Unforsaken (18 page)

This time, however, it wouldn't matter. A surge of angry possessiveness dispelled his concerns. Olivia could have all the regrets she wanted, but she would marry him. He hated to admit it, but he'd actually taken comfort in the knowledge that she would have had a lot of explaining to do if she'd married another man.

He eased out of bed and crossed the room to stand before the open window, hoping to catch a cool night breeze, and he frowned at the sight of light in the distance. Almost a coral glow like sunrise, but he was facing south and he knew that light could mean only one thing. Fire.

"Livvy, wake up.” He returned to the bed and brushed a lock of hair from her face. “Wake up. honey."

She sat up, somewhat startled. “What is it?"

"Something's on fire, to the south.” He stepped into his britches and fastened them quickly. “Someone's barn or house."

"Where are you going?"

"To help put it out,” he explained, slipping his shirt on over his head. “A fire like that can spread for miles."

"You can't leave me here alone."

He smiled and bent to kiss her forehead. “I'll be back as soon as I can. You'll be fine."

She shook her head, throwing back the covers. “I'm coming with you."

She was dressed and waiting for him by the time he had the horses hitched to the wagon. “We need to hurry."

Help had already arrived before they did, but the fire raged out of control. Matthew swore and drew the team of horses to a halt. “We'll have to leave the wagon back here. The horses won't go near the fire."

She nodded and scrambled down from the wagon without waiting for his assistance. They hurried toward the crowd of folks rushing around like ants, desperate to do anything they could to help.

"Stay back,” he warned her.

Matt wasted no time in joining a line of men passing bucket after bucket of water to be thrown on the fire. There was no hope of saving the barn, but everyone was determined to prevent further damage.

Olivia had never seen such a sight and she stared in morbid fascination as the flames snaked from the hayloft and gnawed at the roof of the barn. Only when a shower of sparks landed near her feet did she consider the danger and hurry to safety

Several women were gathered on the porch, trying to comfort a sobbing girl, and Olivia gasped as she recognized Mary Ann Fleming.

"It's gone,” she wailed. “Everything's gone."

"Mary Ann, what happened?"

Olivia's question startled all of them, and a half dozen pairs of eyes bore down on her. She could see the reflection of the flames glittering in each accusing stare.

"What are you doing here?” An older woman Olivia did not recognize hurried down the steps and barred her from coming any closer. “What brings you all the way from town?"

"We saw the fire and came to see if we could help."

"We?” Olivia recognized the second woman glaring down at her. Eugenia Jennings. “I'll just bet you don't mean you and that old maid aunt of yours."

Too late, Olivia realized the consequences of coming here with Matt. It hadn't occurred to her that she would be seen, be recognized. There was only one conclusion to be drawn from an unmarried woman being in the company of a man in the middle of the night, and that conclusion was the truth.

"I hardly think that matters at a time like this."

"Of course, you wouldn't.” Eugenia glanced back at Mary Ann Fleming and shook her head. “Still, it's awfully convenient that you just happened to show up."

"What do you mean?"

"Tell her, Marry Ann.” Eugenia's voice held an unmistakable note of triumph. “Tell her what they said."

The girl sniffled. “They said we'd have to
pay
for the next barn, or have it burned down, too."

It was late the next afternoon when she arrived at the gin, exhausted from the harrowing night, and she didn't plan on staying long. She had spent the morning with the sheriff, convincing him that she knew nothing about the Flemings’ barn being burned, and he assured her he would find the culprits.

Barn burner.
Was there anything the people of this town didn't think her capable of doing?

She had barely settled behind her desk when Rodger barged in without bothering to knock. He closed the door and stared at her with undisguised reproach. “You did again, didn't you? You went out there—"

"Rodger, I am in no mood for your lectures."

He crossed the room and braced his hands on her desk, glaring down at her. “You spent the night out there with Bowen. Are you going to tell me it was because of the weather?"

