Dorothy Clark (4 page)

It had been a...thoughtful...gesture.... All that...rain...

Chapter Five

A
horse’s hoofs thumped on the carriage way, and buggy wheels crunched over the gravel. Her stomach flopped. Sadie frowned and covered the teapot with a towel to keep it hot. She wasn’t ready to face callers. Perhaps Nanna would go to the door.

She stepped to the window, open in the hope of catching a breeze, pushed aside the curtain and looked toward the stable. A tall, handsomely dressed man was lifting a woman down from a black phaeton. She skimmed her gaze over the woman’s attractive green gown and caught her breath at the sight of a thick roll of chestnut hair gleaming red in the sunlight beneath a green hat.
Willa.

Joy swelled. She whirled away from the window, rushed out the kitchen door. “Willa!” Tears clogged her throat, spilled from her eyes as she raced down the length of the porch.

“Sadie?”
Willa stopped dead in her tracks, then lifted her hems and clattered up the steps like they had as children.

She stretched out her arms and was enveloped in a mutual hug, danced around in circles with Willa, laughing and crying, their voices blending as they choked out words. “It’s so good to see you!”

“I’ve missed you so!”

“It’s been so long!”

“So terribly long!”

A throat cleared. “Excuse me, ladies. But if you will let me pass, I will attend to my business inside while you continue your reunion.” There was amused patience in the deep, resonant male voice.

She blinked away her tears and looked over Willa’s shoulder straight into a pair of smiling brown eyes.

“Welcome home, Miss Spencer. I’m the forgotten man—Matthew Calvert, Willa’s husband, at your service.” A lopsided grin slanted across his lips. “At least I will be if I can come up on the porch.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I—”

“He’s only teasing, Sadie.” Willa’s hand gripped her arm and tugged her aside. “I keep telling him it’s very unprofessional behavior for a pastor.”

“And I keep explaining that we all have our little foibles.”

She listened to Matthew Calvert’s laughter, watched the warm, loving look Willa and her husband exchanged and something stirred deep inside. Envy? Ridiculous. She wanted no part of any man, let alone marriage. The very thought of it made her ill. She stepped toward the dining-room door. “Forgive my lapse of manners, Reverend Calvert. Please come in.”

He moved to her side and smiled down at her. “There’s no need for the formal address, Miss Spencer. I am Matthew to Willa’s friends.”

She caught the hopeful look in Willa’s eyes and smiled but couldn’t bring herself to offer him her hand. She grabbed the doorknob as an excuse to withhold it. “I’m Sadie—to Willa’s husband.”

She tried to make it amusing, but acknowledgment of her limited acceptance flickered in his brown eyes, followed by a look of compassion that made her throat constrict. He knew. Willa had told him. A flush of shame prickled her skin.

“Sadie it is. Now, if you will excuse me, I shall go pay my call on your grandparents while you ladies visit.”

“They’re in the sitting room. I’ll show you—”

“No need, Sadie. I know the way. And Willa will never forgive me if I steal one minute of your time.” He grinned and walked into the house.

She closed the door on his retreating figure. If only it were as easy to shut out the past.

“I’m sorry, Sadie. I know I promised to never speak of what happened, but I had to tell Matthew.” Willa placed a hand on her arm, held her gaze. “He wondered why you didn’t come home to visit with your grandmother being ill. And when your grandfather had his seizure...well...I didn’t know if you would come. And I couldn’t let Matthew think it was because you were uncaring.”

But now he would always look at her with the knowledge of Payne Aylward’s attack in his mind—the same as everyone else in Pinewood. She pushed aside the shame, smiled and squeezed Willa’s hand. “You always were protective of me.”

Relief flashed in her friend’s blue-green eyes. “Well, I am older than you.” A smile curved her lips at their old childhood contention.

“By three months.” She gave Willa another quick hug. “It isn’t age, my friend, it’s a matter of courage. I was woefully lacking in that attribute as a child, and I still am. Now—” She linked their arms and started for the kitchen door. “I’ve just made tea, in spite of the heat. Let’s bring it out here on the porch and visit. You can tell me all about becoming a wife and the mother of two young children at the same time. I can see now how Matthew won your heart. What you wrote me about his grin is true—it really is disarming.”

* * *

The cravat at his throat was a misery in the heat, and his Sunday suit wasn’t much better. Cole shifted in the saddle and shot a quick glance up at the sun. He’d rip the cravat off right now if—

Was that a scream?

