From This Day Forward (16 page)

“Yes, but I’m not leaving the farm.” At the moment that was her only security. Land and a house were better than some people had. She had seen the tenements as they drove through parts of Charleston earlier.

“Is it possible for you to travel once a week to town? You can sew at your house and deliver the gowns to me when you finish them. If you do work as good as you did on that dress you are wearing, then we will have a profitable relationship. I will pay you for each gown you complete.”

The farm and Faith required so much of her time. Rachel was going to decline the offer until Mrs. Bridges named her wage for each completed article of clothing. With the money she could purchase a cow for milk, cheese, and butter months before she could if she had to wait and see if her crops would bring in enough for one. “I accept.”

Mrs. Bridges clapped her hands. “Wonderful. The first few dresses I will need you to sew are for Mrs. McNeal. Since you live near her, you will not have to come into town for any fittings that may be needed. Come, I will show you the material and sketch of the morning gown she wants done right away. Then there is a ball gown after that.”

Rachel sipped some tea then placed her saucer and cup on the table and rose. “Thank you for this opportunity.”

Twenty minutes later she had a bundle of cloth and accessories for both gowns that Sarah had ordered as well as some black crepe to make her a mourning dress for when she appeared in public, at least for a few more months. Rachel asked Mrs. Bridges if she could leave it at the shop until she had finished at the mercantile and had the cart to load the items she would use for the two dresses. Mrs. Bridges readily agreed, and Rachel set out for the general store to meet Nathan, a spring in her step. The Lord was providing well for her.

A commotion in the street caught Rachel’s attention as she strolled toward her destination. A wagon nearly ran down an elderly gentleman, who then took his cane to the driver. Someone jostled her on the walkway, throwing her into a large man with blond hair tied back with a leather strap. The stranger reeked of alcohol, and he nearly toppled over. He latched onto her arm to steady himself.

She tried to yank herself free, but his fingers strengthened about her. “Sir, let me go.”

He spat out the juice from his chewing tobacco. “Sir, is it? I like that, little lady. How about joining me?”

Disgusted at his improper behavior, she drew herself up as tall as she could and pinned him with a frosty look—at least she hoped so. “I have no intention of going anywhere with you.”

Thunder descended on his features, and suddenly he seemed very sober as his gaze zeroed in on her. “You English are all alike. You think you are too good for us.” He thrust his face into hers, his foul breath accosting her and arousing nausea in her stomach. “Well let me tell you, we defeated you twice in the past forty years.” He stabbed his finger into her chest, his body trapping her against a post.

In the middle of a crowd transfixed by the older man railing at the driver of the wagon, fear seized Rachel as though she wore a corset pulled so tight she couldn’t breathe properly.

“I was hoping you would find out who the dead man was at the Daltons’ place. It might have helped us figure out why he was at the farm and who killed him.” Nathan strode out of the courthouse with the constable, the warmth of the sun doing nothing to ward off the chill that had encased him ever since Rachel and he had talked at his sister’s house.

“ ’Tis possible the man is part of that gang that has been plaguing travelers between here and Georgetown. I spoke to a man who had been robbed yesterday. They cover their faces and hold people up at gunpoint. There were two of them that stopped the family. They threatened to shoot the man’s wife if he didn’t hand over his money.”

“I heard there were three of them.”

“That’s what I heard too. I know it is a ways from here. But if they are smart, they will not stay in one place for long. Which may mean trouble for me.”

An elderly gentleman wearing a white powdered wig approached them. “Constable, Mr. Cochran is beating up Mr. Hawkins in the street. I think he is going to kill him.” Then he strolled away.

“I had better go break up the fight.” The constable started forward then stopped and looked back. “I will send you a message if I find out anything about the man. Keep your eye out for trouble. I feel it is coming.”

That is what I was afraid of
. Nathan stared at the constable until he disappeared into a crowd gathering at the end of the street near the mercantile. Rachel should be in the general store by now and out of harm’s way.

Nathan closed the distance between the mercantile and the courthouse quickly and entered to search for Rachel. She was nowhere to be seen. He stepped back outside and scanned the area, his gaze pausing a moment on the constable in the middle of the brawl that had broken out between Mr. Cochran and his two sons and Mr. Hawkins and a couple of his friends. Pulling his attention away from the latest form of entertainment for the townspeople, Nathan headed for the dressmaker, passing Rachel’s cart where he had left it in the alley at the side of the general store.

Above the ruckus from the street, Nathan heard a scream—a woman’s scream. He halted and tried to focus on where the sound had come from. Another scream pierced the air and several people nearby turned toward the sound. He looked behind him and saw Rachel scuffling with a large, heavyset man, who was dragging her down an alley. Heated anger replaced his earlier chill. He ran toward her, noticing as he got closer the long scar on the man’s left cheek.

Halfway to her, Nathan shouted, “Let her go.”

Her attacker glanced up at him. Their gazes locked across the expanse.

At that moment Rachel bit her assailant’s hand that covered her mouth. He howled and struck her across the face then spun on his heel and raced away. Rachel crumpled to the dirt.

