When Silence Sings

by Sarah Loudin Thomas

  Mack leaned back in his chair and blew out an exaggerated sigh. “I wanted him to come to Cincinnati with me, but he claimed he had other business to attend to. Sounds like that business might have been in Thurmond.” Mack sat forward again. “You know, with Colman Harpe hanging around, I wonder if the pair of them might not be cooking something up. Colman’s people don’t trust him anymore, and with him taking Ivy to the Dunglen . . . well, it seems suspicious.”

  Serepta frowned. It was befuddling that Colman had been so ready to take Ivy to Thurmond, and that Jake should be there at the same time. Still, she couldn’t quite think what scheme they might have up their sleeves. Even if Jake wanted to undermine her power by siding with the Harpe clan, they wouldn’t allow Caleb’s murderer to join them. Unless Jake and Colman were up to something neither clan would like.

  “I have much to think about,” she said. “I’ll put Emmaline to bed and then retire myself. Will you still be here in the morning?”

  Mack reached across the table and patted her hand. The gesture was so unusual between them that Serepta nearly jerked her hand away. The tenderness of it cracked her heart.

  “Charlie is gone,” she blurted.

  “I heard about that, too.” Mack looked sad. “I’m sorry, Mother. I know he’d been with you a long time.”

  She stood, pulling her hand out of reach as she did so. “And now that he is not, I will need your help more than ever.”

  “You shall have it,” Mack said.

  Serepta nodded, then herded a drowsy Emmaline upstairs. She thought she should be comforted by her son’s statement . . . and yet she felt cold and alone instead.

  The cabin had seen better days. Even so, it felt like a place where he belonged as soon as he walked inside. It was little more than a single room with a fireplace in one end and a narrow iron bedstead in the other. He tested the thin mattress with one hand and was surprised to find it acceptable. Ivy walked with them to see the cabin, and she flitted about like a moth talking about chairs and a table and kitchen things. Hoyt finally rounded her up, handed Colman a bundle with blankets and a flint, thumped him on the shoulder, and left him in peace.

  After making his bed and laying a fire for the morning, Colman settled on the crooked porch to watch twilight fall. In town he would have tuned out the cacophony around him—people, animals, machines, and most of all trains. But here the sounds invited him to sit and take them in. Crickets, a nearby brook, the scurry of tiny feet hurrying home, a sighing breeze, and maybe, just maybe, he could hear the stars flickering to life.

  Then he heard a more certain sound. Footsteps coming slow and tentative. Like someone was hurt or maybe sneaking along. He eased to his feet and moved to where he could press his back against the side of the cabin. There was just enough light to see the shape of a man separate from the trees and head for the porch. He stopped at the slab of fieldstone serving as a step and took a deep breath as though he’d been a long time getting here. Colman wondered if the gambling man had finally made his way home.

  “This your place?” Colman kept his voice low. The man jumped like he’d been snakebit.

  “Who’s there?”

  That voice . . . from where did Colman know it? “I was planning to spend the night here, but if the place is yours . . .”

  The man turned toward him and peered into the twilight. “Colman Harpe?”

  That was where he knew the voice—Jake McLean. “You’re a long way from where I saw you last.”

  Jake took a step closer. “So are you. ’Course, this time you’re the one who’s strayed from home. Thought maybe you’d gone back to Thurmond to stay—give up on converting folks around here.”

  “Not yet.”

  “Hunh. I’m starting to wonder if we’re worth the trouble myself.”

  Colman walked out and sat on the edge of the porch again. He guessed he was supposed to want Jake dead, but after seeing the man help save two women and a child from a fire, he was mostly curious. “That was a narrow escape back at the Dunglen.”

  Jake settled on the porch about ten feet away. Tension thrummed the air, yet there also seemed to be a truce. “Which escape would that be? From the fire or from Webb Harpe?”

  “I’ll admit I was surprised by both.”

  Jake laughed but without mirth. “Yeah. If I’d stopped to think, I doubt I’d have risked my skin to pull those gals out of there. But I heard that baby cry and . . .” Colman could hear the shrug. “Then I reckon Webb missed me a-purpose. Can’t say why.”

