Shades of Gray (13 page)

While prayers
were useful, she didn’t intend to let that be her only defense.  Her body
continued to shake as though someone were pushing her away from the wall. 
Sliding her hand to the side, she turned one crutch upside down and readied it
like a club.  She hoped she had the strength and coordination to land a solid
blow.  Lifting it high above her head, she tightened her grip.

A shadow
stepped forward.  Kat squeezed her eyes tight and swung.  Her arms extended at
the elbow, and she shifted her weight to her left foot.  Using the same skills
as when beating a rug, she swung the crutch nice and level and didn’t stop
until the crutch vibrated in her hands.  A male voice cried out, and a loud
thud rolled to the ground.  Ignoring the agonized curses being hurled through
the air, she hurried past the intruder.  A flailing hand caught her good ankle
and yanked her to a stop.  She pitched headlong into the dirt, and the crutch
shot out of her hands.  Kicking wildly, she hoped to hit a tender spot that
would free her from the tight hold. 

“Kat,” the
voice moaned. 

“Gray?”  She
stopped her thrashing and turned to see if she had guessed correctly.

He sat
crumpled over and appeared to rub his head. 

“Did I hurt
you?” she asked, inwardly congratulating herself on the direct hit.

Gray stood to
his feet, grabbed her wrist, pinching it tighter than necessary, and pulled her
to the front of the cave.  She half-hopped, half-skipped to keep up with his
forced pace.  Was this his means of retribution?  She did have a second crutch
and the confidence to swing it.

“What do you
think you are doing here?” he demanded.  The red mark across his forehead looked
as though it throbbed.

Kat stuffed
the map into her pocket and then crossed her arms over her chest.  “Was I to
assume I was a prisoner and only allowed parole if you accompanied me?”

Gray ran his
hand through his hair and flinched when the heel of his hand touched his brow. 
“You are not a prisoner, but I would think you had the sense to stay away from
these woods.”

“Are you
saying, I’m senseless?”

Gray threw his
hands in the air and looked heavenward.  He shook his head as though logic
swished from ear to ear like blood pudding in a fresh bladder.  “I did not. . .
” he paused.  Although his tone calmed, his words seemed forced.  “Why are you
here?  I would think this is the last place you would go for a stroll.”

Kat lowered
her hand to her pocket.  How could she tell him that she was interested in
learning how his wife died and thought he might be the person responsible for
her death?  She had been completely honest with him when he had questioned
her.  Laura had shared more information with her than Gray had.  Apparently, he
did not have the same confidence in their relationship that she had.

“What is that
smell?” Kat asked, hoping he didn’t notice her change of topic.

His eyes
narrowed.  He noticed.  At least he went along with her diversion.  “KNO3,” he
answered.

Kat stared at
him, certain the blank expression on her face showed her ignorance.

“Potassium
nitrate,” he clarified.

Kat’s
expression flickered.  At least she had learned what the initials on the map
stood for, even if she didn’t understand why it was so important to create a
map indicating its location.

“Black powder
creates a blue smoke when ignited, but potassium nitrate doesn’t,” Gray
explained. 

He retrieved
Kat’s crutches and handed them to her.  The angry welt above his brow gave him
a dangerous appearance.  He almost looked primitive.  Kat lowered her attention
to his mouth and tried to focus on what he said.  He would certainly ask her
reason for wanting him to repeat the information.  His teeth shone like a
white-washed fence behind full lips.  Maybe the information wasn’t as important
as she once thought.  His mouth tightened into a straight line, and she raised
her attention three inches.

“Why did you
ask a question if you have no interest in the answer?” he asked.

“I heard you. 
Black powder creates smoke.  This foul smelling stuff is colorless.”  She
looped her arms over the padded wood and took a step for balance.  “If a man
had access to smokeless powder, wouldn’t that give him an advantage in a war?”

“Without
question,” Gray said.  He walked a few steps in front of her, kicking debris
out of her path.  Small twigs scraped leafy clumps to the side, leveling the
bumpy ground.

