Unforsaken (22 page)

"Well,” she began, forcing herself to meet the woman's gaze, “I need a favor."

"A favor?” Both women turned at the sound of Tom Jenning's voice. “What kind of favor could you want from me?"

Olivia drew in a breath as she watched him cross the lot and make his way up the steps. Of all her brother's friends, Tom Jennings had been her least favorite. He'd always been quick to tease and make fun of her. He didn't look so proud now, not in his faded shirt, patched trousers and muddy boots.

Don't get your back up.

Aunt Eula's words rang in her ears, as clearly as if the woman was standing just behind her, and it was all she could do to keep from looking down her nose at him from where she stood on the porch. Instead, she steeled herself and made her way down the wobbly steps to stand before him, his height towering over her.

"I was wondering how you're coming along with your cotton. How the picking is going, I mean."

Tom gave his wife a brief, anxious look and hesitated before answering. “As well as can be expected ... with all this rain. Why do you ask?"

"It seems everyone is having the same problem,” she began. All her practiced speeches rang hollow in her mind, and she knew nothing would cause greater suspicion than Olivia Chandler offering a helping hand. “Well, I stand to lose a fortune if all this cotton rots in the field instead getting to the gin."

"It won't do me any good, either, if that's any consolation to you."

"Not at all.” She paused thoughtfully. “I cannot believe every farmer in this county is willing to let a year's work go to waste."

Eugenia's temper got the better of her. “Why don't you do something about it, Miss High-and-Mighty?"

"Genie, for God's sake, shut up!"

"I think she's quite right, Tom. It is up to me to do something about this.” They were both taken aback by her reply. “However, I fail to see why I should point out what's right under everyone's nose."

"What?"

"If everyone in this county can pitch in and build a barn in a day, surely they could rally to save their crops from ruin."

"You can't pick that much cotton in a day!"

"Of course not. But if we pool all the hired pickers and every able-bodied soul who's willing—"

"We could pick this county from one end to the other in a week,” Tom concluded with certainty. “Two at the most."

Olivia smiled slightly. “It is a splendid idea, but who would listen to me?"

"They'll listen to Tom!” Eugenia's eyes were bright with hope. “You can make them listen, Tom, you know you can. Please say you'll try?"

It might work.

Matt listened as Tom Jennings spelled out the plan for getting everyone's cotton picked before any more rain could ruin things. It just might work, and it was the only alternative any of them really had, other than letting a year's work rot in the field.

"How are we supposed to keep everybody's crop separate?"

"We're not.” Tom faced everyone squarely. “Any man who agrees to this, agrees to put his crop in with the others, and we divide the profits evenly."

Groans of disappointment mingled with shouts of protest.

"I want everything I got coming!"

"I got twice as much land as some folks!"

Tom held up his hand to silence the crowd. “No one has to go along with us if they don't like it. Take your chances on your own, but you stand to lose everything. This way you all stand to gain something."

The crowd still grumbled but not as loudly. Several men put their heads together, and Matt glanced across the assembly to find Tom watching with an anxious expression.

"And if we sell it combined, we can just about name our price.” He watched the possibilities register on their faces. “After all, they can either buy it all or we sell elsewhere ... at our price."

Murmurs rose from the gathering of struggling farmers, tinged with reluctant optimism, and many began nodding their heads.

"We'll send Matt to do our negotiating,” a man called out from the back. “Any chance you can sweettalk Olivia Chandler and get us a better deal?"

Laughter erupted, and Matt tried not to let his anger show. He didn't want anyone thinking he expected anything from Olivia. Before he could answer, Tom cut in, “I'll handle the negotiating. If anyone wants to come along, they're welcome."

Finally, a consensus was reached. Something was better than nothing, and the assembly adjourned after agreeing that the picking should begin at the farthest end of the county, working their way back toward town and the gin.

Tom shook Matt's hand. “Thanks for what you said. It really made a difference."

"It's a good idea. We just don't have time to mull it over.” He hesitated. “Look, Tom, about negotiating with the gin, it's probably best if I stay out of that."

