To Whisper Her Name (46 page)

T
hese biscuits are even better now than they were two days ago.” Olivia glanced up from her notes. “You’re just being nice, Ridley. But thank you.”

“No, I’m serious.” He shook his head, looking more like a little boy than the ruggedly handsome man he was. “I like them better when they get a little crunch to them.”

Olivia smiled her thanks and looked back at the page, searching for the next entry. Though she was warm enough in her coat and gloves, the supply room in the mares’ stable did little to keep out February’s chill. She felt the urge to yawn. The late nights at the old hunting cabin were catching up to her.

She’d been teaching for a month now, and she’d never done anything that gave her more satisfaction and a greater sense of accomplishment than teaching. The children — who she taught five mornings a week — were like little sponges, soaking up the knowledge. There were a handful of adults, Rachel and Jedediah among them, who were progressing well too. But the majority of the adults were taking longer to grasp reading and writing than she had anticipated. But who could expect otherwise when they worked all day, then attended classes for three hours at night, three nights a week, only to get back up a few hours later and start all over again? The schedule was demanding. Yet their dedication and enthusiasm was infectious. And Olivia was loving every minute of it.

She found the entry she was looking for and made a check mark. “I’ve ordered the shirts General Harding wants for all the stable hands, so you can mark that off your list.”

He did. “And when will they be ready?”

“In a couple of weeks. No later than the first week of March.”

“Very good.” He jotted something in the margin. “I came by last night but you didn’t answer.”

Feeling his attention, Olivia kept her gaze on her notes, knowing her eyes would betray her. She didn’t like hiding the fact from him that she was teaching in the freedmen’s school. It didn’t feel right. But she’d given her word.

“You came by? Do you mean … you knocked on my bedroom door?”

“No, on your window,” he said softly. “But not to worry, I didn’t peek.”

She lifted her head and, seeing his grin, she had to smile. “I’m sorry I missed you coming by. What time was it?”

“Mmmm …” He shrugged. “Around eleven or so.”

She returned her attention to the page. “Aunt Elizabeth and I visited late into the night, I’m afraid.” Which was true. But they’d visited
after
she’d returned from teaching her evening class, which hadn’t been until close to midnight.

She stifled another yawn.

“You sure seem tired recently. I’m sorry that a lot of the extra work for the auction is falling on you.”

“Don’t be. I’m enjoying it.” She pointed to his notebook. “What else is on your list?”

She watched him as he read silently, looking at his hands, then his muscular forearms. She was chilly, yet he seemed comfortable in a chambray shirt with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Working on the auction was adding to the weight of teaching, managing the plantation’s inventory, and still being a part-time companion to Aunt Elizabeth. But it also added to the time she could spend with him, so she wasn’t about to complain.

But she
did
feel the clock ticking.

Her motivation for wanting to make the auction the best it could be wasn’t selfless either. If the event was as successful as she anticipated, General Harding would surely make Ridley an offer he couldn’t refuse. One that would make Ridley realize the South was still his home.

At least that was her hope.

Her other hope was that General Meeks — whose rheumatism, per his last letter, had seen some improvement, perhaps due to his recently employed live-in nursemaid — was a proponent of faithful yet
very
platonic marriages. Because try as she might, and she was
trying, she simply couldn’t imagine living with the man as husband and wife.

Not after having been kissed — and quite thoroughly — by the man in front of her, who was the last man on earth who needed a nursemaid.

“Olivia?”

She blinked.

“You look a little dazed. Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer to do this later?”

Glad her thoughts were hidden from him, she gave him a tiny smirk. “Not at all. I’m just waiting on you.” She eyed him. “Why? Are you trying to get out of work, Mr. Cooper?”

He smiled. “You finally figured me out, Mrs. Aberdeen.”

She looked at him, wishing that were the case.

Over the next few weeks, as February slipped into March and March into April, the daylight hours lengthened, yet the days themselves seemed to grow shorter. No matter how long Olivia worked, there was always more to do. But she welcomed the busyness. It made it easier not to think about what was coming. In so many ways.

