Saving Grace (The Grace Series Book 2) (15 page)

The spook didn’t reply. He didn’t put his revolvers away until they were well out of sight.

By the time he got to her, the woman was hysterical. Her grief, however, wasn’t wholly because of the harm inflicted upon her. Her husband was one of the men who had been lynched and he was dead. The spook did his best to console her and ease her hurts. At her request, he brought her to her sister’s home in Shanty Town.

He was several miles from there, when he realized he was being followed. There was a whole posse of them, but he couldn’t see them, which meant they’d stripped themselves of their sheets. He brought Midnight to a halt and turned around. The temptation to ride back, to head straight into them was strong. Sweat trickled down his back, but it wasn’t from the warmer spring temperature, or because of the physical exertion. It stemmed from rage. They wanted to kill him, and he had never wanted to reciprocate more.

He waited, shushing Midnight’s agitation, until they were close enough for their silhouettes to become visible. He raised his revolver. There were eight of them. Midnight’s impatient whinny was followed by words clearly shouted, “There he is! After him!”

With a curse, the spook holstered his gun. He spun Midnight and kicked his heels in. He knew the road well. He’d traveled it hundreds of times. Ahead was a tight bend. At the same point the path narrowed and became enclosed by a steep, rocky bank on one side and thick, unyielding bushes, hiding a sharp drop off, on the other. He was flying as he rounded the bend.

Midnight reacted before the spook saw the obstruction. The mighty horse reared. The jarring was so unexpected it took all of the spook’s skill to keep from being thrown. He drew his revolver at the same time Midnight’s front hooves hit the ground. Midnight was nose to nose with a hitched horse.

Getting Midnight under control was the easy part. The difficulty lay in how he would get past the oncoming buggy. There wasn’t enough space in the narrow roadway to pass on either side. And the driver of the buggy—someone he recognized—had a rifle primed and ready. It was aimed directly at him.

Unlike the Klansmen he confronted earlier, he had no doubts about Trent Emerson’s marksmanship. Behind him his pursuers were closing in. He was trapped and Trent Emerson knew it.

* * *

Trent stared at the black-adorned rider in front of him. He’d never seen the spook up close before. He’d never seen the spook at all, but there was no question in his mind who he was facing. The barrel of the spook’s Smith and Wesson was trained on the center of his chest. While leveling his rifle, he couldn’t help admitting that the man did pose an impressive figure in his dark getup.

The rumble of approaching riders was growing louder. They were close enough, the spook couldn’t turn around, and that meant he was trapped. It took Trent less than a second to decide what to do.

Leaving himself a wide open target, he lowered his rifle, letting it slide down until it was propped against the floorboard and the seat. Then he grabbed the reins and clucked to his horse. The road was narrow, but not so narrow that if he veered closer to one side, the spook wouldn’t be able to squeeze by him on the other. With a quick turn of his head, he gestured for the spook to pass.

Exactly as Trent hoped, the spook holstered his gun. In that second, Trent grabbed his Colt from where it lay hidden on the seat beside him. He took aim and cocked the hammer. He couldn’t believe the spook fell for his ruse so easily. All the spook had to do now was go for his gun again, and Pop would have all the answers he sought.

The spook’s right hand hovered just above the handle of his holstered pistol, but there was no time left. In seconds his pursuers would be coming around the bend.

“Damn it,” Trent cursed under his breath. “Go! Get out of here! Before I change my mind!”

The spook reached for his reins with his right hand, kicked his heels in and raced past. As he did, Trent’s heart began to pound. There was no mistaking what he saw in the spook’s left hand. Held low, just out of sight, but aimed directly at him, was another Smith and Wesson revolver.

For a second Trent was dumbfounded. The spook hadn’t been fooled by his ploy at all! Trent was still trying to figure out why the spook didn’t shoot him when the approaching horses roused him. Hastily he started forward again, bringing the buggy back to the center of the roadway. A second later, eight of his former comrades descended upon him.

“Did you thee him?” Edward Murphy asked.

“See who?” Trent replied.

* * *

The abandoned barn was overflowing with Klansmen in costume. Arnold Whistler finished regaling them with the events of the previous night. All was silent while the men waited for their superior—the highest elder in the northeast—to speak.

“Two more of our brothers lost their lives last night. Killed in cold blood. Whistler’s hand had to be sewn. This needs to end. The spook must pay for what he’s done!” William Hughes bellowed.

“I should have killed him last night!” Whistler spouted. “I had the perfect opportunity and I didn’t!”