"Don't give it a second thought.” Tom clapped him on the shoulder. “I understand."

"Just let me warn you, Olivia isn't an easy person to bargain with. She'll do whatever it takes to protect her interests."

Tom shrugged. “I can't blame her for that. I'm the same way myself."

"I wouldn't worry about her,” a man on his way out stopped to say. “More than likely you'll be dealing with Rodger Kirk. They say he's pretty much running things over there now."

"Since when?"

"I don't know. That's just what I've heard."

She's got it in her head that I'm trying to take over the business, and that she needs a husband to protect her precious money. Hasn't she mentioned any of that to you?

Rodger Kirk's cavalier account of Olivia's reasoning behind wanting a husband had made perfect sense at the time, and she didn't deny any of it when he confronted her with the truth. What else could account for her sudden decision to accept his proposal? It never occurred to him that she might actually have something to fear, least of all from Rodger Kirk.

She should have told him the truth, right from the start, instead of trying to lure him into marriage just because she needed a husband. Still, he wondered how she would protect herself now, if Rodger was really a threat to her. Would she just find someone else to marry?

Word of the collective effort quickly spread, and there were few who didn't eagerly pledge their cooperation.

Not everyone was thrilled at the prospect, and it was no surprise when Rodger expressed his dismay over the matter. No sooner than grace was spoken that Sunday, he began to complain bitterly. “As if things weren't bad enough, now we have to worry about haggling over cotton as if it was gold. If they think they have us over a barrel, well, let me tell you, they're in for a surprise."

"You musn't fret over such things.” Ada did her best to steer him away from the unpleasant subject. “Besides, there's nothing that can be done."

"Well, we'll just have to think of something,” he countered, unfazed by her attempts to silence his whining. “Let them take their chances with the exchange in Memphis. They'll come crawling back, begging us to buy that cotton."

"We can't do that."

Olivia's quiet words startled him. “What do you mean?"

"I've already agreed that we would buy the cotton.” Rodger gaped at her as if he hadn't understood a word she said. “We'll negotiate the price once the final wagonload is baled and we know exactly how much was gathered."

"You mean to tell me you
knew
about this?"

Olivia met his gaze. “Of course I knew. The truth is, I suggested the idea."

"What?” Rodger's fork clattered on his plate and he sat back, astonished. “Have you taken leave of your senses?"

Eula gasped. “Rodger Kirk, don't you dare talk that way about Olivia."

Ignoring the reproach, he continued. “Do you know what this means? We won't have a leg to stand on when it comes to bargaining for price. Good God, Olivia, they'll band together against us."

"The alternative is let the bulk of this year's crop rot in the field. Do you think that would be better?"

"For God's sake, yes!” Rage darkened his features and he jerked his arm away from his wife's reproachful touch. “With a shortage, we can sell what we have on hand for ten times what we paid for it!"

"And what about the families who stand to lose everything? Their homes, their land—"

"We're not running a charity!” Rodger rose from the table, raking his fingers through his hair, his face grown deathly pale. “My God, Olivia, do you realize how much this could cost us?"

"Cost us?” Her initial surprise at his volatile reaction began to fade and her own anger began to rise. “We won't lose anything. We'll sell every pound of cotton we can get our hands on."

"At a
substantially
lower price.” He braced his palms on the table and regarded her with an almost pleading expression. “Why didn't you discuss this with me first?"

"Because I don't have to discuss anything with you.” In the past weeks she had given him a tremendous amount of control in the business, and it was obvious he wasn't going to relinquish it graciously. “The way I see it, we'll have more cotton to sell than any other broker and can name our own price."

"And you see it that way because you know absolutely nothing about the business!"

"Rodger!” Eula gasped. “Shame on you for carrying on so."

"Yes, dear,” Ada put in, her voice coaxing. “Surely business matters are best discussed at the office, not at the Sunday dinner table."

"Rodger, I'm sorry this has upset you so.” Olivia forced herself to be calm. “There were so many families who stood to lose everything they had, and I felt compelled to help them. I'm confident no one will take advantage of my generosity."

