Rainy Day Dreams: 2 (33 page)

“Hurry.” The urgency in his voice rose above the terrified cries. “Move as far inside as you can. We’ve got to make room for everyone.”

Inside it was dark. Frightened people pressed her on all sides as Kathryn obeyed, plunging forward into the mass. A faint light shone in two rows of narrow windows, evenly spaced in all four walls, and she blinked to adjust her eyes. A narrow platform circled the perimeter, open in the center all the way to the roof and accessible by a crude ladder next to the door. A man’s silhouette blocked one of the windows above her as he leaned his head to peer along the barrel of a rifle.

Where were Evie and Louisa? Helen? Impossible to see more than a foot or two in this pitch black. She identified the white, pinched
faces of the Moreland girls, who were clinging to each other. Sobs filled the close confines of the building.

“Quiet in there,” shouted a commanding voice from the entryway. Relief flooded through her when she identified the owner as Noah. He wouldn’t be here without making sure Evie was safe. “We’ve got to be able to hear them coming.”

The sobs became muffled as everyone made an effort to obey. Somewhere off to her right a man’s voice carried on in a low drone. After a second she realized he was reciting the Lord’s Prayer. He was joined by whispers from all over, and her lips moved in unison with theirs.

The backward press ceased as people stopped running inside.

“I think that’s everyone.”

That’s Jason’s voice!

She jerked upright and rose to her tiptoes, edging sideways to see toward the opening, but didn’t catch a glimpse of him. The door swung closed, plunging them into near total darkness. What was he doing outside, exposed and vulnerable? Why wasn’t he inside, where it was safe?

Minutes ticked past. Tension stretched her nerves to their boundaries. Her arms ached, and she shifted the little girl’s weight to one hip. The child did not relax her grip. She’d lost track of the mother somewhere, and dared not set the girl down lest she lose her too. Silence, heavy with the strain of waiting, filled the crowded room. The combined heat of more than a hundred bodies in close confines became uncomfortable, and she wished she dared remove her cloak. But beneath she wore only her nightdress. Why hadn’t she thought to pack an emergency bundle and keep it by the door?

A whisper from behind broke the silence. “What’s happening?”

“Nothing, that’s what.” The answer, spoken in normal tones, was full of scorn. “Just as I said all along. There’s nothing to fear.”

“Oh? Then why are you here, Hillory Butler, instead of home in your bed?”

Kathryn knew that voice, and grinned at the disdain in Louisa’s tone. Snickers sounded around the room.

Light broke through the darkness when the door cracked open. Dim and gloomy, but looking bright as the noonday sun to eyes grown accustomed to the blackness. The outline of a man appeared, and David’s voice carried to the back of the fortress.

“It looks like this might be a false alarm, everyone. A detachment from the
Decatur
has been sent out to see if they can spot any activity in the area. We’re waiting for their report before we know for sure.”

Mumbles rose from the confined townspeople, some disgruntled but most of them relieved. Kathryn closed her eyes and whispered a prayer of thanks.

Ten minutes later the doors were thrown wide and David announced the all-clear. Weary people filed out of the blockhouse, their faces strained in the moonlight. Kathryn stepped to one side and scanned the crowd as they passed. She caught sight of the girl’s mother and waved her to a halt. Setting the child on the ground, she gave her a final hug and then waved off the woman’s profuse thanks. At least, she assumed that’s what the string of unintelligible words meant.

When they headed down the slope toward the Faulkner House, she waved farewell. Her muscles ached from the unaccustomed activity. With a fist pressed against the small of her back, she looked around, toward the blockhouse.

And right into Jason’s eyes.

Jason spied Kathryn as she filed out of the blockhouse in the midst of the throng. In her arms she carried a dark-haired native child on one hip, the same little girl he’d seen her rescue back at the Faulkner House. The sight of her sent emotions flooding through
him. Relief, primarily. He’d lost track of her back at the hotel and searched for her in vain during the madness of people running to safety. During the past hour, as his ears strained for the sound of gunfire and nerves stretched to their taut limits, worry had plagued him. Had she made it to safety? Or fallen somewhere along the way, perhaps trampled by the panicked crowd?

Now his fears seemed groundless. Of course someone would have helped her if she’d suffered a mishap. There were more than two hundred and fifty single men in this town, and any one of them would jump at the opportunity to win her favor.

She turned and looked directly at him. A smile lit her face, visible even in the moonlight. The last time he’d seen such gladness in a woman’s eyes had been two years ago. Beth used to look at him exactly that way.

A jolt punched him in the gut and left him reeling. Was Kathryn falling in love with him? When she started toward him, he fought an unreasonable urge to run in the opposite direction. If only his feet would move, but they had become rooted in the dirt.

