Christine Dorsey (24 page)

Now that she sat under the hot sun, her body stiff and uncomfortable in the confining stays, Samantha wondered just what had been in her mind when she’d dressed that morning. Oh, she always wore something better than work clothes to visit, but this she did for Jake Morgan. And he hadn’t said a word.

If his expression was an indication, he didn’t like her looks at all. Well, that was fine with her. She didn’t even want to be making this silly trip. It wasn’t going to do any good. Samantha cast a quick glance to her side. Her eyes opened wider in surprise. She’d been so busy watching for his reaction to her, she hadn’t noticed him. She did now and a frown formed on her lips.

“It’s not going to help, you know.”

“What’s not?” Jake flicked the reins.

“Getting rid of your Rebel uniform. They’re going to know anyway.”

“What, do I have a giant R carved in my forehead?” Jake twisted to stare at her from beneath his hat.

Samantha ignored his sarcasm. “Word gets around. They’ll know. And they’ll wonder why you’re worried about protecting anyone from Landis Moore.”

“Maybe you should do the talking then.”

“That wouldn’t be much better,” Samantha mumbled.

Jake shifted when his knee brushed against hers. She appeared not to notice, just continued to stare off toward the horizon. Fields of wild sunflowers swayed in the breeze, their large heads bowing, but Jake didn’t think she even noticed. He didn’t know why she was so against talking to neighbors about their common enemy. To Jake it seemed the logical thing to do.

But then, he wasn’t an expert on logic of late. It certainly didn’t make sense for him to still be here.

Hadn’t he decided one night when the cries of the wounded precluded any sleep that there were no righteous causes? Yet here he was on his way to meet with a bunch of hardened Yankee sympathizers to push for a cause that wasn’t his. And worse yet, the person whose cause it was didn’t want him doing it.

He guided the horses off the main road, thanks to a nudge from Will. Samantha hadn’t said a thing, and Jake was sure she’d have let him drive right past the Nelson farm.

Like the Lowery place, Nelson’s buildings were crude by Virginia standards. But their house was larger than Samantha’s, having several additions fanning out from the main structure. They weren’t big, though Jake guessed one to be a kitchen and the other an extra bedroom.

Before Jake halted the wagon, a woman with a young child perched low on her hip and another tugging at her skirts appeared on the porch. She fanned back limp strawberry blond hair and used the same hand to shade her eyes.

“That’s Loni Nelson,” Samantha volunteered as she reached under the seat for one of the pies. She smoothed a napkin over the golden crust. “She lost her younger brother in the war, so I’d—”

“I’ll watch my step,” Jake grumbled before vaulting off the seat.

“How are you doing, Loni?” Samantha twisted away from Jake’s hands the moment her feet hit the packed earth.

“Doing fine, Samantha.” Loni brushed at an older child who peeked from behind her skirts. “Run and get your pa. Tell him we got company.”

Samantha held out the pie, her smile tentative. “I did some baking this morning and thought—”

“We don’t want no trouble. We just...” Loni’s voice trailed off as her eyes caught her husband coming toward the house.

“I don’t want trouble either, Loni.” Samantha paused and turned to follow the older woman’s gaze. “Hello, Seth. This is Jacob Morgan.”

To this point Jake had been standing, his hat hanging by his side, wondering what was going on. Obviously Samantha knew these people and they knew her, but there was none of the friendly hospitality he’d expected.

Jake stuck out his hand toward Seth Nelson and tried to ignore the slight hesitation before he took it. “I heard Samantha had herself someone working her place.”

“For a while anyway,” Jake responded, then nodded toward the woman.

“Well.” Samantha was getting mighty tired of holding the pie in front of her like some sort of offering. “If we could come in for a bit...”

“Suit yourself.” Loni Nelson’s invitation was hardly gracious but she did move herself and her brood away from the door.

“It was my idea to come,” Jake began after the adults were seated around a scarred oak table.