The explanation made no impression on her cousin, and his expression was positively bleak as he took his seat.

"Come now, let's not have the whole day spoiled over this.” Eula smiled at Olivia “The food is getting cold, and we have peach cobbler for dessert."

"No, thank you, Aunt Eula.” Rodger pushed his plate away. “I suddenly have no appetite."

"You said you had everything under control."

Joe Hannah was even more furious than Rodger had feared he would be. He had already learned of the collective effort to harvest the cotton remaining in the fields, but thankfully he knew nothing of Olivia's involvement in the scheme. Rodger could only pray the man didn't find out before he could think of a solution. Still, there would be no lucrative profits to divide, or even to make up the money he'd already used to appease the man's ire over Olivia's dismissing him from the gin.

"I can't control what other people do, and I never dreamed anything like this would happen."

"Well, you just refuse to bargain with them.” The man's dark eyes narrowed. “Tell them they can take your offer or take their chances elsewhere."

"What makes you think they won't?” Rodger already knew he would have no say in the bargain anyway. Olivia had every intention of being as generous as possible. “Then we'll be left with nothing but what cotton there is in the warehouse, and that will be worthless."

"You'll just have to think of a way to stop it."

Rodger cursed himself silently for ever listening to this man, for ever letting his resentment of Olivia's inheritance blind him to the danger of any involvement with a man like Joe Hannah. Just once, he had thought to take what he had been denied, and he'd gotten nothing but trouble in return.

Aunt Eula was in her element and loving every minute of it. There were dozens of hungry laborers, anxious for the meals that were brought to the fields each day. Everyone contributed what they could, but it was Eula who saw that it was prepared, packaged and presented properly.

Olivia helped all she could but declined making the trek to the field on the wagon. She couldn't let Matthew see her and suspect that she had anything to do with the effort. If he even suspected she had concocted the whole thing just to save him from ruin, his pride would never allow him to accept her help, no matter how cleverly disguised.

He would think nothing of seeing her aunt among the other ladies serving the meals. Still, she was sorely tempted to tag along. Eula had reported seeing youngsters picking cotton along with the adults, and her heart ached at the thought of little Sarah laboring in the fields.

"Why don't you come along today?"

Olivia glanced up from the tray of neatly wrapped gingerbread squares and shook her head. “No, I'd better not."

"To hear you, one would think you're ashamed of what you've done.” Eula shook her head. “Everyone is thrilled to death. I don't see why it has to be such a secret."

"They're thrilled to death because they think they're pulling one over on me.” Olivia turned her attention to the half dozen loves of bread that needed slicing. “If anyone knew I had anything to do with this, it would ruin all the fun."

"I don't believe that at all. They should know, and they would be very grateful."

"Hmph."

Eula folded her arms and studied her niece. “Unless there's one certain someone you don't want to know."

Olivia glanced up, irritated, and chose to say nothing.

"You can't live your life avoiding him at every turn."

"What alternative do I have?” This she asked more of herself. Seeing Matthew hurt deeply, and she didn't think she could survive having to deny Sarah again. Olivia couldn't forget the child's tearful pleadings or the way Sarah's tiny hands clutched at her clothing, and she wouldn't put the child through that kind of misery again.

The heat was unrelenting, and the dark clouds that gathered on the horizon offered no relief. Matthew watched them inching their way closer and closer, growing darker and more threatening. A storm right now would negate all the hard work they had done.

For nearly two weeks they had labored well before sunup until the last bit of twilight disappeared, using lanterns to light the way. Without complaint, they worked tirelessly, men and women, alongside hired pickers. The reward was the sight of the wagons, piled high with snow-white cotton bolls, leaving the fields for the gin.

The only thing that rivaled the sight of the loaded wagons was the arrival of the ladies from town at noontime. Everyday they delivered enough food for everyone to have a full meal and saw that no one went without. Matthew had caught sight of Eula Chandler more than once, but never Olivia.