Sacred Terrain (Traveled Hearts Series Book 2)

by Veronica Mahara

  Caleb met the rest of Jessica’s family in September—June’s brother, Austin, his wife, Laura, their daughter, Sophie, her husband, Carl, and their two lively sons, who had asked Caleb all kinds of silly questions about Indians. He was amused and, at the same time, hoped he wouldn’t have to endure too many visits with them. He shied away from Sophie’s exuberance and turned to Burt. “Has Miss Messing joined you tonight?”

  “Yes, yes, she’s right over there,” Sophie interrupted. “You’ll have to wait a while before you get a turn with her. Well, I must go find my husband. Some of us will always have a dance partner.” She left as dramatically as she had appeared, the sound of her billowing dress like a sharp wind through dry leaves. June excused herself, and soon they had both disappeared into the crowd.

  Feeling a bit sheepish, Caleb turned to Burt. “I have a confession to make. I don’t know how to dance.”

  “Why, a young, handsome man like yourself, never learning how to dance? I’m sure there’s been more than one lady who persuaded you out on the floor.” Burt chuckled.

  Caleb didn’t want to think back to the “ladies” he had known. This crowd would be less than welcoming to him if they knew the man he truly was. He pulled at his collar. “Nope, I guess I haven’t led that life since leaving home. I’m afraid my memory will fail me, though I would love to take a turn with your niece.”

  “She’s coming this way. You’d better polish your dancing shoes.” And with that, Burt stood aside.

  “Hello, Miss Messing.” Caleb felt his heart pounding in his chest. She was radiant. Her complexion glowed under the many gas lamps and candles, her lips and cheeks flushed from dancing, and her skin softly glistened on her open neckline, which rose and fell with every breath. He stood still, captivated by her.

  “Hello, Mr. Cantrell. You know our housemaid and friend, Mrs. Rolland.”

  He came out of his daze. “Yes, hello, Mrs. Rolland. You look well tonight. I mean, both of you ladies look exceptional.”

  For all the ease he had come to know with her over the past many months, Caleb stumbled in his efforts to remain calm and nonchalant in this most formal, pressure-filled moment. His throat tightened. He reminded himself of the many times he had looked death in the face and had come out victorious. Why is this so difficult? But it was, and he was about to get in deeper. He stood even straighter and extended his hand. “Would you like to dance, Miss Messing?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Jessica found Caleb’s awkwardness charming. She curtsied and he bowed as the music prepared the dancers for a waltz.

  It wasn’t the most fluid waltz, but it was somewhat graceful. He held her petite hand with confidence, and his long arm bent to accommodate hers. They went around and around the dance floor as if they were one. She found the courage to look up at him and caught his seductive eyes looking back at her. He drew her closer, and her hand slipped over his shoulder and toward his neck. Warning herself not to feel anything for him, she couldn’t help but be swept up in his closeness. A swirl of her skirt, a tilt of her head, the room spun. Oh, Jacob, why have you left me in such a vulnerable state?

  All too soon, the music ended. Jessica curtsied as he bowed. He led her off the dance floor to where another man stood, eager to take his place. Jessica found herself once again being swept about the ballroom, but not to the elevated state she had just been taken to. The music ended, and her partner escorted her off the floor and to her uncle. He wasn’t alone. Caleb stood beside him. She sensed his eagerness. It touched her heart in a delicious and exciting way. She blamed her state of emotions on the atmosphere and mood in the hall, festive and light, buzzing with conversation, a touch of romance filling the expansiveness. Caleb came closer to her and she froze.

  “Would you like to join me, Miss Messing, for some fresh air?”

  His playful formality amused her and she relaxed. Nevertheless, she felt cautious. Catching her uncle’s eye, she asked him if he would join them.

  “No, no. You two go along without me. My bones don’t care for the cool night.”

  She accepted Caleb’s arm, and they weaved through the crowd. The noise receded and the light changed. Winding paths led to various gardens on the grounds of City Hall. Benches sat among the greenery. In summertime, it was a burst of reds, pinks, and purples, but on this December night, the light of the full moon created reflections and shadows. Caleb gestured to a bench away from the other couples. Jessica sat, arranged her gown, and then looked up to admire the sky. She dared not move as she brought her gaze back to the bench. Caleb was as close as the material spread over the seat would allow.

