Brides of Ohio (7 page)

Daniel glanced at him with slightly narrowed eyes and nodded. “No. I understand you brought him here on business. Why don’t we have a seat?”

Once they were settled, Mr. O’Conner spoke. “Daniel, I’ve been told you’re willing to sell Mr. Carr the farm.”

“Yes, I’ve been told the same.” Daniel rested his eyes on Carr.

The man looked back at him confidently, not at all bothered by the younger man’s statement. He settled back in his seat and smiled.

“I’ve heard the folks up at that college over in Delaware … What’s the name?” he asked.

“Ohio Wesleyan,” Daniel replied.

“That’s the one. Anyway, they’re wantin’ to make you more than just an instructor now.” A grin produced folds of wrinkles on either side of the older man’s face. “News of you rescuing a bunch of our boys from the Rebs made its way up here. They’re talking about making you a professor.”

Daniel thought his heart might leap straight out of his chest, but he quickly reined in his excited emotions. “Well, I’m sure the story was greatly exaggerated. It was only about five men.”

“Six as I heard tell it.”

“One of the Confederates got Nate Stephens as he tried to make a run for it,” Daniel replied quietly. “We tried to go back for him, but the gunfire was too thick.”

Carr shook his head sadly. “Shame. His wife couldn’t keep up with the farm. I forgave the debt provided she returned the land to me.”

Daniel looked away from Carr, irritated. Nathaniel Stephens had not only been one of his men but a good family friend. Their farm had been his and Adele’s dream. He had rented the land from Carr several seasons before the war. Jonah had helped him plow up the numerous rocks and build a small frame house. Their son, Jacob, had been born there. Nate had made a good profit even those first years, according to Jonah, so much so Daniel couldn’t quite believe he still owed on the property.

Carr spoke, interrupting his thoughts. “Look here, Daniel. You’re all set over at the college. If you sell the farm to me, I’ll give you a fair price. With the money, you can set you and your aunt up real nice over in Delaware.” A look of pure hate crossed his face. “And you can send that little secesh packing back to where she came from.”

Daniel’s irritation quickly morphed into anger. No wonder the young woman had looked upset as she left the parlor earlier. Whatever issues Elijah Carr had in the past with Southerners, he had no right to take out his rage on such a considerate young woman. He clenched his fist, fighting the desire to strike the greedy, hateful look out of Elijah Carr’s eyes. A quick prayer for calm and guidance caused his hands to relax, and the tightness in his chest began to loosen. He looked over at his parents’ lawyer. “What’s the value of the farm right now, Mr. O’Conner?”

Mr. O’Conner scribbled a figure on a scrap of paper and handed it to Daniel.

He looked at it and knew Carr was right. He could find someplace quite nice in Delaware for himself and his aunt. And while he had no desire to send Miss Wallace “packing,” if she had family she would rather be with, he could afford a train ticket for her to just about anywhere.

His heart pounded. He had loved his time at Ohio Wesleyan; his years there as a student and the brief time he had been an instructor at the institution had been very rewarding. He had always dreamed of one day becoming a professor. As much as he admired his family’s dedication and hard work on the farm, he knew in his heart farming wasn’t his path. In his prayers he had always come away with the feeling that becoming a professor was in line with God’s will.

This is Your will, isn’t it, Father?

Daniel nearly gasped out loud at the unmistakable prodding he felt from his Lord.

Looking up, he saw Elijah Carr’s eyes now held a glint of triumph in addition to the hardness and greed that usually rested there.

He rose. “I’m sorry, Mr. Carr,” he said quietly. “This farm has been in my family’s hands for two generations. I feel obliged to keep it that way.”

K
atherine opened her eyes. It was still dark, but she could hear the sound of the birds’ quiet chirpings as they greeted the coming day. She smiled sleepily as she sat up in bed.