  Colman let silence settle before speaking. “There’s a fair chance that young’un’s his grandson.”

  When Jake spoke next there was a tightness—a thickness—to his voice. “Caleb’s boy?”

  “Seems a fair guess considering where Caleb spent his time and the thatch of red hair the child was born with.”

  “You don’t say.” This time neither man broke the silence, until finally Jake stirred and fished the makings for a cigarette out of his pocket. “Mack set that fire.”

  Colman jerked at the unexpected comment. “Why would he do that?”

  Jake finished rolling his cigarette and flicked a match aflame against his fingernail. He took a puff and exhaled. “I been thinking on that. The thing is . . . he might’ve known I was holed up there.”

  Colman kept his peace. No need to admit he’d known as much himself.

  “The fire started right outside the room I was sleeping in.” He shifted and inhaled smoke deep into his lungs, coughing a little as he let it out. “I ain’t been sleeping so good. Bad dreams. Just so happens I woke up in time to smell gasoline and cracked the door open right before Mack threw the match.”

  Colman nodded but didn’t say anything.

  “Guess maybe Mack wants to be next in line if anything happens to the queen of the McLeans.” His voice twisted at the end. “Looks like your uncle and his men aren’t the only ones who want me dead.”

  Colman pondered Jake’s words. He didn’t like the man, but right now he felt sorry for him. And maybe he felt a touch of empathy. He didn’t think anyone was trying to kill him, but neither was he entirely welcome in either the Harpe or the McLean camp. He was an outsider in both places. “Sounds like you’re in a tough spot.”

  Jake laughed, then choked on smoke as he stubbed out the glowing cigarette on the edge of the porch. “That I am. You want to know the worst of it?”

  Colman angled himself toward Jake and leaned against the rough post holding up the roof. “Sure. Since we’re getting on to be friends here in the dark.”

  “Mack’s pulling the wool over Ma’s eyes.”

  Colman felt his own eyes widen in the deepening night. Was Jake betraying his family? Well, why not? They hadn’t exactly watched out for him. “What do you mean?”

  “She thinks he’s helping her with the business, but I heard from Alden at the hotel that Mack’s been talking to some of the high rollers who come through there about natural gas. Says coal’s on the way out and he knows where they can get their hands on a well that won’t run out maybe ever.”

  “He telling the truth?”

  Jake leaned back and tilted his head toward the stars blanketing the sky. “Probably. The fellas he’s trying to team up with wouldn’t take kindly to being lied to.”

  “Neither would Serepta.”

  “Ain’t that the truth. Thing is, I can’t figure out where Mack’s getting his bankroll. He’s been living high, showing off for the big wheels. Ma sure wouldn’t give him that kind of money. And if he stole it, she’d know in about thirty seconds.”

  Colman looked at the stars too, marveling at this unlikely conversation. “Jake, did you come out here looking for me? Did you think I might could help you figure things out?”

  Jake blew out a puff of air. “Crossed my mind. When I saw you back there at the Dunglen, it came to me that you’re about the only person who goes back and forth between Thurmond and Hinton without folks taking offense. People trust preachers.”


  “Some do. Not sure it’s always a good idea. The question is, can I trust you? I’m not quite over that time you knocked me on the head.”

  Jake was silent for a moment. Then he asked, “How drunk was I?”

  “What?”

  “I don’t quite recollect knocking you on the head, so I guess I must have been awful drunk.”

  “How should I know? You snuck up and threw an old sack over my head first.”

  “Well now, you must have me mixed up with somebody else. I’d remember doing that, and if I was drunk I know I couldn’t sneak up on your eagle ears.”

  Colman snorted. “It was up on the ridge above the creek near Ivy’s place. I was sitting up there when you came along, threw a bag over my head, and knocked me cold. When I came to—” he paused—“Webb was there and said he’d chased you off.”

  “Are you funning me?”

  Colman shook his head. “No, but I’m starting to wonder if Webb was funning me.”

  “How’s that?”