Will was in the corner by the rocking chair, his own piece of pie forgotten, while he helped the two youngest Nelson children with theirs.

Samantha looked up, her fork poised, when Jake spoke. “It wasn’t entirely his idea.” Her eyes met Jake’s. “I mean...” She couldn’t lie with him looking at her like that.

“Samantha... Miss Lowery has been having trouble with some raiders.” Jake pushed his pie aside. “She thinks it’s Landis Moore. And we’ve heard you might have a similar problem.”

Jake leaned forward, his elbows on the table, and watched Loni and Seth exchange a slow glance. “Now what I’m thinking is that we should get together and go to the sheriff, and if that doesn’t work, we could band together and fight this—”

“We don’t want any trouble!’ Seth Nelson echoed his wife’s words from earlier.

“And I’m not proposing any.” Jake shifted back, trying to keep his tone conversational. But he could feel the tension in the air and a quick glance around the room showed him that all the Nelson children old enough to talk were listening to every word. “Seems to me, trouble’s already here.”

“Maybe.” Seth rose, grabbing his platter with large, raw-boned hands. “But I’ll not be making it any worse.”

“How can you say that when he rides in and shoots up your place? He does do that, doesn’t he? Because that’s what he does at Samantha’s.”

“What goes on at my own farm is no concern of yours.” Seth dropped the plate back on the table. “I have chores to do.”

Samantha watched him stalk through the door. She knew it would be like this, but a tiny part of her had hoped differently. That same part turned her toward Loni, reaching for her sleeve with her fingers. “He has to see we can’t let Moore go on this way. He forced the Colts out. He owns their farm now.”

Loni jerked her arm away. “All I see is that if there’s trouble brewing, you seem to be in the twix of it.”

“That’s not fair.” Samantha let the hand she’d used to touch Loni fall to her lap.

“Lots of things ain’t fair out here.” Loni pushed back from the table. “Now I’ll be thanking you for the pie... and asking you to leave.” Her light hazel gaze fell on Jake. “And take him with you.”

Three more pies; three more less-than-enthusiastic welcomes.

His reception he could understand. He was a stranger—and one who’d embraced a different side in a war freshly over. But Samantha? What could have happened for her to receive the animosity of her neighbors?

By the time Jake had unharnessed the horses and fed them, shades of purple faded the sky into the horizon. He didn’t expect much in the way of supper but even Samantha’s warmed-overs were tasty. Still, Will headed for the loft before he did the stew justice.

The day had been tiresome and disappointing. On the ride home, Jake hadn’t mentioned any of what had happened, but he wasn’t going to let more time go by without getting some answers.

He suspected Samantha knew why he hung around after she cleared the table. Taking a deep breath, she sat in the chair across from him and folded her hands on the table.

Her eyes were direct; his question the same. “What aren’t you telling me?”

W
hat aren’t you telling me? Such a simple question with such a complex answer. Where should she begin? Taking a deep breath, Samantha decided on the beginning.

“I don’t know how much you know about Kansas history.”

“I read the papers.” Jake rubbed his fingers across his jaw. “Listen, Samantha, I’m not interested in a school lesson. I want to know why your neighbors treat you like you’re carrying the plague.”

“Because to them I am!” Samantha stood so quickly she had to grab the back of her chair to keep it from tipping over. She turned away from Jake’s astonished stare and paced to the stove. “Do you want some coffee?” she offered, lifting the battered enamel pot with her balled-up apron.

“No.”

Of course he didn’t. He wanted answers. Samantha set the pot down and returned to her chair. “I need to give you a little background.”

“I’m listening.”

“My family came here in ’55. We... my father was an abolitionist.” Samantha shook her head. “I told you this before, but I want you to understand. To my father, abolition wasn’t just a theory. He truly believed in the evils of slavery and was willing to sacrifice...” Samantha paused and her gaze collided with Jake’s before focusing on a spot behind his left shoulder. “Much,” she continued. “He was willing to sacrifice a lot.

