Renegade
Authors: Caroline Lee
Table of Contents
Copyright
© 2015, Caroline Lee
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author.
While the places portrayed in this novel are real, the characters are figments of the author's imagination.
First edition: 2015
This work is made available in e-book format by Amazon Kindle at
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Printing/manufacturing information for this book may be found on the last page
Cover and Interior format by:
The Killion Group
Other books by Caroline Lee:
The Sweet Cheyenne Quartet
A Cheyenne Christmas
A Cheyenne Celebration
A Cheyenne Thanksgiving
A Cheyenne Christmas Homecoming
Dedication:
For the ladies of Edisto Island, especially Marsha, my favorite.
Edisto Island, South Carolina
April 1877
On the evening that she first kissed the smuggler, there was pluff mud oozing between Becks’ toes.
The mud had a distinct smell. It smelled of decay and rebirth and inconvenience and comfort…and home. The air tasted salty, but the slight breeze kept the humidity from being unbearable. Crickets chirped, and the occasional heron
squawk
ed, but they were far enough away to be ignored.
Besides the pluff mud between her toes, she could feel more of it drying high on her right cheek where she must have smeared it when she’d impatiently flicked hair out of her eyes. Her lower back ached from holding her bent position, and she squinted to see past the reflection of the setting sun on the water’s surface.
She couldn’t be happier.
This time of day, when the chores were done and her stomach was full, but there was still enough light left for fun…
this
was Becks Middleton’s favorite time. The day hadn’t cooled off enough to roll down her sleeves yet, and the gentle breeze blowing across the salt marshes carried the smells of sea life and salty decay. So many little creatures lived and died over there, across the river, and the incoming tide brought them all past her toes.
Sighing happily, she wriggled those toes deeper into the mud, glad for the opportunity to relax here in the water, appreciating the peace of another evening tide. Beckett Plantation—all Edisto Island, really—seemed unchanging in the day-to-day, and she was glad for it. She enjoyed the routine and harmony of a day’s work on land she loved, but she liked the chance for a little fun in the evenings.
“Has he nibbled yet?” Pearl’s voice was strident in the evening peace. She never did think of this as
fun
, since she didn’t have the patience to stand so still that the incoming tide would make ripples around her calves. And Pearl would never deign to climb down the bank, to feel the pluff mud squishing between her toes.
So Becks ignored her, focusing her attention instead on her wily old adversary, willing him to inch his way closer.
“I said—”
“Shhh!” Becks didn’t bother looking towards her sister. Pearl was probably bored out of her pretty little head, and from the
huff
she let out —quieter this time—she wasn’t pleased about being hushed.
Bending closer to the water, Becks twitched the string tied to yesterday’s chicken bone, trying to make it wiggle enticingly. The crab was an old one, big and battle-scarred, and obviously used to staying alive. Grinning slightly, Becks reflected that his luck was about to run out, and then wondered what that said about her, that she could find joy in outwitting a… a
crustacean
.
The crab sidled closer, and she gently twisted the string around her fingers, pulling the bait towards her bit by bit. The crab followed, and she took a deep breath. Slowly, slowly, she lifted the long-handled net in her other hand, trying to keep her movements smooth and careful so that she wouldn’t spook him. With the net poised over the surface of the water, she twitched the string again, making the bait to skip back an inch. When the crab darted for it, she knew that she had him. Swooping down, she scooped him—and the bait—up in the net, and lifted it up out of the water with a triumphant laugh.
With a sarcastic laugh, Pearl clapped. “That’s right! You show that crab who’s boss!” She never did understand the need for cunning—and quiet—while crabbing. “Congratulations on outwittin’ a dumb little water-bug.”
Becks swung the net so that the long handle rested on her shoulder, ignoring Pearl’s groan of disgust at the way the water dripped everywhere. Putting her other hand on her hip, Becks stuck her tongue out at her sister. “You’re just pouting because during supper tomorrow, you’ll have to thank me. Between this one and those—” She nodded towards the other dozen crabs in the covered basket beside Pearl’s knee. “Lola will cook us up a fine soup, and I know you gobble her crab soup right up.”
Pearl frowned prettily, and flicked another of last fall’s acorns into the current beside Becks. “You know it. But there’s more to supper than some nasty mud-dwelling crustacean. I’ll help her shell the beans, and then
you’ll
have to thank
me.
” Pearl’s beautiful voice was marred only slightly by the stuffiness in her nose that afflicted her every spring.
“The difference being, of course, that I don’t
like
beans.” Pearl rolled her eyes. Her next acorn caught Becks on her elbow, who kept needling her sister. “Whereas you
love
crab soup. Why don’t you climb down here and help me catch another few big ones? We could have soup the day after next, too.”
“No, thank you.” Pearl’s exaggerated nose wrinkle was only partly an act. She really
did
hate the mud. “My feet are dark enough without coating them in that gunk. Pluff mud stains your skin, you know.”
Becks wriggled her toes again, reveling in the way it squished between them. “I know.” Her unrepentant grin made Pearl
tsk
and flick another acorn at her. This one hit her in the forehead—“Ow!”—and it was Pearl’s turn to stick her tongue out while Becks rubbed the spot ruefully.
“Besides, you look ridiculous out there.”
Looking down at herself, Becks had to concede that her sister was probably right. She was wearing her mother’s oldest skirt, pulled through her legs and tucked up into a belt, with her drawers rolled well above her knee. She probably looked like she was wearing a giant diaper or something.
Her faded red shirt was one of her favorites, which she’d “borrowed” from Moses four years before and kept “forgetting” to return. She only wore it when she was crabbing. Or fishing. Or shrimping. Or digging for clams… truthfully, she only wore it when she was doing something Moses himself had taught her how to do. Was it any wonder that it was one of her favorites, in spite of its threadbare elbows and mismatched buttons?
