Unforsaken (23 page)

Each time, he felt oddly disappointed and cursed himself for a fool. She would have nothing to do with him if she did venture out to the fields, and he didn't know what he would say to her if she did. He wasn't feeling the least bit vindicated by the evidence that she had only wanted a husband for business reasons.

The last thing he needed was guilt over Olivia losing her business. He was already plagued with guilt over Sarah's unhappiness. The little girl hardly ever smiled anymore, and he could interest her in nothing at home. Even the kittens scarcely drew her attention. Almost every day she begged him to take her to see Olivia. At first, she cried when he said no, and not for the toys and clothes left behind at Olivia's house.
I want my Livvy,
she would sob.

Damned if he didn't want her, too. Just to be with her, see her smile, share her laughter.

"The wagon's back,” someone shouted, drawing him out of his somber thoughts. “It's back, still loaded with cotton."

One by one, the pickers stopped their work to gaze at the sight. The wagon came to a halt and the driver jumped down from his perch. Tom Jennings met him halfway, and Matt could tell from their gestures and expressions that something was terribly wrong. Deciding to find out for himself, Matt made his way toward the wagon, many others following him.

Soon, over a dozen people were gathered around the wagon in time to hear the driver explain why he was returning the cotton to the field.

"They turned me away at the gin."

"There's got to be some kind of mistake.” Tom glanced back at the wagon, piled high with cotton, and insisted, “You must have misunderstood."

"The man told me to take the cotton back where it came from and don't bring no more. Now, how could I misunderstand that?"

Matt's insides turned cold. He had expected to meet resistance, but not out-and-out refusal. They had been sending wagons to the gin for well over a week now, every day, and nothing had been said to indicate that there was a problem.

Those around him were shocked and angered at the news, and their voices rose in despair.

"I knew this would happen."

"We'll lose everything!"

"Why? Why are they doing this?"

"Now, just hold on!” Tom faced the crowd, holding up his hands to silence their cries of outrage and panic. “There's got to be some kind of mix-up at the gin. I'll go down there myself and see what the problem is."

"I'll go with you,” Matt said.

Chapter Eighteen

With the draperies drawn against the heat of the afternoon sunlight the parlor was almost dark enough to warrant lighting a lamp, but Olivia decided against it. She had no desire to read or stitch on her needlepoint. Instead, she let her head rest against the back of the divan, tempted to lie down since no one was home.

Aunt Eula had been gone for over an hour, and Olivia regretted not going with her. The pickers were on the opposite side of the county from Matthew's land and it was unlikely he would be anywhere near the field. The men had been splitting their time between picking the cotton and the numerous chores that could not be neglected.

Chores. Olivia hated to think what tasks Sarah might be expected to shoulder during this time. Eula had promised to keep an eye out for the child in the fields, but Olivia wasn't sure she wanted to know. What could she do?

A sudden pounding at the front door startled her out of her drowsy state and she hurried to open the door.

"Matthew!” she gasped at the sight of him. “What are you doing here?"

"We need to talk."

The steely tone of his voice made her wary. She stood back and said, “Come in."

He stalked into the foyer and declined her invitation to the parlor. “What I came to say won't take long."

She nodded.

"When are you going to learn that your money doesn't give you the right to toy with people's lives?"

Olivia's heart sank. He knew. Somehow he had discovered her part in the effort. Would he really ruin it for everyone?

"Neither does your arrogant pride."

"What the hell does pride have to do with this?"

"You're not the only one who stands to gain from this,” she pointed out.

"So you're willing to destroy every family in the county just to spite me?"

Olivia was taken aback, the conversation suddenly making no sense to her. “How am I spiting you?"

His eyes narrowed. “Don't play innocent with me. No one would have refused that cotton unless you told them to do so."

"Refused your cotton? When?"

"This morning. Weren't you there?"

"No. I haven't been to the gin in days.” Without waiting for his reply, she said, “But Sam knew you would start bringing what you had this week."

"How would he know that?"

Too late, she realized that Matt's anger had nothing to do with her arrangement with Tom Jennings. Evidently, there had been a misunderstanding at the gin. One she could remedy with one trip to her office.