He frowned and urged Cloud into a trot around the bend. Dust swirled in the air, gritty against his perspiring face. He squinted his eyes and spotted a buggy jouncing and jolting side to side on the road ahead, dirt spewing from beneath its wobbling wheels. The Conklins?

Women’s shouts and screams mingled with the thunder of the horse’s hoofs.

A
runaway.

He started forward, then stopped. He’d never overtake them on the straight road. He eyed the distance to the incline where the road made a sharp bend at the top, judged the angle required to get in front of the careening buggy, and reined Cloud into the field. “Let’s go, boy!” He kicked him into a run, watching the buggy. If they entered that curve before he reached them...

The gelding raced through the tall grasses, gathered itself and jumped a small creek, pounded along the beaten path that led from the water to a copse of trees that bordered the low hill and the Gardner farm. A quick glance at the dangerously swaying buggy showed they’d gained ground and would beat the buggy to the hill.

Trees broke across his vision. He jerked his gaze to the narrow path ahead, leaned low to avoid overhanging branches and urged Cloud on, picturing the area in his head. The stock path trailed left away from the road, but there was a break in the trees... There! He reined Cloud right, heard pounding hoofs and glanced over his shoulder. Frothy sweat covered the heaving chest of the panicked horse running toward them, flew from its driving haunches.
Close.

“Come on boy!” He kicked his heels, and Cloud leaped forward, thundering onto the road a short distance in front of the wild-eyed runaway, his muscles bunching and stretching to maintain his small lead. “Steady, boy, steady.”

He risked another glance over his shoulder and glimpsed the two Conklin women in a tumbled heap in the driver’s corner of the seat, no reins in sight.
“Put on the brake!”
One of the women lunged for the brake lever. He turned back, leaned forward as they started up the grade.
Please, Lord, let this work!

Cloud raced on beneath his urging. He tilted his head toward his shoulder, listened to the thundering hoofs behind him and risked turning for another look when their pounding rhythm slowed. Their lead had increased. It was working! The applied brake and the slope of the hill were proving too much for the tiring horse.

“Ease up, boy.” He slowed Cloud and reined him to the left. The runaway caught up and ran with them neck and neck. He leaned down, grabbed for the cheek strap of the horse’s bridle, missed and tried again. The leather strap tugged against his fingers. He tightened his grip, the muscles of his arm and shoulder fighting the force of the horse’s thrusting head. “Easy, girl. Easy...”

He settled deeper in the saddle, tugged harder—the mare’s head turned, its gait faltered. He held the straining head facing him and reined in Cloud, forcing the mare to slow her wild run. They entered the sharp bend at a trot, the buggy swaying wildly but remaining upright. “Whoa, girl. It’s all right. Everything is all right.” He kept his voice low, talked the horse calm as he slowed Cloud to a walk, then stopped.

“Good girl.” Cole tightened his grip on the cheek strap and slipped from the saddle, willing his hands and voice to stay steady as he reached to where the reins passed through the terrets on the harness saddle and grabbed hold. That had been close! Too close. He loosed his grip on the cheek strap and stroked the mare’s quivering, sweat-covered neck. The bay dropped its head and barreled air into its heaving chest.

He turned, playing the dangling reins through his firm grip as he stepped to the buggy. Enid and Chloe Conklin were untangling themselves from the corner of the seat. “Are you ladies all right?”

“Seems so.” Enid’s voice shook. She tugged her hat to rights and looked down at him, her face pale, her eyes wide with shock. “Thank you, Mr. Aylward. You saved us from a sure accident.” She grabbed the dashboard and scooted over on the seat, giving Chloe room. “Fool mare! I don’t know what spooked her like that.”

“It was a fox, Mother. I saw it run across the road.” Chloe pushed herself to a sitting position, twisted her bodice into place and gave him a shaky smile. “I’m so thankful you happened along, Mr. Aylward. I lost the reins when I grabbed hold of the dashboard to keep from being thrown out of the buggy.”

“I’m glad to have been able to help.” He glanced at her trembling hands, turned and fastened the reins to a sturdy branch. “I’ll look the buggy over, make sure nothing’s broken.” He tugged his handkerchief from his pocket, wiped the sweat and grit from his face, then stepped to the driver’s side and checked the wheels and hubs. The undercarriage looked fine. A rustle of fabric drew his attention. He glanced over his shoulder and watched Chloe climb from the buggy and turn toward the horses.