The wildlife here was refreshingly different than what she had grown up with—no green anoles scurrying up the walls, no tree frogs making a shocking amount of noise in the evening. And the insects seemed tiny compared to those in South Carolina. She supposed it must have something to do with the weather. It was so much crisper here, not heavy and damp, although Mary had told her summers here could get just as hot and humid. Best of all, her friend had laughingly assured her there were absolutely no gators in Mill Creek. Alligators were a regular danger on the Congaree, and she had never been permitted to go too close to the river.

Mill Creek was therefore an endless source of fascination for her. She especially enjoyed one particular place along its banks where large rocks provided a perfect place to sit and pray or just enjoy God’s creation.

As she pulled on an old work dress she had borrowed from Mary, she remembered it was Sunday. The lighthearted feeling she had woken with ebbed a little. She and Mary hadn’t planned on going to services today with her ankle so bad. But with the president’s death, surely everyone would be attending church. It wouldn’t be proper to stay away.

Her mood sobered further as her thoughts turned to Daniel and the aftermath of his conversation with Mr. Carr. She hadn’t heard all of it, having been going in and out of the kitchen, but she and Mary had both overheard his refusal to sell the farm. The words had then become rather heated. The young major had kept his temper, but Mr. Carr had to be all but forced to leave.

Daniel had gone out to the barn after that, and she and Mary did not see him until supper. He had not said much except to explain to his aunt it would have been downright sinful to sell anything to a man so greedy. After they ate, he gathered a number of things from his room and, after insisting that Katherine continue using it, mumbled something about the barn. She assumed there was a shed of some sort he was making do with, and she felt bad she had chased him from his room. They did not see him for the rest of the evening.

She quickly twisted her hair into a loose chignon. Had he stayed away because she had been so forward earlier? What had she been thinking grabbing on to his hand like that? Daniel Kirby must think her the most brazen woman he had ever met. But the memory of those war-weary green eyes made her wonder what she would have done differently.

She shook herself.
Stop being so silly! He’s bound to have left some pretty young thing behind who’s been pining away for him
, she thought as she slipped downstairs. If that was the case, it was no wonder he had stayed away. He seemed too much of a gentleman to allow a young woman to get her hopes up.
Besides, what would he see in a drab little thing like me?

Lighting a lantern, she silently hurried out of the house and walked over to the barn. If she was quiet, she should be able to get through the chores without waking him.

The Kirbys’ big red barn was nestled into one side of the hill. The upper floor was level with the ground on one side, while on the other, the stone basement, where the horses and cows were kept, was exposed. The upper level stored hay, grain, a wagon, and a four-wheeled carriage. A shed for sheep was built onto the south end of the barn, and the pigs had a separate sty north of the building.

Katherine descended a set of stairs near the hay mow to feed the stock. When she had finished, she lingered outside Scioto’s stall to admire the animal. He was a beautiful mahogany bay Morgan without any white markings that she could see. And his size matched that of his master’s. The horse paused to nudge her shoulder gently with his nose, and she smiled and gently patted his neck as he returned to his feed.

“He likes you.”

Katherine gave a small gasp and turned around to see Daniel standing at the bottom of the stairs, a sheepish grin on his face. “I’m sorry. I really shouldn’t keep doing that.”

She placed her free hand on her chest. “I must admit you do have a way of sneaking up on a body.”

“A necessity of war.” His smile waned as he spoke, and Katherine silently chastised herself. He joined her at Scioto’s stall and rubbed the horse’s neck. The lamplight fell fully on his face.

“You shaved,” she blurted out, and immediately felt her face turning four shades of red. She lowered the lantern slightly to dim the view of her face.

His smile returned, and he rubbed his face. “I never cared for a beard, especially during planting season. Gets too hot.”

“Oh.” She swallowed and searched for something to say, but he spoke first.

“About yesterday …,” he began. He stopped for a moment, and Katherine held her breath. He was going to bring up her brazen behavior, she was sure of it. She was shocked when he apologized. “I’m sorry for the way I behaved yesterday after Mr. Carr and Mr. O’Conner left. I hope I didn’t upset you and Aunt Mary.”

