Hunter's Prize (28 page)

A
ddie said yes.

Bursting into her room, she ran breathlessly to her wardrobe to thumb through her frocks. What did a girl wear to a picnic?

High wind had whisked the plump black clouds away to the south, taking the threat of rain with them. The sun, as bright as the promise of the future, had peeked out to take their place. Pearson decided it was high time they went on the picnic he’d once invited her on, and what better place than the beautiful gardens of Whitfield Manor?

Tittering like a girl, Priscilla gave her permission for Addie to go unchaperoned—not much of an indulgence on her part, since she could see them on the lawn from any room in the house.

Addie chose a high-collared white tea dress with lace inserts and contrasting linen panels at the front, sleeves, and hem. Tea dresses, according to an article in the
Ladies’ Home Journal
, were designed to “display a woman’s femininity, charm, and grace.” Twirling in front of the mirror, she hoped Pearson would see in her any one of those attributes.

While she slipped upstairs to dress and arrange her hair, Priscilla and Delilah scurried to the kitchen to prepare a basket filled with food. They met her at the foot of the stairs, wide-eyed and beaming.

“You look lovely, dear,” Priscilla gushed.

Delilah added a brisk nod. “Jus’ as fresh as a flower, Miss Addie.”

Addie felt her cheeks warm. “Thank you both.” How odd, and somewhat sad, to be stepping out for the first time with a gentleman caller without her mother present to share the occasion.

As if she’d read Addie’s thoughts, Priscilla wrapped her arm around Addie’s shoulders and squeezed. “I shall write a letter to your mother tonight describing how wonderful you look. She’ll be so proud.”

Addie turned into her embrace. “Bless you, Priscilla. That would mean so much.”

A knock rumbled from the rear of the house. Priscilla spun toward the sound, clutching her collar. “Oh my, that must be Pearson. Lilah, answer the door.” Delilah hurried to comply as Priscilla straightened the sky blue sash at Addie’s waist. “Normally it would be scandalous for a man to come calling at the back door.” She grinned. “But under the circumstances …”

Fighting a sudden impulse to hide behind the woman’s skirt, Addie swallowed hard and stood up straight like Mother had taught her. Unsure of what to do with her hands, she clasped them behind her then brought them around to steady her fluttering stomach.

Pearson ducked around the corner looking a little unsure of himself, too, his tall, sturdy build dwarfing the wide archway. Blushing, he produced a small bouquet of yellow roses and presented it to Addie. “I hope you don’t mind, Priscilla. I saw them on the way across the yard and thought of her.”

Priscilla laughed. “I don’t know, Pearson … magnolias might be more fitting for this Mississippi girl than a Texas yellow rose, but they are lovely.” She patted his arm. “And I don’t mind a bit.”

Addie accepted the flowers, the stems bundled in a man’s handkerchief. “Thank you, Pearson. They’re beautiful.”

A smile lit up his handsome face. “Are you ready to go?”

She nodded.

Delilah hefted the covered basket. “Hope you folks is hungry, Mr. Pearson. Miss Priscilla had me pack enough for Jesus to feed the five thousand.”

Priscilla swatted at her. “Hush, Delilah. Don’t you go blaspheming the Savior.” She winked at Pearson. “Your lunch won’t feed the masses, but I expect you two will eat your fill.”

Raising the basket to his nose for a sniff, Pearson grinned. “Do I smell fried chicken?”

“You sho’ do, Mista Pearson, with all the trimmin’s. There’s a hearty slice of chocolate loaf cake for each of you, too.”

He offered Addie his arm. “Shall we go?”

Her breath caught. Smiling into his eyes, she placed her hand on the crook of his elbow and let him lead her through the hall and out the back door.

“You children have fun!” Priscilla’s voice echoed from inside the house.

Stopping to pick up a folded quilt he’d left hanging over the gazebo railing, Pearson draped it over his arm and shepherded her over the grounds. Past the waist-high maze of hedges, wisteria bushes, and Texas sage, they ducked between a pecan tree and a tall stand of honeysuckle vine.

Pearson spread the quilt on a patch of bright green grass and placed the basket in the center. Turning to her, he held out his hand. “May I help you sit?”