"Don't become overwrought, Mr. Bowen. I'll speak with the foreman and see that your cotton is accepted."

She turned toward the parlor, mustering as much disdain as she could manage, but he caught her by the arm and whirled her back to face him. “How would Sam know I would be bringing cotton in this week?"

"It's harvest time,” she said with a shrug, but he held tight to her arm. “Everyone is bringing their crops in."

"Olivia, what's going on—"

"Will you please just leave?” She was all but shouting, but she didn't care. If she could stay angry, hopefully she wouldn't cry. “Let go of me and get out! Don't you know I never want to see you again?"

"Is that so?"

She forced herself not to back down, and his breathing matched the fierce pounding of her heart. He hauled her up against him and caught her chin with his other hand, forcing her to look up at him.

"Yes,” she ground out. “That's so, you arrogant—"

Whatever else she planned to say was smothered beneath his mouth, and her gasp of surprise only served to further his advantage. Matt deepened the kiss, holding her close, and Olivia wound her arms around his neck, clenching her fingers in his hair. Hurt and anger were passions no less powerful than love and desire, and they both sought vengeance on the other.

He meant to master her, anchoring her head against his shoulder, but she would have none of it. Her lips matched his move for move, and she welcomed the foray of his tongue against hers as a spider might welcome a fly into its web. She felt him shudder against her, and the anguish she knew would follow refused to wait, her heart already aching, her arms already empty.

There was no use being defiant; she wanted him too much, needed him too much. Loved him too much.

Without warning, she pulled away from him. Her legs were shaking, and she caught hold of the arm of the sofa to keep from falling. “Please, Matthew, please just leave. We're only making things worse."

"I didn't come here to hurt you. I just wanted to know—"

"I'm sure whoever turned the cotton away didn't know what they were doing. I'm sorry to disappoint you, but it wasn't me."

"You weren't even there, were you?"

She shook her head. “I haven't been to the gin in over a week."

"Why? Aren't you feeling well?"

"I'm fine, it's just—” She saw the dread in his eyes, and anger surged within her. “No, I'm not pregnant, more to my relief than yours."

"Then why?"

"I just don't care anymore,” she told him. “I don't care what happens to that gin. I almost wish it had burned to the ground.” Before he could respond, she hastened to end the discussion. “I'll go to the gin later on and straighten everything out."

"I think you'd better get down there right now."

"Now?"

"Yes, now. And I'm going with you."

Olivia didn't see how things could get much worse. She needed a chance to speak privately with Sam to find out what had happened, but Matt had no intention of letting her out of his sight until the matter was resolved. Surely he would forgive her scheme since so many stood to benefit.

Tom Jennings was waiting for them in front of the gin, and Olivia didn't miss the suspicion in his eyes. “What's this all about, Miss Chandler?"

"That's what we've come to find out,” Matt told him, keeping a firm hold on her arm as they approached the entrance. “There's been some kind of mistake."

Several men had followed him and Tom into town and were gathered outside the gin, demanding answers.

Someone was shouting to be heard over the mob. “Now, I won't tell you again. If you want to deal with me, you'll do it on my terms.” The crowd fell silent. “Man to man ... no groups or combined crops."

Olivia froze at the sound of Joe Hannah's voice, and the accusing glances that flickered toward her spurred her to intervene.

"What's going on here?” she demanded, shouldering her way through the crowd. The crowd parted, and she saw Hannah barring the entrance to the gin. “What are
you
doing here?"

He grinned and said with a sneer, “I could ask you the same thing. A woman with your reputation ought to know better than to show her face in public."

Ignoring his crude insult, Olivia caught sight of Rodger wavering in the shadows. “Rodger Kirk, what is this man doing here?"

"Please, Olivia, just go home and let me handle things."

"Just how do you intend to do that? By letting this common thief work for us?"

"I don't work for you, lady. Rodger here is going to make me a partner."

"Over my dead body,” she countered.

