скачать книгу бесплатно
Meagan glanced around. The outbuildings consisted of a barn, chicken house, several covered stalls for animals, a smokehouse and outhouse. The double cabin was really two buildings connected by a dogtrot.
She wondered if Josh would actually make her stay in the barn as had been suggested before they left town. She glanced at him surreptitiously but he paid her little mind as he climbed from the seat of the wagon and started toward the house, every line of his body alert for whatever he might encounter.
He pulled the nails from the boards that held the doors and windows shut. Putting the nails in his pouch, he stacked the boards beneath the steps and turned to Meagan.
“Get yourself down from there,” he ordered. “Seems safe enough.”
“Safe from what?” Meagan asked as she clambered from the wagon and grabbed her belongings.
“Indians! What else?”
“Oh,” she scoffed. “Indians. I’ve never had any trouble with them.”
“Then you’ve never met Old Howling Dog.” Josh pushed the door open and went inside.
Meagan hesitated on the porch before following.
Josh didn’t bother to look at her as he threw open the shutters on the windows, allowing the fresh breeze to stir the dust in the room. “Indians aren’t going to ask who you are or whether you like them. They aren’t real happy that we’re living on their land. Old Howling Dog wants us gone, and I’m expecting him to make a move to try to see it happens real soon now.”
Meagan swallowed, her false bravado lost in the reality of his words. “I’ll keep my eyes open,” she managed, realizing for the first time the vast difference between what her life had been and what it would be now.
Without another word she took off her bonnet and surveyed her surroundings. A musty, cloying odor permeated the air and Meagan decided that perhaps sleeping in the barn wouldn’t be so bad after all.
There was a thin film of dust on the floor mingled with a sprinkling of mouse droppings. The room boasted a fireplace, bookshelves, wooden chest, two armchairs, a table and a desk. Near the window stood a little organ, and it was all Meagan could do to keep from crying out in joy over the discovery.
Before she could speak, Josh opened a small door on the far wall opposite the fireplace. Meagan followed more slowly. It seemed odd that a home could show so little sign of being lived in, for her trial had taken very little time, considering everything, and Josh couldn’t have been away long enough to account for this stuffiness.
She followed him, wondering how to ask about the room when she found herself on a little dogtrot. A second door opened onto the rear cabin, which Meagan had thought to be a shed since Josh had piled logs for the fire down the side.
She crowed with delight when she popped her head into the smaller room. This one was steeped with warmth from the sun and the spicy smell of life.
There was a fireplace with a cook oven built into the brick. Pots and pans, along with metal utensils and wooden basins, hung from the wall and were stacked neatly on the shelves.
A heavy wooden sink beckoned invitingly as Josh picked up a bucket and headed toward the stream some distance away.
The table was polished to a warm hue. The chairs were solid. A heavy blanket hung along one wall and when Meagan peeked behind it she saw two beds. In the far corner on the other side of the room there was a straw mattress covered with a knit shawl.
A chill ran through her body. It was almost as though Josh Daniels had been expecting to bring her back. But of course, that was ridiculous. He could not have known the judge would give such an order.
“Start a fire and get some water boiling. There’s cornmeal in the keg over by the dry sink.” He looked at her and took a deep breath. “You know how to make mush, don’t you?”
Meagan felt the color rise in her cheeks. “Yes, sir, I do.” She set her jaw and took the kettle from the hook.
“Fine, then make it.”
Josh went outside, unhitched the horses and set them loose in the pasture nearest the house as Meagan washed the pot. The fire was burning brightly when he stopped at the narrow back door.
“Good,” he said as he saw her progress. “I’m going to go down to the river and bring back the livestock.”
He caught her questioning look. “I drive them down there when I’m going to be gone a spell. There are good strong pens and the Indians aren’t likely to bother them there.”
“Do you want me to go with you?” Meagan was aware that he hadn’t let her out of his sight for more than a few minutes.
“You goin’ to run?”
“No. What good would it do me?”
Josh nodded his head. “Wouldn’t be no help to either one of us,” he told her. “You got any questions before I leave?”
Megan’s eyes scanned the horizon. Her eyes lit on a thin spiral of smoke rising above the treetops some distance away. Was this evidence of Indians? Perhaps a neighbor. Perhaps it was someone who had not heard the accusations and would judge Meagan for herself, not condemn her because of a vindictive woman’s lies. Meagan tried to smother the hope that sprang up within her.
