Andrews Brothers 01 - The Ruse (24 page)

Harsh candlelight struck his face
and his eyelids fluttered open. Shadowy figures danced overhead. Pain arced
across the top half of his skull. Whispered words drifted to his ringing ears
but he couldn’t make them out. He closed his eyes again. Maybe when he woke
completely, he would remember who he was.

****

Some months later…

“Do I look all right?” Brigitta
twirled in front of the full-length mirror in Luke’s room.

“Beautiful as always,” replied
Letta as she tugged on the expanded waistline once more.

“I feel like an elephant.”

Letta laughed and patted Brigitta’s
rounding belly. She gasped when it moved under her hand. “The babe kicked me.”

“Indeed she did.” Brigitta
massaged the place and cooed to her unborn babe. “Are we ready?”

Letta smiled and opened the door.

Brigitta stood on the landing and
lifted her shoulders in a deep breath. The plan had been mutually agreed upon.
At first Luke had protested, but after inspecting the funds needed to run the
manse, and the pitiful sum still available, he gave in to his wife’s idea.

He waited below on the landing
and held out his arm. Slowly she descended, wrapped her arm in his, and said, “Welcome
to the Andrews estate. We would like to personally guide you over the grounds
and through the house, and don’t forget, I have an atrocious temper when riled.
Often times I embarrass myself, but none so great as the time I stumbled onto
Andrews land…”

The story of how she became the
baroness entertained thousands that autumn, and those that came to hear the
story from her mouth paid for the privilege and allowed the manse to run
without further burdening the tenants.

Pride swelled in her breast as
the crowd applauded. The look in her husband’s gaze seared into her soul, and
she pushed onto her tiptoes and planted a kiss on his lips as he patted her
middle.

It would be the first of many.

Author’s Note
:

Thank you so much
for taking the time to read
The Ruse
.

Feel free to stick
around and read a chapter from book two in the Andrews Brothers series,
The
Rescue
, and my sweet novella,
All I Have.
And don’t forget to look
for my pre-Civil War book,
Millicent,
and my contemporary soldier
romance,
Diamond Mine
, Book One of the Wounded Solider Series. All are available
in ebook format.

Want to check out
some of my other books?

Visit
www.feliciarogersauthor.weebly.com
to find out more.

Other works by Felicia Rogers:

The Renaissance Hearts Series

Book One:
There Your Heart Will Be Also

Book Two
: By God’s Grace

Book Three
: Labor of Love

Book Four:
Beyond a Doubt

Stand alone works:

Love Octagon

The Painted Lady

The Perfect Rose

A Month in Cologne

Andrews Brothers

The Ruse

The Rescue

Southern Hearts Series
:

Millicent

Amelia

Cora

Wounded Solider Series:

Diamond Mine

Pearl Valley

Emerald Street

Western Novellas by F. A. Rogers:

The Board Series:

Maralie

Reuben

Vanessa

Simon

Darla

Daniel
(coming soon)

Excerpt from
The
Rescue
…

England, April 1802

Men on horseback pursued him. The
pounding hooves matched his erratic heartbeat, and he forced himself to
concentrate on his getaway.

“Huyah!” Chadwick yelled and
whipped the horse. The curricle bounced hard enough to make him lurch to the
side, and he glanced over his shoulder. All he saw was the tops of their
bobbing heads. The men were losing ground.

He cut off the road onto an
almost invisible trail. Thick branches struck the side of the curricle.
Thickets tangled in the wheel hubs and emitting a clicking sound like irritated
hen. The horse slowed and he whipped it again. Harder and harder he flicked the
reins. The horse squealed, reared, and shot off. Chadwick struggled to maintain
his tenuous grip.

Looming trees, rocky spurs, and
eroded boulders flashed by. Small limbs struck him in the arm, the shoulder,
and the legs. The curricle rocked and jounced along the trail. The fear that
the vehicle might topple had Chadwick clenching his hands tighter upon the
reins.

Why had he agreed to assist Lady
Margaret? He was Chadwick Andrews, brother to the Baron of Stockport. He should
have insisted the debutant solve her own problems, and yet the opportunity to
touch funds, to feel coin in his hand, had been too tempting to resist.

Retrieving the canvas money bag
from her escort, Mr. Malcolm, had gone surprisingly well. If Chadwick had only
taken the coin directly to his room and hidden it then he wouldn’t be racing
away from the inn with a band of men on his tail.