“I hoped I’d find you,” she said when she drew near enough for speech.

“Why?” He didn’t mean to bark, and was embarrassed when the word snapped out as though he suspected her of something.

She frowned. “Because I saw you talking with David, and I wanted to ask what happened.”

“Oh.” He forced a calmer tone and fixed his gaze at a point behind her head. “Seems a boy named Milton Holgate shot a man trying to sneak through his sister’s bedroom window.”

Her hand flew to her collarbone. “Oh no. Who was it?”

“Nobody David ever heard of. Used to be a sailor, and obviously up to no good. Captain Gansevoort identified him as having deserted his post not long ago.”

“Well.” She looked out over the road and the townspeople streaming toward their homes, and her shoulders heaved in a weak laugh.
“At least we got to practice our escape. Maybe people will be calmer when the real need arises.”

She hesitated a moment, as though wondering if she should say something more, and then decided against it. Flashing a quick smile that held little resemblance to the one he’d seen a moment before, she made as though to leave.

“Kathryn, wait.”

“Yes?” She turned back quickly, her expression eager.

Moonlight shone on her smooth skin, turning her eyes into orbs as dark as pitch. Strands of hair wisped around her face, freed from the confines of a long braid that hung over one shoulder. Standing there with the lace collar of her nightdress brushing against the fine line of her jaw, she looked like a young girl. He fought an almost irresistible urge to reach out and give her braid a tug.

Instead he shoved his hand in his pocket. “Are you sure you won’t reconsider leaving? I’m told a ship is due in port Friday. Noah intends to pressure Evie into leaving on it.”

“She won’t go.” Kathryn stated it as fact.

“She might if you go with her. You and Louisa, and as many of the women as can fit on board. Just until this blows over.”

“And how long will that be?” She waited for an answer. When he gave none, she shook her head. “You said it yourself. They’ve worked hard to build this town, the women no less than the men. They won’t leave.” Her lower lip disappeared behind her teeth. “And neither will I.”

A grudging respect for her devotion to her friends blossomed in him. Was this the same arrogant, self-focused woman who rode through town with her nose in the air just two weeks ago? What had happened to soften her attitude?

“You will take care, though? Don’t do anything rash or careless.”

“Such as?” She tilted her head to fix him with a curious look that held a trace of humor.

“I don’t know. Go for a walk in the forest, or”—he hardened his voice—“incite a riot, or anything.”

Instead of taking offense, she laughed. “I promise.”

She left, but not before giving him a teasing grin that left him staring after her with a distinctly unpleasant tickle in his stomach.

Sixteen

Wednesday, January 23, 1856

I
don’t know about anyone else,” announced Letitia, “but I intend to sleep in my skirts from now on. Traipsing through town in my nightdress was most humiliating.”

Though it was not yet Thursday, a small contingent of ladies had gathered at the café at tea time to comfort one another and share their observations of the previous night’s excitement.

Roberta Blaine tugged at her narrow waistband. “How terribly uncomfortable. I’m sure I wouldn’t sleep a wink.”

Kathryn noticed her empty cup and pushed the teapot across the table within reach. “A modern form of dress may be more appropriate for running. Back East women wear trousers.”

Jaws went slack on a dozen shocked faces.

“It’s true.” She nodded eagerly. “I read an article in a magazine called
The Lily
by Amelia Bloomer, who is a dear friend of Elizabeth Cady Stanton. Mrs. Bloomer insisted that a woman’s tight waist and long, trailing skirts deprive her of all freedom. Trousers for ladies are a new fashion in New York.”

From the next table, thirteen-year-old Sarah Moreland broke into the conversation with an enthusiastic exclamation. “I want to wear trousers! Mama, may I?”

“You most certainly may not!” Mrs. Moreland turned a scandalized stare on Kathryn. “The very idea. It’s indecent, that’s what it is.”

Kathryn lifted her cup and hid her discomfiture behind the rim. She would have liked to turn in her chair to see how Evie and Louisa reacted to mention of the well-known reformers from New York, but she dared not. A display of too much interest would certainly focus attention on her liberal leanings, something she felt uncomfortable making known here in this traditional community.

“I’m not prepared to go all the way to trousers,” said Letitia, “but I do intend to leave a pair of sturdy shoes by the bedside.”

“Do you think we should send over some foodstuffs to be kept there?” Roberta extended her neck and pitched her voice to be heard on the other side of the room. “Louisa, what do you think?”

Louisa answered in a confident tone. “It’s being seen to. But I think all of us should consider keeping a small supply of rations within easy access. I hope we’ll have some warning when the real attack comes, but if not I don’t relish the idea of starving in that fortress.”

Tense nods of agreement met that suggestion, and the ladies began listing the items they would pack for an emergency.