Cinnamon and Roses (21 page)

She leapt to her feet and threw the basket as far as she could. It landed beneath one of the windows, and the contents toppled out.
Material, ribbon, brown-paper-and-string wrapped packages—and a tiny, blood-spattered animal.
Blood covered her fingertips, matted with something else.
Small brown bits of fur or feathers.

All of a sudden Caleb burst through the doorway. The rest of the household soon followed.

"What's wrong?” Caleb asked, gasping for breath. He ran to her side and gripped her shoulders. “Are you all right?” His eyes darted to her belly. “Is it the baby?"

She shook her head and opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. She held her hand up.

"What the hell...” He touched the blood on her fingers and smeared it between his own.

"The basket,” she managed.

He gave her one last once-over before releasing her and going to where her sewing basket lay dumped on the hardwood floor. He poked at the dead animal, rolling it to figure out just what it was.

"Looks like a bird,” he said, finally finding the head with a small yellow blood-covered beak.

"How did it get in your sewing basket?” Megan asked.

"I ... I don't know.” Rebecca felt herself shaking and clamped her teeth together to curb the shivers running through her body.

"Megan,” Caleb said, “
would
you please get a cloth to wash Rebecca's hand?
And a cup of tea to calm her nerves."

Megan and Bessie and Dolores all headed for the kitchen without further prodding.

"Is there anything I can do?” Holbrook asked, shifting uncertainly.

"Yes. Would you mind getting rid of that, please?” Caleb tilted his head toward the lifeless bird.

Holbrook quickly stooped and swept everything back into the basket, carrying it out of the room.

Caleb put an arm around Rebecca's waist and helped her to the sofa. He took her hands in his own, heedless of the sticky fluid there. Her face was as white as chalk, her lips tightly pressed together. He could feel the tremors racing through her body, and he pulled her against his chest.

"Are you all right?” he asked. He felt her head move up and down but didn't believe her for a minute.

Megan came into the room with a warm, damp wash-rag, and he gently wiped Rebecca's fingers, careful to get every spot of blood off. Then he cleaned his own hands and balled up the cloth, sure to fold the dark stains on the inside. He handed it back to his sister, who held it away from her with thumb and forefinger, a frown of distaste drawing down her mouth as she raced toward the kitchen. She returned a moment later with a cup of hurriedly brewed tea in her hands. Caleb took it and urged Rebecca to drink.

She sat up straighter and swallowed the entire serving before pushing the cup and saucer away. “I'm fine now.
Truly."

He could still feel her body shaking and knew she wasn't completely recovered from the shock. But he sat back and held her gaze.

"Do you have any idea how it got in there?” He refrained from actually naming what she'd found.

She shook her head. “It wasn't there when you took the basket out to the carriage."

"Then someone must have thrown it in when we were at the
Express
,” Megan said, eager to help.

But who?
That was what Caleb wanted to know. Who would have done something like that to Rebecca? She had never harmed anyone in her life, he was certain. So who would want to hurt her?

Jesus!
Caleb thought suddenly. What if the person who had thrown the bird into Rebecca's basket was the same person who had destroyed her house four months ago? What if that person decided to try to hurt Rebecca directly next time?

And what if Megan's accident had nothing at all to do with Megan?
Or with him or Holbrook?
What if that bullet had been meant for Rebecca?

His heart lurched at the thought. No, surely he was imagining things. Surely all these things were purely coincidental.

"Would you mind leaving us alone for a few minutes?” he said to his family. Their concern was obvious, but reluctantly they shuffled out, closing the doors behind them.

He turned back to Rebecca, trying to think of the best way to broach the subject of who might want to see harm befall her.

He took her hand and began rubbing his thumb in lazy circles over her palm. “Rebecca, I don't want to scare you, but—"

"You think this has something to do with my cabin, don't you?"

Her eyes were wide and tinged with just a hint of fear. “Why would you say that?” he asked, feeling her out.

"Whoever was in my house wanted to hurt me.
If not physically, at least emotionally.
Otherwise they would have simply stolen my things, perhaps tried to sell them. But this person destroyed everything. They went through every cupboard, every dresser drawer, every nook and cranny of that place."

He nodded in agreement.

"And whoever put that poor baby bird in my sewing basket wanted to hurt me, too. Or at least scare me half to death. They knew the basket was mine and that I would probably be the only one to get into it. I would be the one to find the bird.

"But it doesn't make any sense, Caleb. I don't have any enemies. I've never done anything to make someone mad enough to do this kind of thing. Except..."

"Except?
Except what?” he urged.

"Well, the other day,
Anabelle
Archer came with her mother and the others.” She hesitated.

"And?"

"She sat in the corner and sulked. I knew she'd been upset when we married, but I didn't think much of it."

"Why would she be upset?” he asked, completely confused.

"Oh, Caleb, surely you knew she was in love with you."

His eyes nearly popped out of his head. “No, I didn't know. I only ever talked to the girl once."

"Yes, but she's sixteen years old. Sixteen-year-old girls fall in love very quickly. And she wanted you to love her back. When she found out about the wedding, she was crushed."

"I still don't see what this has to do with anything."

"Well,
Anabelle
just sat there sulking the whole time. I figured her mother had forced her to come and she was pouting because she really didn't want to be here. But when we began talking about the baby, she suddenly blew up. She started screaming that she hated me and that I'd ruined her life."

Rebecca lowered her eyes, a little embarrassed at repeating the story.