  “He got after me about helping him track you down. Said something about wanting vengeance and ‘some of what Serepta McLean’s got.’” Colman thought back through the encounter. “That’s when I started trying to get on the right side of the folks around here, hoping they could tell me something I could pass on to Webb.”

  Jake guffawed. “You mean like Nell McLean? Watch out. If that girl sets her cap for you, it won’t matter if you’re a Harpe or not.”

  “That’s not the point. Point is, you say you weren’t there, and I know Webb was.”

  Jake sobered. “You think he bushwhacked you? Why would he do that?”

  “To get me to do what he wanted. Webb’s always known how to get under a person’s skin. He threatened my father.”

  “His own brother?”

  “Well, you think your own brother tried to burn you out.”

  Jake shifted. “Guess blood ain’t always thicker than water. We know why Webb would want vengeance, but what d’you think he would want from my mother?”

  “Power.”

  Jake nodded. “Just like Mack.”

  Colman ignored that. “Funny thing is, I could swear I heard two men when they dropped that burlap bag over my head.”

  chapter

  twenty-seven

  Serepta didn’t make a habit of expressing her appreciation, but she was so grateful for the calm, steadying presence of Ivy that she squeezed the other woman’s hand and said, “Thank you for coming.”

  Ivy took the gesture in stride, likely accustomed to kindness. “I’m glad to have Emmaline to take care of again. I’m missing that babe of Maggie’s.”

  Serepta pinched her lips and left the pair to collect baskets and go berry picking before the sun was too bright for Ivy. She said the blackberries were thick and it would be fun for them to bring back enough for a pie or some jelly. Fun. When was the last time Serepta had any of that?

  She spent the morning going over production numbers for the mines on the C&O’s Loup Branch line. They’d built the branch to make it easier to get the coal out of the mines along the creek. She was worried the Meadow Fork mine was played out but had high hopes for the Prudence and Red Star mines. Maybe she’d send Mack to observe the operations and make recommendations about possible improvements.

  Taken with that idea, she gathered some notes and went in search of her son. He’d worked at his desk on the far side of the room for a time that morning but had disappeared an hour or so ago. She ghosted through the house, hoping he hadn’t left. She wanted to move forward with her idea right away.

  Voices from the kitchen drew her.

  “And the leaves make a tea that’s wonderful for a sore throat.” That was Ivy speaking.

  Mack responded, “You sure do know a lot about plants.”

  Serepta peered through a crack on the hinge side of the door. Her son stood close to Ivy while Emmaline dug into a bowl of berries and cream, her mouth stained purple along with her fingers. Ivy flushed, giving her pale cheeks a hint of color. Mack reached up and brushed a finger along her jawline. Serepta jerked as if he’d touched her. Ivy froze.

  “You know you’re special,” Mack said.

  Ivy moved away and busied herself gathering ingredients for what looked like piecrust. “There’s not much special about me. Different maybe, but not special.”

  Mack stood and watched her. “There’s a great deal special about you. You’re kind, knowledgeable about plants and cures, you’re gentle . . . and you’re lovely.”

  Ivy looked like she’d dabbed circles of rouge on her cheeks. “Mack McLean, you stop talking like that. I know when I’m being buttered up. You just want some of this pie when it’s done.” She reached over and wiped Emmaline’s face with a rag. “Child, you’re going to need a good scrubbing.” Emmaline giggled and scooped up the last bite of berries.

  “I’ve always thought highly of you—even when we were children,” Mack went on. “You know that.”

  Ivy stopped her bustling and got a faraway look. “I know you were kind to me when hardly anyone else was.” She looked sad. “It’s only natural that children tease someone who looks . . . different.” She raised her eyes to gaze at Mack. “But you never teased me. You even stood up for me a time or two.”

  Mack shrugged. “I might have been given a hard time once or twice myself. Jake was always the golden boy, and when you prefer reading and studying to running with the other fellows . . . well, I guess I had some notion of how it felt to be left out.”

  Ivy reached over with floury fingers and gripped Mack’s hand. “Thank you for being kind.” She laughed when she realized she’d dusted Mack’s hand with flour. “But you don’t have to defend me anymore. I’m a grown woman, and there’s no need for idle flattery.”