Kat had heard
rumors of unrest among colonists living in the Boston area.  On her voyage from
England, ship passengers had filled their days with endless conversations and
speculation about the
ungrateful
heathens
occupying the lands. 
She could hardly blame the travelers for redundant uttering, but still, she had
heard enough biased opinions to know she didn’t want to be part of the drama. 
It had been her hope that Virginia would be spared the political rebellion. 

Gray slid a
log to the side of her crutch.  His wife was deceased.  There was only one
reason she could think of for him to continue his trips to Crest Ridge.  He
planned to use his home as a centralized location in support of the revolt. 

“Wh-who do you
side with in the conflict?” Kat asked.  She followed behind him, using the path
he created.

Gray turned
and looked at her from over his shoulder.  His eyes were clear and his
expression serious.  “I am loyal to my family and no one else.”

The contents
of Kat’s stomach swirled as she considered his statement.  He did not consider
himself a rebel.  That was one way to prevent war, but he had claimed loyalty
to only his family.  His shoulders moved in a back-and-forth sway as he walked
out of the cave and into the woods.  He didn’t wait for her to follow.  Was
this his way of reminding her that she was not part of his family?  She hurried
to catch him up.  He had answered her questions about his social loyalties, but
she wasn’t convinced of his dedication. 

“You feel no
compulsion to mine the nitrate?” she asked.

He stopped
abruptly, and then turned to face her.  “This cave will not be mined by me or
anyone else.  Ever.” 

From the tone
he used, she had no doubt he meant it.  “Is that why Reece wanted the woods? 
He plans to aid the colonists?”

“I doubt his
ambitions are that noble.”  He brushed leaves from a tree stump and helped her
sit.  “Oak Willow derives all of its water from one source.”

“The spring
where we picnicked?” she asked, scooting herself to a comfortable position.

“No.”  He
seemed content to stand.  “That pool is too small and too far away from the
house to be useful.  There is a spring under the cave.”  He motioned to his
left.  “If the potassium nitrate were mined, it would contaminate the spring
and make the water unusable.” 

“If you own
the property, what do you have to fear?”

He laughed and
his shoulders shook.  “Reece owns the cave.  I own the woods surrounding it and
all of the mineral rights.  Because of this, I’ve been able to limit his access
to the grounds and prevent him from mining.

“Why did you
give him the cave?”

Gray shook his
head.  “It’s no secret that Reece and I aren’t friends.  I suppose we never
were.  Daria thought she could bring our feud to an expedient end by giving
Reece the cave.  When she learned of his plans, she went to him and tried to
get the deed back.  Naturally, he refused her request, but he did offer her an
alternative trade.”

Kat lowered
her head and studied the toe of her boot.  She couldn’t bear to look at the
cave, knowing what trade Reece must have offered Daria.  “When Reece learned he
had no rights to anything important, he felt Daria had cheated him.”

Gray nodded. 
“I found her on the other side of the debris.  She was barely alive.”

Kat touched
her hand to his arm.  “I’m sorry for your pain.”

He glanced around
the woods and for the first time since they had met, he seemed uncomfortable. 
“We should go,” he said and waited for her to stand.

Kat pulled her
legs under her and pushed herself off the stump.  She took small steps and
walked toward Gray.  Standing next to him, she tilted her head upward and
tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.  “If you don’t mind my asking,”
she said and continued speaking before he could refuse her.  “Why do you
continue to go Crest Ridge if Daria is deceased?”

His eyes hardened,
and Kat pulled back.  “I do mind your asking,” he said and walked to the tree
line, leaving her where she stood.  He stared into the meadow and didn’t move.

Kat followed
the path he used, hoping he would go on ahead of her.  He made no move to leave
her behind.  Whatever reason he had for returning early from his trip must have
also soured his disposition.  She moved in step beside him.  Maybe she could
remain in her room and ignore him for the rest of the day.