"And you didn't see fit to tell me this before now?"

"I didn't take the words to heart, Caleb. My goodness, she's just a distraught young girl, trying to get someone to believe that her feelings are as strong as she claims."

"Do you think she could have had anything to do with the bird?"

"
Anabelle
?
Risk getting blood on her dress? You must be joking."

"It sounds like she was awfully mad. She could be the one who was in your cabin. And she could have gotten someone else to kill the bird and throw it in there."

"I suppose that's possible, but—"

"We'll talk to
Anabelle
and see what she has to say, but until we get to the bottom of this, I don't want you going out of the house unless I'm with you, all right?"

"Caleb, it was only a dead bird. I—"

"I don't want you going out by yourself, Rebecca. I mean it. What if it's not just some stranger who broke into your house, or some angry teenager who wanted to frighten you with the bird as some kind of sick revenge?” He gave her fingers a light squeeze. “What if the person who did those things is the same person who shot Megan?"

She gasped. “No! That can't be. Why—"

"I've spent months trying to figure out who shot at us. I can't think of anyone. Can you?"

"No, of course not.
I can't think of a soul who would want to hurt Megan."

"Right.
And I'd like to think that anyone who wanted to hurt me or my father would do it face-to-face. That leaves you."

"Oh, Caleb, that's ridiculous."

Her words dismissed the possibility, but her brow knit, and he knew the idea frightened her. He wanted her to be afraid.
At least enough to listen to him when he told her to keep to the house.

"I don't think so. I think you're in danger.
Rebecca,
and I don't want to take any chances."

"But why would someone shoot Megan if they were after me?"

"Maybe they thought it was you in the wagon. The sun was bright. Megan had her hand up to shade her eyes. Maybe her face was covered. Or maybe the shooter was too far away and simply assumed it was you. Hell, Rebecca, I don't know."

He got to his feet and went to the window, pulling aside the draperies to look out. “I don't know what the hell is going on or who would want to hurt you."

Turning back to her, he fixed her with a stern glare. “What I do know is that I'm not going to stand by and do nothing while some son of a bitch kills my wife. Do you understand?"

She nodded.

"Good. Then from now on you stay in the house. If you need anything, I'll bring it home from town or take you in for it in the evening."

"All right, but—"

Caleb reached her in three long, purposeful strides and gripped her shoulders, bringing her off the sofa.
“No
buts,
dammit
.
I don't intend to lose you to some lunatic."

Rebecca stared at him, and her heart did a little somersault. His eyes were dark with concern, the lines of his face more pronounced from fear. He'd never said he loved her, but he did seem to care a little.

She smiled and put a hand to his cheek. “I was only going to say that I want you to be careful, too. If there really is someone out there intent on doing harm, he may not be too particular about his victims."

Rebecca shifted her position on the hard pew. Caleb could tell her back was bothering her. If Reverend Patterson didn't soon conclude his sermon, he imagined his wife would curl up and fall asleep. That ought to show the reverend how riveting his sermons were.

He nudged her arm and mouthed the words, “Wake up."

She gave him a dirty look before turning to face the front of the church once again.

After another half hour of fire and brimstone, mixed with pleas to follow the Lord's word to the letter, the reverend finally brought the service to a close and blessed the congregation for another week.

Caleb helped Rebecca stand and tucked her arm through his to lead her out of the church. The procession moved slowly while everyone stopped to shake Reverend Patterson's hand and compliment him on his wise words.

"Do you see the Archers?” Caleb asked above Rebecca's ear.

She looked around for a moment and tilted her head toward where Mary Archer stood talking with Thelma Wilkes. Then she pointed across the churchyard to
Anabelle
, who was digging at the dirt with the heel of her shoe. They started in her direction.

"
Anabelle
,” Caleb said.

The girl lifted her head. A smile lit her face—until she saw Rebecca at his side. Her smile turned upside down.

"
Anabelle
,” Caleb repeated. “I'd like to speak with you."

He let go of Rebecca's arm and took a step closer to the girl, lowering his voice so only the three of them would be privy to the conversation. “I have a couple of questions to ask you,
Anabelle
, and I'd like you to answer me honestly, all right?"

She remained silent.

"I want the truth,
Anabelle
.” His voice was calm but firm. “Do you know anything about the break-in at Rebecca's cabin?"

She shook her head quickly.
Too quickly.

Caleb narrowed his eyes. “All right, then. Do you know anything about what we found in Rebecca's sewing basket?"

Her eyes grew round, and she began to tremble.

"You put it there, didn't you?” Caleb said grimly.

"I didn't kill it, I swear. It must have fallen out of its nest or something."

"But you put the bird in there?"

"Yes.” Tears began to form in the corners of her eyes. “I waited until no one was looking, and I threw it in. I wanted to scare her."

Anabelle's
mother had come up behind her daughter, catching the direction of the conversation.

"What about all the ripped fabrics and broken china at the cabin?” Caleb asked.

Anabelle
finally nodded. “I was so angry,” she said, an edge to her voice. “After you danced with me at the festival, I thought for sure you liked me a little. And then you went and married
her.
"

"You destroyed my house?” Rebecca asked. “Oh,
Anabelle
, how could you do such a thing?"

"I'm sorry.” Two fat, wet tears rolled down her cheeks. “I didn't really mean to hurt you, Rebecca. I didn't even mean to ruin your cabin. I was just mad at you, and I sneaked in to look around, and I guess ... I guess I got carried away."