Hunter's Prize (5 page)

Pearson searched his eager face. “So it’s settled? You’re on board?”

Hitching up his pants, Theo frowned. “Try and stop me. What town did the old man mention before? The place where we’ll find Catfish John?”

“He said Marshall.” Staring toward the mainland, Pearson’s blood surged hot and fast in his veins. A familiar pull in his chest urged him toward the lure of treasure. “We’ll find what we need in Marshall, Texas.”

Canton, Mississippi, March 1905

A
ddie McRae clutched the letter to her heart with both hands. The scent of lavender wafted up from the page and teased her nose, but the smell of freedom flared her nostrils. Determination surged, and excitement gripped her chest. Placing the delicate stationery onto her desk, she smoothed the creases from the dainty bluebonnet border and stared hard at the graceful scrawl.

Miss Priscilla Whitfield of Texas had written of her urgent need for a governess to Addie’s dearest companion, Hope Moony, the granddaughter of Canton’s distinguished doctor. Hope’s recent engagement forced her to decline, so Dr. Moony passed the offer to Addie with a promise to recommend her for the position. From the first reading, Addie felt a sense of destiny spark in her veins.

Movement at the edge of the garden drew her eye. The abandoned kittens, a little calico and her tabby brother, crouched near the woods, watching her.

Placing the letter beside her on the bench, she wriggled her fingers close to the ground.

The kittens launched themselves past the azaleas and over the bricks lining the flower bed, tumbling over each other in their haste. Tiny claws extended, they climbed her skirt and huddled in the folds of her dress, lapping the saucer of cream she held ready. Eyes slanted in bliss, they took turns arching their bony backs toward her caress.

Addie smiled. Only weeks ago, they’d darted away each time she stepped out the door. After days of baiting them, placing bits of food a little closer each time, they’d come as near as the hem of her dress, but no farther—until the evening she’d offered bits of leftover fish from supper. Unable to resist such a tempting treat, they’d conquered their fear and crawled into her lap to eat.

The pair shared the final drop of cream in the dish then curled together, diligently cleaning their whiskered mouths on furled paws.

Addie set the empty saucer aside and took up the troubling letter. Spreading her slender fingers over the flowing script, she swallowed the lump rising in her throat. The idea of a child so brutally torn from the safety of his mother’s arms, rendered an orphan by one fateful turn of events, brought her to tears. A little one left to fend for himself without the guidance and tender care of his parents seemed a tragic and lonely soul.

She glanced at the helpless creatures in her lap, waifs and strays themselves. Their plight and the boy’s rose in stark contrast to her own dilemma. By comparison, struggling against the wishes of overprotective parents was infinitely better than not having them at all.

She smoothed her knuckle over the boy’s name on the page. “I’m deeply sorry for your loss, dear Ceddy. Poor little tyke.”

Miss Whitfield wrote that her nephew’s son was unusual. Despite any sort of “special handling” he might need, Addie had never met a child who didn’t respond to love.

Recalling the impish youngsters she’d encountered as a governess, she nodded thoughtfully. With a gentle hand and understanding heart,she’d taught all of them to trust her and eventually brought them into line. Cedric Whitfield would be no different.

The back door opened, and the housemaid’s strident voice shrilled her name.

Addie blinked away the moisture in her eyes and spun. “Yes, Dicey?”

Chin raised, Dicey scanned the garden until her gaze fell on Addie, sitting in her favorite spot on the bench under the wicker arbor. “Breakfast, Miss Addie. Drop them flea-ridden critters and come inside. Yo’ sistahs already gathered at the table, and yo’ folks say hurry. They hungry.”

“Tell them I’ll be right along.”

“All right now … but don’t make me be tellin’ no lies.”

Before the screen clicked shut at Dicey’s back, Addie returned the letter to its envelope and tucked it deep inside the pocket of her skirt. She’d carry it to breakfast and allow Miss Whitfield herself to sway them. The woman’s expensive stationery and lovely handwriting would help drive home her impassioned plea, but reading firsthand of Ceddy’s plight would go a long way in persuading them.

Addie would need all the help she could get.

