Hunter's Prize (13 page)

Two horses approached, trotting side by side along the opposite edge of the road. The riders’ merry voices carried on the afternoon breeze—one shrill with mock indignation, the other gently teasing.

Addie’s breath caught even before she glimpsed the tanned face and tangled hair beneath the hat. She couldn’t mistake his smooth, rich voice.

Despite Pearson Foster’s wet shirt and a layer of dried mud on his bare feet and rolled-up pants, he sat the saddle with the self-assured grace of a man in frock coat, button boots, and cashmere trousers.

He didn’t see her at first, so she got a good long look at his handsome profile as he passed. At the last second, he whirled in the saddle and stared.

Addie blushed and ducked her head. Then, unable to resist, she met his gaze.

Pearson’s eyes lit up, and a wide smile graced his face. He lifted his hat and nodded. “Well, well. Good afternoon.”

Before she could think how to respond, or if indeed she should, Miss Whitfield took her arm and spun her around. “Shameless rabble,” she muttered. “No better breeding than to address strange women in the street?” She rushed Addie into the carriage and tapped the driver’s shoulder with her parasol. “Drive on, please. The streets aren’t safe for decent women these days.”

The man flicked the reins, and the horses moved away from the station. As they made the turn, Addie stole a peek.

Pearson and his funny little friend pulled up to the hotel and slid off their horses. Halfway up the walkway, he turned, bumped his hat off his forehead, and gazed in her direction.

Theo continued walking then stopped and doubled back. Clutching Pearson’s sleeve, he hauled him toward the door.

Covering her smile with two fingers, she forced herself to focus on Miss Whitfield and whether candied yams or mashed potatoes were the best complement to Southern fried chicken. Unfortunately, she couldn’t offer much to the conversation, considering the only accompaniment to supper she desired wasn’t welcome at the table.

P
earson dried himself off then wrapped the towel around his waist. Despite the endless pitchers of water he’d poured over his head, muddy streams still dripped from his hair.

He’d sloshed through sludge as thick as gruel over the past three days in Caddo Lake, but today was the worst. He didn’t look forward to doing it again, but he’d have to if he wanted to raise the
Mittie
.

“Won’t you hurry,
principessa
?” Theo called.

Grinning, Pearson peered around the doorway, choking on laughter at the sight of Theo, his impatient dance rattling the boards of the bathhouse floor. Mud covered his face like a mask with cutouts for his mouth and eyes. “I’m the princess? I’m not the one who was afraid to go into the water for the last two days.”

“I was afraid today, too,” Theo countered, “but I went. I’m not accustomed to swimming with alligators, you know.”

“The trick is in the dodge, my friend.”

Theo chuckled, but his voice rose in irritation. “Hurry out of there, Pearson. The mud is beginning to harden on my skin. Pigeons are circling my head.” He slapped his arms. “And I’m cold! What fools we were to come so early in the year. The warmth of the sun is deceptive. Two feet down in that lake and you’d swear it was winter.”

“I’m almost done.” Pulling on his britches and lifting his shirt from a hook, Pearson glanced at the tub. “Have the chambermaid bring a freshbath. You don’t want to dunk yourself in this muck soup. You’ll come out worse off than you went in.” He slipped on his boots and rounded the corner, settling his hat on his head. Lifting it again, he nodded at the fetching young maid crossing the courtyard of the Ginocchio Hotel. “Afternoon, miss.”

She shot him a sweet smile and lowered her lashes.

Tossing the towel across his shoulder, he tipped his head at Theo. “I hope you’ll excuse my grubby friend. He’s been making mud pies again.”

Theo shot him a threatening look then bowed to the maid, his smile bright against his mud-smeared face. “If it’s not too much trouble, pretty lady, I’d appreciate a fresh tub of water. I make it a rule not to bathe after hogs.”

She ducked her head and giggled.

Pearson yanked the towel from around his neck and swatted Theo with a loud
pop
.

“It’s true,” Theo insisted, dodging the end of the towel. “He cleans up well, but this man isn’t kosher.”

“Whatever you say, sir,” she managed through her laughter. “I’ll bring your water right away.” Tittering, she scurried down the walk toward the back door of the hotel.

Watching her go, Theo yawned and stretched. “I hope she hurries. I need a hot meal and a soft mattress.”

“I agree. We’ll find something to eat before we go, and we’ll turn in the minute we return.”

