Chapter 36
Morning Fawn’s toes dug into the damp sand.
White foam lapped at the hem of her burgundy gown.
She’d be happy to shed the garment and never see it again—only, she had nothing else to wear.
After they’d dropped off Lucy in Alleyton, Nick had packed a trunk of his belongings, and they’d driven through the night to Eagle Lake, caught the train there, then transferred in Houston to the Galveston train, moving toward the future she didn’t want at coal-powered speed.
Upon their arrival late yesterday afternoon, Nick had ordered a tailor shop to make her two dresses double quick.
She could only hope they’d take a month.
Surely, something could be thought of by then.
He’d purchased underclothing from a general store and ordered a pair of sturdy shoes from a cobbler, all part of filling her sea trunk.
Dear God, she could not do this. How could she marry a man she didn’t love, didn’t even like?
She glanced back at Lawrence and Guthrie. Were those first or last names? She still wasn’t sure, but when Nick wasn’t present, at least one of them or both followed her everywhere she went.
Various vessels dotted the Gulf. She’d gaped in awe when she’d taken her first walk by the docks last night.
Towering schooners, steamers with their angry smoke stacks, and sloops.
Nick had told her all of the proper names, but she’d just stared.
And that was just the wharf. Never in her life had she seen so many people, and there were hundreds of city blocks filled with more buildings and houses than she ever imagined possible.
A world as foreign to her as the surface of the moon.
The wide open space of the beach was the only place she could breathe.
She glanced toward the road. Dressed in a dark suit, Nick strode toward them.
Her shoulders tensed. A paper hung from his hand.
News of Devon? She lifted her skirts and pattered toward him.
Dear Lord, please let it be good. She’d lain awake, tossed between prayer and worry the past two nights, fighting for the faith of which Devon had spoken.
Nick removed his hat. His face gave no clue. He handed her the folded paper.
Her hands shook as she opened the one-page newspaper. Huge black letters blared at her. Prison Break. Yankee Spy Escapes…
She uttered a cry and dropped to her knees. Thank You, Lord. Thank You. She clutched the paper to her chest. Tears trickled down her cheeks. The Lord had heard her prayers. Devon was safe. Or almost safe. Her sacrifice had made a difference. Now he had to stay free. Stay alive.
She quickly scanned the paper. It was dated this afternoon.
The escape had been yesterday morning. He and his accomplices hadn’t been captured yet, although several Unionists in Alleyton had been rounded up for questioning and a few had been jailed.
But the writer assured the reader that state militia and Confederate cavalry were hot on the Yankee’s trail.
The next edition promised a sketch of the wanted man and, very likely, his recapture.
Nick stuck his hands in his trouser pockets and studied her. “If he has any brains, he’ll get out of Texas.”
Swiping her cheeks, she struggled to stand.
He held out his hand to her. She took it without thinking, the band of his jeweled ring pressing against her fingers.
She pulled her hand away as soon as she gained her feet. A new idea struck her. “They rescued him before he started for San Antonio. They didn’t do it your way.” Hope trembled within.
He snorted. “They used the information you sent them by way of the slave girl I bought to be our messenger. Bought and set free, mind you. A thousand dollars gone. Without that, his Unionist buddies would have had no idea he was about to be moved, and no clue of how to break him out of the jail. So don’t you try to weasel out of your word, Morning Fawn. I upheld my end of the deal.”
The name grated on her nerves. “My name is Beth to you.” She turned and walked off, back to the cool, wet sand.
She had no desire to hear him rattle off the possible consequences of her breaking her word.
He wouldn’t be above reporting Lucy as an escaped slave or telegraphing the authorities where Devon might be.
Risks she wasn’t willing to take. She might have failed Eyes-Like-Sky all of those years ago, but she wouldn’t fail Devon or Lucy.
Several minutes later, Nick walked up beside her.
He took off his coat and tossed it on the sand.
Sitting down, he yanked off his socks and shoes as if they were done with the unpleasantness.
“Come. I bet you’ve never seen the ocean before.
” He reached for her hand. And maybe for the first time ever, at least in her sight, he wore a genuine smile.
She pressed her hands to her sides. “I don’t want to go in.” But she did. Only, she wanted to go in by herself…and maybe never come out.
His smile faded. “All right. I’ll give you time. Maybe tomorrow.”
Maybe never.
If Devon were here, she’d run in with him and jump the waves. He’d hold her hand and tell her there was nothing to be afraid of, that he would protect her.
Tears stung her eyes. Devon would live to see the ocean again someday. Praise the Lord.
But he would not see it with her. Never.
Not if she could help it. The very thought of her meeting him years from now after she’d married Nick and become what she would become curdled her stomach.
No. Let him remember her how she had been.
Not the woman who blushed from head to toe every time some hotel clerk or baggage handler looked at her.
Of course, she’d be married to Nick by then, but it wouldn’t matter.
Nick had kept his word so far about not bedding her until after the wedding, but it was perception that counted in the eyes of others. That type of stain would never go away.
Frieda might very well win Devon’s affection. Morning Fawn would rather stay in England her whole life than see such a thing.
A handful of seagulls glided overhead, hovering on the breeze. Two of their counterparts strutted on the beach looking for leavings. Farther out, a pelican skimmed along the top of the water, flapping its wings and scooping up fish.
The water called to her. She stepped forward, lifting her skirts only a few inches.
Cold brown liquid swirled past her ankles.
A few feet more, and it was to her mid-calves.
This water would carry her from Texas, as far from her pia and the home she’d come to be part of as the moon was from earth.
Devon had once promised her the moon. She could live without it.
What she wanted was him in her life, every day, always.
She’d done right in making the deal, and if she had it to do over again, she’d do the same. But living the future she’d agreed to? Water splashed against her knees as a wave came in, then retreated. Sand and bits of shells rushed against her legs on their way back out into the Gulf.
“You don’t look well.” Nick stood in front of her.
She hadn’t even seen him coming. The sun glinted in her eyes as she looked up at his frown.
“Come on.” He took her by the arm and drew her toward shore. “We’re going back to the hotel.”
“No. I’ll smother there.” Smother beneath the looks, the walls, the world that wasn’t hers. “Let me stay here. Leave your men to watch if you want. I’ll sit on the shore.”
The wind whipped his usually toniced hair over his forehead.
“If that’s what you want, but you’ll be tired of the ocean by the time we reach England.
I went down to Kuhns Wharf today. Found the captain of a blockade runner, the Eliza Jane, getting ready to sail in two days.
I secured passage for both of us. He can marry us as well.
I even stopped by the tailor’s and paid him to work through the nights on your dresses. ”
“Two days?” She gulped. Her knees wavered.
“Yes. I have cotton contracts to secure in England. There won’t be another runner out for a week.”
“But I might not hear by then if Devon made it safely to the Yankee lines.”
He thrust out a breath. “You’ll probably never hear that, my dear.
It’s not like they’re going to make an announcement.
The only news will be if they catch him.
But to be sure, I’ll check the papers before we sail.
” He picked up his shoes. “If you’re hoping he’ll show up here, don’t count on it.
He’ll be doing good to get to Matagorda or Brownsville free of bullet holes.
The authorities up and down the coast will be searching for him.
Besides, if he comes to Galveston, someone is going home in a casket.
And it won’t be you.” A half smile flittered across his lips.
“I hope he doesn’t show.” She turned back to the water. What if he did? A wild surge of hope flowed through her before reality stopped it cold. She’d given her word to Nick. Her word. A fetter that couldn’t be broken even with a sledgehammer.