So she wasn’t about to agree with Pearl. Becks stuck her chin out and lifted one brow. “It’s serviceable, not ridiculous. I couldn’t very well stand here in a bustle.” They had two gowns each that required a bustle, and Becks hated all of them.
“It’s a miracle you’re not covered in mud.”
“I’m not
that
clumsy.” Although she probably was, and her sister was probably right. It seemed like half the times she climbed down this little beach to crab or shrimp she ended up slipping and falling, and having to wash her favorite shirt the next day.
“Your grandmama would pitch a hissy, if she saw you.”
“Well then—” Becks was getting irritated. “It’s a damn good thing she’s dead, isn’t it?”
Pearl gasped, dropping the acorns and covering her mouth with her hands in mock outrage. Still, Becks could see the amusement twinkling in her sister’s pale eyes. “Rebecca Beckett Middleton! You hush your mouth!” Pearl’s voice was muffled, and Becks had to smile at the act. “Your grandmama always said that a lady doesn’t curse.”
“A lady doesn’t stand ankle-deep in pluff mud, either.”
“True.” Pearl pressed her fingertips to her lips, the way she always did when she was trying to hold in her laughter. “And a lady wouldn’t be caught dead crabbing, either.”
“Well, if we ever meet one, we should ask her how she catches her supper.”
“She doesn’t
catch
her supper!” They were both trying their hardest not to snicker.
“Oh, the crabs just crawl into her net, then? Because she’s so lady-like?”
That did it. Pearl erupted in giggles, and Becks soon followed.
“Eugenia is a…” Pearl had to stop and clear her throat, swallowing down her laughter. “Your mama can be a perfect lady.”
“Only when she thought Grandmama was watching. She smokes a pipe, for Heaven’s sakes!” Becks blew a strand of light hair out of her face, and wondered if she could tuck it behind her ear without smearing any more mud anywhere. Unlikely.
“Well, she raised
you
to be a lady.”
“No, she raised
us
to know
how
to be ladies, and how to
not
be ladies if we wanted.”
Pearl’s teeth were white against her skin when she smiled, glowing like her namesake. “True. One of us follows better than the other.”
Becks smiled back at her sister. “True.”
Pearl was seated on one of the long, low limbs of Becks’ favorite oak tree, surrounded by the skinny brown leaves that always dropped off this season. This particular branch was so old it had long ago dipped down to rest against the dirt. It made a convenient seat as well as a perfect place for a little girl to practice climbing trees. Many childhood hours were spent in this tree, looking out over the cotton fields on one side and the marsh on the other. Becks cherished the memories of nestling in the crook of that tree, hiding among the shadows of the Spanish moss, watching the distant figures in the cotton fields and vegetable patches. Even today, when she was likely to
be
one of those distant figures bending over the plowed furrows, she loved the chance to sneak away here, to rest against the old bark of the oak, to contemplate the marsh grass and pluff mud and humidity.
Now Pearl stood, rubbing her backside delicately. Pearl did
everything
delicately, Becks reflected, not a little ruefully. Her sister had learned her grandmama’s lessons better than Becks had, that was certain.
“Where is Eugenia, anyhow? I figured she’d be down here with us, hollering advice at you about crabbing.”
Becks shrugged, not really bothered by her mother’s absence. She loved the older woman, sure, but this land had been Eugenia’s long before Becks was born, and her mother seemed to think that little fact meant that she knew it better. Crabbing was a lot more peaceful without her mother around. “She asked me if we’d be going to our usual spot, and when I told her yes, she looked at me funny and told me to have fun. Then she went to take a nap.”
“A nap? This late in the evening?”
“I know. I asked her if she was feelin’ poorly, but she just smiled.”
“Well, you caught plenty of them critters without your mother’s interference. Get that nasty crab on up here with his sisters.” With a delicate—of course—curl of her lip, Pearl moved to the bank and held out her hand, offering to take the net from Becks.
“Thanks, but I’m done.” Becks picked her way past the oyster shells back towards the shore, which had been made much smaller by the incoming tide. An incoming evening tide like this was perfect for crabbing, and she’d decided to try it even this early in the season. The water was still chilly, but her bait had attracted enough of the creatures for the cook to make her famous soup. “I think this’ll be enough, especially if Lola tosses in some rice.” She threw a grin up at her sister while she slogged through the mud on the shore. “Besides, we could always come back out here for tomorrow evening’s tide.”
“Lord help us.” Pearl’s mutter was distracted, but she still quipped back, “I think I shall be… busy tomorrow evening. Doing something else. Doing
anything
else.”
Still, she pulled Becks up the bank, immediately backing away from the mud caked around Becks’ ankles and smeared up one forearm. Becks didn’t mind, though. Her sister might not love to spend so much time barefoot, or enjoy the pleasures of the river so much, but she was still Becks’ biggest supporter and closest friend.
She passed the net’s handle to Pearl, who stood holding it away from her body as if afraid that the now-subdued crab—or the old chicken—would drip on her. Becks used the time to wipe off her feet on the fallen leaves around the tree as well as she could. The tickle of the grass against her toes made her smile in contentment, and she pretended to ignore Pearl’s put-upon sigh.
Then, marginally cleaner, she took the crab back from Pearl and bent over the basket, focused on getting him to let go of the net while not allowing the others to escape. From the corner of her eye, she saw Pearl move towards the bank, her hand shading her eyes against the sunset.
After a moment, her sister’s low voice drifted back towards her. “Are we expecting company tonight?”