  “I enjoyed our dance, but I prefer this.” He took her hand in his, the surreal light catching his fair features. The warmth of his touch sent goose bumps over her flesh. He leaned in closer. “May I kiss you?”

  She pulled away. “Excuse me, I feel chilled.” The layers of her green taffeta swished and swayed as she hurried back to the hall.

  Coming to the entrance, she brushed away a tear. How did she let it get this far? The noise of the crowd accosted her, and she held back from entering. Suddenly, Caleb was there, taking her arm. “I’m sorry, Mr. Cantrell, but. …” Her uncle rushed up beside them, cutting her short.

  “Jessica, there’s been an accident.” Burt’s face was flushed.

  “What is it? What’s happened?” Jessica braced herself for his answer.

  “It’s Kevin Rolland.” Burt struggled to get the words out. “He got caught in a shoot-out somewhere on the city docks. He’s been killed.”

  Stunned, Jessica could not move. His words made no sense.

  “Let me take you to Mrs. Rolland,” Caleb said. He steered her through the crowd.

  The interfering throng of noisy people made their search difficult, but they finally glimpsed Hannah outside, on her knees, with Sam, Frederick’s driver, crouched beside her. Jessica turned to Caleb when a group of curious onlookers blocked their way. June, Sophie, and her husband, Carl, were now alongside them as they all pushed their way to the front. To Jessica’s relief, once they reached Hannah, Caleb helped them to Burt’s carriage. Before she entered the cab, Jessica looked back at him. He acknowledged her and she returned a meek smile, then her attentions were on the shocked widow.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Clermont City Cemetery–December 1887

  Kevin Rolland’s body lay in state at the Dupree Funeral Home in Clermont City. The mortuary owner himself had prepared the body. It wasn’t an easy task. Clothing could hide neither the marks on his face and hands from the horse that had trampled him, nor the bruises and knife marks from the thugs who had robbed him. The owner of the funeral home, and his staff, did their best but eventually suggested a closed casket ceremony.

  Frederick Moore paid for the casket, it’s transportation to Clermont City, and the burial plot in the small cemetery beside the church. It seemed as suitable a place as any. Hannah had always believed she and Kevin would be buried in England, but the expense was great and the thought of him being so far away changed her mind.

  Hannah was resigned to it. “I should be grateful to Mr. Moore. After all, it’s not the poorman’s cemetery. I can hold my head high when I visit him.”

  ~

  On the day of the funeral, Caleb volunteered to accompany Jessica and Hannah. Jessica was happy to have him there. His presence calmed her. He helped June into the carriage first, then Hannah, and lastly, Jessica. She felt his hand squeeze hers. She caught his eyes, understanding and compassionate. Once Caleb secured the door, the women waited for him to join Burt at the reins. The carriage jerked, and the spoked wheels kicked up the pebbles in the circular drive as Burt steered the double-horse carriage toward the church. Hannah sat very still, a blank look in her puffy, red-rimmed eyes. Jessica felt helpless in consoling her. A winter chill raised the hair on her arms. She brought her shawl tighter around her dark waistcoat, then placed her hand over Hannah’s. “Are you warm enough?” Hannah returned an empty stare. Jessica b
rought the blanket on Hannah’s lap closer to her waist. She looked at her aunt, who shook her head and sighed.

  “Life has such travails, my dear. I pray that your heart will be able to carry this burden.” June’s sentiment lingered in the cool, damp air as their bodies moved with the rocking motion of the carriage. Although it was a solemn moment, Jessica could still feel Caleb’s deliberate touch. Her hand slid over her glove, and a flutter went through her stomach. She brought her attention back to Hannah. This wasn’t the time to indulge in such thoughts or feelings.

  Sam stood stoically, but for wringing his cap in his hands. Hannah threw a handful of dirt onto her husband’s casket as the bright sun lit up her tear-filled eyes. Her round shoulders heaved under a black, woolen overcoat. Jessica held on to her, and the two women wept as they watched Kevin being lowered to his final resting place. From the church gravesite, Jessica spied Frederick’s carriage parked away from the others, yet the man was nowhere in sight. She inhaled a ragged breath. Perhaps he would watch from a distance.

