Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

I n the warm kitchen of River’s Bend, Tabitha patted first her right pocket tied beneath her petticoat, then her left. “St. John’s wort root for poultice. Virginia bugleweed for tea. Thank you, Annabelle.” She would hug the older woman, but it might shock her into a faint, and they were standing awfully close to the big brick hearth where a turkey roasted over small orange flames. The hem of Tabitha’s petticoats still hung heavy with dampness after her crossing of the river, even atop Cora, but she had no time to linger near the warm fire.

Dulcie’s mother eyed her, her brow winkled beneath her turban. “What you gonna do ’bout them cows now?”

“I have no idea.” She had not thought past getting the herbs back for Edmond. Thankfully, Cora had still been saddled in the cabin yard. She now waited at the hitching post at the back door. “I must go.”

“Jus’ a minute.” Annabelle swung around and took up a thick cloth. She slid a paddle beneath a loaf of her crusty, fragrant bread and removed it from the beehive oven. After wrapping the loaf in the cloth and putting it into a canvas sack, she held it out to Tabitha.

She stepped back with her hands raised. “I cannot take that.” Nothing here belonged to her anymore. It all belonged to Hugh Jackson.

“Yes’m, you can. You got extra mouths to feed.” The cook’s pitying expression reminded Tabitha that she was reduced to charity until she could bring in that payment from the fort.

She took the bread. And she did slip an arm around Annabelle then. “Thank you.”

The cook’s eyes widened, then she patted Tabitha’s arm as she pulled away. “I be prayin’ for the sergeant…and for you.”

Her words slowed Tabitha’s steps to the door. She’d once thought herself magnanimous for reading the Bible to the River’s Bend workers. At Dulcie’s urging, they had appointed an hour every week for Tabitha to share Scriptures from the front porch. But she had read the words without listening to them, thinking only of the favor they purchased. The slaves had absorbed them more than she. Now she had to rely on Annabelle’s prayers. And Dulcie’s.

And she had to come and go by the back door, like a slave herself. She jerked it open and gasped.

On the stoop stood Julian Jackson.

His handsome face broke into a grin. “I thought I recognized your mare. What are you doing here, Mrs. Gage?” He wore a green woolen frock of a country gentleman with striped waistcoat, brown breeches, and riding boots.

Tabitha clutched the neck of the sack against her waist. “I was just visiting Annabelle. I’m going now.”

“Nonsense.” He swept off his cocked hat. “Our meeting is fortuitous, for ’tis you I seek.”

She lifted her chin. “I no longer reside here. As I said, I must be leaving now.” She sought to cut around him, but he blocked her way. Her pulse accelerated.

“I know. When last I came, Mr. Long told me you had taken a trip, but he pretended not to know where. Not very far, it would seem.” His dark eyes gleamed.

“I’m afraid I’m in something of a hurry.”

“As am I.” He planted himself squarely in her path. “To hear your answer.”

“My answer to what?”

“To my request to call upon you, of course.” He gave a slight bow. When he straightened, the amber stickpin in his stock glistened in the midafternoon sun—like Edmond’s eyes. “How can I do so if I know not where you are?”

“There is no need. I am not ready to receive callers. I’m sure you will understand.” Gritting her teeth, Tabitha pushed past him and hurried down the steps. She must get to Edmond.

Julian followed and caught her arm. “When will you be ready?”

Tabitha pulled back. It took everything in her not to jerk away and to maintain her decorum. “If you must know, I do not anticipate ever marrying again.”

His eyes narrowed. “You may wish to rethink that.”

His presumption made her forget she no longer had the right to be haughty. She strode over to Cora, who stood beside Julian’s sleek stallion. “Why would I do that?”

“Because if you are uninterested in the honor I bestow upon you, my father will have no choice but to call in the loan.”

Tabitha froze in the act of securing the bread in her saddlebag. “What loan?”

“The one your husband took out from a lender in Darien when he purchased your land south of the river from the original grantee.” Julian watched her without an ounce of compassion lightening his expression or his matter-of-fact tone. “It seems he grew delinquent with his payments. Interest does accrue.”

Tabitha gaped at him. This could not be. How many other surprises had Lord Riley left for her? “What has it to do with your father?”

Julian tucked his long, slender fingers in the edge of his waistcoat. “My father has dealings with the same man, who, it seems, was in a panic upon learning of Lord Riley’s death, knowing he would not see another shilling. Father purchased the note as a favor to you, so the man would not be breathing down your neck. As I said, he is prepared to forgive the sum should you reconsider my suit.”