“No, you did the right thing. Your safety is more important,” William Hughes said. Then he turned to Luther and asked, “Have you had any success in figuring out who he is?”

Luther shook his head. “I am still not sure. I have my suspicions, but I don’t know.”

“You have your suspicions?” A sarcastic voice shouted from the group. “Your own son betrayed us. He let the spook get away.”

“As I told you before,” Luther retorted gruffly. “Trent was on his way home after dropping his fiancée off. If he saw the spook he would have told me. Obviously it was you who lost the trail. Don’t foist blame on my son because you failed. He has done nothing wrong!”

“He’s a traitor. There’s no way he didn’t see the spook. There’s no way!” another man roared.

Jon Kinsley had heard enough. He’d been casually leaning against the wall of the barn, but now he stepped forward and held up his hand to draw their attention. Firmly he announced, “Nash is the spook.”

“How do you know?” Luther asked. “How can you be sure?”

“After we beat the crap out of Nash, the spook didn’t make an appearance for several weeks. It makes sense,” Jon said.

“Are you sure you’re not just pissed because Nash is after your wife?” Whistler asked.

“I want him dead!” Jon raged.

Hughes nodded. “What Kinsley says is true. There have been no sightings of the spook for at least two weeks. I agree with his conclusion, and that means, gentlemen, we have finally confirmed his identity.

“In addition, it should be noted that, even though James Dunn has not rejoined, he is a loyal supporter. He deserves retribution for what that damn Yankee did to his daughter, Stephanie. I think it’s time we put this issue to rest. Are we all in agreement here?”

Hurrahs shouted in unison throughout the barn.

“What about Stone? Are you going to discuss this with him?” Harry Simpson asked.

“Are you questioning my authority?” William Hughes returned tersely.

Harry Simpson closed his mouth.

“Let’s make a plan,” Hughes said. “Do any of you have a suggestion?”

“Because he continues to pursue my wife, I have been watching him,” Jon told them all. “I know his schedule. I know when he’ll be home, when he’ll be out. This is what I recommend we do…”

Jessica had a new plan. She needed gowns, a lot of gowns, and riding habits, for the upcoming summer season. Fashions changed and, as Mrs. Jonathan Kinsley it would be unseemly for her wardrobe to be outdated. She needed new underclothing, stockings, and shoes and hats, and she was low on perfume and lotions, as well as ribbons and pins for her hair. New combs and brushes would be a nice touch, too.

Of course she didn’t really need any of those things, but Jon wouldn’t realize that. It was the best way she could think of to get more money from him for the people in Shanty Town. This time, rather than bothering Herlin, she was going to ask Sebastian to take it for her. She knew he wouldn’t mind. He knew the people there well.

These were the inspired ideas running through her head when Ditter peeked into the parlor to announce her visitor. Sebastian had come!

He strode in, as tall and handsome and chivalrous, as always. Without hesitation he took both of her hands in his and said softly, “I have missed you very, very much.”

The enthusiasm at the forefront of Jessica’s mind faded so quickly, her entire money-pilfering plan vanished from mind. Had she been meeting Sebastian for the first time, she wouldn’t have noticed, but she knew his countenance too well. There was no mistaking the faded, barely discernable bruises. She invited him to sit and noticed as he did that his movements were cautious. She didn’t miss his brief flinch either.

Her blood began to boil, but she did her best to rein in her temper. “Sebastian, what happened?”

“It was nothing,” he said. Jessica started to protest, but he cut her off. “I’m fine. Remember, I’m used to taking punches. Besides, I didn’t come here to talk about me. I came here to talk about you.”

He was not going to steer her away so easily. “I hate them. I hate them!” she fumed. “How can you be so calm? If only I’d known. I could have come to you. I could have helped—”

“Honey,” he interrupted, “I appreciate your concern. I really do. But please be assured I am okay.”

Jessica bowed her head. “They need to be stopped. It is so unfair.”

“Yes, it is,” he said. “And they will be stopped. It’s just a matter of time. Soon enough, the Ku Klux Klan and the Sovereign Sons of the South will be nothing but an awful memory.”

He spoke with such authority, it disconcerted her. She wanted to ask how he could be so sure, but he didn’t give her a chance. He changed the subject again.

“I am sorry about the child,” he murmured softly.

Instantly, Jessica’s eyes smarted. She sniffled to hold her tears at bay, wondering, as she did so, how long it would be before the mere mention of her baby would stop causing the watery dam to let loose.

“It’s okay to be sad. It’s okay to mourn,” Sebastian said. “You’ve suffered a terrible, terrible loss.”

