Ashes in the Wind

by Kathleen E. Woodiwiss

  “Feeling better now?” he murmured with a tender smile.

  “Cole, it was Jacques!” she whispered brokenly against his shirtfront. “He’s here—in St. Cloud. I saw him!”

  Cole pulled away to stare down at her in surprise, his gaze probing hers and finding fear and distress within the translucent depths. Her lips quivered, and she nodded, tears springing forth to overflow the wide, worried pools of gray. She was clearly frightened.

  Cole turned suddenly to Xanthia with a question. “Can my wife rest here for a while? I have a matter to take up with the sheriff. I shouldn’t be very long.”

  “Cole, no!” Alaina gasped, clutching his sleeve. “Think of what he can do to us.”

  “It’s all right, Alaina,” he soothed. “Trust me.”

  Her eyes searched his, and though she still trembled, she did not try to hold him. He dropped a light kiss on her forehead and rose, peering inquiringly at Xanthia.

  The red-haired woman nodded and resolved herself to the fact that there was no hope for anything where Cole was concerned.

  After he left the millinery shop, Cole went directly to the sheriff’s office and, finding Martin Holvag on duty, explained bluntly that there was a man in town wanted by the law and requested that the deputy accompany him. With Martin at his side, Cole first checked at the hotels in town and was amazed to find a message addressed to him waiting at the desk in the Stearns House. It was from Jacques, bidding him to come up to his room. Cole wasted no moment in doing just that. His jaw was set, his brow furrowed as he raised his brown knuckles to rap sharply on the door. It was quickly opened by Jacques himself.

  “Ah, good-evening, Doctor Latimer.” The Frenchman’s speech was precise; only a slight hint of a Cajun accent remained. “I see by your presence that your wife told you of our meeting. My apologies that it should have come as a surprise. I assure you it was my intention to contact you and present my credentials so that your fears would be set aside. If you hadn’t come, I would have sent for you.”

  “Indeed?” Cole’s tone was mockingly incredulous.

  Jacques’s gaze flickered past him to Martin’s badge. “Of course, a minion of the law. It is as I expected, and it’s just as well that you are here. Come in, gentlemen. What I have to show you will take only a moment.”

  He closed the door behind them and, lifting his coat from a chair, drew forth a leather bound purse from a pocket, clumsily using his left hand to do so. Cole watched him carefully, noting the gloved hand and, when the long hair brushed aside, the hole in the left ear. Self-consciously Jacques touched the wayward strand into place and flipped open the purse, displaying several officious-looking letters. After waving them briefly beneath Cole’s nose, he handed them to the deputy, then directing the doctor’s attention with a flourish of his hand, he explained them.

  “Just to assure you that I am no longer wanted by the law, gentlemen, these are full pardons from the governor of Louisiana and the Federal officials in that state. And here”—he produced another letter—“is my authority from a Paris-based firm to act as their agent in reviewing possible markets for our wares in this area.” He paused to let them digest the documents and his announcement before arrogantly examining the nails of his left hand. “I assure you both that I am in the best of standing with all parties involved, and everything I do here is of an honorable—and legal—intent. Do you have any questions?”

  Cole was by no means satisfied and studied the man with open suspicion.

  Jacques met his eyes briefly. “In a day or two, Monsieur Doctor Latimer, I will be gone. I have no intentions of returning to this city in the foreseeable future.”

  Cole put it out plainly for the man. “I don’t care if you have a pardon written in stone by God’s own finger. If I catch you on my property or in the immediate vicinity of my wife, I will arrange for your next judgment to be on a much higher level.”

  “You make a threat, monsieur?”

  “No, just a simple statement of what our future relationship will be.”

  Jacques glanced up into the stern face and nodded, pursing his lips. “I think I understand. And considering what has passed, monsieur, how can I blame you. But I only wish to go about my business in peace, and it’s been toward this end that I’ve entertained you.”

  Cole smiled, though there was little humor in it. “Good, and may I wish you a speedy conclusion of whatever business you have in this state.”

  “I shall keep your words in mind, Monsieur Doctor Latimer, and a good-day to you also, Sheriff.” Jacques opened the door in an overt invitation for them to leave.

