy ball. Can’t says I’m overly fond o’ black, not the way ye gents are, but then, it ‘peared like ye were the only one wearin’ it when I peeked inta yer window shortly after Nell an’ I got there.”

  “Wait a minute,” Jeff urged, a bit confused. “Let me get this straight. When you saw me in the stables, I was wearing black?”

  “Yup.”

  “When I went out and discovered Nell in Ariadne’s stall, it was about one in the morning. At the time, I was wearing a white shirt and tan trousers.”

  “No, it were more like half past eleven when ye stabbed her.”

  Jeff scoffed. “That’s impossible. As many wounds as Nell had, she would never have lasted more than a few moments, much less an hour and a half.”

  “What’re ye talkin’ ’bout? I only saw ye knife her once.”

  “She was stabbed as many as three times.”

  “How do I know what ye did? Maybe ye went back later an’ finished her off. All I know is what I seen ye do ’bout eleven or so.”

  “And you saw my face clearly at that time?” At Olney’s crisp nod, Jeff squinted at him suspiciously. “Tell me, were there any lanterns burning in the stables? Normally there wouldn’t be. There certainly weren’t any lit when I went down. I took a lantern from the back porch when I heard Nell’s scream.”

  “I could tell it was ye, alright. I didn’t need no light.”

  Jeff arched a brow, clearly dubious of the man’s claims. “So it was dark, and you couldn’t really see my face in the shadows. So tell me, how were you able to identify me?”

  “Ye’re a tall enough bloke. No one could mistake you.”

  “You remember Sheriff Townsend, don’t you? And Farrell Ives? What about my brother? Have you seen any of them?”

  “Ye knows well an’ good I did, the night all o’ ye raided Mr. Fridrich’s warehouse. The lot o’ ’em were right alongside ye. But it weren’t none o’ yer cohorts. The one I saw comin’ across the yard wit’ Nell was tall and on the lean side. Some o’ them others must weigh five stone more’n you. Another thing, the murderer had black hair, too. That much I saw in the moonlight.”

  “You sure it wasn’t brown or auburn or something that would look dark or black at night?”

  “I’m willin’ ta swear it were as black as yers is now.”

  “I was dancing with my wife at the time you say the murder happened, Olney. I have witnesses to prove it.”

  Raelynn bit a trembling lip, not wishing to correct her husband in front of the brigand. Around eleven that night, he had gone outside to the privy. She remembered distinctly looking at the clock after he had left, wondering if she’d have time to run upstairs before he returned. If not for Farrell asking her to dance, she might have gone. Perhaps she would have even found Jeff with Nell in their room.

  Jeff approached the younger man with measured care. “I’d better get to the business of setting your arm, Olney. By now, the whiskey should have had enough time to work.” At the scamp’s nod, Jeff gently stretched the injured limb toward him until the other’s hand rested upon his shoulder. Olney’s face paled at the pain it caused him, but he gritted his teeth against the heightening need to cry out in anguish. Having come this far without incident, Jeff mentally breathed a sigh of relief and began to work the arm around in a small circle. Even so minuscule a movement caused Olney to shudder, but he never once released his grasp on the pistol as he held its bore directed toward Jeff’s midsection.

  “I’m going to give your arm a slight tug,” Jeff warned him. “Hopefully it will pop into place.”

  “And if’n it don’t?” Olney asked thickly, his eyes glazed with pain.

  “We’ll continue working on it until it does.”

  Stepping near, Raelynn wiped the dappled sweat off the man’s brow and offered him another sip of the strong brew, but he shook his head.

  “Let’s get it over with,” he urged Jeff.

  Clasping the other’s shoulder in one hand and his wrist in the other, Jeff gave the latter a long, slow tug as he tried to guide the bone back into the socket with the hand that held his shoulder. Olney ground a curse between gnashing teeth at the agony he was being put through, but in the next instant he felt his arm slip into the hollow. The pain faded almost instantly, allowing him to breathe a sigh of relief.

  “I think we’ve done it,” Jeff announced, his tension easing considerably.

  Olney was panting as if he had just run a hard race. “Aye, it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

  “Nevertheless, I
think I should bandage your arm to keep it snug against your chest until the socket has a chance to heal,” Jeff advised.

  “Do so. I don’t want to have to go through that torment again.” Olney glanced at Raelynn who hovered near. “I need somethin’ ta eat. I ain’t taken any food since I lit out on the mare.”

  “There’s some venison and corn fritters left from last night,” she informed him.

  “Anythin’ will do, just as long as I don’t have ta skin it.”

  “How are you going to eat while you’re holding the pistol on my husband?” she dared to ask.

  “I’m gonna send him across the room ta sit in a corner like a good li’l lad whilst I fill me gullet. Any more idiotic questions, girlie?” he queried sneeringly as he slanted a smirk toward her. Then he bellowed, “Now get me some food!”

  Miffed at his thunderous tones, Raelynn stalked past him and began slapping corn fritters and venison onto a tin plate. It would have pleased her immensely to add a mound of salt or red pepper to cause the brigand some grief, but she didn’t dare, not when he was liable to start blazing away with the three pistols in his possession.

  After Jeff bandaged Olney’s arm and tied it securely against his chest, he was banished to a far corner where he sat on his haunches while Olney supped. Though the young rogue seemed ravenously intent upon devouring the food Raelynn had brought him, the pistol lay within easy reach of his right hand. Jeff made no effort to rush his captor for possession of the weapon, for he suffered no uncertainty that if he tried anything, Olney would dispense with him forthwith, leaving Raelynn at his mercy.

  Emitting a loud belch, Olney got to his feet, patted his soft paunch, and settled a pointed stare upon Jeff. “Now, I’m gonna have ta borrow that there stallion o’ yers, an’ I’ll be needin’ ye ta saddle him for me. An’ ye’d better mind yer manners whilst ye’re doin’ it, ’cause I’m gonna be keepin’ me pistol on yer wife. Ye understand?”