Chapter 17 #2
He shot her a look, then grabbed a hoof pick. “I can’t give you any guarantees, Morning Fawn. Only that if I leave, I’ll be back eventually.”
They were in the middle of a war. No one could guarantee anything. “I’m going to go tell Lucy.” She jutted out her chin. “Don’t you forget what you promised me the night you came to my room. I’m going to hold you to it.”
Shoes in tow, she hurried to the door before he could object.
“I won’t forget. As long as you don’t have a stall of horses at your beck and call by then.” His voice trailed after her.
Someone ought to sew her mouth shut. Morning Fawn dug her nails into her palms and stomped up the back steps to the main house.
The scent of freshly baked bread wafted from the detached kitchen.
Why in the world had she said all of that?
Holding him to his promises? What kind of forward talk was that?
Trying to tell him he needed to stay around?
She might as well throw herself at the man.
Aunt Judith called from the library office. “Is that you, Beth?”
“Heading out for a walk.” Morning Fawn quickly stepped down the tiled hall to the front, blocking her ears to whatever words followed.
The last thing she wanted was to be dragged into conversation.
She’d only come into the house to avoid Devon’s gaze from the stables.
Or was it a glare? And that comment he’d made about horses.
.. Did he think she was someone whose hand could be purchased?
“Beth?” Her aunt’s voice rang down the hall.
Morning Fawn skedaddled down the front steps and around the corner, away from the stables and toward the barren apple orchard.
Gnarled limbs stretched toward the sky. Farther down the lane and to the right, two slave children ran about with buckets gathering pecans, searching the trampled grass beneath the trees.
“Ouch.” Something sharp poked her toe. She sat down on a flat rock and rubbed her foot. Thistles and wisps of grass clung to her torn stocking.
Devon had loved his wife deeply. How long did it take to get over a love and loss like that?
Morning Fawn swiped her nose. He’d probably felt sorry for her that night in the attic.
His promises had likely been nothing more than an attempt to settle down someone half out of their head on laudanum.
Guilt over his role in bringing her here.
And goodness knows he had plenty to feel guilty about.
But guilt had nothing to do with love or even affection.
Horse hooves clomped toward her, followed by a jingle. She shoved her feet into her shoes and stood.
Thea. Of all people. Atop a palomino quarter horse and wearing a black satin riding habit, her cousin wove her way down the narrow path toward her. Morning Fawn stiffened. She could scurry back to the house, but she wasn’t about to give Thea the satisfaction of seeing her flee.
Sitting tall and proud on her sidesaddle, Thea drew rein. “I’ve had quite a day.” She fanned herself with her hand. The wind fluttered the ostrich feather in her hat and jingled the tiny bells that decorated her horse’s bridle.
“I won’t keep you, then.” Morning Fawn gathered her skirts and pivoted toward a path between the apple trees.
“I’ve been visiting the sick.” Thea nudged her mount forward. “You should try it sometime. Helping others is a balm to the soul.”
As if Thea knew anything about the soul or genuinely caring for anyone other than herself. Morning Fawn halted. “Exactly how did you help?”
Thea beamed. “I went with Beulah Larson and Eva Brown, other members of the Confederate Ladies of Colorado County. Not just anyone can join, you know.” She looked down her nose as if Morning Fawn was one of the anyones.
“We took baskets of baked goods to the poorer soldier families. Their farms look like mud pits. You should see what pitiful hovels they live in. I’m sure our slaves are better provided for.
I shall have to bathe when I return to the house.
” She scrunched up her nose as if she could smell the odor now.
Morning Fawn crossed her arms. “Have you ever been?”
“To where?”
“The slave cabins?”
Thea swatted the dangling ostrich feather away from her cheek. “You know my constitution is too delicate for the air in those places.”
Morning Fawn rolled her eyes. She had better things to do than listen to Thea’s fluff. “Your mother’s in the house if you’re looking for her.”
A crow cawed from a nearby branch.
“I’ll go in soon enough. I wanted to enjoy the fresh air.” She flicked her riding crop at a fly. “Speaking of fresh air, I’m surprised Lieutenant Reynolds didn’t invite you to ride to Alleyton with him today, seeing that neither of you cares about what is proper.”
Morning Fawn stilled. “Dev—the lieutenant went to Alleyton this morning?” Her voice wavered. A mistake.
“Devon?” Thea’s face glowed with an impish grin like the old woman who had lured Hansel and Gretel into her gingerbread house.
“He didn’t tell you? Weren’t you talking to him in the stables a few minutes ago?
