Diamond Duo (9 page)

L
ightning, visible between the trees on the high bank of the bayou, prowled across the lowering sky. Standing on the bank, Thad did a slow count to five before thunder echoed over the tops of the tall cypress.

In the distance, T-Bone Taylor stopped paddling long enough to sit up straight on his seat and gaze toward the gathering clouds. Then he dipped his oar with renewed vigor while shouting to his little brother seated at the opposite end of the boat. Thad couldn’t make out the words, but it became obvious what he said when Beau bent his shoulders to the paddle and dug in.

Thad nudged Charlie. “That storm is about a mile away. Looks like they’re bound to get wet.”

Charlie chuckled. “And all their loot, too. I hope that pilfered ’backy’s in a tin, or tomorrow they’ll be spreading it in the sun.”

Thad joined in the laughter. “I heard there ain’t nothing worse than soggy tobacco. Too smoky–if you can keep it lit.”

Charlie peered up at him. “You ever smoke, Thad?”

Thad shook his head. “Never had a use for it.” He looked back at the water.

The boys had rowed almost out of sight but still had a long way to go to reach their own dock. And the dark, paunchy clouds
inched closer. Several fat droplets pelted the layer of pine needles at Charlie’s feet with a muted
thwack
. Time to go.

Thad gathered the fishing poles then jerked his head at Charlie. “It’d be downright foolish to stand laughing at the Taylor boys while the same fate swirls our way. Let’s get going before we’re struck by lightning.”

Charlie nodded and fell in behind him. They reached the top of the incline and hustled toward the spot where they’d tied their horses. On the way, Charlie kept up a panting discourse, and his topic made Thad weak in the knees. “So what did Bertha say when you told her you’re leaving?”

Thad batted branches out of his way as he weaved through the slim, meandering trunks of a sapling grove. He dreaded answering, so he took his time.

Charlie took hold of his arm and hauled him around. “You haven’t told her.”

The flat statement held the same disbelieving tone Thad had endured from his conscience all week. He leaned his head down and massaged his brow. “There’s nothing you can say to me that I haven’t already shouted at myself.”

Charlie took off his hat and dashed it against his leg. “Except maybe this–Sunday’s the day after tomorrow, and then you’ll be gone. Bertha will be looking for you, but she won’t find you, will she? I hate to state the obvious, my friend, but you’re out of time.”

Thad turned pleading eyes to Charlie. “Tell me what to do.” He paced the clearing, his booted feet causing a riot of sound in the blanket of dry leaves. “Charlie, I’m convinced I haven’t told her yet because telling would make it real. And I just don’t see how I’m going to leave that girl behind.”

Charlie ducked the swinging poles slung over Thad’s shoulder then grabbed them out of his hand on the next pass. “Why don’t you ask her to wait for you?”

Thad shook his head. “Don’t think I haven’t considered it. But it wouldn’t be fair. To Bertha.”

“Don’t Bertha deserve the chance to decide for herself?”

“There’s more to consider. Her papa would never agree to such a long engagement.”

“Marry her, then. Before you leave.”

Thad stopped pacing and faced him. “I can’t take a new bride with me to military school. And as hard as it will be to leave her now, it would be impossible if we were hitched.” He turned on his heels and set off again in the direction of the horses. “I’ve thought this thing through, and I don’t see any other way. I have to leave Bertha, and it’s twisting my mind. I think about her every second of the day. I hear her voice in my head. I see her face around every corner.”

“Hmm. Is that right? Say, Thad–”

“I tell you, the whole thing is driving me mad.”

“Um, Thad?”

Irritation spiked through him. Clearly Charlie had no inkling of how Thad felt or he would allow no diversion from the topic at hand. “Heavens, man! Don’t you see I’m in pain here? What is it?”

Charlie cleared his throat. “I’m thinking I must be a little smitten with Bertha myself.”

Thad stopped so fast that Charlie ran into him. He turned on his friend, his back as stiff as a picket, and took him by the front of his shirt. “Why would you say such a fool thing?”

Charlie pointed past his shoulder. “Because I’m starting to see her, too.”

Thad whirled and followed the direction Charlie pointed. The fleeting figure of a young woman came up the road in the distance, her image flickering as she passed in and out of sight between the trees and high brush. He might’ve discounted it as a vision, except Charlie saw her, too.