His kind words were exactly what she needed to hear. She did allow a few tears to fall, but by the time Sebastian finished consoling her, she felt much better. She’d known this of him. She knew he would be able to reassure her unlike anyone else. Soon enough he had her laughing, as he always seemed able to do. It was better, too, to speak of things like their schools, and their students, than to think about the awful, horrid Klan. She was thankful for knowing him and thankful he was her friend and she told him so.

After a while, he said, “I wish I could stay longer, but unfortunately I cannot. But, before I go, there is one more thing I need you to know.” He paused. “I am leaving Mount Joy. I have taken a new position in Washington.”

Sebastian couldn’t have shocked her more. An emphatic, “No!” almost screeched out of her, but she was able to hold it back. At one time, after the Klan’s first assault on him, she’d tried to convince him to leave. But that was before she really knew him, before he became so important to her, before she knew he was the spook. She couldn’t imagine going on without him. And the colored community would have no protection! What she wanted to do was beg him to stay, but she couldn’t. She had to think of him, of his safety. “I understand,” she said. “I will miss you, but this is for the best. When do you leave?”

“Saturday,” he said. “I’m going Saturday afternoon.”

“You have done so much good here,” she told him. “The people you helped will never forget you, and neither will I.”

“Forget me?” he teased. “I’m not staying away forever. I’ll be back. You’ll see me again before you know it.”

That was relieving. Jessica closed her eyes, once more trying to maintain her dignity. She didn’t want to cry in front of him again.

“You have been such an inspiration to me,” he said quietly. “I want you to promise me you won’t give up on what you believe in. Sometimes it may not seem like it’s worth it, but it is. You are making a difference. You’ve already impacted more lives than you realize. Because of you the world is changing for the better.”

Giving up on the things she believed in was one thing. Giving up this man was another. She couldn’t do it! She couldn’t lose him! “I promise, I won’t give up,” she said.

He smiled. But then his eyes narrowed. “There is one last thing. Something you should know about your husband—”

“No!” Jessica cut him off. “I don’t want to talk about him!”

“I know things have been difficult,” he said. “But you should know he saved my life. He didn’t have to, but he did.”

Jessica shook her head in denial. Sebastian had to be mistaken. The Jon Kinsley she knew would never lift a finger to help someone. All he knew was taking advantage of people, of charming them, manipulating them, then callously crushing them and spitting them out.

“He needs your forgiveness,” Sebastian said.

“For what?” Jessica spouted. “Which of his many sins should I forgive? Scaring the children? Demeaning the servants? Should I just ignore his cruelty? Should I pretend he was never part of the Klan, going on raids and killing people? Should I forgive him for raping Mar—”

“Jessica!” Sebastian cut in sternly, but he lowered his voice and said, “God forgives all sins, no matter how great. Whosesoever sins ye remit, they are remitted unto them; and whosesoever sins ye retain, they are retained.”

* * *

Jessica was too appalled to say more to Sebastian. She didn’t even walk him to the door. After he was gone, for the longest time she sat in the parlor, trying to come to terms with what he’d said. She knew what he meant, but forgiving Jon… no matter what the Bible said, no matter the Christian teachings that proclaimed forgiveness would be the right thing to do, she couldn’t. There was no way she could. Ever.

As her temper cooled, she concluded that Sebastian was just too good of a man. Perhaps he wasn’t a real minister, but he should’ve been. Guilt settled over her for leaving things with him the way she did. It might be months before she saw him again and he departed believing she was angry with him. She would have to do something to rectify it. She could write him a letter, and she would as soon as she figured out where to send it. That, however, was something she could think about later.

What she needed to do was get back on track and concentrate on her plan to distribute more money to Shanty Town. After all, she had promised Sebastian she wouldn’t give up on what she believed in. She may have let Sebastian down by losing her temper, but she wouldn’t let him down with regard to helping the poor residents of Shanty Town. Since Sebastian was leaving town, he wouldn’t be able to take the money for her. That meant she would have to ask Herlin to go again.

Herlin would do whatever she requested, but facing him was almost as difficult as facing Martha. Despite Martha’s tear-filled plea for Jessica to say nothing to anyone, telling Herlin continually ran through her mind. She could only hope and pray the incidents were few and far between. They had to be. As Herlin said, there really weren’t many opportunities for Jon to be alone with Martha. Nevertheless, no matter how infrequent, if Herlin knew, Jessica was certain, he would want to take his family away from Bent Oak Manor. Again Martha’s reasons for the secrecy came to mind. What if Herlin sought revenge and did something to cost him his life?