Theo’s hands, busy squeezing water out of his curls, stilled. “Return from where? I’m plenty tired, Pearson. I had no plans to go anywhere.”

Pearson averted his gaze. “I thought we’d ride out to Whitfield Manor. You know … check on our new friends and see how they’ve fared.”

Theo flashed his crooked grin. “By ‘friend’ you mean Mrs. McRae’s daughter.”

Pearson lifted one shoulder. “They’re both very nice ladies.” He wouldn’t admit it to his merciless comrade, but in the four days since he’d met her, Miss Addie’s big eyes and dainty chin hadn’t left his mind.

Theo smirked. “Indeed. I thought you weren’t ready for the bridle, stallion.”

Tossing the towel, Pearson nodded toward the bathhouse. “Go washthe mire from your body … and rinse the sass from your big mouth while you’re at it.”

Laughing, Theo lobbed the wet cloth back at him and ducked inside the door.

With a hopeless shake of his head, Pearson ambled to their room.

Theo appeared a few minutes later, just as ornery, but looking more like himself. Pausing in the doorway, he gave Pearson a long look. “Are you spit and polished enough to go see this girl? I won’t have you embarrass me.”

Pearson tilted his head. “For a man who didn’t want to go, you seem mighty eager.”

He grinned. “Once I cleared the mud from the seat of my trousers, I felt better. Must’ve been weighing me down.”

The buggy ride to Whitfield Manor was short but pleasant. The well-traveled road out of town soon turned into a winding uphill lane beneath spreading oaks.

In the circular drive, Pearson gave instructions to the driver to wait and then climbed to the ground.

Bailing out the other side, Theo passed behind the rig and came to join him. “What will you say to her?”

Heading up the stone walkway, Pearson shrugged. “I’ll figure that out when I see her.” At the stately front entrance, he took a deep breath and rapped with the gleaming brass knocker. Immediately the door swung open with such force, it startled him.

Theo gripped his shoulder and pulled him back a couple of steps.

A small boy, so wraithlike and spry he put Pearson in mind of a fairy, gazed with hollow eyes past them to the yard.

With a wry smile at his jumpy friend, Pearson stooped to eye level with the child. “Hello there. I’m Pearson, and my friend here is Theo.” He offered his hand. “What do they call you?”

Ignoring Pearson’s hand, the boy grunted and angled his body to see around him.

The intensity of his stare raised the hair on Pearson’s neck. Instinctively he twisted to see behind him.

“What’s he looking at?” Theo whispered.

“I was wondering the same.”

A woman in a starched white apron and cap appeared from the shadows and latched onto the boy’s shoulders. “Sorry, suh. He ain’t supposed to answer the door, but he do it anyway. Can I help you?”

Pearson stood. “We’re here to pay a call on Mrs. McRae.”

She blinked up at him. “Did you say
Mrs
. McRae?”

He lifted a brow. “Mrs. Mariah McRae? I understand she’s a guest here.”

The boy began to moan and sway, so she nudged him gently down the hall. “Oh, yessuh. She was a guest, but she lef’ on the train two days ago.”

Regret sank like a stone to the pit of Pearson’s stomach. He’d tried to wait a respectable amount of time to come calling, but now it appeared he’d waited too long. “May I ask where she went?”

“Gone back to Mississippi, I think.” She pointed behind her. “I can go ask—”

“No, don’t bother. We won’t intrude.” No sense disturbing the old lady.

“All right then,” she said. “You gentlemens have yo’selves a nice day.”

She stepped inside to close the door, but Pearson raised his hand. “Miss?”

The crack in the door widened. “Yessuh?”

“If I leave a note, will you see that Mrs. McRae gets it?”

“I’ll do my best.”

He fumbled at his pockets. “Let’s see … I need something to write on.”

“I’ll bring you something, suh.”

“And an envelope, if you don’t mind.”

“Yessuh. Wait right here.”

The woman returned quickly and passed him a sheet of frilly stationery and a pen. The paper had bluebonnets around the border like a watercolor painting and smelled of flowers.

Pearson held it up and wrinkled his nose.

Smiling slightly, she shrugged. “That’s all I could find.”

Using Theo’s bony back for a desk, Pearson jotted a few lines and signed it, then sealed it in the envelope. “Will you ask Miss Whitfield to send this?”

She nodded. “I’ll ask.”

“Much obliged.”