“At first it seemed like an adventure. Kansas was nothing like our home in Massachusetts, but... Luke was thirteen and I was twelve, and Pa said we came to stop the spread of slavery. He was going to vote in the elections to make Kansas join the Union as a free state.”

She was taking her time getting to the point, but Jake tried to be patient. He watched her lovely face sadden and leaned toward her. But she didn’t seem to notice.

“Then my mother died.” Samantha’s voice was low. “She never did adjust to this place, to living without... comforts. When she took sick, there was no doctor and she was just too weak and fragile to fight.”

Like Lydia, Jake found himself thinking, then forced his mind back to what Samantha was saying. She straightened, seemingly making an effort to shake off her grief.

“Pa changed after that. He no longer seemed content to fight slavery with his vote or even the sermons he gave to our neighbors.” Samantha rose and retraced her steps to the stove. She was reaching for the coffee pot when she remembered Jake didn’t want any.

“Pa started traveling all over the territory, even into Missouri, preaching against slavery.” Samantha rubbed her hands down along her skirt. “People started thinking he was crazy or something. But he wasn’t.” Samantha turned to stare at Jake. For some reason it was important for him to understand. “He just got carried away out of grief.”

“Who took care of the farm while he was off ... abolitioning?” Jake had a suspicion he knew but he wanted to hear her say it.

“Luke and me. Will wasn’t much more than a baby.”

Neither were you, Jake wanted to say, but didn’t. He wished Samantha’s father were here so he could tell him what he thought of his going off and leaving them. But that wouldn’t change what had already happened. He should know that better than anyone.

“How does Landis Moore fit into this?” Jake wanted to know.

Samantha shook her head. “He mixed with my pa like oil and water. Landis lives across the border in Missouri. There were five boys... brothers, counting Ab. He’s the one you met on the road. Kind of dull-witted.

“Anyway, at first Moore didn’t take my pa very seriously. But the more they crossed paths, the worse it got.” Samantha sank into her seat. “I tried talking to Pa. Luke did too. But it didn’t do any good. Pa wanted to unite the farmers around here.” Her eyes met Jake’s. “He wanted them to fight this evil... and its disciple, Landis Moore.

“Most of them ignored him. They had enough to do just getting their crops in and harvested without worrying about abolishing slavery. But a few of them listened, even came to the rallies my father held.

“Each of those families had something bad happen to their farms. The Andersons’ cow turned up dead... shot. The Hazards’ garden was destroyed. And the Nelsons’ barn burned to the ground.

“When the war started and Luke went off to join up, I thought things would get better. Word was that the Moore boys, except for Ab, had enlisted in the Confederate Army.”

“What happened?” Jake unconsciously lifted his hand to comfort Samantha, but stopped when he realized what he was doing.

“One night.” Samantha’s voice sounded distant. “Luke was gone. Will and I were asleep. The noise woke me. Shooting and yelling... awful things.” Samantha swallowed.

“Like the other night.” A sudden vision of her huddled by the window, face stark white, eyes huge and dark, came to him. He knew she was frightened... more than frightened when he burst through the door. But he didn’t know she was reliving a horror from her past.

She looked at him now, her bottom lip caught between small white teeth, and nodded, then trying to keep her voice steady, she continued, “They came through the door and grabbed Pa. I tried to get to the gun, but I couldn’t. Someone knocked me against the wall and dragged Pa out.

“The next morning I found him down by the creek... dead. They’d cut him... and hanged him.”

Samantha took a deep breath and hurried on before Jake could say anything. “The sheriff didn’t want to believe it was the Moore brothers. I didn’t get a good look at them. They wore kerchiefs over their faces,” she explained. “But I knew.

“Sheriff Hughes made a halfhearted attempt to find Pa’s killers. But he wouldn’t cross over into Missouri.”

“So that was the end of it,” said Jake, then pushed away from the table and strode to the window, staring out into the darkness. He remained calm because she was. But he wanted to pound his fist into the wall and curse the Fates that would allow this to happen.