Rousting the drowsy kittens, she deposited them at her feet. The tabby mewed in protest, and the calico stole a peek with one slanted eye. Sluggish from full bellies, they snuggled on the spot and fell straight back to sleep. Steeling her spine, Addie arose and crossed the yard to the steps.

At the end of the hall, she paused to eavesdrop on the family’s conversation, hoping to assess the mood. By the sound of Father’s gentle teasing and Mother’s gleeful laughter, it appeared to be the perfect morning to state her intentions. Closing her eyes, she imagined their reactions—her horrified gasp, his disbelieving stare—when she told them she planned to move to Texas. Gathering her skirts along with her courage, she breezed around the corner.

“Here she is,” Father announced, looking up from his breakfast. “Hurry and pass the corn cakes, Carrie Beth, before Addie catches sight of them.” He grinned and winked at Mother. “Take some for yourself, Mariah, if you plan to have any. Once your eldest daughter gets a taste of corn cakes, it’s ‘Katy, bar the door.’”

Carrie and the twins, Father’s preferred audience when it came to tormenting Addie, tittered like a nest of baby mockingbirds.

“I like corn cakes, too, Papa,” Marti crowed, crossing her arms.

Mattie stuck out her bottom lip. “Well, so do I!”

Father grinned at his matched set of pouting little girls. “And you shall have some, my doves. I’ll see to it Addie shares.”

“Hush, Tiller McRae,” Mother said. “There’s plenty to go around. I baked extra this morning.”

Addie leaned to kiss his cheek, noticing for the first time the strands of silver hair mingled with the rusty red of his sideburns. “What’s this?” She fingered the smattering of gray. “Heavens, it can’t be. My handsome father, losing the battle with time?”

His big hand closed over hers. “Time isn’t turning my hair, Addie Viola. Fretting over your constant stream of suitors is to blame for bleaching it white.”

Mother liked to boast that she’d borrowed Addie’s forename from Adelina Patti, highly acclaimed opera singer. The source of Addie’s middle name made her prouder. Viola Ashmore Jones was Addie’s old governess and Mother’s longtime companion, and Addie loved her dearly. Rendered feeble by age, poor Miss Vee seldom made it to breakfast these days.

Addie feigned shock. “What’s the harm in a few suitors? A girl has to weigh her options.”

Father squeezed her fingers, drawing them to his lips for a kiss. “None of the addlepated options I’ve chased from the porch lately are good enough for you. I’d lock you in your room until your curls grayed if I thought it would do any good.”

Addie laughed, but her stomach lurched. Time to steer him to less troublesome ground. “You’d best douse your temples with Miss Vee’s henna if you want to keep up with your wife.” Pressing her face close to his, she pointed across the table. “Look at Mother, as young and lovely as ever. She could pass for my sister.”

Father huffed. “A stinging injustice, considering she worries over you girls more than I do.”

Mother blushed and ducked her head. “My Indian ancestry keeps me youthful. The Choctaw age quite gracefully.”

Smiling, Father winked at her. “You’re only half Indian, Mariah. The British half should have the manners to grow old alongside her husband.” He tugged on Addie’s arm, pulling her from behind him. “Sit down so I can ask God’s blessing on our food.” He chuckled.

“Especially these poor corn cakes. They’re not long for this world.”

Addie’s giggle echoed back at her from around the breakfast table. Grinning at her sisters, she folded her hands and slipped off her shoes. She may as well make herself comfortable. Most of Father’s prayers turned to long-winded chats with God.

That morning proved no different. His heartfelt pleas touched on each of them in turn, asking protection and direction for each life. When he reached Addie’s name, thanking the Lord for his dutiful daughter, she squirmed in her chair.

Longing to blurt her news, she held herself in check. He’d be more receptive with a bellyful of Dicey’s ham, doused with a ladle of redeye gravy.

After a heartfelt “Amen,” Father shook out his napkin and smoothed it on his lap. He finished the first half of his breakfast in silence, except for quiet murmurs of appreciation for Mother’s biscuits and grunts of approval for the meal in general. Her father loved to eat as well as any gentleman of the South and kept his zeal for Southern cooking finely tuned. Stabbing a forkful of ham, he tilted his chin in Addie’s direction. “What’s on your dance card for today, little miss?”

