In a Stranger's Arms (22 page)

By suppertime a deal had been struck that appeared to satisfy everyone except Lon. As Caddie and Manning rode home with their share of the Marsh valuables, a light rain began to spit.

“Shame we have to sell these things that have been in the family so long.” Manning sighed. If they’d been his own family heirlooms, Caddie doubted he could have sounded more regretful.

“If it’ll let us hang on to Sabbath Hollow, I don’t mind parting with them.” Caddie tried not to think about her family’s special possessions and what might have become of them during Sherman’s scourge of the Carolinas. “There’s a little cameo that belonged to my mother-in-law. I’d like to hang on to it for Varina, if we can.”

Manning nodded. “I wondered why you chose that half. We shouldn’t waste any time taking this stuff to Washington to sell. It’d probably fetch a better price in New York, but that’s a long trip to make with the children.”

“Go wherever you need to.” Caddie tried to keep her tone matter-of-fact, as though this was not a decision she’d struggled over. “I’ll stay here to keep an eye on the business. The city’s no place for children in the summer. They’ll be better off staying put.”

Had he heard her? Did he understand the risk she was taking? The hard-won, still-fragile trust she offered in atonement for all the suspicion and antagonism she’d directed at him in the past.

Finally he looked over at her. “You sure about this?”

Caddie could tell by the gravity of his tone and the searching blue gaze he aimed at her that Manning understood, perhaps more than she did herself.

Why, then, did he not look happier about it?

By rights, Templeton Marsh should have been a happy boy. Any lad in his position might have dreamed of finding hidden treasure to save his home and restore the family fortunes. Well, he’d been credited with doing just that. His mother’s eyes held a special glow of pride when she looked at him now.

His stepfather had gone to New York and returned with money to pay the taxes, promising business contacts, and presents for the family. Tem’s gift had been a book about a Dutch boy who’d also saved his family from ruin. Reading about Hans Brinker’s courage and honesty made Tem feel like a fraud.

“Say, Tem, want to go catch toads out back of the stable?” Varina tucked her new doll into the cradle Manning had built.

“Maybe later.” Tem leaned against the porch rail and stared off down the lane. Sergeant sprawled at his feet, panting and swishing his tail in a lazy rhythm.

It wasn’t honorable to take credit for something you hadn’t done, and even at the age of eight Templeton had a finely honed sense of honor. His grandpa had often lectured him on the subject when he’d been just a little shaver back in Richmond. Only since Manning Forbes had come into his life had Tem begun to understand the day-to-day living of an honorable life.

“Want to go pick blackberries?” Varina marched over and leaned against the railing in a perfect imitation of her brother.

Sergeant’s ears pricked up, as if he sensed the opportunity for some fun.

“In a while maybe.” Long ago Tem had learned that saying no to his little sister just got her riled up. And if there was one thing he hated, it was folks getting riled up.

He had an unpleasant suspicion honor demanded doing the right thing even when it riled folks. The way Manning had stood up to his uncle Lon, and the way he’d risked riling Mama by insisting they share all that silver his grandpa had hidden.

“You been no fun since you found them old forks.” Varina flounced over to the cradle and pulled out her doll. “Miz Maymie and me are going for a walk and you can’t come—so there.”

The dog raised his face to Tem, an expectant look in those faithful dark eyes.

“Go on if you want to, boy. Go with Rina and keep her out of trouble.” After a brief show of reluctance, Sergeant barked and loped off after Varina and Miz Maymie.

As Tem watched his sister stalk away with the dog at her heels, he almost hollered after them that toad catching or berry picking sounded like good fun. It was no use. While his conscience ached like a sore tooth, it took the fun out of everything.

Behind him Tem heard the front door open and close. Soft, sure footsteps approached. Mama.

“Are you feeling poorly, Son?” She laid a cool, graceful hand on his forehead. “You haven’t been yourself lately. Is the heat bothering you?”

“No, ma’am.” It might have been easier to pretend some minor ailment but that would have been like telling a fib, and Tem didn’t want to overburden his conscience just now.

His mother sighed. Tem stole a guilty glance to find her wearing the old look, where puzzlement and worry mixed with the love. Tem liked the new look far better. A look so full of pride and wonder it glowed.

Too bad he didn’t deserve it.

“Then what’s the matter, precious? At first I thought you were just moping for Manning to get back. Now I’m wondering if you need a good dose of sulfur and molasses.”

Tem made a face.

“What else am I supposed to think? You’re off your food. You don’t want to play with your sister or the dog. Are you provoked because we had to sell off the things you found?”

Tem shook his head. It seemed as though the more he studied on his problem, the bigger it got. Like a bubble full of air, it just grew and grew until it popped.

“Mama, promise not to be awful mad if I tell you something.”

His mother wrapped her arm around his shoulders and tilted her head until it rested against his. “That’s a pretty hard promise to make before I know what you’re going to say. What I can promise is that I’ll respect you for telling me the truth, and I’ll weigh that in your favor.”

“I... didn’t find that silver and such.”

A little noise broke from his mother that might have been a wet laugh or a happy cry. “Is that all you’re upset about? Well, of course you didn’t dig the heavy old box up by yourself. But you told Manning where to look and that’s what—”

“No, ma’am!” Tem shook his head hard. “I didn’t tell him where to find it. Manning knew—he knew! Oh, he asked me all sorts of questions about Grandpa and back in Richmond, and did Grandpa ever talk about Sabbath Hollow.”