“What is that smoke in the distance?” she asked.
“That’s from the chimney of my nearest neighbors, Rafe and Ruth Somers.” Without looking back Josh went out the door and through the yard toward the river.
The hope fluttered and died in Meagan’s heart. It was bad enough being the slave of a man who hated her for something she hadn’t done, but having as her nearest neighbor the woman whose testimony had brought her to such dire straits was the last straw.
Meagan measured the cornmeal and water into the pot, put it on the crane and swung it over the fire. There had to be a way to prove her innocence, and somehow she was going to find it, or die trying.
Much to Meagan’s dismay, it wasn’t long before Ruth Somers made her way to the Daniels cabin.
Ruth was a short woman, with a body that reminded Meagan of the masthead on a ship, full-figured and solid. Her dark hair was pulled into a tight bun on the back of her head. Her eyes gleamed with malevolence as she swept from her wagon and advanced on the house.
Meagan didn’t want to face the woman and took as much time as possible before going to the door. It was obvious that Ruth Somers was familiar with the living arrangements of the Daniels house because she bypassed the parlor and went directly to the door at the far end of the dogtrot, where she hammered her fist against the heavy boards, demanding admission.
Reluctantly Meagan opened the door and faced her nemesis. She didn’t speak, but Ruth Somers did.
“So, you haven’t run away after all. I was about to go to the fort and set up the hue and cry.” She swept past Meagan into the room.
“I’m sure that would have given you a great deal of satisfaction,” Meagan commented.
“It would also have made you look like a fool.” Josh’s voice suddenly rang through the room.
Ruth swung around at the sound of his voice. Her haughty attitude diminished somewhat in his presence. As a woman with a dominant and volatile husband, Ruth knew her place where men were concerned.
“Josh, I thought you’d be out working the land,” she managed.
“And so you came to intimidate my servant, is that it?”
“I simply dropped by to make sure the girl was doing her job and hadn’t poisoned you with her cooking, or stabbed you in your sleep,” Ruth protested, but the words were said with a brittle smile.
Josh went to stand near the hearth where a pot of stew simmered on the hob. He wondered why he was standing up for Meagan against his wife’s friend.
Without being asked, Ruth sat down beside the table. “I’ll have a cup of tea.” She tossed the words at Meagan, who cast a quick glance toward Josh before taking the water kettle from the back of the fire. “Now, what did you mean when you said I would look like a fool?” She folded her hands over her belly and leaned back in the chair, looking like a well-dressed beetle.
Josh softened his attitude toward the portly little woman. After all, Ruth had been Lily’s best friend. It was to be expected that the woman would wreak vengeance on the person she deemed responsible for Lily’s death.
“Meagan often works the fields with me. Sometimes we’re away from the house from dawn till dusk.”
Ruth gave a derisive sniff. “That will all end when little Abigail returns, I assume. Although I wouldn’t allow an indentured felon the care of one of my children.”
Meagan literally bit her tongue to keep from saying that had it not been for Ruth Somers, she wouldn’t have been convicted in the first place. She longed to ask the woman why she had made such wild accusations and was almost ready to do so when Josh guessed her intent and shook his head, silently warning Meagan to be silent.
Ruth was oblivious to the whole situation and continued her harangue regarding the return of Josh’s little daughter.
“I think you should let the child come and stay with me. I could give her a good home and a warm and natural family life. She’d even have children of her own age to play with.” Ruth warmed to her theme, throwing her sons into the bargain. “Far better off with me than living in her father’s house with a murderess.”
“Abbie won’t come back until the end of the summer. By that time most of the work will be done and I will be here in the house to keep an eye on things.” And then he asked what Meagan had not dared to. “Why are you so hostile toward Meagan? You admitted that you hardly knew the girl when you took her to your home, and that you had thought to hire her permanently if she had shown herself to be a good worker.”
Ruth dabbed her eyes with a wisp of linen. “The girl caused the death of my friend. What’s more, she did so in my home. I cannot abide the sight of her.” She glared in Meagan’s direction.
“Then turn your back, Ruth, because I’m afraid that as long as she causes me no trouble, Meagan is here to stay.”
