Always and Forever (38 page)

“I don’t think he’s thinking at all.”

Iva nodded. “Well, we’ll just pray he stays out of Trent’s way.”

“I don’t think he has the sense to do that either.”

Iva spent the night, and the next morning she and Grace shared a parting embrace.

“You take care of yourself now, Grace,” Iva whispered fiercely. “And if I see that stubborn husband of yours, I’ll crack him over the head, put him in a crate, and ship him to you.”

Grace smiled. “You do that, and take care of yourself.”

“I will. Davi and I are going to visit my cousin in California for a while until this blows over.”

They parted and Grace said, “Well, you’re both welcome to come to Chicago with me.”

“Oh, no,” Iva chuckled. “I hear it’s so cold up there even the birds wear coats.”

Grace grinned and then became serious. “I can never repay you for all your help.”

“You just get yourself and those babies home safe. That’ll be payment enough.”

Iva shared a farewell hug with M’dear, then stepped onto the raft where William waited to take her back to her buckboard.

That night, as Grace drifted off to sleep, her last thoughts were of Jackson and home.

Grace awakened to a nightmare. Dogs were barking, men were yelling, and the horns of hell were blowing shrilly. The smell of smoke hung heavy in the air. Groggy with sleep, she stumbled to her door to see
M’dear’s house in flames, and mounted, white-sheeted specters out front, riding back and forth, shooting pistols and blowing horns. With her heart in her throat, her first instinct was to run to the house, but upon hearing footsteps entering her cabin by the back door, she turned, eyes wide with fear.

It was William. “Come!”

He grabbed Grace by the hand. His big hand felt strong as she ran with him into a nearby stand of trees.

“Up there!”

He linked his hands together and held them low, and she put her foot in them. He propelled her up until she could grab onto a sturdy branch. Once she had a secure grip she began to climb.

“Stay until I come back for you.”

Her terror overrode her long held fear of heights and she climbed as high as she could. Once she found a sturdy perch, she hugged the trunk and looked down on the chaos below.

The four riders were now circling her small cabin. One tossed in a lit torch. It did not take long for the dry logs to begin to burn in earnest, and soon the flames were growing and spreading. The dogs were baying incessantly, the sound mixing with the eerie calls of the horns and loud gunshots. Grace prayed William had taken M’dear to safety and prayed also that they’d survive this night.

All of a sudden, a male scream pierced the air, quieting the sounds of the ghoulish cavorting, and one of the men slowly tumbled from his horse to the ground. Before his companions could react, another man gave a tortured gasp and crumpled lifelessly across the back of his mount, his torch slipping slowly from his hand.

An unearthly silence fell over the scene then. Even the dogs had ceased their awful baying. As the two re-
maining riders turned their mounts this way and that in an effort to determine the origin of the invisible attacks, Grace could sense their fear. She scanned the night, wondering if William were somehow responsible, but saw nothing.

One of the men tore off his sheet and looked around. Although the moonlight offered only a faint illumination, coupled with the strong light from the blazing cabin, the face of Lane Trent could be plainly seen. As soon as he revealed himself, the man by his side let out an anguished cry, clutched his face, and fell to the ground, leaving the now visibly agitated Trent the only night rider still alive.

The dogs seemed as affected as Trent. Whimpering fearfully, they ran off into the darkness.

Now, all alone, Trent raised his pistol and fired into the darkness as if attempting to scare off the unseen assassin, but his bullets were wasted. Nothing happened. Nothing moved.

To Grace it seemed as if the entire world was holding its breath, waiting for whatever might happen next.

It came swiftly. Grace heard Trent’s loud cry of pain and saw him clutch his shoulder. He tried to turn the horse, but froze as the assailant struck again. In the resulting silence he keeled over and fell to the ground.

Grace noticed the tears rolling down her cheeks for the first time and dashed them away. Her fear and dread had abated somewhat, but she still didn’t know if M’dear had survived the attack.

Grace heard William call out, “Come down, Grace. It’s safe now.”

Grace made her way back down through the branches. William stood at the base and helped her to the ground. Only then did she see the quiver across the big man’s chest and begin to understand. Trent and his men had
been dispatched by arrows. No wonder they’d been unable to retaliate. William was an excellent marksman.

