Beyond All Measure (16 page)

What hurt Wyatt more than the loss of the money was the loss of land that was part of his history and his heritage. Even now, thinking of it, he felt a sharp hunger for the land. When the day came to leave Hickory Ridge and return home, he intended to buy back every last acre of it.

He scanned the park. Beneath the trees, Ada was busy setting out plates and opening baskets of food. His stomach rumbled. The food would be outstanding, a far cry from the hurried meals he made for himself after a long day at the mill. But he didn’t feel much like eating. Despite the bad memories Ada’s presence stirred in him, his feelings for her were growing like weeds and he wasn’t sure he liked it.

The sudden burst of her bright laughter filtered through the trees and lodged in his heart. He wanted more of that sweet laughter. More of her.

And yet . . .

He knew it was downright ignorant to tar an entire group of people with the same broad brush. He was aware that Ada Wentworth had nothing to do with Reginald Cabot. But the fact remained that she was a Boston Yankee who had been less than completely honest with him.

And he wasn’t sure he could get past that.

FOURTEEN

Ada helped the other women prepare the food for serving. Bea Goldston arrived in time to set out stacks of plates and jars of lemonade. She bustled about in her purple dress and mud-spattered boots, turning her schoolteacher’s eyes on the knots of shrieking children with a look that would have petrified stone. Ada hid a smile. Never had countenance and occupation seemed more perfectly matched.

Bea finished her task and strolled over to Ada. “Good morning, Miss Wentworth!”

Ada looked up, so startled at Bea’s cordial greeting that she nearly dropped a pan of blueberry buckle.

“Miss Goldston . . . hello . . .”

“How are you? Enjoying your first Founders Day in Hickory Ridge?”

“I am.” Ada made room on the table for Bea’s pan. “How are things at school?”

Bea smiled. “Busy. The school board approved my new curriculum for next term, and we’re making plans to welcome a new teacher soon.”

“So I heard.”

Across the table, Mariah was gaping at Bea as if she’d suddenly sprouted an extra head.

“I should have stayed home today to write out my new lessons,” Bea continued. “But a woman in my position has to do her part for the community.” She looked around. “Anything else I can do to help?”

Mariah rearranged a couple of pans to make room on the table for a bowl of peaches. “I believe Mrs. Lowell could use some help. Those children have been running around like wild Indians, eyeing the sweets all morning. The younger ones are getting tired by now.”

“Say no more!” Bea took off across the park, her ruffled skirt belling out behind her.

“Mercy sakes,” Mariah murmured. “Wonder what’s gotten into Bea? She actually seems human today.”

“A welcome change.” Ada shaded her eyes and looked across the meadow to the spot where the orphans were seated in perfectly straight rows. Mrs. Lowell stood in front of them, undoubtedly reminding them of their manners and of how lucky they were to be attending such a glorious celebration.

A bell clanged, and the townsfolk surged toward the tables. The mayor read a short declaration of remembrance for the war dead, and the minister of the church in town made his way forward to bless the food.

Ada bowed her head, but her gaze roamed over the assembled crowd. Where was Wyatt now? Had he shown up solely to chastise her for the newspaper ad?

“. . . and bless this food to the nourishment of our bodies through Jesus Christ our Lord,” the minister intoned.

“Amen,” the crowd murmured before everyone made a mad dash for plates and forks. Ada filled her plate and helped Lillian with hers. They joined a group that included Patsy Greer from the newspaper and her father and quickly grew to include Norah Dudley, the dress-shop proprietress, and Hattie Hanson, the restaurant owner. Mariah and Sage spread their blanket and settled down next to Lillian. Then Carrie Daly arrived with a stocky, sandy-haired man, whom she introduced to Ada as her brother, Henry Bell.

“Ma’am.” Henry nodded to Ada and plopped down on the blanket his sister had spread, his cheerful demeanor contrasting sharply with his sister’s pale sadness. “Heard about you from Carrie and from Wyatt down at the mill. I hope you like it here in Hickory Ridge.”