  “I’m just a deputy, sir,” Martin corrected as he led the way through the portal. “But perhaps you’re only a bit premature.”

  Jacques extended his left hand in a parting gesture to the deputy, but Cole pointedly refrained from exchanging any form of gentlemanly cordiality with the man. Settling his hat on his head, he nodded crisply and followed Martin out.

  It was a silent, tense ride to the Darveys’ where they dropped Carolyn off. The woman had sat across from them all the way from St. Cloud with her lips pursed tightly as she waited for someone to explain the events of the afternoon. Finally in front of the Darvey stoop, Cole relented and, with humor wrinkling the corners of his eyes, confided, “The small man you saw in front of the millinery shop was a blackguard and a scoundrel during the war. His name is Jacques DuBonné, and it was mostly because of him that Alaina had to leave New Orleans.” His arm moved from the back of the seat to his wife’s shoulders. “For that favor, I could almost thank him.”

  Alaina gave him a weak, nervous smile. She had held all her emotions bottled up while Carolyn sat across from them, but the moment the carriage was on the road again, her dismay could no longer be contained.

  “Why did Jacques have to show up now? What if he tells someone that I am a thief, a murderess, even a traitor?” Her questions moaned agonizingly from her. “He’ll see me thrown into prison. Oh, why couldn’t he have just stayed away?” Her voice broke, and she pulled a small handkerchief from her bodice to muffle her sobs.

  All during her tirade Cole had been struggling to free a thick packet of papers from his coat. He unfolded them and smoothed them out on her lap.

  “These should dispel your fears, my love.”

  Baffled, Alaina lifted the papers, blinking back the blinding tears.

  “I just picked them up from Mister James,” Cole informed her as she turned a bewildered, tear-streaked visage to him. He smiled. “It seems that Horace Burr did his job well. He contacted the attorneys that I had retained in Louisiana, and his influence with the Federal courts lent them much assistance.”

  He flipped through the top pages too rapidly for her to see anything but the numerous signatures. “These are sworn depositions from me, from Saul, Doctor Brooks, Mrs. Hawthorne, and various other individuals. But these last are the important ones.” Cole reached the final several pages, which were richly embellished, sealed, and stamped. “Documents from the Governor of Louisiana,” he read, as his fingers traced the words, “Releasing one Alaina MacGaren from any and all charges so leveled while the State of Louisiana was a member of the Confederacy, et cetera.” He turned the page, and his finger pointed out words again as he read in a rapid singsong voice. “From the Union commander of the South Central District. As such charges have been proven false and inappropriate, and since no other evidence of wrongdoing exists, said charges are herein withdrawn and declared null and void. This document to be endorsed by the proper bureau in Washington. And here are the endorsements—” His finger jabbed the stamps and initials at the bottom. “And for your own benefit, madam.” He flipped to the last page. “A letter from one General Taylor while still an acting general of the Confederacy, stating that you were no spy but only on one occasion did you deliver the personal effects of a deceased soldier to him.”

  Cole leaned back in the corner of the seat and pulled out a cigar, savoring its aroma for a moment as he rolled it b
eneath his nose. “I believe, madam, that you are not the villain you portray.”

  Alaina stared at the letters and slowly, sifted through them, seeing signatures through a teary blur.

  GENERAL RICHARD TAYLOR, CSA

  MAJOR C. R. LATIMER, USA SURGEON, RET.

  DOCTOR THADDEUS BROOKS

  GENERAL CLAY MITCHELL, USA SURGEON

  REVEREND P. LYMAN

  And from some unknown judge, the words:

  “Henceforth let it be known that after careful investigation into the matter and with signed affidavits from witnesses of unquestionable integrity, that it has been found that Alaina MacGaren is innocent of the crimes charged against her and that all rewards posted for her capture have been nullified. Attached are letters from witnesses who have sworn before God and under oath that she was wrongly charged of spying and, further, that it was impossible for her to have taken part in the theft of a Federal payroll on the date specified, being at the time in the company of a Federal officer.”

  Alaina frowned. “But these letters from General Taylor—from Saul—they’re dated long ago!”