Nine

Rachel hit the ground, jarring her senses. Her eyes fluttered then closed. Suddenly arms trapped her against a muscular torso. No! She fisted her hands and started swinging. As she focused on the threat, Nathan’s surprised face came into view. Gasping, she stopped pummeling him and threw herself against his chest, hugging him.

For a brief moment the feel of their embrace chased everything from her thoughts but Nathan. Then she realized he was hovering over her on the ground, clasped against her as though they were lovers. Heat scorched her cheeks, and she scrambled to the side. The warmth coursing through her turned to ice when she recalled what had happened in the alley.

“He—he wanted—wanted me to come with him. He told me an Englishwoman was only good for one thing.” A shudder passed through Rachel’s body, her gaze falling away from Nathan’s darkening one. “I didn’t. I was only trying to get—”

“Shh, Rachel. When I find that man, I will teach him some manners.”

She looked up at him. “Don’t. I don’t want you to get hurt because of me.”

A steel glint entered his eyes. “You need not worry about me.” He pushed to his feet and offered her his hand.

She grasped it and relished the strong fingers as they wrapped around hers. What if he had not come when he did? She could have been… No, she would not think about it.
Thank You, Lord, for sending Nathan when You did
.

When she stood, she dusted off her coat and gown to keep her hands busy so Nathan wouldn’t see how much she was shaking. If he did, he would start expounding on why she needed to return to England. But what had happened here could occur anywhere.

After she made herself as presentable as possible, she clutched her reticule and said, “We have some supplies to purchase, then I want to leave this town.” The quiet of her farm beckoned to her as never before.

Nathan gave her his arm. “I agree. I still have some chores to do at home…at your farm before dark.”

“At least the days are getting longer.” She walked beside him toward the street and the mercantile. “Mrs. Bridges has hired me to sew gowns for her. I will be able to make some extra money.”

Nathan paused and raised an eyebrow. “When do you propose to do that extra work?”

“At night. I need a cow. A supply of milk, cheese, and butter sounds wonderful.”

“Do you know how to make butter and cheese?”

Studying his expression with a hint of amusement in it, she tilted her head and smiled. “No, but I am sure someone can teach me how.”

“Like baking bread?”

“I’m getting better. At least the last loaves were edible.”

He grumbled something under his breath that Rachel was sure was the word “barely,” but she chose to ignore it and proceeded forward into the chaos that had erupted on the street—a brawl that must have encompassed half the people on the street in front of the mercantile.

Using his body, Nathan sheltered her from any contact with the fighters or onlookers and ushered her to the general store. “Stay close.”

The owner stood at the door, and when he saw Nathan, he unlocked it and allowed them inside. “Good to see you, Dr. Stuart.”

Nathan’s mouth compressed, but all he did was nod and head deeper into the mercantile.

When Rachel saw a basket of eggs on the counter, she frowned. “I don’t understand why the chickens are not producing eggs since that first day. Do you think they are ill?”

Nathan had started for the other side of the store but glanced back and said, “They don’t look ill to me, but Patrick and John know more about animals than I do. Perhaps John will be at his house when we return to pick up Faith and Maddy. If so, I will see what he says.”

“Good. I used to have eggs for breakfast and miss that.” Like many things she had since she left her childhood home. Perhaps if she had read Mary Godwin’s
Vindication of the Rights of Women
before she had met Tom, she would have been forewarned of the type of man he was.

Later that day Rachel carried her basket down to the barn. Hopefully, she would have some eggs today. John had thought the chickens would get used to their new environment and would begin laying eggs again soon. When she stepped into the dimly lit building, she let her eyes adjust after the bright sunlight outside, then she marched over to the area that Nathan had set up for the chickens to keep them safe from predators.

Why was the door open? It should be closed at all times.

She entered the stall-turned-henhouse and came to a halt. Not one chicken was sitting on her nest. The place was empty. The rooster crowed so loudly, she whirled around, expecting him to be behind her. He strutted into the barn and ran straight for her, with his wings flapping. She slammed the stall door closed and plastered herself against it to keep it shut.

The rooster made a ruckus outside the henhouse as though he were shouting at her to open up. She dared not. She had seen him attack the cat when it got too close to him or his hens. Surely he would tire of his squawking and leave her alone soon.

But ten minutes later he was still raging at her. Enough so that Maddy appeared in the barn’s entrance and shouted she would go get Nathan in the field. Oh good, she would have to be rescued twice in one day.

No, she was not going to let that happen. She was much bigger than a rooster. She set her basket down, crept over to the door, and inched it open. The rooster charged her. She slammed the door closed, her chest rising and falling rapidly. She inhaled a deep breath. Then another one.
He is not going to best me
.

Another idea popped into her mind. She gripped the door handle and one side of her gown, then swung the door open so fast she hoped it made the rooster’s head spin. This time she stormed out of the stall, flapping her gown as if it were her wings. Her screeches bounced off the walls of the barn.

The rooster froze for a moment then came at her. She didn’t stop but grabbed the other side of her dress and waved it too. Not changing his speed, the rooster turned and made a beeline for the double doors that led outside.

At that moment, Nathan ran through the door and had to jump over the bird to avoid colliding with him. That movement sent Nathan stumbling forward and crashing into a post. He slid to his knees.