Thad stared hard at the woman’s face. “You’re right. It is Bertha. What the devil’s she doing way out here, and on foot?”

Charlie nudged him. “There’s only one way to find out. Come on.”

Charlie walked fast toward the road, and Thad followed. They reached it just as the clouds started to make good on their threat
and the occasional plump raindrop became a scattered shower.

Bertha, facing down with her hands up to shield her hair, picked up speed. She hurried their way, very distressed by the look of her, and didn’t seem to see them yet. Thad cupped his hands around his mouth to call out to her when she raised her head and looked about, likely searching for shelter. Her gaze fell on Thad and Charlie, and she halted, staring as if unable to believe her eyes.

“Stay there, Bertha,” Thad called. “We’re coming.”

He rushed to his horse and mounted in one fluid leap then whirled and rode hard in Bertha’s direction. Drawing even with her, he slowed and reached for her hand. She latched on and allowed him to swing her up behind him. Thad felt her arms go around his waist and her cheek rest against his back, and he tasted bliss.

It seemed the space of a heartbeat from the time Bertha saw Thad until he pulled her onto his horse. She sat sidesaddle on the back of the galloping filly, clinging to Thad for all she was worth. The rain came down in sheets now, and she fought the improper urge to crawl up under his shirt. Instead, she cuddled close against the heat of his back and closed her eyes.

The rumbling thunder overhead, pounding hooves beneath her, and the rapid beat of Thad’s heart against her face made her feel giddy and reckless. She had no notion where he might be taking her, or why. Such earthly details held no merit. She wanted only to cry out for Saint Peter to open wide the Pearly Gates, because surely the mare would carry them straight into heaven.

Too soon the road to Beulah Land became the trail to Crawford Street when Thad reined firmly to the right and into Julius Ney’s pasture. The horse roared up the path to Mr. Ney’s barn.

Bertha clung so tightly to Thad she feared for his ribs, but any less of a grip and she’d spring off into mud and certain disaster. No matter how marshy the surface, the harsh summer sun had baked a brick-hard crust on Jefferson’s soil. Bertha doubted she’d bounce if she went down.

With Charlie fast on their heels, Thad galloped the horse past the barricaded front of the structure and around back where the wide doors faced the open fields between the barn and the main house.

In the distance, Bertha saw Mr. Ney running from the outhouse, suspenders down off his shoulders and shirttail flapping. He waved a permissive hand in their direction just as they ducked beneath the threshold and dove inside.

Thad eased Bertha to the ground and dismounted. Charlie led his horse to a post in the corner and tied him up. Thad did the same with the mare. When Charlie turned, Bertha couldn’t help but laugh. Mud spattered him from head to toe in big gray blotches like the markings on a dappled hound.

Thad followed Bertha’s gaze to Charlie then halted and stared. “Followed a mite close to my heels, didn’t you, old friend?”

Charlie looked down at himself and grinned. “Never intended to follow. I was trying to gain the lead.” He brushed at his clothes. “I’ll think better of it next time.”

Thad took the handkerchief from around his neck and began blotting raindrops from Bertha’s head and shoulders. She watched him while he worked, his face close and intent on the task. When he dried her to his satisfaction, he took a rolled-up blanket from behind his saddle, shook it out, and spread it on the hay. Then he took her arm and led her to it. “Sit on this side. It’s still mostly dry.” After he saw her well settled, he sat beside her on the blanket, a shy smile on his lips.

He loves me.

The truth of it washed over Bertha, making her feel weak and warm, as if her bones were melted butter. There’d be no more wondering, hoping, praying. Thad loved her, all right, and now she knew.

His actions hadn’t confirmed her belief that he cared–any gentleman would do the same for a lady in distress–it was more the manner in which he went about his ministrations. The way he touched her, led her, succored her, with the tenderness a mother
might show toward a beloved child. These things gave Thad away, no matter how distant he kept his feelings or how hard he tried to deny them.

Thank You, God.

“Bertha?”

She averted her gaze. She’d been staring. “Yes?”

“Are you cold? I can close the doors.”

She shook her head and met his eyes again. A water droplet found its way past his hairline and started a slow trek down his face, pulling her attention to his tanned cheek. Her finger twitched with the urge to touch it. “I’m fine. No need to fret.”

