Undaunted Love (30 page)

Chapter Fifty-Seven

R
AFE KEPT HIS RIFLE UP, putting the butt up under his arm to hold it steady. It was awkward, but he was able to keep his finger on the trigger, and he kept talking to distract Wyman from noticing.

“Livvie’s my wife. Mine. She’s not yours; she’ll never be yours. You’re drunk, sick…” He spat on the floor.

Enraged, Wyman stood up straighter. He was much taller than Livvie’s five feet, so he moved from having her neck in the crook of his elbow to pressing it with his forearm. While it caused more pressure on Livvie’s throat, it also exposed much more of Wyman’s torso. Rafe slowly raised his rifle to aim in the direction of the man’s head.

“I am not
drunk
,” Wyman yelled. “I am a man dishonored! I was
promised
something, and then that promise was retracted. It was a
gentleman’s
agreement. I am a gentleman. Hugh Byrd, apparently is not. But I will be satisfied!” He snaked his hand down Livvie’s front and caressed her breast. She tensed, and her face flushed red. Rafe could tell it was not with fear, but with anger.
Good girl,
he thought. Before Rafe could react with his gun, Wyman’s arm was back in place and the knife was hovering around his wife’s neck. But he’d learned something.

“She doesn’t want to marry you. She never did.” Rafe watched him closely.

“That’s a
lie!
” Wyman yelled. “She
wanted
me. She. Wanted.
Me.
I was there all those months, every day, talking to her, eating at her table. I saw it in her eyes. She wanted me.” His ran the tip of his knife along her cheekbone and then down to her jaw, softly.

“But she was already married then,” Rafe reminded him, his eyes never leaving the knife. “She was already my wife.”

“I don’t believe you,” Wyman said. “I saw it in her eyes. It was just because her father was there that she couldn’t say it, couldn’t act on it. But she loves me. She
wants
me.” He leaned over and ran his tongue along the path that the knife had traveled, then looked up with a grin as he once again ran his hand along her shoulder, her collarbone, and down to her breast. As soon as his hand found its target, Rafe lifted his left arm to steady the rifle, and fired.

Gardner cantered down the drive to the Colton house. He didn’t see any activity, but spotted his own horse, the chestnut mare that Rafe had borrowed, tied up by the barn. He left his horse next to her, and walked quickly to the back door. Sliding inside quickly, he stopped and listened. He didn’t want to call out, but he didn’t want to walk into a trap, either. He’d never been in the house, but it was laid out as most Southern farmhouses were, with a wide center hall and rooms to each side. He assumed it was the same on the second story.

Moving through the kitchen, he looked out into the hall. There was no movement. He slipped out, and looked in each room as he passed. The house had obviously not been lived in for some time, and dust layered the floors and surfaces. The only footprints he could see were in the hall, leading to the stairs. He followed them, still peering into the gloomy rooms. At the stairs, he stopped and listened again. He heard soft voices, a barely audible murmur.

Two sets of footprints, one blurred, led from the front door to the stairs. He started going up, taking them two at a time with his long legs, placing his boots carefully. Even so, some of the steps squealed loudly when he put his weight on them. He moved up as quickly as he dared, stopping at the top. Footprints went into two rooms. He followed the single ones, which he assumed were Rafe’s.

As he entered what had obviously been a nursery, the voices became more clear. He saw that a door connected this room to the next. As he listened, he realized he was hearing Livvie. After a moment, he recognized Rafe’s voice as well.

“Hello?” he called out. “Rafe? It’s Gardner.”

Livvie answered. “Gard! We’re in the bedroom! Come on through.”

He followed her voice and stepped through the doorway. He saw Rafe holding Livvie, sitting against the headboard. He started to smile, then noticed the body on the floor. Wyman was sprawled on his back, his upper torso and head at an unnatural angle against the bedside dresser. His eyes were open, but he wasn’t seeing anything. There was a bullet hole through his forehead, and a huge pool of blood under him. He raised his eyes to look at Rafe.

“He’s dead,” Rafe said, unnecessarily.

“I see that,” Gardner said, looking at Livvie. “Are you all right?”

Livvie nodded, touching a small cut at her neck. “Yes… He didn’t, well, he didn’t,
hurt
me.” Rafe leaned over and kissed her, wincing. “He was just
crazy
, ranting and carryin’ on. He scared me plenty. He kept going on about how he needed to get rid of Rafe first, so we could be together. It wasn’t like, well, that other time.”

Rafe looked at her, then at Gardner. “Other time?”

Livvie flushed. “He tried to, well, take advantage of me, before… But Gardner stopped him.”

Gardner nodded. “He was never right. I don’t know how Hugh didn’t see it.”

“Wyman killed Mr. Monigham. He told me.” Livvie closed her eyes and leaned her head back on Rafe. When he gasped in pain, she leaned forward.