“How’s M’dear?”

“Still with us, but not for long. Come.”

Not wanting to accept what he meant, Grace followed him back into the night. His steps slowed at a spot hidden in the forest behind the bower. M’dear lay on a pallet bathed by the now rising moonlight. Her long white braids hung down across her shoulders. Her eyes were closed and her fragile frame so still, Grace feared she might be dead.

Grace looked up at William. He replied by nodding sadly.

Grace knelt low. Taking the old woman’s hand tenderly in her own, she whispered, “M’dear?”

The eyes opened tiredly and then she gave Grace a weak smile. “Did William take care of those brigands?”

“Yes, ma’am, he did.”

“All of them?”

“Not a one left.”

“Good,” she whispered, and squeezed Grace’s hand. “Good.”

Grace wanted to help but didn’t know how. “Can I get you something, water—”

“No, child. Time’s running out, that’s all. Too much excitement tonight,” she said with a soft chuckle. “Never did like a whole lot of noise.”

Grace bit her lip as she smiled through a fresh sheen of tears.

M’dear added, “William will get you to Louisiana. Then you get yourself on home, you hear?”

“I hear.”

“Babies don’t like a lot of excitement either.”

Grace nodded.

M’dear was silent for a few moments and then said,
“Don’t worry about that man of yours. His heart’s good. He’ll come back to you. Just like Jupiter’s coming back to me.”

M’dear then raised her other hand for William to take. He knelt without a word and raised her hand to his cheek. She smiled up at him with love in her eyes. “I’ll tell Jupiter you send your love, William.”

Tears in his eyes, he nodded. “Take care of yourself, M’dear.”

“I will, son. I will.”

Then she smiled and said softly, “Ahhh, my Jupiter’s come, just like he promised. Good-bye, William. I love you.”

“I love you too, M’dear.”

Her eyes closed, and a second later she was gone.

They buried her near the bower right after sunrise. When they were done, Grace and William stood together over the freshly turned earth and said their prayers.

There was not much left to salvage after the fires. A few charred pieces of broken china, a couple of heat-bent spoons. M’dear had lived in her cabin for over forty years and one horrible night of hate had reduced it to a pile of smoldering ash.

William had disposed of the bodies of Trent and his men, sometime before dawn. Grace didn’t know what he’d done with them and she didn’t ask. All she wanted was to get home, but even that had become a problem now. She’d lost everything in the fire, too, including her money. She had only her life and the clothes on her back. How was she to get home?

“Are you ready?” William asked.

“Yes, but I have no money.”

“Trent did.”

William pulled out a gold money clip choked with
bills. Grace didn’t hesitate. She hoped Trent was spinning in his grave, knowing his money would pay for her journey home. Taking the clip from William’s hand, she stuck it in the pocket of her wrinkled, dusty skirt and when she did, her hand closed over a folded piece of paper. Curious as to what it might be, she pulled the paper out and recognized it immediately. It was Jackson’s poem. So she hadn’t lost everything. Smiling now, she put the treasure back in her pocket and walked down the bank to the raft.

About an hour into the journey, she told William, “You know, I never heard you speak before last night. I thought you were mute.”

“Didn’t have anything to say,” he told her, as he effortlessly guided them through the waters.

“How long have you lived with M’dear?”

“All my life. M’dear was midwife to the woman who birthed me. When she died a few days later, the husband blamed me for her death. Told M’dear if she didn’t take me with her, he’d kill me for sure.”

Grace thought that absolutely horrible. “So, she did?”

“Yes, she and Jupiter raised me as their own. He taught me to fish and hunt, and she taught me to read, and that color doesn’t matter if your heart is good.”

Grace wished Trent and his companions had been taught by M’dear. “What are you going to do when you return?” she asked.

“Probably rebuild the cabin and spend the rest of my days there until it’s time for M’dear and Jupiter to come get me and take me to the other side.”

And he said no more.

Grace caught a northbound train in Louisiana. The conductor made her ride Jim Crow, but she didn’t care. With Trent’s money she’d been able to buy enough food from the vendors outside the station to make sure she
didn’t go hungry on the long trip. And as soon as she reached a town large enough, she planned to buy a change of clothes and wire the aunts.