For now she needed to put Martha, and what her husband was doing to Martha, out of her mind.

Herlin was exactly where she expected to find him, in the stable, cleaning stalls. When he saw her, he stopped what he was doing, smiled and said brightly, “Good morning, Miss Jessica. Would ya like me ta saddle up Jasmine fer ya?”

“No, I’m not going out. Not today.” Jessica took a deep breath. “I need your help, Herlin. I’m going to get more money for the residents of Shanty Town and I was wondering if you would be willing to deliver it?”

“Sure kin! Be glad to. What ya did fer dose people was ’preciated mo’ dan ya know.” With a modest grin he added, “’Course, everbody thinks dat money come from da spook.”

Jessica grinned. “If you ever see the spook out there, Herlin, you tell him he is welcome to take credit for it.”

He chuckled. “Will do. When does ya want me ta go?”

“I’m working on that. I’ll let you know as soon as I have the money.” It occurred to Jessica, as she stood there, that there was another way to get the money—a way that wouldn’t involve having to speak with her husband, the part of this whole idea she was most loathe to do. Curiously she asked, “Herlin, you wouldn’t happen to know where the captain’s safe is, would you?”

For a moment Herlin looked at her sideways and Jessica thought she was in for another scolding. Instead he said, “I knows it be in da study, but I ain’t ’xactly sure where in dere.”

Jessica nodded. She thought as much. “When I get the money, I’ll let you know.”

“I’ll be ready,” he said.

“How’s the new filly doing?” she asked. “Where is she?” A week after her miscarriage another foal had been born. This one, like the five others so far this year, without incident. Jessica had yet to see it.

Herlin gestured across the stable toward a stall near the rear. “She over dere. She got white socks like ma Buster,” he said, chuckling. “But he ain’t da fadder, dat fer sure. I shows ya.”

He set his pitchfork aside and led her down the aisle. Both mother and baby were in the stall together. Jessica was petting the mare over the gate, and crooning to the little one when something over the stall fence caught her eye.

There was a stack of wooden planks of various lengths. Oddly, they weren’t rough cuts from the lumber yard like she would have expected to see in the barn. This wood was smooth and had been stained a pale oak. Curiously she meandered closer for a better view. The workmanship had been of fine quality. She could see beveled edges and dovetailed corners. Whatever this furniture had been, it hadn’t just been ripped apart. It had been burned. Either the fire had gone out, or the boards had been pulled away before being completely charred. Jessica could think of no missing tables or other pieces from the manor house. Herlin, she noticed, was watching her warily.

“What was that?” she asked.

“I don’t knows whatcha mean, Miss Jessica,” he said.

Herlin wasn’t a very good actor, Jessica mused. Apparently he didn’t want to tell her. Insistently she said, “That pile of wood was furniture of some kind. What was it?”

Herlin let out a loud sigh. Hesitantly, he said, “It was a cradle.”

Jessica’s heart began to beat erratically. She put her hand to her chest as if to stop it, but she couldn’t stop it. “Who did this? Who destroyed it?”

“Da cap’n, ma’am.”

* * *

Two days later, after discovering her husband had not changed the hiding place of the key, and after spending an inordinate amount of time searching for the safe to no avail, Jessica found a thick envelope lying on her dresser top. It contained more money than Jon had given her the last time. The only difference was the bills were smaller in denomination. Going to the bank to change them wouldn’t be necessary. All she had to do was hand the envelope to Herlin.

The odd thing was that she hadn’t yet drummed up the nerve to ask for the money. She had written several notes, but she’d discarded all of them because she didn’t think they were persuasive enough. Fleetingly she wondered if Herlin had said something to him, but she dismissed that thought almost as quickly as it came upon her. She could only assume Jon’s reason was as simple as what he wrote in the note that accompanied the money. It said, ‘I apologize for being remiss in not providing you with adequate funds. Please use this money however you wish.’

It was the first note he’d written since they married which he didn’t close with the words, ‘I love you.’ It was also the first time he signed ‘Jon’ instead of just his initial, ‘J’.

* * *

Sitting atop Midnight, from his vantage point on the rise of a hill, the spook watched. He’d been in this same spot for the better part of an hour. Above the ever present aroma of cow manure, he could smell smoke. He could see the roof of one of the buildings now entirely engulfed. The fire had spread quickly.

Within hours, both the parsonage and the barn behind it would be gone, and so would the Reverend Sebastian Nash and his black stallion. As long as the bedroom on the second floor didn’t become hot enough to reduce the body of the man lying there to a pile of cinders, in the morning they would find his remains.