After teaching an early morning session, she dismissed class and walked with the children as far as the edge of the woods. She returned to the mansion as she always did in the daylight, by way of Rachel’s cabin. Sometimes she stopped to visit. But not today.

Back in her room, she deposited her books and teaching materials in a drawer, and as she turned to leave, she spotted the unique hand-painted candy box on her desk.

That sweet Mary
…

The candy box was a party favor from the reception the Hardings had attended at the Belmont Mansion. And following that night, Mary had taken to sneaking the little box into Olivia’s room and leaving her something inside. A note, one of Rachel’s caramels, a flower petal. Olivia would wait two or three days and then sneak it right back over to Mary’s room, with something inside for her. It had become a game of sorts. A way — at first — to mend the once-tenuous relationship. And now, to show acceptance and appreciation without words.

Eager to discover what Mary had left this time, Olivia carefully
lifted the lid to find a fragile blue robin’s egg inside. At first glance, she thought it was an unbroken egg. But looking more closely, she saw tiny cracks.

Gently, not wanting to crush it, she lifted the eggshell from the box. It was no heavier than a fluff of down. She held it up to the light and turned the eggshell this way and that, appreciating its vivid color. She marveled at the minuscule fissures that revealed the struggle of the chick who had bravely fought its way through the barrier of one tiny, confining world into a much larger, freer one. How Mary had put the eggshell back together, she didn’t know.

Olivia returned it to the hand-painted box, and as she left her bedroom to go meet Ridley for their monthly excursion to the quarries, she thought about what she could put into the box next, while doing her best not to think about how she and Ridley had only one month or so left together. A thought that never strayed far.

A short while later, as Ridley guided the tiny horse cart up into the hills — their conversation spare, their bodies touching — Olivia worked to memorize everything about him. A cool breeze carrying the promise of spring lifted the hair at his collar, and she resisted the urge to reach over and touch him.

Thinking again of the brave fledgling who had pecked its way from the eggshell, she searched every low-hanging limb and bushy shrub they passed, wondering if the plucky little chick was still here at Belle Meade or if it had flown away to find a new life.

C
hin up and chest out, Jimmy!”

Jimmy did exactly as Ridley said, only to an extreme.

Holding back a smile, Ridley snapped the boy a smart salute before continuing down the center aisle of the stable. Each of the men who’d been assigned a foal in recent months stood outside their respective yearling’s stall. And with humor, Ridley noticed how all of them, without exception, now had their chins up and chests puffed out.

He could scarcely believe it, but in just two weeks, all the months of work — the training and planning, the endless hours of exercising the foals, watching their health and diet better than they watched their own — would come down to one day. Saturday, June the first. The day of Belle Meade’s first yearling auction.

This dress rehearsal, as they were calling it, was actually Uncle Bob’s idea, and it was a good one. The stable hands, decked out in their matching tan trousers and crimson-colored shirts, all stood proudly at attention. Seeing their expectant expressions and knowing how hard they’d all worked, Ridley felt a swell of pride — both in them and in what they’d accomplished together.

“Well done, men.
Well
done!”

Smiles broke across their faces, and a few hollers went up. As Ridley walked back down the aisle, he shook each man’s hand and looked him squarely in the eye, appreciating how each man did the same with him.

Yet as difficult as it was for him to imagine the auction being almost here, it was even harder to wrap his mind around the fact that it had been a year — almost to the day — since he’d first walked up the long road to Belle Meade. And only two weeks remained until he’d retrace his steps and leave it behind him forever.

“Cooper!”

Ridley turned to see Grady Matthews walking toward him, along with three other men. He was surprised he and Matthews hadn’t come to blows again, as they had on his first day here. But he figured his position as foreman had corralled Grady’s temper. While Uncle Bob’s patient nature had, no doubt, harnessed his.

Matthews planted himself firmly in front of him, arms crossed. “Me and my men, we decided we want to be part of this auction, after all. We might work mostly with the stallions, but we figure we got a right to it, more so than these darkies. So you need to give us a job and whatever you’re paying them.”

“And just how do you figure that, Matthews? These men have been working for months with these yearlings. You had the same opportunity they did to sign up to be considered for training one of the foals. But you chose not to.”