  The priest recited another blessing, they said another prayer, then the small group slowly walked back to the poorly lit rectory, where a meager offering of cheese, bread, and wine waited on an old table. Hannah sat down on one of the few chairs, her head lowered. The heaviness of the room weighed on Jessica, with its stained-glass windows giving somber light through thick, dusty, green-and-red panes, the smell of frankincense clouding the air. She stayed close to Hannah, ready to comfort her in any way she could. The rest of the group gathered uneasily, allowing themselves a bit of wine, but no one touched the food. The priest entered from a narrow door at the end of the room. He offered Hannah a small Bible, then whispered a prayer above her. He left as quietly as he had appeared. Jessica shivered at the sight of his black robe disappearing behind the door that led back into the church.

  Her eyes roamed around the room. They were a mournful group. Sam stood by the door fidgeting, his attention on the entrance. Nervous about who he might be expecting, she took a step in his direction, but before she could ask him, a sharp ray of daylight pierced the room as the door opened, revealing two figures. Frederick Moore stood with his wife, Annabelle, just behind him. They entered, and the door slammed shut. Jessica closed her eyes briefly. Guarded, she watched her ex-husband approach the young widow. “I’m sorry for your loss, Hannah,” he said, his English accent as regal as ever.

  Hannah raised her head. “Thank you, Mr. Moore.” He reached into his overcoat and gave her an envelope. “May I? It’s a small amount, and I know it doesn’t make up for your circumstances, but I would like you to have it.” He took her hand and placed the thick envelope into it.

  “Thank you, sir. Thank you for taking care of my Kevin, with the casket and all.” She clasped the envelope and bowed her head, staring at the floor. Frederick stood up.

  It was the first time Jessica laid eyes on the man since their dramatic meeting when she had made a deal with him for his silence about her relationship with Jacob, when he had nearly raped her. She pressed her hand to her cheek and steadied her breath as she relived the memory of him seething with revenge, his hands all over her, his breath marked by alcohol, and her fear of him taking his anger to a horrible conclusion. She shook her head to unhinge the memory. You are safe. His hazel eyes and handsome face, crowned by wavy hair and a trimmed beard, lacked the formidable presence she once feared. His cologne filled the air with a pungent scent of bayberry and lime. At one time, this larger-than-life figure would have ruled over her, but now she wondered why she hadn’t left him sooner. It made the day even more unreal.

  His new wife, Annabelle, stood at the door, her purse clasped in both hands in front of her full skirt. Jessica looked at her and received a squinty-eyed glare. When she was married to Frederick and visited him in his office at the bank, she would first have to greet Annabelle. She came to think of the receptionist as a rather plain-looking woman with mousy-brown hair and eyes that held a lack of curiosity about the world around her. Today, however, she looked quite elegant, dressed in a rich, deep-blue dress covered by a long, matching, cutaway coat made of the fabric one sees in the finer shops in New York City. Her hair was swept under a round-brimmed hat adorned with pearls and peacock feathers. Every inch of her stated she was the wife of a wealthy man. I wonder how she’s being treated beyond all that frippery? The thought vanished as Frederick extended his hand to her.

  Receiving his hand took effort. Barely touching his fingers, she swiftly withdrew.

  “My condolences, Jessica.”

  She acknowledged him with a slight nod. The room suddenly felt very crowded, and she sorely wanted to leave.

  “Hello, Frederick,” said Burt. “It was kind of you to arrange things, although June and I would have taken it on if asked.”

  “I felt it was my duty, Burt. Kevin was a dutiful and valuable servant, not to mention a decent man.” Frederick’s well-polished politeness made Jessica queasy, and Hannah gave an audible sob.

  “Well, it was mighty good of you.” Burt turned away and poured himself a small glass of wine.

  When Frederick turned to greet her aunt, Jessica silently willed June to hold her views of him in check.

  “Mrs. Stanford,” he said with a slight bow.

  Looking up at the tall man and directly into his eyes, her aunt said in a low, strong voice, “I’m biting my tongue, Mr. Moore.”