He grew suddenly stern. “What in the dickens are you doing out in the woods by yourself? You might’ve been lost or shot by a hunter.” He stopped and raised his brows. “Say, how did you get here anyway?”

“Mose brought me.”

His face iced over. “Moses Pharr left you standing in the woods in a thunderstorm? I’ll need to say a few words to that bump-headed boy.”

She held up her hand. “There’s no need, Thad. He’s coming right back for me. He promised.”

Thad looked skeptical, so she tried to soften him with a smile. “He should be here any minute, in fact.”

Charlie loped over to join them, a welcome distraction. He dropped onto the blanket beside Thad and reclined his lanky body, placing both arms behind his head for a pillow. “Sure is cozy in here.” He stretched and closed his eyes. “Wouldn’t take me a minute to fall asleep.”

Thad nudged him. “Wouldn’t take you a minute to fall asleep if you were balanced on a broom handle.” He winked over at Bertha. “I hear tell Charlie slept his way through the last two years of school.”

Charlie poked him back. “Don’t believe everything you hear, pilgrim. More like the last three.” They laughed together, and then Charlie turned on his side as if ready to demonstrate the virtue of his statement.

Bertha watched him turn and shared a smirk with Thad. But the smile that began as shared amusement blossomed into an intimate meeting of eyes and soul. The encounter caused Bertha’s breath to catch. Flustered, she turned away to exhale.

When her breathing settled, she tried to ease the strain between them with small talk. “Mr. Ney did a right fine job on this barn, didn’t he?” She let her gaze follow the neat row of new planks along the wall to the sturdy overhead beams. Above their heads, a wide hayloft seemed bursting at the seams with bales, and matching tied bundles lined the walls on the floor.

The smell of fresh-milled pine and cut hay filled the room, mixed with the odor of wet clothes, damp earth, and the headiest scent of all, Thad’s hair balm. It smelled of nameless spice and pomade. Mingled with the odor of soap on his cheeks from his shaving mug, it wove an intoxicating halo about him. She grew hesitant to turn his way, because when their eyes met, she felt herself sway toward him against her will.

She stole a sly glance and discovered Thad seemed rattled, too. He focused on his hands, which wouldn’t stay still in his lap. She expected at any minute he might sit on them.

Instead, he reached for her hand, pulling her shy fingers with his determined ones, gently tugging until her hand was close enough to gather up and squeeze. The simple gesture made her stomach lurch. The warmth and pressure of his strong hand around hers thrilled her and related how he felt without his saying a word.

“Bertha, there’s something I–”

Sloshing footsteps outside cut him off. Mr. Ney appeared in the door of the barn with a feed sack held over his head.

“You kids all right in here?”

Thad struggled to his feet. “Mr. Ney, sir. Yes, we’re fine. We just ducked in to wait out the storm.” He jabbed a finger toward the slumbering Charlie. “The three of us, I mean. Sure hope you don’t mind.”

Mr. Ney stepped inside and shook the water from his sack.

“The missus sent me out here to fetch you.” He glanced behind him at the pouring rain. “Says you’re welcome to sit in the kitchen until this thing blows over.”

For some reason, Thad had become as edgy as a cat the moment Mr. Ney appeared. He smoothed one hand through his wet hair and shook his head. “No disrespect intended, sir, but we’ll stay put until it slacks off, if it’s all right with you. We’d just repay her kindness by tracking half of Texas onto her floors.”

Mr. Ney shot a look toward Charlie, who hadn’t moved. Then his eyes swept to Bertha. “That all right with you, child?”

Bertha gave him a wide-eyed stare. “Why, yes, sir.”

Mr. Ney cleared his throat. “All right, then. I guess that’ll be acceptable. But leave this door open, Thad.” His attention returned to Bertha, and he pointed behind him at the house. “We’ll be just inside. . .if you need us for anything.”

Bertha wondered why Mr. Ney acted so stern about such a trifling thing as sitting outside in the barn. She guessed she might never understand the ways of men. She offered Mr. Ney her brightest smile. “Give my best to the missus, won’t you?”

He said he would, then with one more weighted look toward Thad, covered his head with the sack and darted for the house. Bertha giggled at the nervous look on Thad’s face as he watched him leave.

“I can’t imagine how difficult it is to be a man.” She had his attention. Likely more by the way she squinted up at him than by her words.