Fortune shone on him and the
horse stayed in the road. The slope of the land descended and he drew back on
the reins, gently applying the brake.

Squeezing his bum as tightly as
he dared, he berated himself further. Why had he gone and bet every coin on the
Faro game? It was because he had foolishly believed his luck had changed.

What had he been thinking? His
ruse to imitate his brother and replace estate funds had failed miserably. Now
his brother despised him, and he would probably never be welcome at Stockport
again.

There was also the added
misfortune with Zilla Ellis. If her father hadn’t been so involved in his
daughter’s affairs then Chadwick would be dining in the lap of luxury and
enjoying a good time with the wealthy of London society instead of fleeing in
the rickety curricle.

He laughed under his breath. The
irony that he now fled in a curricle belonging to the Stockport estate wasn’t
lost on him.

He sighed. In retrospect he had
no reason to assume his life’s direction had changed to a positive one. All
signs pointed to the contrary.

The land changed again. Trees
thickened, blocking his vision. Downed limbs crunched loudly beneath the
wheels. The seat wobbled and he grasped the edges. The unsteady movement
increased and braving the consequences, Chadwick bent over the side. A gasp
escaped his lips.

The wheel hub popped off and the
wheel tittered back and forth. Resigned, Chadwick watched the events as if he
was someone else. The wheel broke and scattered in a random burst. He grabbed
the reins. Debris struck his face. The horse lunged out of control, running in
an awkward weaving pattern, as one side of the carriage thumped along the
ground.

Sagging branches loomed ahead.
Chadwick twisted his lips to the side. He could make it; he
would
make
it. He hunched over. Pain radiated through his skull. The fleeing curricle
created a plume of dust and he coughed, increasing his misery.

Numbness in his limbs limited his
movements. He opened his mouth to call for help, but changed his mind. The men
pursuing him did not do so with altruistic intentions. Vision blurring, he
prayed for rescue.

****

He twitched his nose and
scrunched his cheeks. An offensive odor of unwashed bodies, rotting food, and
feces reached his nostrils. Bile rose in his throat. He twisted his neck.
Excruciating, stabbing pain raced through his body until he groaned. The sound
of a wounded and dying animal drifted back to his ears. Over and over the noise
escalated.

Footfalls echoed. He struggled to
lift his eyelids. They felt heavy. Opening his lid a fraction, he studied a
blurry figure.

“Constable, he’s at it again. We
need to find this man’s family. He’s disturbing the other inmates with all his
whimperin’ and groanin’.”

“Agreed, guard, but the question
is how? Coherent words are not the man’s strong suit.”

“I know. The only thing I’ve
understood is the word Andrew and nothing more. So I’ve put out an
advertisement.”

“And you believe someone will
claim the reprobate? I tell you, if he was related to me I’d let him rot.”

“I believe he will be claimed.
‘Course with the hefty fine placed on his head his relatives might be
discouraged and leave him be, but families are funny in their defense of one
another.”

“If’n they leave him his health
will suffer. Can’t get that fool doctor in here for a couple more weeks.”

“Guess our problem will be solved
either way.”

The throbbing in his head
increased as the strange individuals edged out of his line of sight. Drool
dribbled from the corner of his mouth as he closed his eyes and drifted back to
sleep.

All
I Have

Copyright
© 2012 by Felicia Rogers

All
rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof
in any form whatsoever.

Contact
Information:

Website:
http://feliciarogersauthor.weebly.com
Email: [email protected]

Published
by:

M.O.I.
Publishing
“Mirrors
of Imagination”

Cover
Design: Elaina Lee (For the Muse)

This book is a work of fiction.
Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s
imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or
locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

The helicopter hovered inches
above the earth and clouded the surrounding area with dust. The landing skits
touched down and the craft wobbled to a halt. A uniformed officer exited the
chopper, his medals and ribbons shining brilliantly in the desert sun. An enemy
officer waited and escorted him into a makeshift building.

Several prisoners crowded against
the one barred window in the holding compound; another detainee tapped Nicholas’
arm. “This is it, Lieutenant. They’ve come for us. You said they wouldn’t
forget.”

Nicholas stepped away from the
soldier and paced while thoughts of his family raced across his mind. Unbidden
hope rose, maybe this was the day of freedom. A commotion amongst the men
brought him back to the window. With weary eyes, they watched the officer
return to the helicopter. Had they been left behind?