  Mack turned his hand and twined his fingers with hers. “You are a grown woman, and it’s not idle flattery.”

  Emmaline chose that moment to hop off her stool and nearly topple a basket of berries from the table. Ivy lunged to catch it, and whatever spell Mack was weaving broke. Serepta watched long enough to be certain the tête-à-tête was over before making her way back down the hall. Now she had more reason than ever to send Mack to check on those mines.

  The next morning, Colman left Jake snoring on the floor of the cabin, tangled in a worn quilt. He’d used the house before as a sort of hideaway when he needed to sleep off a drunk. He’d been sober enough the night before but seemed exhausted. In the light of day he looked as gaunt and hollowed out as Colman had been when he’d emerged from the cave. It was almost enough to make a man feel sorry for him.

  Making his way to the Gordon cottage, Colman had the notion that if Ivy were still looking after that orphan child Serepta took in, tagging along might be his way to speak to the woman. Of course, if Ivy offered him breakfast, that wouldn’t hurt his feelings.

  He crossed the creek and saw smoke curling up from the chimney, and he heard the promising clack of a spoon against a bowl.

  “Halloo,” he called as he drew near. After a moment, Hoyt appeared in the open doorway and waved him over.

  “You turn up as regular as a hungry hound dog.”

  Colman grinned. “Now that I have my appetite back, I aim to take advantage of the fact. Who’s cooking this morning?”

  “We’re having blackberries and cream along with last night’s leftover biscuits. If you was looking for meat, you’re out of luck this morning.”

  “I’ve learned not to be particular when I barge in uninvited.”

  “Wise man,” Hoyt said, following Colman inside.

  Ivy’s smile was like the song of a bluebird on the first day of spring. Colman felt his own smile widen in response. Dang if she didn’t look awful pretty this morning.

  “I knew I made extra for a reason,” she said. “You’re a pleasure to feed now that you’re hale and hearty again.”

  Colman puffed his chest out a notch, pleased by her comment. “You headed over to the McLean place today?”

&nb
sp; “That I am. Emmaline and I have blackberry jam to make.”

  “Mind if I tag along?”

  The smile dimmed. “No, I suppose not. But do you think Serepta will be glad to see you?”

  Colman sat at the table and accepted the bowl of fruit Hoyt passed to him. “If I’m going to be a proper preacher, I need to visit folks in the community. Seems like Serepta’s house is a fine place to start.”

  Hoyt butted in. “I thought you already started over at Lena’s place. On a day when Nell’s daddy weren’t around to mind, as I heard it.”

  Colman made a face like his first bite of berries had been sour. “You know they invited me to dinner, so I went.”

  Hoyt nodded. “Un-huh. And sweet Nell’s been talking you up ever since.”

  Colman flushed. “I can’t help what people say.”

  “True enough,” Hoyt agreed.

  “Grandpa, stop teasing Colman,” Ivy said. “If he wants to come visit Serepta, I’m proud of him. Goodness knows she needs some kindness and understanding.”

  The pleasure Colman felt in her praise quickly faded. His intent wasn’t to be kind or understanding. He wanted that infernal woman to see the error of her ways so he could count this job done and go home. He had the uncomfortable feeling that might not have been God’s intent in sending him.

  Hoyt huffed and sloshed coffee into Colman’s cup. “Girl, you always did have a knack for seeing the best in everybody.”

  Ivy smiled. “I’d rather look for the best. The worst usually makes itself known soon enough.”

  Colman shook his head. The woman was a wonder. And if he were being honest, he would have to admit that coming here had a fair amount to do with his spending time in the same room with Ivy.

  “Finish your breakfast. The car from Walnutta will be here any minute. You can ride with us over there.”

  Colman used a biscuit to push berries and cream onto his spoon. Serepta sent a car, did she? He wondered who would be driving now that Charlie was gone. The thought of Charlie soured his mood briefly, but he reminded himself that Serepta’s treatment of her only ally was one more reason he needed to win her to faith. Maybe she’d repent of her actions and bring the hired man back.