She smiled at his enthusiasm. “It’s a nice town.”

“We like it. Don’t we, Carrie?”

Just then, a couple of men called to him and he got to his feet. “Excuse me. I plumb forgot that I promised to help Charlie with his wagon.”

“Don’t forget to eat,” Carrie said.

He grinned at his sister. “Not likely.” He nodded to Ada again and hurried off.

Over the next hour, Ada nibbled at her food and listened to snippets of conversations going on around her. Mr. Greer and Sage discussed the changes taking place in Tennessee since the new governor had taken office. Patsy marveled at the news of a huge cattle drive that had just set out for Abilene. Her father and Hattie argued about whether President Grant had packed the Supreme Court to get his way on an important constitutional issue. The mention of the Union general who was now the U.S. president got everyone’s attention.

“I remember the day the Federals first got here,” Mr. Greer said. “I stood at my front winder and watched that bunch cut through this holler like a hot knife through butter. People my age, we couldn’t hardly stand it, being overrun by Yankees. But some of the young girls didn’t mind it too much.” He glanced at his daughter. “They was one of ’em, a bushy-bearded captain from Ohio or somewheres like that, sweet on my Patsy.”

“No, he wasn’t,” Patsy said. “Captain Franklin found out that we owned the
Gazette
, and he didn’t want any bad publicity for the Union army.” She tossed her dark braid over her shoulder. “Unfortunately, it had nothing to do with me and my feminine wiles.”

“Not that you would have courted a Yankee for a single minute,” Norah Dudley said. “Honestly, what self-respecting girl would associate with the likes of him? Yankees are all thieves and liars, down to the very last one of—”

Mariah gaped at the dressmaker and reached across the blanket to grasp Ada’s hand. Norah stopped talking and dropped her gaze. The group fell silent. All eyes turned to Ada.

Heat suffused her face. She set down her plate. “Just as all Southerners are ill-mannered and ignorant?”

Hattie, her eyes downcast, fiddled with her napkin. Patsy shaded her eyes and watched the horseshoe match going on across the way. The awkward silence went on until Mr. Greer said, “I reckon you got ’er dead to rights, there.” He got to his feet. “Sage? Care to join me for horseshoes?”

The men headed off. Norah hurried to gather her things. “I must go.”

Ada, her appetite gone, busied herself stacking the empty plates.

“Don’t take Norah’s words to heart,” Mariah said when the shop owner had gone. “She didn’t mean it. She wasn’t thinking.”

Ada nodded, sick with anger and with the certain knowledge that people here would never forgive her for her background. Even if she stayed in Hickory Ridge for a hundred years, there would always be the secretive Klan, watching and waiting, and people like Norah and Jasper Pruitt, nursing their hatred for Northerners.

She looked out across the park. Near the rows of wagons and buckboards lining the road, Wyatt was talking to Sage and Henry Bell.

As much as she hated deceiving him, she would have to go on with her plan. It was her ticket back to the world she knew and understood.

Wyatt leaned against the wagon wheel, his legs stretched out in front of him, his hat shading his eyes from the late afternoon sunlight streaming through the trees. The tantalizing smells of food had finally overcome his bad mood, and he had overindulged in fried chicken, watermelon, and a double serving of blackberry cobbler. He would have recognized Lillian’s recipe anywhere—warm, sugary berries mixed with just the right amounts of butter and lemon, bubbling beneath a flaky brown crust.

He imagined Ada’s delicate hands mixing and rolling out the dough, the faint blush on her cheeks as she bent over the hot cookstove. He’d thought about seeking her out to compliment her on the cobbler, but now she was marching back to the tables carrying a stack of plates with the urgency of a battlefield officer. He could tell from the angle of her chin that she was still upset. Maybe it was better to let her be.

He checked his watch and felt a stab of guilt. He’d planned to catch up on things at the mill today. There were letters to answer, the payroll to figure. And he needed to compose a wire to the hotel owner in North Carolina who had inquired about buying some oak. But the day was nearly gone, and there was something working at the back of his mind, a vague feeling that he couldn’t quite place. He shifted his position and watched the children enjoying the celebration.

