Unforsaken (26 page)

She reached out and brushed her fingers across a particularly nasty bruise over his right eye. “Rodger, don't worry. We can stand not to make a profit once in a while."

"That's not what I'm saying. We can't buy because we don't have the money."

"What?"

"I borrowed against this year's cotton to build the warehouse,” he explained. “The fire in the mill put a stop to production long enough to lose contracts. The money had to be returned."

"So you borrowed more,” she concluded. “Robbing Peter to pay Paul."

"The factors will foreclose. We'll lose everything."

"How can they foreclose if we have no assets?"

"We have the deeds to half the land in the county."

"We can't let them do that."

"What choice do we have?"

She didn't say anything for a moment or two. “Do you suppose Mr. Sullivan might still be interested in buying into the cotton ginning business?"

Rodger blinked. Then he laughed, and they both laughed, drawing more than a few curious stares.

The rain came at last. It came in great torrents that battered the snapdragons and zinnias in the flowerbeds and left roses hanging by their mangled stems. There would be no more cotton picked, and what wasn't washed away would rot on the stalk. In a way, Olivia was glad. She was weary of worrying about what happened to other people.

She stared out the kitchen door for the longest time, listening to the rain, and tried to make sense of all that had happened but couldn't.

She and Rodger had met with Judge Stone for nearly two hours that morning, trying to determine just how dire their situation truly was. Hopeless, it seemed, was the legal term. No creditor would consider extending their terms when foreclosure would mean getting a foothold in one of the most potentially lucrative counties in the state.

Every possible option was blocked either by lack of funds or opportunity. The only remaining assets were the deeds to valuable farmland, and to forfeit them would barely put them in the black and leave them with no working capital. They could escape bankruptcy, but dozens of families would lose their homes.

Riddled with guilt, Rodger was of little help, and more than once he broke down and sobbed with anguish over his actions. Blame didn't matter at this point, and she reminded him of that to no avail. She could forgive him, but he couldn't forgive himself.

Olivia sank down into a chair, folding her arms across the polished surface of the kitchen table, and stared at the stack of deeds. A neatly folded pile of papers that represented all she had left in the world.

"Oh, Maddy,” she sighed. “What am I going to do?"

"Do you remember the time, when you were a little girl, that you got lost in town?” Maddy never looked up from the pie crust she was rolling out. Her arms were covered in a fine dusting of flour. “I suppose you were no more than ten years old."

Olivia shrugged.

"You were tagging after Ryan and got turned around and ended up down at the livery stable."

Closing her eyes, she nodded. “Yes, I do remember."

She hadn't thought of that day in years, though she'd had nightmares for weeks afterwards. Ryan and some other boys were off to find some mischief, and she had hoped to follow without being noticed. The streets were crowded and it didn't take long for her to lose sight of her brother and become disoriented.

She turned a corner and stumbled onto a slave auction in progress. Something never attended by women or children, and a rare occurrence in their town. Something Olivia wouldn't have believed if she hadn't seen it with her own eyes. Everyone's attention was focused on the platform and no one took notice of her as she neared the event.

A woman, barely more than a girl, stood on a makeshift platform, clutching a crying baby in her arms. Men were shouting to be heard over one another and the auctioneer upped the bidding, at last declaring, “Sold! To the gent in the fancy breeches."

The man he pointed to stepped forward, not liking the description of himself. “I ain't got no use for that bellowing brat. I need her for work, not worrying over a snot-nosed kid."

Without a word of protest, the auctioneer motioned for someone to take the child away, and the woman screamed, her grip so tight on the child that Olivia feared he would be torn in two before she would let go. The mother clawed at the men hauling her off the platform, desperate to reach her child, and the baby's cries rang out, frightened and hopeless.

Olivia had looked on in horror, rooted in place, and a wave of nausea swept over her along with the realization that the mother and child would never see each other again.

"Hey! Somebody get this little girl out of here!"

Firm hands caught her by the shoulders and turned her away from the awful scene.

"Good God, that's Ian Chandler's daughter. He'll have our hides."

