Beyond All Measure (33 page)

“Hold on,” Jasper said, “we’re almost to the mill.”

Minutes later he halted the wagon in the yard and jumped down. “Stay here. I’ll get Mr. Caldwell.”

He disappeared inside and emerged moments later with Wyatt at his heels. Ada burst into fresh tears that grew into uncontrollable sobs. Wyatt’s arms went around her and she leaned against his rough jacket, clinging to him, to safety. He smoothed her tangled curls and kissed the corner of her swollen and bloodied lip. “You’re all right, my love. You’re safe.”

He lifted her as if she were made of air and carried her across the mill yard, up the hill, and into his house. He tugged off her shoes and tucked her under the covers, soiled clothes and all. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

Lantern light flickered against the rough-hewn walls. The room smelled of coffee and new wood. Ada sank into the soft featherbed and closed her eyes, listening to Wyatt’s voice in the other room and then to the jingle of the harness as the storekeeper drove away.

Wyatt returned, his expression dark as pitch. “This was Bea’s doing?”

“She berated me again for spending time with Sophie. She was outraged that I went to Two Creeks to get help for Lillian.” Ada brushed away fresh tears.

He sat on the edge of the bed. “Are you all right? The others didn’t do anything to you . . . they didn’t . . . ?”

“No, it was only Bea. One of the others helped her tie me up. The rest just sat and watched.” Ada rubbed her arm and flexed her fingers. “I knew she wanted me out of Hickory Ridge, but I never thought she’d go this far.”

“You’re safe now. I’ve sent for Dr. Spencer.” He smoothed her hair off her face. “His wife will bring you some new duds. These are beyond rescue.”

In the kitchen a kettle whistled. “I’ve made tea,” Wyatt said, “and I’m heating water so you can have a bath. I’ll be right back.”

After he left, Ada’s gaze drifted once more around the spacious room. The firelight illuminated a handsome cherry dresser and a matching table next to the four-poster bed. In the corner sat a rocking chair draped with a wrinkled work shirt. An untidy stack of books and magazines spilled onto the floor. On one wall was a pair of silver spurs and a framed photograph. Wyatt’s battered Stetson hung on a hook behind the door. Except for the lace curtains framing the wide windows, it was a masculine room in every detail.

Wyatt returned and handed her a towel, a cake of soap, and a clean nightshirt. “It isn’t the latest fashion, but it’ll keep you warm until the Spencers get here.” He set a steaming cup of tea on the table beside the bed. “The tub’s all ready in the kitchen. I’ll wait outside to give you some privacy.”

Ada made her way down the short hallway. The air in the kitchen was warm and thick with fragrant steam. She undressed and sank into the deep metal tub. The warm, soapy water felt like silk on her skin. Lassitude moved like warm honey through her veins. She immersed herself completely again and again, washing away every physical trace of the afternoon’s ordeal.

When the water cooled, she dried off, donned Wyatt’s nightshirt, and returned to the bedroom. She drank her tea and lay back on the soft pillow. Sleep billowed like mountain fog behind her closed eyes. Images flitted and faded—wild-eyed Smoky tearing through the trees, the silent horsemen in the woods. Jasper Pruitt bending over her in the gathering gloom. Wyatt’s dear face, his strong arms holding her close.

Tears leaked from her eyes and trickled into her ears, waking her. She thanked God for his mercy, for Wyatt’s goodness and his strength, before sleep claimed her again. The next thing she knew, Wyatt was bending over her, telling her the Spencers had arrived.

The doctor’s wife bustled about in the background while her husband examined Ada’s scrapes and bruises. “I don’t think anything is broken, though you have some nasty lacerations and contusions.” He handed her a small jar of salve. “You’ll be sore for a while, but after a couple of days’ rest you should be fine.”

“Thank you for coming.”

He nodded. “I’m sorry that this happened. I hope you won’t judge all of Hickory Ridge by the actions of a few mean-spirited ruffians.” He snapped his bag shut. “When they set that fire at our place last fall, I was ready to leave, but I’m glad now that we decided to stay. I hope you will too.”