“You’d best move slow and speak quiet, Miss Conklin. That mare could be spooked easy right now.”

She turned and smiled. “It’s your horse I’m going to pet, Mr. Aylward. He has a brave, staunch heart—like his owner. He deserves our thanks. As do you.” Pink flowed into her cheeks. Her smile warmed. “I’ll be careful.”

He nodded and turned back to finish his inspection, man enough to dwell on the meaning of that blush and feel a little set up by it. His ego had taken quite a beating since Sadie Spencer had returned.

“Of all the days for Henry to have to stay home from church! I hope that foal he was waiting to help birth proves out steadier than this new mare.” Enid Conklin peered out of the buggy toward him. “Everything all right?”

“So far.” He walked to the back of the buggy, peered beneath, then moved on to check the other wheels and finally the traces. “I don’t see any sign of damage, Mrs. Conklin, but you’d best have Henry give things a closer look when you get home.”

“I’ll do that. And he can get rid of this fidgety mare, too.” A scowl pulled Enid Conklin’s brows together. “I don’t aim to have another ride like this one again.”

“Can’t say I blame you.” He loosed the reins from the branch and handed them up to the older woman, who had taken the driver’s seat.

“I thank you for reminding us to pull on the brake, young man. I forgot all about it in the struggle to keep from being thrown out, but I should have remembered. Henry won’t be pleased about that. I’m not.”

“I’m sure Henry will be so pleased you and Miss Conklin are safe, he won’t give it a thought.”

“Perhaps.” She smiled down at him. “I’d like to thank you proper, Mr. Aylward, and I’m sure Henry will, too. Would you come for dinner?”

“What a lovely idea, Mother.”

Chloe stepped up beside him, leading Cloud. The warmth, the interest in her eyes was balm for the fear in Sadie Spencer’s eyes whenever he came near her, but Sadie might be the wiser of the two. She was certainly the one that drew him. He held back a frown.

“I hope you are able to join us, Mr. Aylward. It would give you and your horse a chance to cool off before you ride on home. Our house stays fairly cool, even during a day as hot as this one.” Chloe smiled and held out her hand toward him.

He took Cloud’s reins, careful not to let his hand touch hers. He’d been very cautious about even a casual, accidental touch of a young woman these past four years. “I’m afraid not. I have to get to the Townsends’ place. Manning is waiting for me.” He shifted his gaze to Enid. “I thank you for the kind invitation, Mrs. Conklin.” He mounted, feeling boorish for not helping Chloe into the buggy, but she was too friendly to encourage. “I’ll ride along with you until the turnoff to make sure everything is all right. Let’s go, boy.”

Cloud moved out in front of the buggy, and he held him at a walk, giving the Conklins’ new mare no chance to break into a run. He was already late and wanted no more trouble. Manning would be wondering where he was. Manning. He huffed out a breath. It wasn’t the image of the elderly man’s gray-bearded face that had been filling his head all during church.

He looked down and brushed at the dust on his suit, scowled at the small, jagged tear in the right sleeve. He’d hoped when Sadie saw him in his Sunday clothes it would help set him apart from Payne in her eyes. That she’d at least entertain consideration of him as an upstanding, churchgoing man and look at him with respect instead of disgust and fear. There was little hope of that now.

He lifted a hand in farewell as he passed the turnoff to the Conklin farm and urged Cloud into an easy lope.

* * *

“Joshua and Sally sound absolutely delightful, Willa. How fortunate they are to have you for their mother.” Sadie rose and reached for the teapot to hide the sorrow and regret that surely showed on her face. She would never be a mother. Payne Aylward had destroyed that dream.

“And Matthew for their father.” Willa smiled and held out her empty cup. “It took a while before they stopped calling him Uncle and me Miss Wright, but we are Mama and Papa to them now. God has made us into a true family. I never knew such love was possible.”

There was a warm contentment in Willa’s voice. A yearning to know such happiness swept through Sadie. She frowned at the foolish hope, poured Willa more tea, then refilled her own cup. She would gladly settle for freedom from fear, and peace of mind. “I’m truly happy for you, Willa.” Honey dribbled from the spoon she held over the top of her tea. “And for Callie as well. Is she as happy as she writes in her letters?”