"I'm not going to tell you anything,” she snapped. “I don't answer to you or anyone."

"Olivia, people
saw
you last night. Three o'clock in the morning and you show up with Matt as if you were going to a square dance. Half the town is talking about it."

"Only half? You must not have told Ada yet."

"This isn't funny, Olivia."

"No, it's sad ... a young couple loses everything they have and all the people in this town can do is talk about is my whereabouts."

"You're forcing me to take unpleasant actions."

"And just what do you intend to do? Have me declared incompetent because I slept with someone?” Anger made her forget caution. “If that's the case, every man in the state of Georgia is a raving lunatic."

"I don't want to cause you any further embarrassment, but I have a responsibility—"

"Not anymore, Rodger. I'm relieving you of your
duty
toward me."

His anger seemed to dissipate, replaced by shock. “You what?"

"I'm getting married,” she informed him. “As a married woman, my husband will be the one to answer for my actions and run my affairs."

Rodger paled at the statement and sank into the nearest chair. “You're going to marry Bowen?"

"I thought you'd be glad to hear it,” she couldn't resist saying. “You're all the time complaining about the burden of being my nearest male relative and having so much responsibility."

"Olivia, you're rushing into this.” He withdrew a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at his upper lip. “I'm sure, under the circumstances, it seems the right thing to do, but two wrongs don't make a right."

"There aren't any wrongs in this matter, Rodger."

"Has it even occurred to you that he may be marrying you just for your wealth?” He was grasping at straws. “Perhaps this whole business of wanting you to care for his child was part of some scheme to trick you into marrying him."

"I thought taking care of Sarah was part of
my
scheme to marry Matthew.” She couldn't disguise her amusement at his incredulity. Obviously he had underestimated her. “That's the trouble with gossip. You never can keep the stories straight."

"Laugh all you want, Olivia, but I'm not going to let him waltz in here after all this time and take over just because he got under your petticoats."

"Rodger!” She had expected him to be upset, even angry, but she was stunned by the rage in his eyes. “I suggest you take the rest of the day off, before we both say things we'll regret."

He bolted to his feet and glared down at her. “What I regret is ever helping you in the first place. You can't run this place without me, and it may be time you learned that for yourself."

"But Olivia, weddings are supposed to be special occasions."

"I know that.” She hated disappointing her aunt, but Olivia was determined to keep the ceremony small and simple. “I'm only inviting the people who truly care about me and Matthew. Anyone else would just be there out of curiosity."

Eula didn't try to deny the possibility. Indeed, the entire town was buzzing with the news that Matthew Bowen was going to marry his former sweetheart after all these years, and some folks were laying odds on whether or not she'd actually get him to the altar this time.

There was also a great deal of speculation as to why Rodger was staying away from the mill. Ada had done her best to make certain everyone knew his side of the story—that Olivia was impossible to work with. She doubted he had told his wife the truth of the matter, otherwise Ada wouldn't be tempting Olivia to spread the truth.

"If I were you, I'd let them look. See what a beautiful bride you are."

"I have nothing to prove to those people,” she insisted. “Only myself."

"So you're a gettin’ married up again.” Jess Perkins eyed Matthew with a good deal of speculation. “A man needs a woman when he's got a youngun to raise."

"And a rich one's even better,” another man added.

Laughter broke out and Matt tried to smile at the good-natured teasing.

Harry Rankin slapped him on the back. “I say good for you, old son. Not too many men in this county would cozy up to a woman prickly as a porcupine—rich or not."

"I guess you feel you owe it to her. What with her being an old maid and all."

"That's enough, fellas.” Matt signed the receipt for his supplies and quelled the banter with a look. “Just remember, she's going to be my wife, and I won't stand for anything vulgar going around about her."

He turned before anyone could respond, but Tom Jennings followed him outside and helped load the wagon. “Don't let those old coots bother you."

"Olivia is pretty sensitive about gossip. I'd appreciate it if you asked your wife not to be spreading any talk about the two of us getting married."