“Oh, th–that’s quite all right, Major Kirby,” she stammered. She was relieved when a cow lowed from her pen. “I really should be getting to the milking.”

“I’ll help. I’ve been up for a while now. Seen to the sheep and the swine.”

“I hope you slept well, Major Kirby,” Katherine said as they made their way toward the row of sweet-faced Jersey cows. “I’m terribly sorry you had to sleep in a drafty old shed.”

“I wasn’t in a shed.” A small smile crossed his handsome face. “And actually, it was the best night’s sleep I’ve had in a long while.”

“Then where on earth did you sleep?” Her gaze wandered curiously to the spare stall next to Scioto.

He chuckled. “I didn’t sleep there either. Come here, and I’ll show you.”

Katherine followed him to the area that separated the horses and cows where a straw mow and the barn’s root cellar were situated. He stepped inside the cellar, and she saw that one of the bins had been pushed off to the side to reveal a trap door. Daniel pulled on the door’s iron ring and took the lantern from Katherine. He lowered it down the hole far enough for her to see a small room, complete with a cot and a small shelf.

“You cannot mean to tell me you slept down there last night, Major Kirby!” she exclaimed. “All shut up in a hole in the ground?”

He raised the lantern out of the trap door and shut it. “I left the door open while I slept,” he reassured her. “I only shut it this morning so no one takes a bad fall.”

Katherine’s brows knit together. “If I had known this was where you intended to sleep …”

“It wouldn’t have made a difference.” His eyes held a gentle firmness, and the light from the lantern highlighted their soft green depths.

She bit her lip and looked back down toward the door, glad for the dim light. “What is it doing here in the barn?” When he didn’t answer right away, she turned to see him looking sober. “I’m so sorry. Perhaps it’s none of my business.”

“No, it’s not a secret. Not anymore.” He paused. “My family’s farm used to be a stop on the Underground Railroad.”

Katherine’s eyes widened and her heart began to pound hopefully. “Can I ask … Was there ever a young woman named Chloe here? She escaped during the summer of 1860.”

“No.” Daniel stepped out of the root cellar, and she followed hesitantly, startled at the gruffness in his voice. He stopped by the cows’ stalls and after hanging up the lantern, picked up one of the milking stools that sat nearby. “By then it was just a hole in the ground.” He walked into a stall and sat down. “Time we started the milking.”

In the silence that followed, Daniel could feel Katherine’s discomfort. As she quietly settled down to work in the stall next to his, he regretted being so abrupt. She seemed nervous enough around him already, and this surely wouldn’t help. After all, she hadn’t asked him anything anyone else wouldn’t have asked. But his foolish betrayal of a runaway slave when he was ten was still a sore spot for him.
It wasn’t her fault my emotions got the better of me back then.

Within a few minutes, the urge to apologize was overwhelming. He was about to speak when her soft voice carried over from the next stall.

“Chloe was one of my father’s slaves. She and I were the same age, and we grew up together. Her mother was a house servant, so she was always nearby. Her father had been sold off not long after she was born. I had never seen slaves as anything other than automatons doing our housework, planting our fields, making us money.” She paused briefly. “I had even come to see Chloe that way. Mary taught me they were people, no different than I, with hopes and dreams and feelings and faith. I saw then how horribly wrong slavery was, and I so wanted to do something. Your aunt was teaching her slaves to read. Secretly of course. Back then it was against the law. So I began to teach Chloe how to read. Mary told me not to, and I should have listened. When my father found out …”

Her voice caught, and Daniel rose from his stool and looked over into the next stall.

The young woman sat there small and shrunken, holding a hand to her face, the milking only half done. The cow twitched her with her tail, but she didn’t notice. “My father whipped her and sold her off.” He could see the tracks her tears had made in the soft light. “I heard she escaped, but I never found out anything more.” She stopped and, looking away, began to wipe at her face. “Do excuse me, Major Kirby.”