Addie accepted his aid and perched demurely on the ground. She marveled at the myriad sensations she felt, all new and every one distressing. Her stomach quaked, her fingers trembled, her head felt light, as if the slightest breeze might send it bouncing over the lawn like a bubble.

She had no idea that nurturing a budding relationship was so stressful. How did generations of people before her survive the perils of courtship?

“Are you all right?”

As she glanced up, her heart lurched. She wasn’t the least bit all right, and his voice, as rich as clotted cream, didn’t help. She crossed her fingers. “Yes, of course.”

He gazed over the slope of the grounds. “This is a real nice view, isn’t it?”

She nodded. “Peaceful.”

His head whipped around. “That’s it, peaceful. I noticed it the first time I stepped out the back door.” Leaning close to her, he pointed in the distance. “See the way the horizon stretches on forever? It sort of draws you in … makes you forget about everything else.”

Addie smiled. “So that’s why you didn’t notice me in the swing the other day.”

He grinned. “Not until you squawked.”

She straightened her back. “Sir, I never squawk.”

Laughing, he reached for the basket. “Are you hungry? Let’s see what those two put in here.”

He unloaded dishes and silver wrapped in napkins first, carefully arranging them as if he were setting the table for a Thanksgiving feast. Next came a platter of fried chicken. Lifting the tea-towel covering, he wiggled his brows.

Giggling, Addie took it from him and served both their plates.

Carefully inspecting each offering, he placed Delilah’s “trimmin’s” in a circle around them then rubbed his hands together. “Let’s give thanks for what the Lord provided.”

The irony of his words, considering Delilah’s comparison, turned Addie’s giggle to a belly laugh.

Pearson caught it, too, and joined in. “No loaves and fishes, but I’m just as grateful, aren’t you?”

Her heart surging, she nodded. She happened to be grateful for much more than fried chicken, but of course she wouldn’t say so.

The meal passed in a pleasant haze of delicious food and delightful companionship. Pearson charmed her with stories of the Gulf Coast and his exploits there, of Rosie’s Café and Jean Lafitte’s gold. He told how deeply he loved Galveston Island before grief drove him to the mainland.

Addie told him about her home state since he’d never been to Mississippi. She described small-town life in Canton and how much she missed her family and friends.

Laughing like children, they sat face-to-face on the quilt and played rock-paper-scissors.

The afternoon passed too quickly, though Addie wished it would never end. Eventually, her responsibility to Priscilla and sense of duty toward Ceddy lured her thoughts to the house. Gathering the remains of the picnic into the basket, she stood. “I really should go inside now, Pearson. It’s getting late.”

Drowsy-eyed and leaning on the trunk of the pecan tree, he roused himself and stretched.

Addie held up her hand. “Please, don’t trouble yourself. Sit and stay awhile. Enjoy the view.”

Pushing off the ground, he reached for the basket. “Don’t be silly. I’ll help you into the house.”

She held the handle away from him and shook her head. “I’ll be fine. I promise.” The warmth of his chest against her shoulder quickened her breath. Glancing past him to the row of second-floor windows, she stepped back, imagining Priscilla’s watchful eyes at every one. “There’s no reason to cut short your relaxing afternoon. Besides”—she smiled—”I believe I can find my way home.”

He inclined his head. “Are you sure?”

She nodded. “Quite.”

He gave her a lazy smile. “I’ll see you at supper then.”

Ducking to hide her delighted grin, she nodded. “I enjoyed myself very much, Pearson.”

“Mm-hmm.” He tipped her chin with his knuckle, spine-tingling warmth in his dancing eyes. “I enjoyed myself, too. You’re very pleasant company.”

Breathless, her cheeks flaming, she pointed over her shoulder. “I really should be …”

He caressed the skin of her throat with his finger while his gaze seemed to drink her in. “You’d better run along now, sweet Adelina.”

With a jaunty wave, she slipped past the honeysuckle vine and tripped lightly up the stepping-stones to the house. Her feet barely touched the ground.