“I ain’t gonna
compete
with some darkie for a job.”

“That’s your choice, Matthews. But realize that’s what it is.” Ridley looked at each of the men. “
Your
choice.”

Ridley made to leave, but Grady stepped forward.

“It ain’t fair, Cooper. And if you don’t do somethin’, we’re takin’ it to the general.”

Ridley motioned, aware of Uncle Bob coming up from behind. “There’s the door. Be my guest, gentlemen.”

Grady went red in the face. “This ain’t the last of this, Cooper. And this … auction?” He laughed beneath his breath. “Just between us … It may not turn out as good as you think.”

Ridley stepped closer. “I’ll be sure and pass along that threat to General Harding, Matthews, just in case anything should go wrong with this auction. As will Uncle Bob.”

The men turned as a group and strode off, Grady muttering under his breath.

Ridley watched them. “I know the connection between Grady’s father and General Harding, but I don’t know why Harding keeps him around.”

“Don’t let Grady Matthews worry you none, sir. He’s a hard talker but when it comes to it, he ain’t got the stuffin’, much less the smarts, to do much harm.”

Ridley had to smile.

“But some of them buddies o’ his …” Uncle Bob sighed. “Them fellas is mean.”

All Ridley could think about was how hard everyone had worked on the auction. If Grady Matthews and his men —

“But you know what, sir?” Uncle Bob clapped Ridley on the shoulder. “We ain’t gonna talk ‘bout them no more. ‘Cause everythin’s lookin’ real good, ain’t it?”

“It sure is.” Ridley held out his hand. “Thanks mostly to you.”

Uncle Bob’s grip was oak-tree strong. But he shook his head. “Oh no, sir. I ain’t even nearly done this by myself. You and me … We just make a good team.”

They walked outside together. The last hour of sunlight lay golden over the fields. The warmth of May had returned a lushness to Belle Meade that winter had thieved, and Ridley breathed deeply, catching traces of lilac and hay. He loved this time of evening. Dusk fell so gently here, making the onset of night feel almost like a gift.

Seabird nickered from the corral and sauntered toward them, heavy with foal. Ridley met her at the fence and rubbed her behind the ears.

“Don’t you worry, sir. She gonna do fine this time.” Uncle Bob pulled an apple from his pocket.

Ridley nodded. “I think she will too.”

Still two weeks — maybe three, the doctor had said — before she was due to foal. The timing of that with the auction and his departure was far from perfect, but Seabird hadn’t much taken that into account the day she jumped the fence. He knew Harding would be fine if he asked to stay for a few extra days for the mare and foal to gain strength enough to travel. Ridley just wanted them both to come through it all right.

He looked toward the main house, to Olivia’s window, and felt that tightness in his chest again.

What would she do if he told her everything outright, confessed it all, asked her to forgive him for not being honest with her from the start about his past? What if he did all that, then asked her to come with him? To leave all this behind — Aunt Elizabeth and the Harding family, her new home, the relationships with the servants, and her all-but-guaranteed marriage to a very wealthy Confederate general — all to start a new life with him in the shadow of the Rocky Mountains. There were moments when he almost thought about doing it. And rarer moments when he thought she might actually consider it. Then he’d quickly come to his senses.

Why would she leave all this to live in a one-room cabin in a land that was as rugged and brutal as it was beautiful?

But the main thing that kept him from telling her — the thing that felt like a saber between his ribs, even now — was imagining what it would be like to see himself through her eyes as a traitor, a turncoat, a deserter.

“Head foreman of Belle Meade, Ridley?” Uncle Bob’s voice pulled him back. “That ain’t nothin’ to spit at, sir.”

“I’m not spitting at it.” Ridley looked over at him. “I appreciate the general’s offer. But you know I couldn’t accept it without telling him the truth. And if I told him the truth …” His laugh came out flat.

“If you go and tell the general that, sir …” Uncle Bob sighed. “You might as well have your bags already packed and waitin’ at the station. ‘Cause you ain’t gonna be stayin’ round long after that. And for sure not once other folks get word.”