At least three men rushed to escort her away from the spot, reassuring her over and over again that they would see her safely back to her daddy, but no one moved to help the mother or the child.

"It was horrible,” Olivia whispered. “Like something out of a nightmare."

Maddy smiled softly. “That night you asked your mama why I lived here, why I took care of you."

"I asked her if you were only here because someone bought you on a platform and took you away from your family."

"Your mama never did like the word
slave,
always calling black folks servants.” Maddy shook her head at the memory. “The next day you told me I didn't have to pretend anymore. That you knew I didn't really love you, and the only reason I took care of you was because I had to."

"You told me you
were
here because you were a slave, but you—"

Maddy covered Olivia's hand with her own. “But I did love you, and I loved you on my own."

A tear slid down Olivia's cheek.

"You didn't learn a thing.” Maddy squeezed her hand hard and gave it a playful slap. “What did you go and do when the war was over?"

Olivia frowned. “I don't know what you mean."

"You was so scared I would take off and leave you that you offered me money, clothes, a house of my own ... anything I wanted, just to get me to stay."

"But you were free to do as you pleased,” Olivia tried to explain, distressed to think Maddy had been offended. “I couldn't expect you to stay, just because—"

"It was my choice, no matter what you were willing to give me. Would you really have wanted me to stay just for the money?"

Olivia fingered the deeds lying between them.

"I knew you loved me.” Olivia smiled. “But you did take the money."

Maddy smiled herself. “You bet I did."

The rain lasted through late afternoon, tapering off to a slow drizzle, and Olivia watched in idle fascination as robins feasted on the worms washed to the surface of the neatly trimmed lawn. She had forced herself not to retreat to her bedroom. Eula and Maddy were worried enough, and they seemed to take great comfort in the thought of her enjoying a book of poetry while resting in the parlor.

It made no difference; neither room offered escape. She could hide from the world, but her troubles followed right along behind closed doors.

A hesitant knock sounded at the door and she smiled. Most likely Eula had thought of some reason to join her, and Olivia was determined not to worry her aunt. Drawing a breath, she called, “Come in."

The weather was always a safe enough subject. “I suppose it will rain all day."

"It probably will."

She froze at the sound of Matt's voice, deep and solemn, willing herself to remain staring out at the sodden front lawn. She wanted to run and hide in his arms, beg him to help her, let him shield her from the uncertain future she faced. Instead, she only nodded. “Yes, it probably will."

"Rodger should be in jail."

That galled her. He picked a fine time to criticize her cousin. “That's not your decision to make."

"No, it's yours, but you're going to let him get away with it."

"Whether Rodger goes to jail or not won't change what's happened.” She relinquished her vigil at the fogged window and turned to face him. “Rodger is the only family I have left, besides Aunt Eula and Maddy, and I'm not putting him in jail."

"At least he'd have a roof over his head. That may be more than you'll have."

She flinched at the thought, despite Judge Stone's assurances that her home would be protected.

"You should have told me the truth,” he said. “If I'd had any idea what was going on—"

"Yes, I should have,” she cut in. She'd gone over it in her mind a thousand times. She should have trusted him. She should have told him the truth. “Although I didn't know the whole truth at the time, so I would still have been lying to you."

"You could have trusted me."

She shook her head. “I couldn't risk it. I didn't know how you might react, so I didn't dare."

"Why?"

"You were marrying me to solve problems, not take on new ones.” She held up her hand. “Let me finish. I'm glad now that things didn't work out. You'd be in a mess if you were stuck with me now."

"I think it's worth a chance."

His meaning was unmistakable, but she refused to consider the idea, no matter how appealing it was. “No, if you marry me, my creditors would go after every acre of land you have."

The door to the parlor eased open barely an inch and Olivia caught sight of Sarah peering into the room. When she smiled, the door flew open wide and the little girl ran toward her, into her open arms.

"Livvy!” she cried, throwing her arms around Olivia's neck. “Livvy, are you all right?"