Tipping his hat, he yanked at Theo’s sleeve. “I guess that’s all we can do. Let’s go.”

His heart a pulsing lump in his chest, he trudged down the steps. Mississippi seemed worlds away from Texas, which meant it might take a miracle to see Addie McRae again. On the way to the rig, he decided there were drawbacks to being on the outs with the One who specialized in miracles.

Ceddy sailed toward Addie in the upstairs corridor then whisked past her in a blur. Whirling, she called his name, but he ignored her. Wheeling around the corner, he burst into his bedroom and slammed the door shut behind him.

Two days ago she might’ve followed, but she’d grown accustomed to some of his behavior. Most anything could set him off, and seldom was it anything she’d done.

“Very well. I’ll bring your afternoon snack,” she announced to the empty hallway and then smiled. “Might get one for myself as well. Delilah’s been baking again.”

Smoothing her crisp linen skirt, she preened before the mirror as she passed. She’d worked for many families around Canton, caring for their children, but Miss Whitfield was the first employer who supplied a smart uniform.

Adjusting her white cap, she stepped closer to the upstairs window, her gaze drawn to someone milling in the yard. Pressing her nose to the glass, she gasped. Incredibly, Pearson Foster, the man who’d haunted her thoughts for days, and his Italian friend had come to call.

It took a second glance for her to realize they were at the end of the walkway climbing aboard one of the hired buggies from town.

“Great heavenly days!” she shrieked, hurling herself for the stairs. She reached the bottom landing and bolted for the front door. “Wait, don’t leave!” she cried as she ran across the porch. Teetering at the top step, she slapped her hand over her mouth, shocked at her shameless lack of decorum.

No matter, they hadn’t heard. The wagon turned at the grove of trees and disappeared down the lane.

Part of her flooded with relief that no one had witnessed her bellowing like a weaning calf. The other part shriveled inside with disappointment.

“Missy McRae? What is you doing?”

Spinning, she stared dumbly at Delilah.

Delilah hitched her shoulder toward the drive. “You know them boys?”

“Yes. Well, not exactly. What did they want? What did they say? Why on earth did they leave so soon?”

Delilah placed one hand on her hip. “Which of them questions you want me to answer?”

“All of them, please.”

Biting her lip, she nodded. “Well, they wanted your mama. That’s about all they said. And they left on account of she ain’t here.”

Addie stared. “They asked for my mother? Are you certain?”

“Yes’m. Called her by name.”

“Did they say anything about me?” The second the words tripped off her tongue, heat crawled up her neck and flaming fire lit her cheeks. “I mean …”

“Sorry, Miss Addie. Your name ain’t come up.” Grinning, Delilah gathered her skirts and turned from the door. “Now, if you be done with questions, I got to take this letter to Miss Whitfield like I promised.”

Seconds later, the import of her words pierced the troubled fog in Addie’s mind. Racing inside, she caught up with Delilah, knocking at the door of the study.

“Come in,” Miss Whitfield’s muffled voice called.

Addie tugged on Delilah’s sleeve. “Wait, please,” she whispered. “Do you mean to say those two”—she pointed toward the front of the house—”the men who were just here … left a letter for Miss Whitfield?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Oh.” The breath left Addie in a rush. “Well, all right then.” She waved with her fingers. “Carry on.”

Delilah turned the knob. “They left a letter for your mama.” Pulling an envelope from her pocket, she stepped inside the study and closed the door.

Pearson watched a robin flit by the buggy and perch on the edge of its nest. Tracked a cat squirrel up a tall pine. Considered the bald spot on the back of the driver’s head. Anything but meeting Theo’s mournful gaze.

“Sorry, old man,” he finally said.

Embarrassed, Pearson shrugged. “For what?”

Theo widened his eyes. “Don’t try pretending with me. I know you too well.” The tip of his tongue appeared in his cheek. “You’re pretty disappointed, aren’t you?”

“Don’t get sentimental, Theo. She’s just a girl like all the rest.”

“Is that so?” He dug his elbow in Pearson’s side. “Then why do you look like you’re about to cry?”

Growling, Pearson returned the favor, except with more force. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Theo wagged a finger in his face. “I’ve seen that expression before. Many times, in fact. You look this way after every bum lead on Jean Lafitte’s gold.”

“What?” Angry with himself for the girlie shrill in his voice, Pearson crossed his arms and turned his back on his friend. Much more lip and he’d be tossing him over the side.