Elm Creek Quilts [07] The Sugar Camp Quilt (32 page)

“Another fine lesson, Miss Granger,” he said. “Raised in the cities as I have been, I never knew what wonders lay on my family’s own land.”

“Your land?” asked Dorothea. “We walked far, but not all the way to Two Bears Farm.”

“Indeed we did. The strand of oaks beyond the far edge of the meadow marks the boundary of our property.”

“I had no idea.” She and Jonathan had played there often as children, thinking the land belonged to no one.

“You seem to know every species of plant and animal in the Elm Creek Valley.”

“Not every one, I’m sure.” She brushed a hand along the long blades of grasses growing on the side of the road, plucking one and raising it to her nose. It smelled like fresh, green wheat. “I have lived in the valley all my life, however, and my brother and I explored every bit of it we could.”

They reached the town with its hard-packed dirt roads and flat board sidewalks. The children’s pace slowed the closer they came to the schoolhouse. “They think we won’t notice their attempts to prolong our outing,” said Mr. Nelson dryly. He returned to the front of the line and began walking more briskly so that the students were forced to hurry after him. Dorothea muffled a laugh and quickened her pace to keep up with them.

They were only a block from the schoolhouse when a man stepped out from the doorway of a tavern and seized her by the upper arm. Her exclamation of surprise was cut short by the sharply foul odor of liquor and tobacco juice and unwashed skin.

“I know you ’uns are hiding something,” Mr. Liggett muttered, tightening his grip as she struggled to free herself. The children continued on to the schoolhouse unaware. “Something you wouldn’t want your sweetheart to know about, eh? You pay me again what you paid me last time, and I won’t tell him.”

Suddenly Mr. Nelson strode toward them. “What is the meaning of this, Liggett? Release her at once.”

Mr. Liggett did. Dorothea backed away from him, rubbing her arm. The children had halted and were watching them curiously.

Mr. Liggett ducked back into the tavern. “Don’t forget,” he called to Dorothea as she ushered the children on their way, fighting to conceal the sickening dread in her heart.

“Perhaps you would care to explain that,” said Mr. Nelson in an undertone.

She would not care to at all. “Mr. Liggett had a long-standing disagreement with my uncle. He persists in troubling my family about it.”

“He said something about a sweetheart. I assume he means Mr. Pearson.”

Dorothea forced a laugh. “I have no idea what he is talking about. Mr. Pearson is certainly not my sweetheart.” She gave Mr. Nelson a searching look. “Perhaps you would have some influence with him.”

“I? With Mr. Liggett?”

“Why, yes. I understand he used to work for you.”

“Mr. Liggett has never worked for me, nor shall he ever. I assumed he was employed by your sweetheart.”

“Cyrus Pearson is not my sweetheart,” said Dorothea impatiently. Then she stopped short. “Why would you think Mr. Liggett works for Cyrus Pearson?”

Mr. Nelson shrugged. “I have frequently seen them together in town. One occasion was at the bank, where Mr. Pearson made a withdrawal, which he then gave to Mr. Liggett. I assume it was a payment for services rendered.”

Dorothea could not imagine what services. Mr. Liggett rarely did any work but farming, and Cyrus had no farm. “Do you recall when this was?”

“Shortly after my arrival in Creek’s Crossing.”

Dorothea’s thoughts flew back to a day when Mr. Liggett had confronted her and Cyrus as they rode to his mother’s house. Mr. Liggett had asked Cyrus for money—more money—and Cyrus had seemed not to know what he meant. Suddenly she remembered that it was Cyrus who had told her Mr. Nelson had hired Mr. Liggett. At once came a cascade of other memories: Cyrus saying that Mr. Nelson had questionable opinions on the subject of slavery; Cyrus surprised that Lorena should recommend Abel Wright as foreman of the library construction; Cyrus doubting that any of the Elm Creek Valley’s colored families would care to use the library; Lorena questioning what Dorothea knew of Cyrus’s opinions and her own assurances that he must share her own well-known views or he would not have sought her company. But of course, it was never her company, or even Dorothea herself, that had interested him most.