  “Thank you, June,” Frederick said without apology. He turned to Caleb. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Frederick Moore, Jessica’s former husband.”

  Jessica closed her eyes for a moment, wishing she could disappear. She turned her attentions to Hannah. “Let’s go home.” Taking Hannah’s arm, she helped her up and they walked to the door.

  The others soon followed, her uncle arranging the seating. “Caleb, I feel the ladies may need your comfort. June doesn’t mind riding alongside me.” Jessica furrowed her brow. What was he up to? Once inside the carriage, she held Hannah’s hand while she peered out of the open door. To her chagrin, she saw that Frederick had pulled Caleb aside. Their conversation looked pleasant enough, but dread soon filled her when Caleb’s face showed concern.

  “You’re hurting my hand, Jessica,” she heard Hannah say in a faint voice. Jessica quickly loosened her grip and apologized. Then, as the two men parted, she heard Frederick say in a very clear voice, “I would be very careful if I were you.” Caleb’s brows turned in, and there were no friendly departing words or a handshake between the two men.

  The ride back to the house was quiet. Jessica gave Caleb a smile. He returned it with a stare. What poison had Frederick unleashed? She came forward. “Mr. Moore and you seemed to be having a nice conversation. I can’t imagine what he would have to say to you. Perhaps another one of his investment ventures? I suppose he—”

  “Nothing I want to share at the moment.” His sharp reply raised her suspicions.

  Resting back in her seat, she searched his eyes. “I see. Perhaps after dinner?”

  “No, I’m afraid I must be getting home. There’s still enough light of day to work in.”

  She turned to the window. This melancholy day just got darker.

  ~

  Caleb sat on his front porch and lit a cigarette, stunned by Frederick’s comments. He reeled at the thought of having to give Jessica up after these many weeks of courting. He had warned himself not to get involved with her. Now his intuition had been validated. Recalling his conversations with Jacob couldn’t bring to memory any talk about a particular woman. He had thought of Jacob as a man who had lost love, rather than one who hadn’t found it yet.

  So, Jessica and Jacob … together. Was it the imaginings of a vengeful husband? He would have to find the truth. He bent head. How was he going to reconcile his own love for her with this knowledge? He told himself to wait patiently for the rest of the story to unfold.

  Walking to his unfinished barn, he tried to make good on his statement to work before nightfall. When that failed, he wa
lked down to the river. He watched the ducks by the cold water’s edge, diving for food. A wind rushed the tall grasses, and they came alive with sound. Nature embraced him, and his peace was upon him at last. Closing his eyes, he thanked the spirits for the land he was fortunate enough to borrow.

  When his thoughts veered back to Jessica, he lost his ground and felt adrift. How did he let a woman get under his skin like this? For years, he had dodged all sorts of affairs and never once had he let himself feel anything beyond the satisfaction of a soft, warm body or the company of a woman’s mind and opinions. Why her? He pulled back his shoulders. He’d have to stay detached, as was his custom. His mind told him to walk away and avoid heartache.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Cursing Frederick, Jessica was determined her ex-husband would not intrude in her life. Had he broken their deal? His deviousness was out of her control. Looking out her bedroom window, she contemplated why it mattered whether Caleb knew about her and Jacob. He was just a friend, and she was confident he would keep such a revelation to himself. Then suddenly, a sadness came over her. Not the usual feelings in her longing for Jacob. This was different. Ever since she took that first walk with Caleb, she fought to deny any emotions other than friendship toward him. Today, the thought of never seeing him again made her anxious, and truly sad. Changing into her riding clothes, she hurried to the stables and saddled up Georgia. Without disturbing the household, she rode up to Rail River Acres.

  As Caleb’s sturdy home came into sight, she slowed. “We’ll just have to be brave, girl,” she said to Georgia as she stopped just yards from the timber-framed home. Dismounting, she secured the reins to a nearby tree. His own horse was out to pasture. She stepped on the front porch, the smell of cedar sharp in her nostrils. A gust of wind and the door came ajar, she peeked inside.

  “Hello?” she asked meekly. She opened it farther. “Caleb?”