“I’d be more than willing to speak to Judge Osborne,” Ruth offered. “Perhaps I could talk him into hanging her instead of leaving you saddled with a criminal for the rest of your life.”
The teacup rattled against the saucer as Meagan placed it on the table. She took a deep breath. The hatred and something more that she couldn’t name emanated from the guest. How she wished that Josh would say something more on her behalf, but he only shrugged his shoulders. Perhaps he felt the same way and managed better to contain his anger and his hatred for his indentured servant. Meagan had no way of knowing. Surely his demeanor toward her had been clipped and abrupt as he had given orders as to what he expected done about the house.
Meagan had done what she could to avoid making Josh repeat his instructions, and only asked questions when she did not fully comprehend what he had said. He had no quarrel with her work or her willingness, and she knew it. However, he apparently had little compassion for her plight, for rather than refute Ruth’s suggestion about having Meagan hanged, he simply went on talking about the crops and the livestock and then to ask about her husband, Rafe.
A pot of tea later, Ruth prepared to leave.
Josh helped the woman into her wagon and held the reins as she arranged her ample posterior across the seat. “I want you to know that should there be any question of Abbie’s safety I will expect you to bring her to me right away. And see that you remember,” she admonished as she wagged her finger at him, clucked to the horses and was on her way.
Josh started back toward the house where Meagan stood framed in the doorway.
“Now what do you suppose that was all about?” they said in unison. And, realizing what they had done, their laughter, also in unison, echoed over the little valley.
A short distance down the road Ruth Somers caught the sound and pulled her horse to a halt to listen. Of course, she couldn’t be sure it was laughter she heard, but Meagan was attractive and Josh was still young. She would have to keep an eye on them. After all, Judge Osborne had said that should Meagan Reilly seduce Josh or, most likely any other man, it would mean the hangman’s tree for her.
Yes, Ruth would have to keep her eyes open, but more than that, she would have to make sure she kept her own husband far away from the Daniels household. For the girl was young and pretty, and Rafe Somers was only a man.
Life in the Daniels house had fallen quite easily into place. Josh was not a vindictive man, and while he resented the girl’s presence to a certain degree, he could not deny that her willingness to work and make the best of a bad situation had made life a great deal easier for him. He often wondered what she was thinking as her great dark eyes followed him. She could be spunky, as he had discovered on their trip home from Banebridge. Josh saw no reason to make the situation any more difficult for either of them, so he did not question her any further about her part in Lily’s death. Instead, he went about his own business and made sure she tended to hers.
It had not taken Meagan long to discover that the cozy little room at the back of the house was the hub of the home. The front room had apparently been used only on special occasions. She dreaded going into the musty shadows to sleep even though it had the best feather bed in the house.
She lay stiffly on the bed, jumping at every creak and snap of the night-filled house. She dared not say a word about her nervousness, for Josh would surely believe her fears were caused by a guilty conscience rather than her inherent fear of being alone in the dark. A fear she had not been able to outgrow since childhood.
The only thing she feared worse was a storm. The apex of her fears struck before the week was out.
The wind was already moaning through the trees when she hurried across the little dogtrot and closed the door. The room was tight and sound. She would close her ears to the storm and pull the blankets up over her head and go to sleep, she promised herself.
Meagan pulled the blankets up, but the wind whined and sobbed, and then began lashing the house when it failed to disturb the human creatures who dared build a house in its domain.
For all Meagan’s promises she found her eyes wide open and her hands clenched against the feather bed. The wind and rain continued to strike the house. Tree branches bent and cracked as they whipped the house in fury. The wind seemed to come from all sides as it fought to find a chink in the walls. At the height of the storm Meagan heard the sound.
It groaned through the room. First one note, then two, and finally a full chord resounding in ghostly pleasure above the storm.
Meagan leaped from the bed. She stood in the middle of the floor as the lightning lit the night in unearthly splendor. The sound faded as Meagan backed toward the door, her eyes locked on the area where she knew the organ to be.
Once again the notes began, increasing in intensity until they drowned out even the wind. As they reached their highest intensity Meagan gave a yelp and dashed into the night.
Many times she had heard the Indians speak of the souls of the dead who found no peace and walked the earth during the storms. And though she knew no guilt in Lily’s death, she had been forced by the living to assume the blame, and she wasn’t about to see what punishment the dead might conceive.