“Y-yes, but—”

“See, Mama? I don’t deserve you to make a fuss over me for finding those things. Manning does. He talked about different places—the stables, the woodshed, the pump. He kept coming back to the pump until I said, ‘Maybe,’ then we started to dig.”

“I see.” Mama sounded queer—like she was talking in her sleep. Rina did that sometimes, so Tem knew.

“I’m sorry I let you make a fuss over me instead of Manning. Sometimes I think you don’t like him much, Mama, and I sure wish you would.” Aw shucks, he was going to start bawling like a big old baby. Templeton squeezed his eyes together real tight until the tears leaked down into his nose.

“Listen to me, Templeton Randolph Marsh. You’ve got no call to be sorry. I’m prouder of you for telling me this than if you dug up fifty treasure chests with your bare hands. Understand?”

Tem opened one eye and looked into Mama’s. The pride was there, all right. But so was something else. Something wild that frightened him. “Yes, ma’am, I understand.”

“Good.” The way her slender fingers dug into his shoulders scared Tem so bad he almost wet his drawers. “Now you run along and play with your sister and no more moping.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Who’d be fool enough to mope with Judgment Day at hand? Somehow Tem knew a storm was brewing that might be on that order.

And he had unleashed it

He tore down off the porch and around the house, his bony chest heaving beneath his shirt. There he stopped and listened.

Mama was talking to herself. Words that didn’t make sense, about how she should’ve known, questions about why he’d do this.

The front door slammed shut. When Tem mastered his panic enough to peek around the corner of the house, his mother was gone. Inside, feet thundered up the stairs. Surely that couldn’t be his composed, light-stepping mother.

Tem’s stomach felt as if he’d swallowed a handful of tadpoles, as Rina had once dared him. Part of him—almost all of him, as a matter of fact—wanted to tear off after his sister and stay clear of the house until this ruckus passed.

But another part—a tiny one and new to his nature—insisted he take responsibility for whatever he’d set in motion. Set things right, if only he could figure out how.

He nearly jumped a foot when a familiar hand reached up from behind and tousled his hair.

“What are you doing, Tem? Playing hide and seek with Varina? You’ll have to find a better hiding place than this. Sorry, Son, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“You’re home early, Manning.”

“Benefit of owning your own business, boy. You can come home early on a fine summer day. Think you and Varina might like to go splash around in the creek with me?”

“Ah... sure, let’s go.”

Manning laughed. “Give me a minute to lose my socks and work boots and find a towel. You round up Varina.”

“I—I wouldn’t go in the house if I was you. Mama’s not in a real good humor.”

“Templeton, what’s going on?” Against his advice, Manning strode into the house, and almost immediately his voice blared through the open window of his bedroom.

Tem’s mother shrieked her answer, words that sounded like, “Well, why are you doing this to me?”

The boy clamped his hands over his ears to protect himself from the anger in Manning’s voice and the anguish in his mother’s. The harsh words that rang in his thoughts were at least as bad as anything they could say in real life.

He had to stop them—even just for a little while. Give them something else to think about besides their quarrel. He could think of only one distraction serious enough to qualify.

Chapter Fourteen

H
ER SON
’
S BLURTED
confession tore the blinders off Caddie’s eyes once and for all.

Why had she been too weak and stupid to do it for herself long before this? Manning Forbes and Delbert Marsh
must
be the same man.

But why? If Del wanted to pass himself off as a Yankee, why come back to Virginia to do it? Was it like Bobbie had suggested—wanting more than anything to be on the winning side? By the time he’d disappeared in the spring of ’64, the fate of the Confederacy had been written on the wall, in blood, for anyone who had the courage to see it.

Surely, it must be more than that. Caddie paced the front porch, muttering to herself in a fever of speculation. Maybe Del had taken a head wound and woken up in some Yankee hospital without a full recollection of who he was. He might have returned to Sabbath Hollow, the one thing he did remember, looking for answers.

A third possibility occurred to Caddie—one that left her bilious. Had Del come back in the guise of a Yankee, to tempt her into betraying his memory? To prove that fidelity wasn’t as easy as she might have thought?

She had to find out. She had to know.

If Manning... or Del... or whoever he was wouldn’t tell her, Caddie had a pretty good idea where she’d find some answers. Wrenching the door open, she charged up the stairs, almost tripping over her skirts in her haste. She tore down the hall and skidded to a halt in front of her husband’s bedroom.

For a minute or two, some unseen force kept her from crossing the threshold, almost like a magical ward. Her craving to know the truth proved an even stronger counterspell.

She yanked open the dresser drawer into which she’d last seen Manning thrust that wooden box. It was still there. But when she tried to open the lid, it wouldn’t budge. Caddie made a brief search for the key but couldn’t find it. Very well—there was more than one way to skin a cat.

Pulling out one of her hairpins, she jabbed it into the lock and commenced to wiggle it around. She didn’t have a clue what she was doing, but years ago she’d seen her brother Breck unfasten a lock this way.

Click!

That faint but portentous sound set Caddie’s pulse rushing faster than a drumroll.

Then she heard another sound that set her whole body aquiver. The heavy, rapid clatter of a man racing up the stairs.