****

Ellie Pickett, twenty-two years
old and a recent college graduate, was home for the summer. Hot, humid weather
had forced her out of the house and onto a blanket spread on the grass. Today
she’d decided to relax and read a book. The last couple of days had been
particularly trying because her job search was going nowhere. Applications with
her qualifications were scattered all over her small home town. So far there
had been no responses.

For the third time, Ellie applied
sunscreen to her lightly tanned skin. With a sigh of contentment, she stretched
and watched clouds float across the sky. As a child, she had played a game of
naming the shapes of clouds. Grinning, she whispered, “That looks like a sheaf
of hay and that one favors a king. That one looks like a plump, white sheep.”
She studied the clouds until raised voices captured her attention.

“You did
what?”
said a
woman’s irritated voice.

“Carla, calm down,” Ellie’s
father, Jake, said with forced laughter.

Carla stomped the dry ground and
kicked up dust. “Why didn’t you ask me first? Don’t we have enough people
sucking off of us already? How many mouths do you think we can support?”

Ellie cringed at her stepmother’s
words. The comment about people “sucking” was obviously directed toward her.
Listening intently, she heard her father’s response. “I didn’t ask because I
didn’t think you’d care. I mean, I’m helping an old friend.”

“Yeah, Jake, exactly—an
old
friend. One you had before me. What if he doesn’t like me? What if–”

Ellie sat up and watched the
couple standing by the fence. Carla was playing with her father’s collar, a
flirty smile on her face. Jake pulled her against his body. “Now that’s ridiculous.
How could anyone not like you?”

Ellie squelched her disgust.
Standing, she cleared her throat and slapped her thighs loudly.

Startled, Jake and Carla veered
their heads in her direction. “Oh Ellie, I didn’t see you,” said her dad.

Ellie nodded and picked up her
things, trying to avoid her stepmother’s scowl. Walking toward them, she asked,
“What’s going on?”

Carla wrapped a possessive arm
through Jake’s. “Your father has invited a friend and his son to
live
at
the farm for awhile.”

Her father sighed. “You make it
sound like they’re coming as burdens or something.”

Carla’s gave him a disgusted
look. “In my opinion, they
are
burdens. I don’t know why they’re coming
and I don’t care. I’m going to the house.” She stalked away.

Ellie asked, “Want to explain to
me why these people are coming?”

Jake leaned against the fence
railing. Ellie mimicked her father’s posture and waited. On the other side of
the fence cows plucked lazily at the grass. Ellie thought about the simplicity
of the life of an animal. Nature provided for them. They didn’t fret over what
would happen, day to day. They lived in the moment.

Ellie released a breath and
waited for her father’s reply. She wasn’t in a hurry. She could stand and watch
the beauty of nature all day. Her father’s voice sounded thick as he sought
understanding. “It’s really not a big deal. Do you remember Shane Wiseman?” She
nodded and studied his work roughened hands as he gestured with them. “He’s
fallen on hard times and, well, lately, running the farm alone has gotten more
difficult. So I thought we could help each other. He and his son are going to
stay in the old cabin and lend a hand for a small salary; nothing major.”

Ellie shrugged. “Sounds okay to
me.”

Jake glanced at the house. “I
wish Carla felt the same way. I think she’s worried because Shane was friends
with your mother and me.”

Ellie patted his arm wanting to
give a measure of comfort. “I’m sure everything will work out. And when they
get here, I bet Carla will be just fine. By the way, when are they arriving?”

“They’ll be here tomorrow.”

****

The truck’s wheels rotated,
eating up the miles. Flat land with stray trees and occasional buildings
flashed past. Deep in Alabama a small replica of the Statue of Liberty caught
the eye of passersby, causing an immediate sense of patriotism.

“Its beautiful country, isn’t it,
Nicholas?” said his father as he steered north bound along the interstate.

Nicholas nodded in agreement
because he didn’t feel able to speak. The dream was still fresh in his mind.
Swallowing hard, he wondered if he’d cried out in his sleep. Had his father
seen his distress?

He glanced sideways, and for the
first time in months, noticed that Shane Wiseman actually appeared happy. His
dad’s fingers drummed the steering wheel in rhythm to a tune blaring from the
radio and his lips twitched upward. A light shined behind the old man’s pale
blue eyes. While Nicholas watched, however, his father’s smile faded and a line
creased his forehead. Shane said, “Nick, you really don’t have to do this, you
know.”