Chapter 15

Kat slammed
the bedroom door closed, rattling the latch in the jamb.  She threw her
crutches to the side of the room, gathered her skirt in her hands, and stuffed
the waded fabric in her mouth.  Not that she cared if everyone in the house
heard her scream, but she didn’t want anyone to think she had injured herself. 
She drew back her head, inhaled deeply, and yelled.  Aggravation bubbled at the
bottom of her feet and raced headlong upward.  Hot breath seared her throat in
a primitive howl.  Her body shook and she bent forward, releasing every,
frustrated angst. 

Not as
exhausted as she thought she would be, she shuffled her way to the foot of the
bed and flipped the latch on the trunk.  She should never have stayed at the
Gregory’s home this long.  If there had been any other option, she could have
gone elsewhere.  Hopefully, there would be more farm houses on the other side
of their property.  If necessary, she would walk back to town and see if anyone
was looking to add to their household staff.

Kat squatted
on the floor and her knee poked through a tear in her skirt.  She dug her
finger under the flap.  From the broken twigs entangled in the frayed threads,
she must have caught the linen on a branch after leaving the cave.  She
fluttered the end of the leather strap between her fingers and thought about
her morning. 

Her outing had
certainly been more active after Gray had caught up to her.  It was a shame her
dress had been ruined.  At least it was a simple dress and not adorned with
beads and finery.  She thought for a moment.  If she planned to find
employment, she needed to present a tidy appearance.  A reconstructed slit
would show her skill with a needle.  She hoped there was a sewing kit in the
trunk.  Her other option would be to change into a fresh gown. 

Tugging on the
leather strap, she pulled the lid open.  The hinged top of the trunk bounced
against the foot of the mattress.  Kat looked down, her eyes wide.  The
interior of the box was completely empty.  The sound of laundry flapping in the
breeze broke into her memory.  She had not paid much attention as she walked
into the house.  Thinking back, she remembered ducking under a clothes line
filled with skirts and blouses.  The line sagged in the middle under the weight
of the wet fabric.  Laura’s obsession with cleanliness had surpassed floors and
bedding. 

Kat pushed
herself to her feet and turned in a circle.  There had to be something she
could do.  Regardless of what lay ahead of her, she was certain that she could
not stomach another encounter with Gray.  Yesterday, on their picnic, his
demeanor had been warm and friendly.  She actually thought he enjoyed their
time alone together.  But today, he had been cold and distant.  She didn’t know
what to anticipate at their next encounter.  At least with Reece, she knew what
to expect.  The time they spent together was never how she would prefer it, but
at least there was no guessing as to the frame of mind he would be in. 

She walked to
the dresser and ripped open each draw.  Gray’s shirts were in one, stockings
and breeches in another.  The corner of her mouth pulled up in a wicked smirk. 
She wondered if he would be bothered with her rifling through his clothes.  She
shrugged.  He should have been nicer to her earlier today.  She pushed her hip
against the drawer and slid it closed.  There was still no needle and thread. 

She leaned
against the wall, and a hard object jabbed the base of her spine.  She pulled
away, reached her hand behind her, and rubbed the sensitive area on her lower
back.  She turned and stared down at the glass knob.  It was attached to the
door that separated her from the room where Gray slept.  He hadn’t forbidden
her from entering, but he had not indicated she would be welcome. 

She gripped
the handle lightly.  Cool to the touch, the knob didn’t threaten to tattle on
her if she breached Gray’s privacy.  She twisted the glass and inched the door
open.  It didn’t matter what he tried to hide in there.  She’d already seen his
lack of personal tidiness.  She pushed the door open and stepped inside. 
Expecting to find a dressing room or utility closet, she had not prepared for
the furnishings he had lived among.

A canopied,
baby bed centered the far wall, and white lace draped the top of the ribbed
arch like a delicate snow fall.  Hanging over the foot rail, a folded blanket
seemed readied to warm a tiny body during a cool night.  To the right of the
cradle, a tall, narrow chest fit neatly into the corner.  Kat could only guess
that the drawers were filled with miniature clothes that had been lovingly
sewn.  She moved fully into the room. 