"That can be arranged.” Hannah caught hold of her arm and shoved her toward Rodger. “You'd best keep her under lock and key—"

Whatever he was going to say was cut short by the sharp crack of Matt's fist connecting with his jaw, knocking him to the ground. The crowd gathering around them swelled, and shouts of approval and encouragement for Matt rose in the air.

Olivia saw anger and disbelief on Hannah's face, even as Matt loomed over him, warning, “Don't you ever touch her again."

Hannah staggered to his feet, wiping the blood from his lip with the back of his hand. Panting hard, he growled, “You son of a bitch."

He lunged forward, and Olivia cried out and would have rushed forward if not for Rodger catching her around the waist. “Stay out of it,” he pleaded. “You shouldn't even be here."

Matt surprised his opponent with a hard fist to the belly and another on the chin before he could catch his breath. The second blow sent the man reeling once again, and Olivia winced as he collided with the wall and crumpled to the ground. Momentarily dazed, Joe Hannah shook his head and slumped forward but refused to stay down.

None too steady on his feet, he did manage to stand, this time brandishing a crude knife. Olivia screamed and Rodger tightened his grip on her, even as she twisted against his hold.

"Let's see how quick you are now,” Hannah taunted, waving the blade and advancing on Matt. “Let's just see."

Matt never took his eyes from Hannah, even as he seized a forgotten scrap of lumber propped against the building. Twice Hannah lunged toward him, but Matt sidestepped the blade aimed at his abdomen.

The length of wood caught Hannah at the base of his neck and he stumbled, dropping the knife. Matt kicked the weapon far from reach and swung the plank once more. The blow put Hannah on his knees, his nose cupped in one hand and blood seeping from between his fingers.

Tom Jennings rushed forward and caught Matt by the arm. “The last thing we need right now is a killing."

Winded, Matt nodded and tossed the splintered wood to the ground, and Rodger finally released Olivia now that the obvious danger had passed. She paid no heed to her cousin's shouts for someone to go for the doctor. She rushed to Matt's side.

"Is this why you haven't been at the mill?” He turned on her. “You're letting that bastard run things?"

"Of course not,” she insisted, but he wasn't listening. “Please, Matt, I didn't know anything about him being here."

He said nothing, leaving her to plead with Tom not to disband the effort.

"I don't need any doctor!” Hannah shrugged away from the men struggling to help him to his feet and shoved Rodger aside when offered assistance. “I done warned you what would happen if there was any more interfering."

"And I told you there would have to be a compromise."

"To hell with you and compromise!” Hannah stormed away from the gin, wiping blood from his face with the back of his hand.

Olivia wanted to strangle her cousin. “What kind of compromise?"

"I'm begging you, Olivia.” Rodger tried to lead her aside. “Please, just let me take care of things."

"It's true, isn't it?” she demanded. “He said you were going to make him a partner. Is that what you mean by taking care of things?"

Rodger wouldn't look at her, wouldn't meet her eyes, and her heart sank. “What have you done, Rodger? My God, what have you done?"

Olivia was startled at the sound of voices in the foyer. She rushed down the stairs to find Rodger ranting to Aunt Eula, but he was so out of breath nothing he said made sense.

Finally, he caught his breath and turned to Olivia. “Do you have any idea what you've done?"

"What do you mean?"

"Did you or did you not order the gin to accept all that cotton?"

"Of course I did.” Rodger had taken off to placate Hannah and Olivia had send Tom Jennings back to the fields for the rejected cotton, and she had told Sam Pate not to refuse another wagon, even if she was dead.

His anger vanished and for a moment she thought he might faint. “Didn't I ask you to let me take care of things? I know how to handle him."

"Rodger, tell me what's going on."

He opened his mouth, but words failed him. He sank to the bottom step and let the truth win out. “I promised Joe Hannah that we wouldn't deal with the farmers, that we wouldn't buy their cotton."

"Joe Hannah? The gin is none of his business. Why on earth would you promise him something like that?"

"I owe him money, Olivia. A lot of money.” Rodger raked a hand through his hair. “The broken windows, the fire. It was all meant to scare me ... not you. It was his way of letting me know that he wasn't going to take no for an answer."