  “Humhum.” Cole was smug in his pleasure. “Some of them were signed before I left New Orleans. I retained the best Southern lawyers Louisiana could offer in your behalf, and Horace Burr is the most influential attorney in the East. I told Horace exactly what happened, gave him permission to divulge your disguises to possible witnesses, and named those places you frequented.”

  “You told him everthing?” Alaina queried hesitantly.

  “I had to, madam, but I made Horace understand that it was my fault and that you were only trying to save me from a dire fate. Doctor Brooks avowed that he heard about the same story from Roberta’s own lips. But you needn’t worry about Horace Burr spreading rumors. He has been very discreet.

  “So, madam! You may cease your worry that our child may be born in some dismal prison. You are—except for the matter of our marriage—virtually a free woman.”

  Alaina leaned back and laughed, though tears continued to course down her cheeks.

  “As to that bondage, my love,” she choked through laughing sobs, “I would that I be chained to you forever.”

  She fell against his chest as racking sobs of relief completely dissolved her composure. Tenderly Cole held his wife in his arms and utterly enjoyed his role of husband all the way home.

  Chapter 41

  THE month of June was the eighth in Alaina MacGaren Latimer’s scheme of accounting time, and the measure of her accuracy was the ever-growing size of her belly. Long ago she had put away her beautiful gowns and adopted a high-waisted fashion better suited to her advancing condition.

  As the days grew warmer, the countryside took on a lush green hue, and the scent of lilacs and apple blossoms filled the air with a fresh sweetness. The shaded spots of the forest were a lavender carpet of violets broken only by an occasional yellow patch or the fragile white bells of the trillium.

  It was nearing a year since her migration to the north, and letters from the Craighughs were slow in coming. Thus, when a brief note arrived from Leala asking if the Latimers would receive some guests from New Orleans, Alaina was both surprised and elated. Immediately she sent off a dispatch informing her aunt that both she and Cole would be delighted to have company from the South.

  They were awaiting further word from Leala, and on this particular day, the third Monday in the month, Alaina was engaged in sewing a small gown in the parlor when the warning bark of Soldier brought her to her feet and across the room to the front window. She stared in some bemusement as a strange procession came up the drive and halted in front of the house. Martin Holvag’s wagon was in the lead, and behind it came a monstrous black carriage with maroon and gold trim that would have done grace to some head of state. The vehicle was complete with two guards at the rear and a footman beside the driver who guided a four-in-hand team of well-matched, highstepping horses.

  Alaina made her way carefully to the front door and stood behind Miles as the footman knocked on the portal, while the deputy leaned back in the seat of his wagon and watched the proceedings with a strange quirk in his smile.

  Miles peered down his nose as he opened the door for the footman.

  “Is this the residence of Doctor and Mrs. Latimer?” the man inquired stiffly.

  “Indeed it is,” Miles answered just as rigidly.

  The other turned without comment and went to fold down the step of his carriage and open the door. He stood aside as a rather small, portly woman pulled aside her skirts and daintily stepped down.

  “Aunt Leala!” Alaina’s shriek of recognition rang in the foyer, and Miles stood aside just in time to avoid being pushed as Alaina rushed out onto the front porch. Her progress was not as swift as she might have thought, and she met Leala at the top of the steps.

  Alaina’s arms went around the older woman, and before she knew it, she was sniffing back tears of happiness. Then another hand was on her arm, and she looked up.

  “Mrs. Hawthorne!” Alaina fairly gasped. “Great merciful heavens! I never dreamed you would be coming, too!”

  “We just had to come.” Tally stepped back from the enthusiastic embrace and surveyed the young woman. “The suspense was too great, but”—she gazed pointedly at Alaina’s rotund belly—” well worth both the wait and the journey. I was beginning to wonder if I might have been wrong about the whole thing. But I’m glad to see that you and Cole have reconciled your differences. And from what I can see, you two didn’t waste any time.”

  Leala seemed somewhat confused by it all. “I don’t suppose there’ll be an annulment now.”

  Alaina laughed and hugged her aunt affectionately. “I don’t think so, Aunt Leala. We gave up that idea long ago.”