When I rode up in the yard, I saw you hurrying out of there, and him standing at the door. ”
“It’s none of my concern where he goes.” She might as well have bared her neck to Thea’s claws for the kill.
“I don’t know. You seem a little concerned.
Do you think he went to see the doctor again?
Or someone else?” If Thea had a tail, it would have switched back and forth like a cat’s while eyeing its prey.
“By the way, just how many men are you on a given-name basis with? First Mr. Moyer, and now the lieutenant?”
Morning Fawn jutted out her chin and pivoted toward the house. “I don’t waste words on busy bodies.”
Thea’s laugh scraped across her nerves all the way back to the house.
“Lieutenant Reynolds says he’ll help.” Morning Fawn ran a brush through her shoulder-blade-length hair. If he’s not too busy having lemonade with Miss Frieda.
The dinner bell rang outside, calling the work day to an end. Newly lit oil lamps flickered, supplementing the gray dusk from the attic window.
Lucy hugged the petticoat she’d dug out of Morning Fawn’s trunk. “But what if Ned ain’t willing? You expecting me to ask him? That ain’t the way it’s supposed to be.”
“How is Ned supposed to ask you if he doesn’t know it’s possible?” Morning Fawn pivoted on the stool where she sat in front of the mirror. “You can tell him how the lieutenant helped save both of you—”
“I’m sure he’s heard. Us slaves know how to get the word around.”
“So it shouldn’t come as a surprise to him that the lieutenant and I are offering to help with a wedding.”
Lucy bit her lip. A raised welt stretched along her jawline, a raw reminder of LeBeau’s blows. How many more marks were on her body? “I don’t know about this whole scheme.”
“You love Ned, don’t you?”
“With all my heart. I’d give anything to be free and have my own little cabin with him. Only, it don’t matter how many times we jump over the broom, it ain’t going to be like that.” Clouds filled Lucy’s usually cheerful expression.
“Someday maybe it will be.” Morning Fawn touched her arm. “All I know is, if you’re going to willingly have Ned in your bed, you got to marry him. That way, you know you’re doing right, regardless of what happens. And you’ll know he’s made his commitment to you. Control what you can.”
Lucy pulled away. “I’ve got little say so about who’s in my bed.”
Morning Fawn shuddered. Were Devon’s suspicions about her uncle correct?
One more reason to despise her uncle. An image of the way Old Owl looked at Eyes-Like-Sky back in the village before Dancing Eagle had claimed her flickered through Morning Fawn’s mind.
She fumbled for words, her voice barely more than a whisper. “But Ned gives you a choice?”
Lucy nodded.
“Then that’s what you can control.” Morning Fawn hugged herself. “Maybe things will change if the Yankees win this war.”
“I’ll believe that when I sees it.” Lucy exhaled and handed the petticoat to Morning Fawn.
“But I believes you’re right. Why wait for someone else to fix things?
” She threw back her shoulders. “I’ll pass on word to Ned.
I’m not going to let Massar LeBeau or no one else tell me who I can marry. I’m willing if Ned is.”
What about herself, rushing to marry for a piece of land? Just like her uncle to think he could control every inch of a person’s life.
Lucy picked up a corset. “Let’s get you ready for dinner, or folks will be wondering what happened to you.”
“I don’t need that thing.” Morning Fawn turned her nose up at the contraption. “Not unless Mr. Moyer decided to pay us an unexpected visit.”
“Mr. Moyer don’t need nothing. You’re wearing this for the lieutenant. The cook tells me he’ll be joining you all for dinner tonight.”
Morning Fawn folded her arms across her chemise. “I don’t care what the lieutenant does.”
“Whys, you was just telling me how he going to help us, and how I should be pleased.”
“Helping you is one thing, and I’m grateful for that if he manages to keep his word.”
“You think he might change his mind?” Lucy’s voice faltered.
“No. I was just shooting my mouth off.” Morning Fawn touched Lucy’s faded sleeve. “Forgive me. I’m sure he’ll help you, regardless of what else he may or may not do.”
Lucy scrunched up her brow. “Why you acting like he done spoiled your cream?”
“He went to Alleyton this morning. Spent the day there and didn’t mention a word of it to me.”
“And why should he?” Lucy urged Morning Fawn to her feet, facing her. “He inspected the cotton gin yesterday and didn’t say a word then, did he?”
“I told you what’s in Alleyton.” Morning Fawn sucked in a breath as Lucy hooked up the corset front and the whale baleen tightened around her ribs.
“So you goin’ yell at him or have a conniption fit? Give him a piece of your mind? You think that will win him over? You think that’s what this Miss Frieda did when he showed up at her house today?”