A wooden
rattle lay on the top of the dresser.  She picked it up and shook it lightly
back and forth.  The sound of small beads banged against the inside of the
round gourd.  Everything seemed to have been placed in a specific location,
carefully chosen to be within a few steps reach.  A rocker was cushioned with a
pink mat.  Tied to the back of the chair, the pad would provide comfort during
the middle of the night or early mornings. 

In
anticipation of the upcoming birth of her child, Daria must have decorated the
baby’s room before her death.  Kat hugged her arms to her sides and rubbed the
chill from her skin.  It must have been very difficult for Gray to sleep in
this room.  She returned the rattle to the dresser and looked at the small cot
opposite of the crib.  Emotional unrest was hard enough to confront, but how
did he fit his tall frame onto the small cot?  She could only imagine how he
must have curled himself into a tight ball in order to keep himself from
falling to the floor.  For him to stretch out fully, his long legs would
certainly hang over the edges of the mattress.  The inadequate sleeping
arrangement did manage to explain the loud thuds against the wall and the
muffled curses that had followed on several nights.  Kat smiled at the thought
of Gray twisting himself into a knot to keep himself on a soft surface.  The
corners of her mouth drooped as she thought back to his harsh demeanor an hour
ago.  His uncomfortable nights could come to an end now that she planned to
leave his home.  She would give him back his bed, and he could stretch himself
as flat as he liked.  With any luck, that would cure his irritable
disposition. 

She returned
her thoughts to the practicality of making his comfort a reality.  The slit in
her skirt wasn’t going to fuse itself together.  From her brief glimpse of the
room, she was relatively certain there was no needle and thread within the
vicinity.  The room was perfectly ordered, yet a rustic piece of wood poked out
from under the minimalistic cot. 

Kat tilted her
head and looked at the space beneath the rungs.  A short crate lay hidden
behind the draping sheet.  Post markings identified the sender as
England
Haberdasher
.  Kat wondered if Daria had ordered a few items before her
death.  If the package was from a seamstress, as it seemed to be, maybe the
sender had included a needle and thread to help with alterations.  It wasn’t
like Daria could come in to the shop for a proper fitting when purchasing a new
frock.

Squatting
down, Kat shimmied the box out from its hiding place and dragged it to the
center of the room.  A layer of white powder dusted the top.  She bent forward
and sniffed.  There was no odor and from her experience of helping her mother
in the kitchen, she thought it was flour.  The trunk must have been stored in
the kitchen or near a grist mill.  She could think of no other reason for it to
be in such an unkempt position.

She sat on the
floor next to the package and unleashed the bindings.  White gauze covered the
top of the interior.  Diving into the center of the parcel, she split the filmy
material in half and pulled the filler to opposite sides of the container.  A
linen cloth lay on top of the contents.  Kat opened the folds, certain there
could be a way to reuse the packing, and looked down.  Her image stared back at
her.  Not completely certain what had captured her likeness, she pulled the
shiny object into the open.  A brass frame surrounded what appeared to be a
gentleman’s shaving mirror.  She glanced toward the wash basin.  A hand-sized,
looking glass hung above the bowl.  Kat thought back to each morning she had
seen Gray.  Always freshly shaven, his chin had never been nicked.  She
imagined it being difficult for a man of his height to stoop low enough to see
his reflection in the small frame.  She ran her finger over the hinged stand. 
The new mirror would pivot and hold firm in any position he set it in. 

Daria had
known her husband well and thought enough about his comfort to see that he had
a proper shaving mirror.  Why had he never used it?  He would be able to stand
straight and stretch his neck to remove the hair with ease.  From the way the
rest of the box was packed, she wondered if anyone had opened the package
before her.  Kat sat the gift to the side and removed another parcel.  The next
wrapping held a compass and the one after that contained a pocket watch.  Kat
held the silver timepiece in her hand and ran her thumb across the engraved
G.G.   

“What are you
doing in here?” Gray bellowed from behind her.

Kat jumped and
dropped the fob back into the carton.  Her hands shook and her skin tingled as
though she’d been caught in an active beehive.  Stumbling backward, she turned
and glanced at the doorway.  Dressed in a blue shirt and fawn colored breeches,
Gray filled the frame.  He couldn’t appear more intimidating if he wore a black
hood and held a scythe in one hand.