Before Nicholas could reply, his
dad continued, “I know you think I need help, but really I don’t. I can do this
on my own.” Nicholas started to interrupt, but Shane stopped him with an
upraised hand. “Listen son, truth is, I relied on your mother for just about
everything. She liked to feel needed. And now that she’s gone, well, I can take
care of myself.” He sighed, “Heck, I’m glad you’re coming with me. I just don’t
want you to feel obligated to help dear old dad.”

Nicholas noted the half-smile,
half-grimace on his father’s face. Nodding his understanding, he shifted his
focus back outside the passenger window. His anger remained too close to the
surface. Sharing his true feelings wouldn’t accomplish anything. What was done
was done, and it could never be rectified.

Memories flooded of a generous,
loving woman—a woman who had cared for her family, helped the elderly, visited
the sick, and taken food to shut-ins; a woman who had organized bake sales and
fundraisers to raise money for homeless shelters; a woman, wife, and mother,
who had wanted to make the world a better place. Nicholas could only view her
as a saint.

His chest tightened and he
released a pent up breath. He missed his mother more with each passing day. It
didn’t matter that he was twenty-six years old, a military veteran, or a
college graduate. He still missed her like a small child who’s been away from
his mother too long.

Two years ago, Amy Denise
Wiseman, had been diagnosed with a rare form of cancer. With her normal
intrepid nature, she’d fought with every fiber of her being. She’d followed her
doctor’s orders to the letter. When his treatments had failed, alternative
medicines and remedies had been sought and explored. But in the end, nothing
helped.

Nicholas had been on tour in
Afghanistan and received frequent updates from his father. Most of the updates
were of her degenerating condition. When he’d gone missing, all he could think
about was how it would affect his mother’s illness. He’d tried to ignore his
inner turmoil, believing his mother was invincible; that she could overcome
this latest challenge.

Months after being freed, he’d
been ready to sign reenlistment papers, but received the dreaded call. The one
he’d hoped would never come.

“Son, I’m afraid your mother’s
not going to make it.”

Nicholas had declined to sign the
papers and immediately sought emergency leave. When he’d arrived home, his
mother’s frail body could do nothing more than breathe. Helpless, he’d sat by
her side and held the hand of someone who had helped so many. Amy Wiseman was
nothing more than a shell. Then she died.

The funeral was packed. People
from every walk of life wanted to attend and share their memories of this
wonderful woman. Cancer patients from the hospital shared how she had
encouraged them. Doctors shared her courage and fortitude. Everyone had a fond
memory to pass along. Nicholas had listened and filed the testimonies away.
Yet, to this day, bitterness and resentment over her death ruled his life.

After the funeral, his father had
taken him aside. “Nick, we need to talk.” The serious tone of Shane’s voice had
made Nicholas’ heart skip a beat. They’d sat together on the couch with Shane
wringing his hands. Nicholas had covered them with his own and listened to his
father. “I want you to know I tried everything. I…well…I had to make some tough
decisions while your mother was sick.”

“I understand.” His dad’s
uneasiness instilled fear of what was to come.

“I mortgaged the house to pay for
her treatments and the bank is foreclosing.”

Nicholas remembered shouting, “What
about the insurance? You paid them for years and–”

His father had placed his arm
around Nicholas, offering a reassuring squeeze. “They did pay. They paid a lot.
But what they paid for didn’t work. I searched the internet and found experimental
treatments. The insurance company had a panel review my request for alternative
care, but in the end, their answer was no. Your mother insisted it wasn’t worth
losing the house, our savings, everything, just to try unproven treatments. But
I told her I’d risk losing
everything
to save her.” His shoulders
sagged. “And I did.”

After hearing his father’s
confession, it had taken Nicholas days to work through his shock. When he could
think clearly again, he’d contacted the bank and did everything but beg on his
knees for a reprieve, but with no luck.

The house had foreclosed and most
of its possessions sold to cover funeral costs and medical bills. When things
couldn’t look worse, his father had received a letter terminating his
employment. In a week’s time their whole world had turned upside down.

Although his father encouraged
him to go back in the military or start a career with his degree, Nicholas
couldn’t leave his dad alone in such a situation. The decision to stay and
assist was the reason he was now speeding down the highway to a new and unknown
destiny.