The rain blew against her with full fury as she threw herself against the door to the room in which Josh slept. Her fingers slipped from the wet latch. She beat against the wood.
“Josh! Josh! Let me in!” she screamed. She rattled the useless latch as she hollered and banged, aware that the organ continued to sound out its ghastly melody.
“What in the hell is going on here?”
The door burst open against her pounding hands, and Meagan fell into Josh Daniels’s arms. She could feel the smooth warmth of his skin against her hands and buried her face against his chest to try to escape the sound that seemed to follow her. She felt his hand press ever so gently against her head, stroking her hair as though she were a frightened child. His other hand rested on her back, firmly, holding her against him as she relished the warmth and safety she knew when he enfolded her. The hair on his chest brushed her cheek and tickled her nose but she only burrowed closer, desperately trying to shut out the terror of the night. Her sobs quieted and she fought to gain control of herself, to curb her childish fears. She longed to stay with him as she had the night they had spent under the wagon, but she would be happy to sleep next to the fireplace in the kitchen if he was nearby to fend off the fearsome sounds of the night. But it was not to be, for although Meagan found safety in the arms of Josh Daniels’s, his reaction to Meagan was the exact opposite.
The lightning brightened the night and he could see the tears of terror on her face. “What is it?” he asked more gently.
“The organ…someone’s playing the organ. I heard them.”
“Nobody ever played that thing except Lily,” Josh said in exasperation. “What you heard was the wind.”
He wanted to push her away from him. He wanted to separate himself from the vibrant body that molded its lush, young curves against him. He wanted the cool softness as far away as possible before the spark dared to ignite and destroy them both. He could feel her face against his chest. Her hand brushed his taut nipple before her face burrowed into his chest.
He stroked her hair hoping to comfort her and restore her self-confidence so that he could put her from him and send her back to her room.
She trembled and he felt her legs wobble. He pressed her more closely against him, taking deep breaths, willing his body not to notice that her breasts had warmed and were burning orbs of fire against his naked chest. His hand slipped down her back, following the curves of her body, tracing them ever so gently but in a way he knew he would never be able to forget.
How could a man forget the resiliency of her skin, which was even more exciting through the thin, wet material of her cotton nightdress? How could a man forget the touch of her breath against his skin, heated with promise forever unfulfilled?
She sagged in his arms as her fear began to leave her. He moved to hold her weight and his leg was suddenly encased between the heat of her thighs. His head swam with desire. His blood pounded above the sound of the storm as it raced through his body, erasing the threat of punishment, any hope of reason or memory of decency in the headlong sweep of passion.
Oh, God, it had been so long since he had burned for a woman, and never, never as he did in this moment, with this woman whose body was like a torch that ignited his whole being. Blood surged through him, blocking out the ability to think. He didn’t want to think. He only wanted to feel. To feel her, to know her, to become part of her and to hear her cry out in her passion for him as she cried out for his comfort against her fears.
Her fears! If she feared the sounds of the storm, how much more greatly would she fear the gallows tree? And he would bring her to it, to be faced alone by the sick desire of a man for the murderer of his own wife.
With his last ounce of resolve, and dredging the depths of his soul for hard-held decency, he placed his hands on her shoulders and pushed her from him.
He looked down into her face, taking in her eyes wet with tears, her cheeks flushed with fear and her lips parted, begging to be kissed. His body throbbed with his need for her. Were it not for the judge’s order, Meagan would be his, now, right here on the dogtrot, and again on the bed, and…
God in heaven, he was going mad. She was driving him wild. The whole situation was too much to bear, and if he could get his hands on Harvey Osborne he’d tear him limb from limb for imposing such an impossible sentence on a heretofore law-abiding, God-fearing man.
“I don’t hear anything,” he managed. And the Lord knew that was the truth. The blood was pounding so loudly in his head he couldn’t have heard a full-fledged Indian attack.
He took a few steps down the dogtrot, dragging the reluctant Meagan with him.
“Somebody was playing the organ,” Meagan gasped. “I heard it.”
“You heard the wind in the trees,” he assured her. “Now go on back to bed. We’ll have a long day tomorrow cleaning up after this storm.”
He shoved her inside the room and closed the door, desperate to put as much distance between them as possible.
Meagan started toward the bed, but before she reached it she heard the first note begin to swell.
