Lorraine Heath (20 page)

“Did you dance with Meg?”

“Yep.”

“I appreciate it.”

Lucian leaned against the beam that ran from the porch to the eaves. “Tucker from the mercantile offered to extend me credit.” He shifted his stance. “As long as I give him my word you won’t eat any of the supplies I pick up.”

Slowly, Clay nodded. “Does he want it in writing? I could sign a statement—”

“God damn it!” Lucian tore his hat from his head, stepped away from the porch, and glared at Clay. “Why the hell won’t you fight?”

“What do you want me to do? Go into town and beat him up? What would that gain us?”

“Some respect.”

“If I went into town and beat up a man over twice my age, people would respect me? I can do without that kind of respect.”

“At least they’d stop thinking you were a coward, and me and the twins could start walking with our heads held high.” “The only one stopping you from walking with your head held high is you. What I do with my life shouldn’t affect your pride.”

“You’re my brother. If people think you’re a coward, then they’ll think I inherited the same yellow streak. Why the hell couldn’t you have caught some disease and died like so many others did? It sure would have made my life simpler.”

Clay studied the shadows between his feet. He’d only been a little older than Lucian was now when he made his decision not to enlist along with his friends. He supposed at Lucian’s age, every young man thought the decisions he made affected the world. “Think Taffy’s father would let you call on her if I hadn’t come home?”

“He might.”

He peered at his brother. “Want me to go talk to him?”

“Hell, no, I don’t want you to talk to him.”

“So what are you going to do about Taffy?”

Lucian ran his fingers through his hair. “Hell, I haven’t decided yet. If she can sneak away tomorrow, we’re going on a picnic. I’ll talk to her about it then.”

“You start sneaking around now, you’ll always be sneaking around.”

“Those are fine words of wisdom coming from a coward.”

“I never sneaked around. Everyone knew exactly where I stood.”

Lucian leaned down so his gaze was even with Clay’s. “You would have been sneaking around if you’d known they had plans to hang you the day their sons rode away.”

“I did know,” Clay said quietly. “Kirk told me before he left.”

“I
F YOU’RE GONNA DO IT, YOU’D BEST GET IT DONE.”

Lucian snapped his head around and glared at Clay.

“That’s easy enough for you to say. You don’t know what this feels like. Hell, I feel like I ‘m gonna walk to my own execution.”

Clay unwrapped the reins from around the brake handle. “Just take a deep breath, look straight ahead, and start walking.”

Lucian turned his attention to the people wandering from the church. “A deep breath?”

“A very deep breath.”

Lucian was halfway across the churchyard before he realized he hadn’t breathed at all. He breathed deeply, but his legs still shook as though he walked on unsteady ground. Nearing the Lang family, he yanked off his hat. “Taffy?”

She spun around, her gray eyes wide. He figured the South had dressed her men in gray because of Taffy’s eyes.

“Taffy, about that picnic we were planning. I know this real nice spot, but it’s too far to walk to so I thought I‘d pick you up in the wagon in about an hour.”

A smile lit her face, and Lucian figured the pain her father was about to deal him was going to be worth every blow. “Mr. Lang, you might as well pound your fist into my face now because I aim to call on your daughter.”

“Oh, Pa wouldn’t hit you. Would you. Pa?”

When Taffy touched her father’s arm, Lucian thought he could actually see the man’s heart melt. “I reckon not.”

Taffy’s smile grew, and she squeezed Lucian’s hand. “I’ll be waitin'.”

Lucian nodded and hoped his smile didn’t look as silly as it felt. Jamming his hat on his head, he walked backward. He bumped against-someone. “Sorry, Robert.”

Quickening his pace, he headed toward the wagon. Clay flicked the reins, and Lucian started running. The twins were laughing and yelling by the time he dove into the back of the wagon.

“Well?” Clay asked over his shoulder.

Lucian looked at the blue sky. “I’m gonna spend the day near heaven.”

Meg had not lost her mind.

Last night while her father guided the wagon home, she’d lain in the back staring at the stars. Somewhere along the rough road, her good sense had tumbled out.

After her father and Daniel went to sleep, she tiptoed to the kitchen and baked until dawn. Carefully, she packed all but one cake into a wicker basket. The cake was her decoy so her family wouldn’t wonder why the warm kitchen smelled of cinnamon, sugar, and butter at dawn.