Tom nodded, his expression solemn. “I made Genie swear not to say anything about Olivia showing up with you out at Flemings'. I can't afford to have Olivia Chandler against me. Did you ever find out if she's got hard feelings about what my wife said before?"

Matt leaned an elbow against the wagon. “I talked to her about it. I don't think you've got anything to worry about."

A grin split Tom's face. “Especially now with you running things."

"Me? What are you talking about?"

"Once you get hitched, everything will belong to you. The mill, the gin—hell, boy, you got it made. I just hope you'll remember who your friends are."

"I see those old coots aren't the only ones who like to gossip."

"Ah, come on, Matt. We been friends since we were boys."

"And you ought to know better than to think I'd marry a woman just to make my life easy."

A commotion at the end of the street drew Matt's attention and he glanced up to see men scurrying out of the mill.

"Somebody get Doc McComb!” one man shouted. “And hurry!"

Matt arrived just in time to see Olivia rush inside the mill.

"What happened?” she demanded of Sam, the foreman.

"The saw musta threw a belt,” he said, motioning toward the man on the ground. “The timber slipt and caught him right across the forehead.

Another man had stripped off his own shirt and had the garment pressed against the fallen man's face, trying to stop the bleeding. Olivia's face grew pale and Matt feared she would faint.

"Come on, Livvy. This is no place for a lady."

She resisted at first, but he kept a firm hold on her arm. He led her out of the building into the fresh air.

"Don't carry on so. Accidents like that happen all the time."

She gave him an impatient look, as if he didn't know what he was talking about, and shook her head. “Not here. Not that kind of accident."

"What do you mean?"

"Of course we've had accidents. Men fall or drop heavy loads, but this was ... We keep the machinery in perfect condition, and I can't believe—"

"You think someone tampered with he saw?"

She grew flustered. “That does sound silly, doesn't it?"

"You're just upset because someone was hurt, that's all.” He pulled her into his arms and brushed a kiss against her forehead, breathing in the sweet scent of her perfume. He remembered how sweeter still her bare skin tasted, and it seemed as if it would be an eternity before she would really be his. “You won't have to bothered with this place much longer."

She pulled back slightly, a startled expression on her face. “What do you mean?"

"You're going to be a married woman,” he reminded her. “You won't have time."

"I can't just turn my back on everything."

"I know, I know.” He pressed a gentle finger against her lips. “You'll find someone to take over first. Rodger will take care of everything."

She only smiled tremulously

Chapter Fifteen

Olivia sat quietly in her office, listening for the least little sound, but all she heard was silence. The mill had long since shut down and all the workers had gone home. She hated being there alone, but there was too much work already left undone. Too much to leave until tomorrow.

Closing her eyes, she pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger and tried to ease the dull pain settling behind her eyes. She hated to admit that Rodger's absence was already making a telling difference, and she even felt a little guilty, realizing she hadn't given him enough credit for all that he did.

After only three days, she was woefully behind on the accounts, and farmers were clamoring for their money, while the workers were blaming her for faulty machinery. Poor Homer tried to help her as much as he could, but his standard answer to just about every question was, “Mr. Kirk always takes care of that."

It was equally disturbing to realize how little she knew about her own business, and her ignorance left her vulnerable to accusations that she couldn't run the company. No doubt, just as Rodger had intended.

The sound of breaking glass startled her out of such thoughts, and she jumped up from her chair. Crossing the room, she eased the door open and listened only to silence.

A muffled noise came from the downstairs. and she made her way toward the clerk's office.

"Rodger,” she called. “Rodger, is that you?"

She paused and listened again. “Rodger, what are you doing?"

Two dark figures froze at the sound of her voice before turning to reveal faces she had never seen before in her life.

"Who are you?"

"Just stay back, lady, and you won't get hurt."

"Don't you threaten me. I'm sending for the sheriff and you can explain yourselves to him."