“I’m not sure I
can
stay.” Ada slumped against the mahogany headboard. “Bea Goldston is intent on getting rid of me.”

“All the more reason to stay.” He grinned. “You can’t—”

“Ennis?” Mrs. Spencer interrupted. “Are you through with the examination?” She placed a soft bundle on the foot of the bed.

“Just finishing up.” The doctor picked up his bag and nodded to Ada. “I’ll leave you ladies alone.”

When the door closed behind him, his wife perched on the edge of the bed. “I heard Ennis say that you’ll be fine. You were lucky.”

Ada shifted on her pillow. “Yes. But I don’t think I can ever feel safe here again.”

“Wyatt is beyond furious,” Mrs. Spencer said. “He’ll get this sorted out—you’ll see.” She indicated the bundle on the bed. “Norah sent these over—new underthings, new dress, new stockings.”

Ada opened the package. The shop owner had sent the dress Ada had recently admired in her window—a deep green silk with a ruffled bodice and a small bustle at the back. She set it aside and ran her fingers over a soft cotton chemise and a pair of fine silk stockings. Norah had even included a new nightdress made of the finest lawn.

Ada sighed. It had been years since she’d worn anything so fine. But the cost of the dress alone would put a serious dent in her small nest egg at a time when she needed to save every last cent. She’d ask Mariah to ride out to Lillian’s and bring her old clothes. “These are lovely, and I thank you for bringing them out here. But I can’t afford them.”

“Norah said to tell you they’re a gift.”

“But I barely know her!”

“She and Lillian were friends for years. And I think Norah still feels guilty for that awful thing she said about Northerners at the Founders Day celebration.”

“Heavenly days! Does the whole town know about that?”

Mrs. Spencer shrugged. “Hickory Ridge is a small town. People talk.”

The doctor knocked on the door and stuck his head in. “Eugenie, we should go. It’s getting late.”

Mrs. Spencer patted Ada’s hand. “Get some rest.”

“I will. I’m grateful to you and your husband. Please tell Norah I’ll be in to thank her as soon as I can.”

The doctor’s wife rose and slipped into her coat. “You’re one of us now, dear. We take care of our own.”

Wyatt left his horse tethered outside the bank and walked over to the schoolhouse. He’d had a sleepless night, owing partially to the fact that he’d bunked in his office so Ada could have his bed, but mostly to the rage that roiled his gut.

Certainly he’d known that Bea Goldston had set her cap for him—just look at that embarrassing outburst during Lillian’s wake—but he hadn’t encouraged her in the least. Beyond the usual social pleasantries, he’d hardly spoken to her more than half a dozen times, yet somehow she’d decided that he was hers. He intended to thoroughly disabuse her of that notion, among others.

Anger coiled inside him like a rattler when he thought of what might have happened to Ada. He loved her with a fierceness that stunned him. He loved everything about her—the way she pinned on her hat, the delicious sound of her unexpected laughter. Her bravery and her vulnerability and even, to his surprise, the slight trace of Boston that sometimes crept into her speech. And now that he loved her, he knew he could never be completely happy, even on his ranch, without her.

He reached the schoolhouse just as classes were dismissed for the day. Standing by the flagpole, he watched the children running pell-mell into the bright February sunshine, coats and scarves flying, their joyous shouts rising into the wind. Robbie Whiting emerged with a couple of other boys. It seemed to Wyatt that the boy had grown at least six inches since last summer. He was quieter now and seemed to have outgrown the serious case of hero worship that Wyatt had found both flattering and embarrassing.

Robbie spotted Wyatt and jogged over to the flagpole. “Hey, Mr. Wyatt.”

“Robbie.” Wyatt moved to clasp the boy’s shoulder, but Robbie stuck out his hand and shook Wyatt’s firmly. “I prefer Rob now, sir. If you don’t mind.”

“Rob it is. How’s school this term?”

“Oh, you know. School is school. Mr. Webster gave me the highest mark in the class for debate. He says I’m a good talker and I could be a lawyer some day. Maybe even a senator or something.”

Wyatt smiled. “He may be onto something there.”

One of the other boys called to him, and Robbie waved. “I gotta go. I’ll see ya.” He ran off to join his friends.