Hunger drove Ceddy from Grandfather’s den. Tracing his finger along the slender strip of wood on the wall, he turned right at the end of the hall where the strip ended instead of left toward the kitchen as he usually did. Drifting toward a square pattern of light on the floor, he reached the screen door and pushed his way onto the porch. Walking the narrow crack between two broad planks, he reached the top step and teetered on the edge.

Mama’s voice echoed in his head.
“Dangerous on your own, Ceddy. Hold my hand, darling. My hand or Daddy’s.”

Only … where had those hands gone?

Covering his ears, he bailed off the porch and burst into the bright sunlight, running with all of his might until his side hurt too much to go on. Hugging himself, he glanced over his shoulder at the house, troubled by how far away it seemed.

Without reassuring skirts nearby, the unfamiliar garden and the great blue sky overhead scared him. He ducked between the hedges, staring at the comforting ground and waiting for the pounding in his chest to stop.

A row of tiny ants marched between his feet, stretching into the distance in front and disappearing behind him. Crouching, Ceddy followed alongside the line with his finger until he could no longer reach then took two clumsy, squatting steps forward to trace it again.

A long shadow fell across the ground, and terror gripped his stomach.

“Ceddy?”

Lurching away from the tall figure blocking the sun, he scrambled to find his feet but fell flat on his stomach instead. His mouth went dry, and the pounding in his chest sped up. Try as he might, he couldn’t gather the strength to run. Helpless tears blurred Ceddy’s eyes, dropping to the ground in a silent spatter.

Big hands gripped his shoulders and set him upright.

His breath caught on a sob, and his body tensed, but he couldn’t move to struggle free.

Strong arms scooped him high, carried him to a nearby bench, and set him down. “Don’t be afraid, little fellow. I won’t hurt you.”

He knew the gentle voice. He’d heard the same one drifting up the stairwell in Aunt Priss’s house.

The man with peculiar hair sat beside him. “Are you supposed to be out here by yourself? Does Miss Addie know?” His long fingers ruffled Ceddy’s hair. “I expect she doesn’t. You’re trying to cause a stir again, aren’t you, young man? If those three women find you gone, you’ll have the devil to pay.”

The rise and fall of Ceddy’s chest began to slow. Pressing his ear to the man’s warm side, he stilled to listen to the hollow thumping sound. Burying his face in the soft shirt, Ceddy took a deep breath. He smelled like Daddy.

“Tell you what … how about we hurry you back inside before you’re missed. If you promise not to do this again, there’s no need to tell them, is there?” The man stood, easing Ceddy to his feet. Taking his hand in a firm grip, he led him through the garden, up the steps, and across the porch. At the door, he crouched and dusted the dirt off Ceddy’s hands and knees.

“There you are. Now get inside before they catch us.” He patted Ceddy’s cheek then stood, opened the screen, and nudged him inside. “Good-bye, buddy,” the man whispered as Ceddy meandered toward the kitchen to find Lilah.

D
enny slipped up behind Charlie and jabbed him hard in the side. Charlie’s satisfying jump and shriek sent Denny into gales of laughter.

Charlie scowled. “Why would you do that to a mate, Denny? I reckoned you for a gator.”

Denny hitched himself up on the back of the wagon and elbowed Charlie in the ribs. “I did it for a lark. And who says we’re mates?”

“Aw, you’re not still cross with me?”

“Except I am, ain’t I?” He pulled at the legs of his trousers. “Look at me, will ya?”

Charlie lowered his chin to his chest. “Come on, Den. I never meant to land us in the drink. I lost me balance is all.”

“Why in blazes were you standing in the first place? A boat is no place to pitty-pat around, Charlie. Suppose I’d landed on one o’ them viper’s nests?”

Charlie snickered. “I like what they call ‘em.” He stared over Denny’s head and smiled. “Cottonmouth. Sounds nice, don’ it?”

“Well, they’re not,” a gruff voice behind them warned. With a clatter that shook the wagon, Pearson Foster tossed a shovel and chain into the bed. “You’ll not find a nastier snake.”

Denny grimaced and shot him a furtive glance. It wouldn’t do that he’d caught them slacking again. He smiled, pretending interest. “Worse than the coral snakes we heard about?”