The endearment irked a bit. Addie might be short in stature and small-boned, but he needn’t treat her like a child. “I thought I’d run into town for a spell.”
To ask Dr. Moony to wire Miss Whitfield of my decision to accept—just as soon as I’ve broken the news
.

“What manner of mischief are you and Hope planning for our townsfolk?” Father leaned across the table and winked. “And how gravely will it impact my wallet?”

Addie’s heart stirred with pride. Silver hair and outrageous appetite aside, she had the handsomest father in all of Mississippi. “Mischief indeed.” Pouting her lips, she pretended to sulk. “I could stroll these streets for weeks and not find a smidgen of trouble. Canton is, without a doubt, the most boring place on earth.”

Mother’s fork stilled, her large brown eyes lifting to meet Addie’s. “Do we need to discuss your values, Adelina? When did safe and respectable become boring?”

Since the beginning of time, at least, but it wouldn’t be prudent to say so
. “How’s Miss Vee this morning?” she asked, wisely changing the subject.

“Feeling frail, poor old love. Her joints pain her worse every year.”

Father chuckled. “If you believe half her complaints, she’ll be joining Otis in eternal rest any day now.”

“Was Otis Miss Vee’s husband?” Carrie asked.

“No, dear,” their mother said. “Miss Vee wed Tobias Jones, God rest his soul. Dear departed Otis was Papa’s closest friend. Both men passed on before you were born.”

Turning, she touched Addie’s arm. “I hope you’ll duck in on Miss Vee before you leave for town. You always seem to cheer her.”

Addie nodded. “Yes, ma’am, I will.” She cleared her throat. “First, there’s something I’d like you both to see.” She pulled the envelope from her pocket and handed it to her father.

Creases formed between his brows, but he pulled his spectacles from his vest pocket and unfolded the letter.

The onionskin paper was so thin, Addie read along with him, her eyes following the backward letters across the page.

He finished and handed the missive across the table to Mother. As she read, he reached for Addie’s hand. “I know how this must feel, sugar. It’ll be hard to manage without young Hope around.” He smiled softly. “We’ll miss her, too, considering she’s been underfoot since the age of ten. She’s practically part of the family.”

Taking off his glasses, he tucked them away. “Take comfort in knowing she’s providing a worthy service.”

“Poor little boy.” Wiping her eyes, Mother placed the letter on the table. “I don’t understand, Addie. How can Hope consider the offer when she’s getting married soon?” She frowned. “Will her young man accompany her to Texas?”

Addie clenched her fists in her lap. The time had come. “Hope won’t be accepting the position.” She swallowed hard. “I will.”

Stunned silence pressed her down in her chair. Wide-eyed, she watched the looks that passed between her parents.

His said,
“Here we go again.”

Hers said,
“Relax, I can handle this.”

Tightening her lips, Addie gathered her resolve.
I won’t be handled. I simply won’t!

“Well?” she demanded. “Won’t one of you say something?”

Mother placed her hand over the folded sheet of stationery, as if she couldn’t bear to look at it. “Who gave you this letter, Addie?”

She jutted her chin. “Dr. Moony.”

Father’s mouth tightened. “Wait until I see Thomas Moony in town …”

“Now, Tiller,” Mother soothed. “It’s not his fault.” Tears still glistening in her soulful eyes, she turned the force of them on Addie. “I feel for this poor orphaned child, dear girl, but my first concern is for you. With all the children in Mississippi, you can’t find a position closer to home?” A tiny frown wrinkled her brow.
“Texas
, Addie. Do you know how far away that is?”

Addie sighed. “I didn’t look for this opportunity, Mother. It fell into my lap. And I don’t want another position. I want this one.” Hearing a whine in her voice, she cringed. It wouldn’t do to act like the child they thought her to be.

She sat forward and tried again. “I won’t shrivel by degrees in Canton with never a chance to see the world. I can’t settle for a loveless marriage like half the girls in town, groomed to live a dutiful life while pretending to be ignorant of intellectual opinion. I need to prove I’m capable of making a decision besides which day of the week should be washday.” The final impassioned word squeaked out on her last bit of air. Drawing a fresh breath through her nose, she glared. “Surely God gifted me with talent beyond how to mend socks and maintain an organized pantry.”