“What is it?” she asked. “You’re obviously in pain, but Wyman didn’t do anything to you.”

“I’ll tell you later – tell me about Mr. Monighan.”

“When we first got here he brought me up to this room right away. He said it was going to be our house, and this would be our bed. I’d already told him about Rafe, on the way from the farm, and he was livid. He said he’d killed Mr. Monighan when Rafe got home, not because he knew anything about us, but to get him out of the way so he could get this house. He was obsessed with this house, since he helped Mr. Monighan move in. He knew he could get the sheriff to arrest Rafe for the murder. They knew each other before, somehow. He said he’d kill Rafe, and then we’d get married, and this would be our house. His father would buy it, and the farmland from Daddy. He had a whole life planned out… None of it made any sense!”

The sound of galloping horses suddenly filled the house, and Gardner ran out of the room. When he came back, he said, “It’s the sheriff.”

Rafe gently pushed Livvie forward and off of him. When he tried to scoot forward and off the bed, however, he found he couldn’t. The pain roared back, all the anger that had kept him going having disappeared with the shot that killed Wyman.

“Rafe! What did you do?” Livvie took his right hand and tried to pull him, but she wasn’t strong enough. He felt like all the strength had left him.

“I went to the house where Wyman used to live,” he said, exhaustion in every word. “I just barged in. The lady of the house hit me with her rolling pin.”

Gardner barked out a laugh, then caught Livvie’s look and bit it back.

“Go ahead, laugh,” Rafe said with a grim smile. “She was aimin’ for my head… I’d be dead right now if I hadn’t ducked. But somethin’s broken.” He hung his head, and tried to gather his strength. When he looked up, he found Gardner offering him a hand. He looked up, smiled, and clasped his wrist, pulling himself to standing. They all turned and left the room, going downstairs to meet Sheriff Gingras.

Chapter Fifty-Eight

S
HERIFF GINGRAS STOOD AT WYMAN Phelps’ feet, his arms crossed over his chest and his legs akimbo. Rafe leaned against the hall door, his left arm in a temporary sling that Livvie had made from a torn sheet. Gardner was downstairs with his sister-in-law as she wrote out what had happened since receiving the note inviting her to the barn. She had no desire to see Wyman again.

“He was a nice boy,” the sheriff said glumly.

“Not from what I hear,” Rafe said.

The sheriff shook his head. “When he was a boy, I mean. He was sweet and polite, and such a good lookin’ fella. Everybody loved him.”

“What changed?” Rafe asked.

Gingras shrugged. “I don’t know. He was always smart, and good at gettin’ people to go along with him, do what he wanted. When he hit fifteen, sixteen, that power over people seemed to grow. He’d become a right handsome man. He didn’t like to be told no.”

“He still didn’t,” Rafe observed wryly.

“But it seemed like he did a good job for Hugh Byrd, and had a good life ahead a’him. Guess he just couldn’t take losing the job and Livvie at the same time.”

“He never had Livvie. She never liked him,” Rafe observed. He was exhausted, and his shoulder throbbed. His left side from neck to ribs was a blue black bruise, and even with the swelling, it was obvious that his collarbone was not just broken but partially smashed.

“Prob”ly woulda been a good idea to tell folks, especially Hugh, that you got married… Prob’ly woulda saved a lot of trouble.” Gingras scowled at him.

“That might be true… We were young, and more than a little afraid of Mr. Byrd, but we also didn’t know the War would just keep goin’, and so would our lies.” Rafe rubbed his face with his free hand, trying to conjure up energy. “But there ain’t nothing that justifies this, Sheriff. And maybe if you’d looked a little closer at Mr. Monighan’s murder instead of just listening to your friend…”

The sheriff held up his hands in defeat. “You’re right. I know it. I came to Byrd’s Creek to be sheriff, not Hugh Byrd’s servant. But he hired me, and he told me what he wanted, and… Well, I didn’t do the job of a sheriff, that much is clear.” He scrubbed his face with his hands. “I know Leonard Phelps. This ain’t gonna be easy on him, nor me neither, having to explain. I guess I better go on down to Savannah with the body myself.” His shoulders slumped and he looked defeated.

“That mean I’m free to go back to Florida with my family?” Rafe asked, wanting complete clarification.

Gingras nodded. “And you have my apologies, son. I listened to the likes a’ Hugh Byrd and Wyman Phelps for too long. Hugh ain’t gonna like it, but things are gonna change on Edisto.”

“Hugh Byrd don’t like much a’ anything anyway, Sheriff. I wouldn’t take it personal.” He offered the man a smile, accepting the apology.

Gingras laughed. “Ain’t that the truth! Well, maybe he’ll win this election and leave us all alone.”

“We can always hope,” Rafe said, laughing. “Good luck.”