Ridley nodded, getting in one last rub before Seabird moved on down the fence.

“But Ridley, one thing you got to know … There ain’t no doubt in my mind, the Lawd led you to the mountain that night. Any other man would o’ took the general’s thoroughbreds with nary a thought. Might’ve even shot me in the back. But not you. No, sir. Way I see it, you was meant to be here at Belle Meade, Ridley. Least for the time that you was. And I sure —” Uncle Bob’s voice broke. He looked out across the pasture. “And I sure am thankin’ him for that ‘bout now.”

It took a moment for Ridley to speak. “Just like I’m thanking him for you … for all you’ve given me.”

Uncle Bob nodded, his gaze still averted.

“But if I don’t go to the Colorado Territory now,” Ridley continued, “I don’t think I’ll get the chance again. Not like this. I’ve got one more year to make improvements on my land there before it goes back to the government. Last summer when I checked, the land and title agent told me there were over a thousand names on his list just waiting for prime land like mine to open.” Ridley would have felt funny saying what he said next to anyone other than Uncle Bob. And maybe Olivia. “But what makes me more sure is that I think I’m meant to be out there. Looking back, I can almost see how God’s been working things. Even … working in my own heart to —”

“Mr. Cooper!”

Ridley turned, his guard rising again when he saw who was walking toward them. “General Harding, how are you, sir?”

The general nodded to Uncle Bob before swinging his focus back to Ridley. “Plans are coming along well, I take it? We’re going to be ready?”

“Yes, sir.” Ridley included Uncle Bob in his acknowledgement. “We’ll be ready.”

“Good.” Harding gave a satisfied sigh. “Very good.” He turned to go, then paused. “At the dinner we’re having … the night before the auction …”

“Yes, sir?”

“I want you there. To explain the process to everyone, to answer questions.”

Ridley hesitated. Social events such as that weren’t high on his list. But it also bothered him that Uncle Bob wasn’t being included and would likely never receive an invitation to such a gathering. “Perhaps, instead, sir, Uncle Bob and I could meet with the —”

“I said I want
you
there, Mr. Cooper. Is there a reason why that isn’t possible?”

Ridley stared, feeling the none-too-subtle challenge. “No, sir. No reason. But I
would
appreciate the chance for —”

“Uncle Bob,” the general said, shifting his attention, “would you be available the morning of the auction to give tours of the stables to the guests? I think a great many of them would be interested to see the champion thoroughbreds.
And
to meet the head hostler of Belle Meade.”

Uncle Bob nodded, smoothing his apron. “Why, yes, General. I be happy to. Real happy.”

Harding threw Ridley a brief but pointed look of satisfaction as he walked away, and Ridley had to smile. Yes, there were definitely things he would miss about Belle Meade.

Later that evening, after dark and under the guise of needing to confirm a detail about the auction, Ridley finally gave in to the desire to see Olivia. He left the cabin and headed for the main house. Or namely, the window above the lattice.

He was nearly there when — he couldn’t believe his eyes — there she came around the corner of the house, heading straight for the old Harding cabin and him. He paused by the dogwood tree, not wanting to frighten her, but more than a little pleased that she’d had the same idea.

She cradled something against her chest — books, he guessed — and she glanced behind her as though making sure no one was watching. He waited, biding his time, when, not ten feet from him, she veered and headed in the direction of the stallions’ stable.

Confused and a little disappointed, he waited a few seconds, then a few more, then followed her. Past the stable and the corrals and — into the woods? Where on earth was the woman going?

The woods were thick and dark, and he couldn’t see more than a handful of yards ahead of him. But following her wasn’t hard. Not with the carpet of wintered leaves and branches littering the ground, and not with her wide skirt robbing any chance of her moving stealthily through the foliage. He hadn’t followed her but a few yards when he realized …

She wasn’t alone. He heard hushed voices.

He followed her for at least a half mile, then another, and was about to make his presence known when, just ahead, the woods opened into a small clearing. He made out the palest outline of a cabin and saw Olivia going inside — by herself — just as a vice-like grip clamped hard around the back of his neck.