He stood
waiting for an answer, making her aware he had asked a question.  Unable to
think of an acceptable response, she sat wide eyed and opened mouth.  His
narrowed stare scanned the crate and opened boxes resting in her lap. 
Recognition of the watch or compass failed to register on his face.  Without a
word, he stormed toward her, snatched the items off the floor, and tossed them
back into the shipping carton.  Kat scooted herself away and pressed her back
into the cradle legs.  Instead of offering to help return things to their
place, she pulled her legs next to her and tried to stay out of his way.

“I was looking
for --”

“I don’t care
what your reason,” he roared.  “You are welcome to everything in this entire
house, except for this one room.”  He slammed the lid on the box shut and
shoved it back beneath the bed.  “And this box and what it contains is none of
your concern.”

He stood in
front of the cot and crossed his arms over his chest. 

Sinking back
into herself, Kat hugged her legs closer, sorry for the kind thoughts she had
earlier about him.  She hadn’t broken anything except his statute and even that
didn’t seem to be overly damaged.  Had she realized the room was set up as a
shrine, she would have lit a candle and said a prayer when entering.  

“I didn’t mean
to intrude.”  She whispered her apology.  Staring down at her shoes, she
stretched the bottom of her skirt and wrapped the excess around her ankles.  “I
was looking for a needle and thread.”  His silent demeanor needed more
convincing.  She lifted the damaged pleat to illustrate the reason for her
intrusion. 

Turning on his
heel, he walked to the doorway and held it open.  “Look in the kitchen.”

Kat stood to
her feet, no longer concerned for his bad temper.  She could appreciate his
anger for her intrusion into his room, but there was no need for him to become
incensed by her need of sewing implements.  Instead of exiting the room as he
asked, she walked up to him, braced her hands on her hip, and squared her
shoulders.  The heat of his breath seared her forehead. 

She lifted her
chin and dared him to look away.  “I apologized for invading the privacy of
this room.  There is no need for you to speak to me in this manner.  You have
been nothing but grizzly since you returned from Crest Ridge, and I am certain
that my wandering in a cave and entering a private room did nothing to spark
this kind of anger.”

She paused to
catch her breath, and Gray dragged his hand through his hair.  Ignoring her
warning, he diverted his eyes toward the ceiling.  He needn’t think he could
rant the way he did and then disregard her reply.  Kat raised her brows,
challenging him to deny her accusations. 

He drew his
shoulders back and lowered his gaze to her face.  His jaw clinched harder. 
Grabbing her roughly by the upper arms, he pulled her to him.  Kat gasped but
didn’t push away.  She blinked several times and stared up at him.  Confusion
and frustration finally faded from his eyes and he lowered his head.  His mouth
covered hers in a punishing kiss. 

Stunned, Kat
stiffened and blinked several times.  Her eyelashes brushed against his cheek. 
She didn’t know if she should push away from him or. . . the pressure of his lips
softened and her heart rate increased.  Her body had decided for her.  Her
knees weakened, and Gray tightened his hold around her waist. 

His display of
affection wasn’t anything similar to the way Reece had kissed her.  Of course,
then, she had fought off her captor’s awkward attempts at intimacy.  Not sure
what had incited Gray’s kiss, she was certain that she wanted to prolong it. 
She snaked her arms behind his back and slid her hands up toward his
shoulders.  Pressing herself to him, she encouraged him to continue.  He
deepened his kiss, and she accepted his now tender apology. 

They parted
and Gray stared down at her.  His brows drew together and the side of his eye
twitched, confusion etched his face.  Did he expect, or worse, hope to see
someone else standing in front of him, breathing shallowly and with moisture
painted on her swollen lips?  Would he never have room in his life for anyone
other than Daria?  It didn’t matter.  She never planned to stand in the shadow
of another woman, especially in a man’s heart.  Kat held her shaking hand to
her mouth and hurried from the room.