A performer from a traveling show wandered among the crowd juggling oranges, rubber balls, and rolls of ribbon, unspooling them in myriad colors that caught the light. Sophie from the orphanage jumped to catch two lengths of pale blue ribbon and offered one to Ada. Ada draped her arm loosely about the girl’s shoulders, and the two of them walked across the meadow laughing and chatting as if they’d been friends forever.

Wyatt’s heart seized. Ada’s tender way with the child filled him with longing and reminded him of how alone he was. Even when he was surrounded by his workers, a deep inner loneliness remained. He had been part of this community for years, but in some ways he was still a solitary man.

He didn’t like feeling this way. He wished he’d never come to the celebration at all, and he couldn’t explain why he had. After years of avoiding Founders Day, with all its reminders of strife and loss, it was as if some greater force had brought him and held him here.

What he needed was a long walk in the woods. Solitude always cleared his head. Put things in proper perspective.

He got to his feet and headed off into the trees.

FIFTEEN

Ada had just sent Sophie off to play on the merry-go-round when she heard a fierce commotion behind her. Turning around, she saw a crowd running toward the river.

Urgent voices echoed through the trees. “Help! Somebody! Help!” Ada followed them to a place where a sodden Toby McCall and a couple of other boys stood, frantically pointing downstream. “You got to save them!” Toby yelled. “Their raft came apart and they fell in!”

“Who?” A panicked Mariah grabbed the boy by the shoulder. “Toby! Who fell in?”

“Jacob! An’ Robbie. We tried to pull ’em out, but the current’s too strong.”

Mariah kicked off her shoes and jumped into the water. Immediately, she was dragged under. Ada scanned the roiling river. Bits of lumber, broken tree branches, and masses of waterlogged leaves swirled in the coffee-colored water. Then, far downstream, she saw a dark head break the surface. She took off her shoes and raced along the bank, her feet sinking into the soft earth. Tears blurred her vision as she looked around for a sturdy branch, a piece of rope, anything to get them out. Mariah had already lost one child to drowning. She couldn’t lose Robbie too.

Just ahead of Ada, a man hurtled through the trees and arced into the river. Ada saw only a flash of dark hair in the sunlight as he hit the water, but it was enough.
Wyatt
.

Seconds later, Sage and the doctor arrived with ropes. Sage dove in after Wyatt, and the two men fought the raging current toward the person in the water. Ada stood frozen, barely able to draw breath. She sent up a fervent prayer for their safety.

Sage gave a shout, and Dr. Spencer tossed the rope. Moments later, they hauled a lanky body to shore.
Jacob! But where was Robbie? And Mariah?

The doctor’s wife bent over Jacob, murmuring words of comfort. The young man coughed and spat a mouthful of brown water. “I’m all right,” he rasped. “Get Robbie.”

A moment later, Sage hauled Mariah from the river. She clawed at his shirt, her eyes wild. “Let me go! I have to find our son!”

“We’ll find him!” Sage shook her hard. “It won’t help him if I have to worry about you too. Stay put, Mariah.”

He dove back into the water. For several tense minutes, the crowd waited silently on the bank, watching the angry current. At last Wyatt surfaced and yelled, “Over here!” and Sage swam frantically toward them.

“Robbie!” Mariah screamed.

The boy lay face up, wedged between the remnants of his log raft and a downed tree. Water swirled around his head, threatening to drag him down. Wyatt dove again and again, trying to free the heavy logs, while Sage kept his son’s head above the water. At last, Wyatt gave a mighty shove, and the raft broke free. Holding Robbie between them, the two men grabbed the ropes and swam for shore.

The doctor, Mr. Greer, and a couple of farm boys pulled them onto the bank. Mariah rushed to her son. Ada sank to her knees, trembling with fright and relief. Dr. Spencer dispersed the crowd and bent over Robbie. The boy was pale. His lips had turned blue, and he shivered despite the warm July afternoon. Someone brought a blanket. Another handed the doctor his medical bag.