“Miss Granger.” Mr. Nelson was regarding her with concern. “Are you all right?”

She had never been less so. A man she had considered a friend may have been more deceitful and conniving than she ever could have imagined, and she had been blind to his manipulations. “Yes, I am fine, thank you.”

“If you wish, I will speak to him.”

“No! No. Please do not trouble yourself. Anything you say will merely antagonize him.”

“If he is as troublesome as you say—” Something in her expression made him break off. “Of course. If that is what you wish.”

“It is.”

They had reached the schoolhouse. Mr. Nelson held open the door and allowed the students to pass inside. When the last straggler had entered, he said, “I am sure you would prefer for Cyrus Pearson or your father to handle this matter.”

“Why are you forever bringing up Mr. Pearson? Are you so engrossed in your books that you hear none of the gossip in this town? You were at the Quilting Bee Dance. Were you standing about with your eyes closed? Are you the only person in town unaware that Cyrus Pearson is engaged to someone else?”

He hesitated. “I was … not aware of that.”

“Well, now you know.” She marched past him into the classroom, where her own young pupils beamed down at her curiously from the choir loft stairs and Mr. Nelson’s hid smiles as they wrote upon their slates or pretended to be engrossed in their books. Dorothea flushed with embarrassment and wondered how much they had overheard.

Fortunately, only enough time remained in the school day for Dorothea and Mr. Nelson to assign new lessons and bid farewell to those students who would not return the next week. Dorothea went upstairs and cleaned the choir loft thoroughly before helping Mr. Nelson tidy the main classroom. They did not talk as they worked. Mr. Nelson was in a brood, frowning over some matter—possibly how Dorothea might have brought down scandal upon the school with her public altercation with Mr. Liggett.

When she could linger no longer, Dorothea approached him. “Since the classroom seems to be in order, I will say good-bye.”

He did not look up from packing books into his satchel. “Until Monday, then.”

“But—” Dorothea did not know what to say. “I did not think you would need a second teacher anymore, with so many of the students gone until after the harvest.”

“Did you sign a contract for the entire term?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“Are you asking to be relieved of your obligations?”

“Of course not.” She took a deep breath and clasped her hands at her waist. “I merely assumed that you intended to consolidate the classes.”

“I intended no such thing. However, if you wish to resign, I will not stop you.”

“No, Mr. Nelson, I do not wish to resign.” In consternation, Dorothea snatched up her satchel. “I will see you on Monday.”

She glimpsed his answering nod as she hurried for the door.

She would be grateful for the respite of the weekend, she thought as she crossed the street on her way to the ferry. She and Lorena had mapped out the garden and were eager to begin planting. Lorena had been nurturing seedlings indoors for weeks, waiting until the danger of frost passed. They had been a fortnight now without a freeze, and Lorena decided the time had come to put her plants into the ground.

Dorothea heard the steady clop of horse’s hooves on the street behind her as she descended the hill to the ferry crossing. A horse and rider followed her aboard, and to her dismay, she saw that the man was Cyrus.

She forced a nervous flicker of a smile and turned her back to lean on the rail and gaze out at Elm Creek. Cyrus ignored the hint and came to stand beside her. “Good afternoon, Miss Granger,” he said quietly, with none of his usual mirth.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Pearson.”

“It is a pleasant day for a crossing, isn’t it?” Then he made an impatient gesture of disgust. “This is nonsense. For months you have called me Cyrus and I have called you Dorothea. We laughed at each other’s jokes and had a jolly time. Can’t we be friends again?”

“I would like that,” said Dorothea carefully. “But you must understand, I cannot go riding with another woman’s fiancé as if we were courting. You can imagine, I’m sure, what people would say about that.”

“I never thought you one to tailor your behavior according to what other people think.”