She forced herself not to think about Jackson.

Chapter 13

E
vidently, Grace’s babies didn’t like riding Jim Crow anymore than she, because as soon as she headed north, the morning sickness caught up with her and she was sick and nauseated the rest of the way. To make matters worse, at an Indiana border stop, a change in conductors resulted in all passengers of color being asked off the train because of one woman’s complaint about Grace and the others riding. The woman’s tender sensibilities couldn’t tolerate them riding anywhere. She wanted them off the train and the conductor concurred.

For two days, Grace and the others waited alongside the track for a train that would let them ride. When one finally did, its conductor refused to draw the color line, and so, for the first time since leaving Louisiana, Grace had a seat. She didn’t care that none of the other passengers wanted to sit beside her. Their disdain made it
possible for her to stretch out, and as soon as she did, she fell asleep.

When the exhausted Grace finally stepped off the train in Chicago, the sight of the aunts waiting for her was almost too much for her to bear. She began crying almost immediately. They didn’t seem to care that she was dirty and smelled of mules and cattle. Dahlia and Tulip folded her in their loving arms and Grace’s tears flowed like rain.

The aunts rocked her and Tulip whispered fiercely, “Oh, Grace, when we didn’t hear from you we were so worried.”

“No more than I,” she admitted. She was so glad to be home, she swore she’d never leave Chicago again.

“That’s the last time we let you go gallivanting across the country,” Dahlia said, wiping at her wet eyes with an embroidered handkerchief.

Tulip scanned the other passengers disembarking. “Where’s Jackson?”

Grace bit her lip to keep fresh tears from flowing. “I don’t know,” she said softly.

Both aunts looked surprised.

“It’s a long story. Let’s save the telling for home.”

“Whatever you say, dear.”

A familiar but repellent voice sounded at their backs. “My lord, Grace, is that you?”

A tight-jawed Grace turned to see Garth’s wife, Amanda Young Leeds. She was wearing a sunshine yellow gown that had been designed for an ingenue, a title the plain-faced Amanda hadn’t been able to claim for a decade.

“Why, it
is
you!” Amanda stated with wide eyes. She scanned the very dirty Grace up and down, then gasped, “What happened to you?”

Grace wondered what she’d done to deserve such a
fate. First she’d been forced to endure the train ride from hell, and now everyone in town would be gossiping about her again, all because she’d had the misfortune to run into the badly dressed Amanda not more than ten minutes after stepping off the train.

Grace finally answered the rude question by saying distinctly, “It’s none of your business, Amanda.”

Amanda drew back as if stung. “Well, excuse me, I’m sure everyone will be quite interested to know you’re home.” And she huffed off.

Grace shook her head, then looked at her aunts. “Can we leave now?”

“Certainly,” Dahl responded, shooting a malevolent glance at Amanda’s departing back. “We’ve a hack waiting.”

When Grace first entered the house, the familiar pictures, furniture and feel of the place tore at her heart. Had Lane Trent gotten his way, she would never have seen her home again. She wanted to pinch herself to make certain she wasn’t dreaming.

Looking over her shoulder at her aunts standing so silent behind her, Grace fed her eyes on the sight of them. The night Trent and his men came, she didn’t think she’d ever see them again either. “I missed you two, very much. Very much.”

Both aunts were teary, but gave her a smile.

“And we missed you, too,” Tulip said, love in her eyes. “Are you hungry?”

“Am I?”

Dahlia said, “Well, you just go on up, get you a nice hot bath, and Tulip and I’ll fix you something to eat.”

Grace loved the sound of that. Weary in mind, body, and spirit, but thankful to be home, Grace and her babies climbed the steps to her bedroom.

While the water heated on the grate in her bathing
room, Grace slowly peeled off her soiled clothes. She planned on burning each and every item the first thing in the morning. Because she’d had to travel in cars that often sported vermin and filth, she had no idea what might be living in her clothing and had no desire to find out. Remembering Jackson’s poem in the pocket of her skirt, she retrieved it, placed it on her dressing table, then went to start her bath.