She hid the basket in her room. When they returned from church, she feigned a headache, went to her bedroom, climbed out the window, and saddled her horse. Picnic basket tied precariously behind her, she headed toward the stream where she hoped Clay would again spend the afternoon with his brothers.

She knew she was courting danger, but the twins’ loyalty to Clay had touched her deeply. She dismounted within a copse of trees near the river’s edge. She heard no gaiety or laughter. She heard only the birds and the wind whispering through the branches overhead, teasing the leaves. She heard a small splash, the sound of a fish returning to the water before it was ready.

Clay had left Cedar Grove before he was ready; he’d returned before the people of Cedar Grove were prepared to accept him.

Silently, she wended through the trees until she saw the riverbank clearly. Beyond it, no naked boys rollicked. No grown man fully clothed, soaked to the skin, made threats, then proceeded to carry them out.

She sighed heavily. If they weren’t here, where could they be?

“Howdy, Miz Warner!”

Meg jumped, spun around, and pressed her palm against her chest, grateful to find her heart could still pound. “You frightened me,” she said to the grinning twin.

His grin widened. “Yes, ma’am, I could tell. You pert’ near looked like a bird tryin’ to protect its nest.” He glanced around. “You got a nest round here?”

She planted her hands on her hips. “Which twin are you?”

He studied the ground for a moment, then peered up at her, suspicion showing clearly in his brown eyes. “Joe.”

“Well, Josh, are you alone out here?”

“I said I was Joe.”

“And I think you’re afraid I’m going to tell how you frightened me so you gave me your brother’s name.”

He scrunched up his face. “Are you gonna tell? Clay said we was always to treat ladies kindly, even when they was bothersome. Reckon scarin’ you wasn’t treatin’ you kindly. You gonna tell?”

“Are you Josh?”

Slowly, he nodded.

“Should I tell him?”

He shook his head. “Nah, I’ll tell him. He says we gotta own up to the things we do—good or bad.”

“Well, I don’t think it’s truly necessary to tell him anything. Is he out here?”

“Yes, ma’am. We was fishin’ down yonder, but the fish ain’t bitin’ so I come lookin’ for some pecans.” He withdrew his hand from a pocket to display his finds. “We didn’t bring nothin’ with us, figurin’ we’d have fish for our noonday meal, and my belly done started rumblin'. Clay said it was so loud, it was scarin’ the fish away.”

“Actually, I was looking for a place to have a picnic.”

“You can share our spot if you don’t mind shelling your own pecans.”

“I sure as heck hope Josh brings back a bunch of pecans,” Joe said as he toyed with his fishing line. His stomach growled, and he glanced over at Clay. “They can’t hear that.”

“You’d be surprised what they can hear.” Lying on his back, his hands folded beneath his head, Clay watched the clouds roll by. Like Josh before he went in search of pecans, Clay had stuck his fishing pole in the muddy bank.

“I think Josh is right,” Joe said. “I don’t think Lucian is family, else he woulda invited us along on his picnic with Taffy.”

“Lucian is family. It’s just that he didn’t want his brothers butting in while he was courting.”

“He’s really and truly courting her?”

“Reckon so.”

“Is he gonna marry her?”

Clay shrugged.

Joe stuck his pole into the mud, scooted back, and rolled onto his stomach, his elbows perched so he could rest his chin in his hands. “You ever gonna marry?”

Clay pointed to a bank of clouds. “Look, there’s a buffalo.”

Joe twisted his head and squinted against the sunlight. “I don’t see it.”

“Just to the left of that cloud that’s a little darker.”

“You reckon Pa’s up there carving them clouds?”

“I wouldn’t be a bit surprised. Seems like a good thing to do. Reckon I might do that when the time comes.”

“I bet you’ll carve out some fancy clouds.”

Clay smiled. “Yeah, I imagine I will.”

Joe dropped his elbows, pressed his palms flat on the earth, and rested his cheek on his hands. “So are you?”

“What?”

“Gonna get married sometime.”

The emptiness engulfed Clay. He respected honesty and was trying to teach the twins to be honest in their dealings with people. He just wished he hadn’t taught them to speak quite so much of what was on their minds. “No, I don’t reckon I will.”

“On account of you not fightin’ in the war?”

“That’s got something to do with it.”