Tabitha’s resolve hardened. This was a bribe, not an act of benevolence. “I will pay you.” With jerky movements, she stepped forward to untether Cora. The mare snorted and blew, sensing her agitation. “I just need a week or so.”

Julian tipped back his head and laughed. “You have three hundred pounds buried somewhere? Jewels to sell, perhaps?”

“Three hundred pounds?” Tabitha mentally flailed on the cusp of a black abyss. The sale of a dozen head of cattle would not even cover half that sum. Cyrus had told her she might expect ten pounds for each cow. As for jewels, those had slowly been sold off to prop up Henry’s crumbling family estate in England.

What had her husband done to her? She turned her face away. She couldn’t, wouldn’t, let this man witness her distress.

“Your land south of the river…” Julian’s voice had assumed a speculative undertone. “’Tis undeveloped wilderness, not worth much, but my father might be persuaded to take it in settlement of the debt.”

She snapped her head back toward him. “And leave me homeless?”

His brows elevated. “Ah, so that is where you are staying. I thought as much. Well, as you know, you can have both home and husband, should you choose.” He tugged on the narrow waist of his frock coat and straightened to his full height. The magnanimous expression vanished—in its place, a glimmer of malice. “Most women would be grateful.”

Tabitha took hold of the saddle. “I will get your money.” One way or another.

She mounted up and rode out of the yard as though the hounds of hell were after her. Because they just might be.

O n the crinkly mattress of the cot that the women had helped him to before Tabitha left, Edmond alternated between chills and sweats. Dulcie kept a cloth on his ankle that must be cold, though he could hardly say given the numbness and tingling radiating up his leg and down into his stiff foot. His stomach and guts clenched, and he had cast up his accounts twice now. Dulcie kept sending him concerned glances. She blurred a bit around the edges.

Cyrus had come in with the smell of wood smoke and peeked at his ankle. He seemed a good sort, not put out with finding a strange Patriot ranger recumbent on his bed. “I think this a dry bite,” he had said as he rewrapped the bandage. “That means not much venom. I seen something like this before on a slave clearin’ a rice field.” His pronouncement had lifted some of the weight from Edmond’s chest. After downing some stew, Cyrus had gone back out.

Where was Tabitha? That his need had sent her into danger left a bitter taste in his mouth.

He had been foolish, distracted by her, or he never would have sat on that log without checking the area first.

At last, footsteps clambered up the front steps and across the porch, and the door flew open. Tabitha’s dark hair straggled down from her bun, sans cap. Her wild gaze cut to him. “How is he?”

“Worse. But Cyrus says it might not be too bad. Did you get the herbs?” Dulcie cleared a spot on the table.

“Yes. Your mother gave me instructions for a poultice and a tea.” Hurrying forward, Tabitha slipped her hands through the slits in her over-petticoat and tugged out two pouches.

Edmond’s awareness swam in and out as the women conferred over the table, mixing and stirring.

“I know you be worried, Miss Tabitha, but take a deep breath.” Dulcie’s sharp whisper cut into his consciousness. “You’re trembling. You can’t help him unless you stay calm.”

She was that concerned for him? Edmond lifted his head.

“Of course I am worried. But ’tis not just about the sergeant.” Her voice wavered.

“What, then?”

Tabitha shook her head. “I will tell you later.”

Edmond’s neck muscles gave out, and he fell back against the pillow. Dulcie came over a few minutes later, explaining that she would apply a poultice and bandage to his wound. She worked at the foot of the bed while Tabitha approached with a mug.

She bent over him, a tentative smile on her face. “I made a tea that should help. Can you rise up enough to drink some?”

Edmond struggled to find leverage, but his arms failed him. Dry bite or no, enough of the foul poison had entered his system to make him helpless as a babe. Cursed weakness.

“’Tis all right. Let me help.” Tabitha slipped her hip onto the edge of the cot and her arm beneath his shoulders.

With her assistance, he was able to raise his head enough to sip the bitter brew. He made a face.

She chuckled. “Apparently, it needs more honey.”

When he had swallowed enough to satisfy her, she rested his head back on the pillow, but she did not leave. She asked for a cloth from Dulcie, who was finishing her own ministrations, and wiped his forehead.

He was finding it hard to get a good breath. “Thank you. Thank you both.” Hopefully, he whispered his gratitude loudly enough for Dulcie to also hear before she moved away, greeting her husband as he came in the door.

Tabitha laid her hand on Edmond’s temple—checking for signs of fever? Her brow puckered. “I am just sorry this happened. You would not have been here if you weren’t trying to help me.”

Edmond caught her gaze. “What happened at River’s Bend?”