  Leala smoothed the softly curling tresses of her niece. “I hope you’re not angry, Alaina. Your letters said everything was fine, but I just had to know for sure. Roberta complained so much about living up here, I was worried.”

  Alaina gave the other another hug for good measure. “I’ve never been more content, Aunt Leala, and I’m just so happy that you’ve come that I could sit down right here and just giggle with the sheer pleasure of it.”

  Suddenly realizing that Cole probably had not been informed of their guests’ arrival, Alaina turned to tell Miles to fetch him, but found her husband already close behind her.

  “Cole!” Her eyes danced with excitement. “They’re here!”

  “I had guessed as much,” Cole replied with humor. Alaina’s bubbling happiness was infectious. “What with all the screaming that’s been going on out here, how could I not?” He took the proffered hands of both ladies and gave them a warm squeeze of welcome. “Is Angus with you?”

  “No!” Leala’s answer was quick and sharp, then she lowered her gaze as if embarrassed. “No, he—was busy with the store.” She drew a deep breath and, with obvious effort, struggled to be gay. “It’s all going quite well, really. We’re doing even better than before the war.”

  “Ladies?” A tall, handsome, elderly gentleman had descended to the top step of the carriage, and managed at last to gain their attention. “I shall be on my way now. It’s been delightful meeting you, and if we should ever meet again, I shall deem it my good fortune.”

  Alaina turned in wonder to the two women as the grand conveyance went off down the road. “Traveling with strange men, ladies? Tsk! Tsk!”

  “It was Tally’s idea,” Leala insisted, blushing.

  “Of course it was!” Tally proudly declared. “He offered to share his carriage with us since he was coming this way, and I saw no reason to decline. Besides, I have passed the age of impropriety. Anything I do now is legal, moral, and decidedly dull.”

  “Wherever did you meet him?” Alaina laughingly queried.

  “In a hotel in St. Anthony, after we arrived on the steamboat,” Leala rushed to answer.

  “He’s a count, or lord, or some such thing.” Mrs. Hawthorne seemed unimpressed as she shrugged. “
Whatever, a gentleman.”

  Cole smiled as he watched Alaina escort the ladies inside the house, then descended the steps to stand beside Martin’s wagon. After clasping his hand in greeting, the deputy leaned an elbow on the back of the seat and chuckled.

  “The ladies arrived in town this afternoon and came directly to the office to ask where you lived. I had to come out anyway, and the sheriff suggested I escort them. They seem like a pair of fine, genteel Southern ladies.”

  “They are,” Cole agreed, then peered up at the man with a grin. “The feisty one—uh—rather arranged, or at least abetted our marriage.”

  The deputy grew serious as he got down to the real reason for his visit. “We lost another boat on the river, Cole. The Carey Downs this time, and just about the same place.”

  “Strange,” Cole mused. “I can’t understand how they can go to so much trouble hauling those boats up the falls, then run into something on the river.”

  “We lost a couple last year, too,” Martin informed him. “If it wasn’t for the oxcarts and the fur trade, the shipping company would give up going above St. Anthony. We just haven’t found any sign of the boats. Not hide, nor hair, flotsam or anything.”

  Cole delved into conjecture. “If they’re on the bottom, they’ll break up one of these days, and then you’ll find all the evidence you need. I only hope you do as well with Mindy’s uncle.”

  “We found out where he lived. Didn’t discover anything though, only a few letters that seemed to indicate that he came up from somewhere in Missouri before he picked up Mindy, then he wandered this way looking for work in the lumber camps. No kin, except for the girl, and no friends anywhere around. But I intend to get to the bottom of it.”

  “I’ll stop in the next time I’m in town. Until then, I wish you the best of luck, Martin.”

  The deputy tipped his hat, shook out the reins, and guided his team down the lane. Cole stood for a moment watching him go. Martin was intelligent and down-to-earth, much like Carolyn. He had paid little or no heed to the rumors floating about town, and now the gossip was like dead ash on a hearth, no longer of interest to anyone. Yet Martin would be relentless in his pursuit in finding the answers; he was that way. Solid, sturdy, never wavering or fickle. He would make Carolyn Darvey a fine husband.