He turned and trudged down the stairs. They’d asked Gingras’ permission to take the buggy back to Wadmalaw, a much easier ride for Rafe than the horse, and more comfortable for Livvie than riding double. The sheriff had granted it, and said his men would pick up the horses and buggy later in the week. He had offered to let them stay in the house, but no one wanted to. Rafe had good memories from his life here, and he wanted those to be stronger in his heart than the awful events of the day.

Gardner drove the buggy, with Rafe and Livvie inside and the two horses tied to rear. It took almost two hours to arrive at the Kinney farm, Gardner taking it slowly for Rafe and for the horses, all of which had been driven hard. Livvie and Rafe dozed in the hot interior, Livvie resting gently on Rafe’s good right side, his arm around her, his cheek on her hair.

It was full dark when they arrived home, but Madeline was standing at the top of the stairs, her rifle resting, butt down, on the wood planks. When she saw it was Gardner driving the buggy, she flew down the steps, letting the gun crash to the floor. He jumped down and took her in his arms, holding her tightly and kissing her.

Against her mouth he said, “They’re all right. They’re in the back,” and laughed as he kept her tight to him while she turned to see.

Rafe climbed down clumsily, then helped Livvie clamber down. She stepped to embrace her sister, the tears from the pent up emotion of the day finally falling. Then the women were laughing and crying, hugging each other. Madeline whispered something in Livvie’s ear, out of earshot of the men, and when Livvie shook her head no, she cried all the more, grinning.

Suddenly the women were rocked by a little form whose arms grabbed them both around the waist and held on tightly. Livvie looked down to see Judah, his face buried in her skirts. She went down on her knees before him, and gathered him in her arms.

“It’s okay, honey. I’m fine. Really.” When the boy shook his head and refused to look at her, she held him at arm’s length. “Look! See? I’m fine! And Rafe’s fine, and Mister Gardner…”

The boy had tears streaming down his face, and his lips were quivering. “I, I’s so sorry, Miz Livvie,” he whispered.

She pulled him back in a fierce hug. “It’s all right, Judah. You were brave and told them who gave you the note, and that’s how they found me. So you see, you helped rescue me!” She kissed the top of his head and set him free. He gave her a small smile and wiped his tears.

Nackie came around the corner of the house with a lantern, followed by Chloe and Josiah and the rest of the household. Livvie hugged and kissed them all.

“Thank you for your prayers,” she said. “I knew you were prayin’ for me. I could feel it!”

“And he didn’t hurt you, Miz Livvie?” Nackie asked with grave concern.

“He scared me plenty, Nackie, but he didn’t hurt me, beyond this nice black eye I have. It’ll be a beauty in the morning.” She smiled. “But nothing that won’t heal.” This reminded her of Rafe, and she turned, looking for him.

He was standing off to the side, watching her, smiling. She could see that he was in pain from the way he hugged his arm close to his body and hunched his shoulders, but she could see something besides pain in his eyes: love. She walked over to him, and took him by his good arm.

“Let’s go to bed,” she said. “Tomorrow we’ll fetch a doctor, and the day after that, we’ll leave. For home.”

Doctor Cavanaugh treated Rafe’s shoulder and Livvie’s eye before lunch the next day. “Ain’t much I can do for it, you must just let it heal,” he told Rafe. He wrapped Rafe’s arm close to his body, however, to keep the shoulder immobile, and as difficult as that made the slightest task, Rafe had to agree that it felt better than swinging around in the sling. “I can give you some laudanum if you need it.”

Rafe shook his head. “I’ll be all right. I don’t have much to do til we get to Florida.”

The doctor raised his eyebrows in disbelief, but conceded. He examined Livvie’s eye and tut-tutted, but in the end agreed with her assessment that she would just have to live with it until it healed. They thanked him and he left, wishing them luck on their journey. The two took Gabriel and went back to their room to finish packing.

Being one handed, Rafe was better suited to playing with the baby. His few belongings were packed already, and he watched with amusement as his wife went through her skirts and dresses, determining what to pack in the one large trunk they would take with them. She held up the pink gown she’d worn for him all those years ago, and he nodded.

“It’s a bit girlish now, don’t you think,” Livvie asked with a slight frown, studying the dress.

“I don’t care if you never wear it again, ‘cept for me. We’ll keep that dress til it’s rags.” He smiled at her, and she came over to the bed and kissed him.

In the end, she took one other gown of burgundy velvet, and left all the rest of her wool and velvet for Madeline. She left her warm under things and only packed those of soft cotton. She left the heavy petticoats and the skirts that required hoops, not as fashionable as before the War, and she left her boots. She looked sadly at the trunk and its bare contents, and Rafe laughed.

“We can buy more, my love, and you’ll see, you’ll need much less there.”

Livvie shut the trunk, clicking closed the three latches. She picked up Gabriel and sat on the bed, kissing and tickling him until he squealed.

“We’re really going,” she said in wonder.

“Aye,” Rafe replied. “We’re really going. Together.”