“Why…?” She drew her hand back, a flash of wariness crossing her face. “I saw Annabelle and got the herbs, of course.” When she moved to stand up, Edmond tangled his fingers in her petticoat, keeping her beside him.

“Tell me what happened.”

Tabitha’s lips parted as she drew in a quick breath. Dulcie and Cyrus stilled beside the table, looking their way. Tabitha glanced between them and Edmond. Slowly, she sank back down on the mattress.

“I saw Julian.”

Edmond’s chest tightened even more. “Did he threaten you?”

“He said…” Her fingers massaged the mug she held, and her gaze skittered away. “He said his father assumed Lord Riley’s land debt of three hundred pounds.”

Dulcie gasped. “I thought this land was paid for long ago.”

Stepping forward, Cyrus balled his fists. “He demanded payment?”

She glanced at him. “Payment or courtship.”

“No.” Edmond’s protest rasped so harshly that Tabitha drew back.

“I told him I would pay him, but I have no idea how.”

Edmond licked his dry lips. “Send to the fort. Tell the colonel what happened and ask for a man to replace me on the cattle drive.” When he struggled to sit up, she slipped another pillow behind his back. The room spun, but he pressed his eyes closed until his vision cleared. He had to do what he could to help these people.

“I can go.” Cyrus brought over the bench from this side of the table so he and Dulcie could sit close to the bed. He leaned forward, forearms on his thick legs, clasping his hands. “I will go tonight.”

“And then what?” The despair in Tabitha’s face twisted Edmond’s heart. “Even if we sell the cattle, it shan’t nearly be enough.”

“We will think of something.” Dulcie touched her shoulder. “And we will seek wisdom from above. When we pray, God promises to answer.”

Tabitha dipped her head and spoke so softly, Edmond strained to hear. “Julian suggested I might trade this land to settle the debt.”

Dulcie snatched her hand back, her eyes going wide. “You mustn’t do that, Miss Tabitha.”

Tabitha’s gaze pleaded for understanding. “I know this is your home, Dulcie, and the only one I have now, too, and I told Julian I would find a way to pay him instead. But short of a miracle…”

“Then a miracle is jus’ what we should pray for.” Cyrus’s deep voice rumbled with conviction. “Not jus’ because this is our home, but because I heard on the grapevine that the Jacksons wanna clear this land up to the river. Plant rice. Buy more slaves. Lots more slaves.” He shook his head. “More of our people in bondage, and under the worst conditions.”

Dulcie groaned.

Tabitha blinked at Cyrus. “I guess I should not be surprised.”

“There’s something else.” Edmond frowned as he attempted to pin down the elusive threat that had been dancing around his awareness. One that required him to trust that Tabitha had meant what she said about supporting the Patriot cause. He shifted on his pillow.

Tabitha’s brows bunched together. “You should rest.”

“The Jacksons are the only Loyalists left in these parts.” Edmond leaned on his one shoulder. Swallowed back the bile that rose to his throat. “If they owned this land next to the river crossing, it would give the Brits a foothold.”

Cyrus put his hands on his knees, his eyes flashing. “They could try again to take the fort.”

Tabitha’s hand fluttered to her chest. “You mean work with the East Florida Rangers?”

“Do you not think it possible?” Edmond sought her gaze.

Her slender throat bobbed as she swallowed. “Not only possible. Probable. They were active in politics whereas my husband was not. I had not even considered the military angle. If they take Fort Howe, they could launch an invasion into the settled lands north of the river.”

“Exactly.” He sagged back on the pillows with a small nod.

Her slight frame shuddered, and she ran her hand over her face. “I cannot let that happen. But how? How am I to stop them?”

Dulcie straightened and lifted her head. “Miss Tabitha, you are not alone. We will find a way together.”

Cyrus gave a grave nod.

Tabitha’s lashes fluttered, and tears filled her eyes as she studied the faces of her servants, more resolute than many a man Edmond had battled beside. And Tabitha’s battle to trust them was equally evident. As was his, to trust her . But if they were to defeat their common enemies, they must work together.

“Count me in.” Edmond slid his hand across the covers to nudge hers.

“But this isn’t your fight.” Tendrils of dark hair skimmed her shoulders as she shook her head. She wiped her sleeve across her eyes.

Oh, if only she knew. He couldn’t tell her why it mattered so much that the Jacksons be held to account. That history not repeat itself. His failure was too shameful to share. Edmond settled for the simplest answer. “Their loyalties make it my fight.”

A spark lit her eyes. “Then we’d best get you well.”

His heart thundered a warning, but he pushed it aside. He would find a way to help her while keeping his emotions out of it. This was his second chance to see justice done. This time, he would not be too late.