"Of course I am, sweetie.” She drank in the sight of the child, noting the ribbon tied somewhat clumsily in her hair. She would have given anything to see Matt's big hands struggling to tie a bow in Sarah's wispy curls. “I'm so glad to see you."

"Daddy was going to come without me,” she tattled, casting her father a mutinous look. “He said you wouldn't feel like seeing me."

"And you threw a tantrum,” he reminded her.

"Did you?” Olivia cupped Sarah's sullen chin and ran her thumb over the tiny frown. “A lady doesn't lose her temper."

"I told you she was spoiled,” he reminded Olivia. “Spoiled rotten."

"That's not true,” Olivia insisted, secretly delighted. “Is it?"

Sarah's face remained solemn. “I wanted to see you."

Gathering Sarah into her arms once again, Olivia whispered, “You can see me anytime, Sarah, anytime you want."

"Can I stay with you? Just for a little while?"

Olivia glanced at Matt. “If it's all right with your father."

Sarah whirled on her father, her tiny hands clutching Olivia's, but any defiance she might have mustered deserted her when she whispered, “Please, Daddy."

Chapter Twenty-one

"That's the last for this load, Mr. Kirk."

"That's fine, Ben.” Rodger scribbled something on a tablet and tucked the ledger under his arm. “Take it on down to the depot and stay there until they get everything loaded."

"Yes, sir.” Ben climbed onto the tall seat of the wagon and snapped the reins, urging the mules onward.

"And get a receipt,” Rodger called after him.

He opened the ledger and reread the entries as he turned back toward the gin. Matt stood in the doorway, blocking his entrance, and Rodger nearly collided with him.

"Watch where you're going, Rodger."

"I-I didn't see you.” He barely managed to keep from dropping the ledger, and he hugged it tight against his chest. “What are you doing here?"

"We need to talk.” Rodger's panicked expression was answer enough. “I want to know what's going on."

"There's nothing to tell."

"You had plenty to say to me before. Don't tell me you've developed a sense of loyalty this late in the game."

"I don't owe you any loyalty.” Rodger hurried inside the gin, but Matt followed him.

"I don't need your loyalty, but you will tell me the truth."

Rodger backed up. “I told you, I've got nothing to say to you."

"Is this why you didn't want me to marry Olivia? Afraid I'd ruin everything for you?"

"Everything
is
ruined.” He drew a handkerchief and mopped his brow. “And I really did you a favor. If you'd married her, you'd be liable for the losses."

"I'd also have final say over what happens to you. And I wouldn't be as forgiving as Olivia."

Rodger threw his handkerchief on the counter. “Don't get pious with me, Bowen. You want to know what's going on here? The only way she could keep her bargain with the cotton farmers was to sell the cotton directly to the textile mills, foregoing any commissions. She's not making a dime on any of this."

"Why?"

"So she won't have any assets,” Rodger explained. “If we had handled the sale of the cotton, the creditors could have claimed every bit of it as an asset. The farmers would have been ruined, with or without the deeds."

"The deeds?"

"Every last one, signed over to the borrower. She was afraid they could be claimed as assets."

"Claimed by whom?"

"The courts.” He made a grand gesture, his arms outstretched. “All of it. “Everything. Chandler, Inc. will be bankrupt ... forced into receivership."

Matt was stunned. Why hadn't she mentioned any of this to him? “Why didn't she—"

He knew the answer before he could say the words. For the same reason she didn't tell Ryan about their father's death. She could deal with her own misfortune, but not that of those she loved.

The courthouse was stifling, but Olivia wore her finest suit. She would not look like a pauper, even if the court said she was. She did remove her gloves, tucking them into the black velvet reticule that matched the trim on her blue brocade jacket and bonnet. She would not look like a mourner, either.

Rodger couldn't stop fidgeting with his collar. Ada had not come with him, humiliated to have her husband publicly declared insolvent and a failure, but Olivia suspected her presence would only add to Rodger's agitation. Discreetly, she caught his hand in hers and managed an encouraging smile. “They're not going to hang us."