The schoolhouse door opened again, and Bea and Ethan Webster stepped out onto the porch. The sight of her sent a fresh wave of anger through him.

The schoolmaster hurried across the yard to his buggy, his frock coat flapping in the wind, and drove away. Wyatt waited until Webster’s rig was out of sight, then he crossed the schoolyard.

Bea looked up, and he noticed with some satisfaction that her nose was bruised. “Wyatt! What a lovely surprise.”

“Go inside, Bea.” He kicked open the door. “After you.”

“What’s this about?”

“Two guesses.”

He followed her into the schoolhouse. She dropped her books onto her desk. “If this is about that little practical joke from yesterday—”

“There was nothing practical about it.”

“We didn’t hurt her.” Bea grabbed a rag and wiped the chalkboard clean.

“She’s got a cut on her forehead, a swollen lip, her ribs are bruised, her wrists are rope-burned. Not to mention the terror of being bound to a tree and left alone in the dead of winter.”

“I knew you’d find her eventually.” Bea’s voice cracked. She tossed the rag onto her desk. “You’ve got quite a cozy little love nest, haven’t you, now that Lillian is gone.”

Wyatt moved closer until Bea dropped her gaze. “I want you out of Hickory Ridge.”

“What?” She laughed. “This is my home, Wyatt. And no one, not even you, is powerful enough to make me leave.”

“You’re right. I don’t have any legal authority. But Sheriff McCracken does. And Judge Blackburn.”

“McCracken! All he does is go around trying to pin things on innocent people. Charlie Blevins said—” She stopped, clearly worried that she’d said too much.

“What about Charlie?”

“Nothing!”

“Was he part of your little practical joke yesterday?”

Bea glared at him. “You shouldn’t have fired him, Wyatt.”

“That has nothing to do with getting you out of Hickory Ridge.”

Her hands stilled. “What are you suggesting?”

“It’s pretty simple, actually. You’re to plead some dire family emergency, pack up your things, and buy a ticket on Friday’s morning train. Otherwise, we’ll bring charges against you.”

“But that’s impossible! What about the children? I can’t abandon them in the middle of the term. The school board will not allow it.”

“They’ll find a replacement. Mrs. Lowell is accustomed to dealing with children. Or maybe Carrie Daly can take over.”

“Carrie Daly? That little mealymouth? Those boys will have her in tears inside half an hour.”

“Maybe.” He pretended to think. “Ada is well educated, and she’s traveled extensively. The board might be pleased to have someone of her background assume your duties.”

“Ada Wentworth? In
my
school?” Bea sputtered. “I will not have it, Wyatt. I simply won’t.”

He leaned against the desk, arms and ankles crossed, and waited.

“Besides,” Bea went on, “she doesn’t have the courage to bring charges against me. She’s too much of a
lady
to stand up in court and admit she elbowed me in the nose like some common street thug. What would her customers
think
?”

“If she doesn’t bring charges, I will.”

“On what grounds? That I frightened your poor little Yankee paramour?”

“I’m still her employer. By injuring her, you’ve deprived me of her ability to look after my house. And then there’s the damage to my property. Poor old Smoky tore my rig to bits trying to get out of the woods. It’s too far gone to repair. I’ll have to buy a new one.”

Bea sank onto her chair.

“So let’s review.” Wyatt spoke calmly, though he was seething inside. “Just off the top of my head, there’s injury to Ada’s person, menacing, destruction of personal property, and violation of the state law prohibiting Klan activity.” He paused. “I can probably think of a few more.”

“I told you—I only meant to scare her. I’m not associated with the Klan.”

“You wore a robe and a mask, terrorized a defenseless woman, and made threats based upon her conduct with the coloreds. Sounds like the Klan to me.” He headed for the door. “I’ll see you at the station on Friday.”

“Wyatt! Please wait. There’s something I haven’t told you.”

“I doubt that anything you have to say will interest me unless you’re willing to implicate Charlie Blevins in all this. Sheriff McCracken is just waiting to get his hands on him. But go ahead. Make it quick.”

“The land in Two Creeks—it’s mine.”