“I do so when I agree with them.” She hesitated. “If we are to be friends again, however, we must have complete honesty between us.”

“Of course, Dorothea.” His mouth twisted in a rueful grimace. “I understand perfectly why you would need my assurances on that point.”

“Indeed, I have many questions for you, many uncertainties,” said Dorothea. “For one, I wondered why you and your mother allowed everyone to believe that she rather than Mr. Nelson donated the Authors’ Album quilt to the library.”

Cyrus was taken aback, but he quickly composed himself. “I cannot agree that we did any such thing. If I recall correctly, Nelson was given credit for his gift.”

“You do not recall correctly. Mrs. Claverton announced the donation. You and your mother accepted congratulations from one and all without a word of thanks to Mr. Nelson.”

“I regret the oversight, but Nelson is not one to draw attention to himself. I am quite confident he was relieved not to be hauled onto the stage. Furthermore, my mother and I did not accept congratulations for the donation. If you recall, I accepted congratulations for winning the drawing. My mother accepted congratulations for running a successful event.”

“I see.”

“What do you see?”

“I see that we are not going to be completely honest with each other after all. Or rather, you will not be so.”

He frowned, annoyed. “Any explanation that does not satisfy a conclusion you have already reached must be a lie?”

“I suppose it might seem that way to you. Let us move on, then. Why were you so eager for me to believe that Mr. Liggett worked for Mr. Nelson when in truth you were his employer?”

He studied her for a moment. “That day in the carriage. Of course. I hope you can forgive me a momentary lapse in judgment. I confess I was not entirely truthful. I could not think of any other excuse for Mr. Liggett’s behavior, and, knowing how you despise him, I did not want to admit that he worked for me. I valued your good opinion and did not want to lose it.”

“That accounts for why you lied, but not this particular lie. Why not simply deny that Mr. Liggett worked for you? Why attribute your own actions to Mr. Nelson?”

“I thought you did not like him, so your own prejudice against him would make my tale more convincing.” He spread his palms and shrugged. “You wanted complete honesty. Very well. You shall have it. I also realized that you two had much in common, with your love of books and pursuit of ideals. I did not want you to prefer him to me. I knew that as soon as you discovered he had paid for your friend’s father’s release—”

“What?”

His eyes widened, and his grin had a hardness to it she had never seen before. “Is it possible you did not discover it?”

“Mr. Nelson paid Mr. Schultz’s ransom? How would you know such a thing?”

“I heard it from the recipients themselves. They are … men with whom I occasionally do business.”

She let that sink in. Cold fingers of certainty and regret clutched her heart. “Cyrus, tell me plainly. Did you hire Mr. Liggett to threaten Constance and Abel Wright?”

Cyrus leaned against the railing and gazed at the approaching shoreline. She thought she heard him sigh. When he said nothing, she knew.

“Why would you do such a thing?” she asked him. “Do you know he could have burned down their barn?”

“I only meant to frighten them away. I offered Abel Wright a good price for his land, but he refused. I confess I can be an impatient man. Rather than wait months or even years for him to realize on his own that he would be happier among his own kind, I decided to encourage him to depart.”

“So they would sell to you at whatever price you offered.”

“Come now, Dorothea. Let us have complete honesty on both sides. Do you really want their kind in the Elm Creek Valley? You must know Abel has a colored woman living with him now. Soon colored children will be running around in our streets, taking up seats in our schools, and more colored families will think themselves welcome here.”

“They
will
be welcome here.”

He shook his head, regarding her with lingering fondness. “You can be so innocent, Dorothea. That is an endearing quality in a woman, but it may lead to your disappointment. You do not know the people of Creek’s Crossing as well as you think you do if you believe more share your principles than mine.”

“I do not believe it.”

“Like it or not, it is true. Not only in Creek’s Crossing, but in the entire nation.” He reached for her hand, but she pulled away.

“Dorothea. Reconsider. You will not want to find yourself on the wrong side.”