Joe scooted over until his arm knocked against Clay’s shoulder. He lifted up on his elbows and looked down on Clay’s face, locking his brown eyes onto Clay’s. “If you had it to do over, would you fight?”

“No.”

Joe grinned. “I’m glad.” He flopped to his back and looked at the sky.

Clay rolled over to his side and rose up on an elbow. “Why are you glad?”

“On account if you’d do it different now, it’d mean you made the wrong choice the first time. And you didn’t.”

Shaking his head. Clay gave his brother a rueful smile. “I think you and Josh think things too old for your age.”

They heard a commotion behind them and glanced over their shoulders.

“I found somethin’ better than pecans!” Josh yelled as he thrashed through the trees. “Miz Warner was lookin’ for a place to have a picnic. Told her she could share our spot. And guess what? She said we could call her Miz Meg.”

Clay scrambled to his feet as Meg emerged from the trees. Sweet Lord, but her blue dress did deepen the hue of her eyes. She’d caught her hair in some sort of lacy thing that made her hair look thick and heavy, and he wondered why it didn’t break free and tumble down her back.

She gave Joe one of those rare smiles that needed to be carved for posterity. “Do you mind if I have my picnic here?”

“No, ma’am,” Joe said, with an answering smile that could have blinded her if the sun reflected off it.

Her smile grew smaller as she looked at Clay. “Is it all right with you?”

He nodded, wishing he hadn’t changed out of his church clothes. They weren’t fancy, but she saw him in his worn work clothes every day.

“I brought a quilt,” she said.

“The boys can spread it out for you.”

“Why do we need a quilt?” Josh asked.

“Because ladies don’t sit on the ground,” Clay said.

“We ain’t never had a picnic with a lady before,” Joe said. “What else do ladies do?”

That beautiful smile returned to her face. “They bring lots of food.”

Grabbing her hands, the boys pulled her to her horse. Her laughter filtered through the air as Clay yanked their fishing poles out of the mud. His pride wanted to tell her they didn’t need her charity, but his love for the twins was greater than his pride. He’d heard all about the desserts that graced the table the day before. The twins had dug into her apple cobbler with such enthusiasm that he’d just sat and watched. He hoped Meg had thought to pack a small piece of cake for them today.

“Gawd Almighty!”

Clay swung around and wished he had a heart of stone. Leaning against the tree, he watched the delight in Meg’s face as she spread her picnic over the quilt. He didn’t know how she’d managed to pack all that food in that small basket, but she’d already set out three cakes and an apple cobbler. The boys’ eyes grew as large as the two pies she was now lifting out of the basket.

Then she brought out fried chicken, and Clay felt the juices flow like a raging river within his mouth.

She brushed her hands together, then folded them in her lap. “That’s it.”

“Gawd Almighty. Can we have a piece of cake first?” Josh asked.

“That’s up to your brother,” she said softly.

Josh turned to Joe. “Can we have a piece of cake first?”

Laughing, she tapped Josh on the shoulder. “Your older brother.”

“Clay, can we eat a piece of cake first?”

“I reckon.”

She sat back on her heels and picked up a knife. “I have buttermilk cake, spice cake, and chocolate cake. Which do you want?”

The boys glanced at each other, then looked at the cakes, then looked at each other. Clay rolled his eyes. They’d be here all day.

“How about a small piece of each?” Meg suggested.

“Yes, ma’am!”

If the woman called those pieces she was cutting small, Clay didn’t think he wanted to see what she called big. She handed the plates to the boys, and they were stuffing the cake into their mouths before the thank you’s had completely escaped.

Meg spread a napkin over her skirt. It never would have occurred to Clay to bring a napkin to a picnic. She picked up a plate and, with dainty fingers, plucked a piece of chicken out of the pot and dropped it on her plate. Wiping her fingers on the napkin, she peered over at him. “I made enough for everyone.”

“Come on, Clay,” Josh said. “Bet you ain’t never had nothin’ this good before.”

If he had, it was too long ago to remember. Clay shoved away from the tree, ambled over, and sat on the ground beside the quilt.

She handed him a plate. “Just help yourself.”

Like the twins, he found the choices too many, the decision as to where to begin impossible to make. He supposed he was too old to begin his meal with a piece of cake so he dug a chicken leg out of the pot and bit into the succulent meat. He chewed it slowly, savoring the flavor. Swallowing, he glanced at her. “How’s your hand?”