Fairer than Morning (36 page)

“Ann.” Mrs. Sumner's voice preceded her, but then she pulled aside the curtain, her freckled face beaming. “Your father is here.”

Ann's spirits soared. They could go home to the farm with her father and Will. Despite the past week's respite from her arduous chores, she loved being home best.

When she followed Mrs. Sumner through the curtained doorway, her father was standing on the other side of the counter, his shirt rumpled, his collar open.

“My girl.” He opened his arms and she ran around the end of the counter and into his embrace. He had not called her his girl in a long while. It warmed her all through.

When she let go, he held her at arm's length and smiled. “You look well.”

“Did you deliver the Simons?”

“We have sent them on their way.” The peace with which he said it assured her that the journey had been a success. “Pack your things, and let's be off. I could do with a good scrub and my own bed.”

It took only a few minutes to gather their bags and make their goodbyes to Mrs. Sumner, with many a word of thanks.

“Ann helped me immensely, Mr. Miller. It was no trouble at all.” Mrs. Sumner smiled at Ann as she and her father exited to the street with a
ping
of the store bell. Susan and Mabel tripped after them, asking her father three or four questions at once. He laughed and told them to bide their time.

A brisk breeze stirred the curls on Ann's neck. The wagon stood outside in the mellow afternoon light, Will the apprentice in the driver's seat. He looked at her as she came out from the shelter of the porch. He seemed different to her, older. His face had a golden tint under his dark hair; his unfastened collar revealed a neck tanned by days of driving. That must be it. It was the sunlight on his skin that had transformed him so. The beaten apprentice had vanished, his starved frame replaced by broadening shoulders and the musculature of a young man in good health.

He turned away, fiddling with the reins. Was he not glad to see her?

Mr. Sumner shambled bear-like out of the barn, leading Bayberry. “Don't forget your horse, Miller.”

Her father chuckled and shook his friend's hand, then took the mare's reins. Never one to waste words, Mr. Sumner nodded farewell and walked back into his store.

“Would you like to ride in the wagon with the girls, Ann?” Her father did not move from the mare's side. “I can take Bayberry, if you wish.”

She nodded, sensing that perhaps it was her father who wished to ride, after so many days on the road with the mules. He lifted himself into the saddle and turned Bayberry's head toward home.

Will clucked to the mules and they lurched to the yoke, the wagon creeping forward until they picked up their pace to a brisk walk. They knew that home was near.

Her father rode yards ahead of the wagon on Bayberry. She sat next to Will, who drove with what seemed the ease of long practice. Behind them the girls looked over the back of the wagon and commented on whatever it was they could see in their wake.

“So the Simons are safe.” She kept her voice soft when she spoke to Will to avoid attracting the attention of the girls.

“Yes.” A look of satisfaction lit the side of his face she could see.

“And was the journey hard?”

“It had moments of . . .” He searched for words. “Trial.”

“And Mr. Lawrence took the Simons?”

“I only saw his son and a friend. But they seemed to know what they were about.” Now his mouth curved into a faint smile, though he did not look at her.

“You are glad you did it?”

He did not reply. She feared she had pried into his feelings. But with his eyes on the mules' backs, he spoke. “Yes. I would do it again. I
will
do it again.”

“It is dangerous work.” She could not dismiss a trickle of dismay, the same feeling that went through her each time her father rode away from the farm. Did they not worry they might be injured, imprisoned, or otherwise kept from those who needed them?

“Nothing worth doing will be easy.” He flicked his eyes at her, and she saw something flaring in their depths before he turned back to face the road.

“What do you mean?”

Now he clamped his mouth shut and did not answer. She was too curious of his exact meaning to be put off.

“What won't be easy?”

Reluctantly, he replied, “Serving those who need help.” She could not see his eyes, but the tightness in his voice told her that his heart was full.

She watched him for a moment before turning to look at her sisters. From the corner of her eye, she could see the curve of his shoulder as he adjusted the reins and sat up straighter.

So he did intend to help fugitives, as her father did. How strong his sense of mercy must be, to survive such abuse and scorn as his former master had heaped on him and still want to ease the sufferings of others. Her sympathy rushed out to him like an invisible cord connecting them, even as they sat three feet apart. She was sure that he must feel it as well.

“Hullo! Mr. Miller!” A call came from behind the curve they had just rounded. Hoofbeats pattered out of sight, then grew louder as a horse came into sight around the trees.

Eli.

He cantered up behind them, then trotted up by Ann at the side of the wagon.

“Good afternoon, Miss Miller.” He reined the gelding to a walk and tipped his hat to Ann. “Girls.” When he did the same for Susan and Mabel, Mabel giggled with hero worship in her eyes and clutched her sister's elbow.

Will glanced back at Eli, but neither of the young men addressed each other.

“I wondered if you might like to ride this afternoon.” Eli looked down at Ann, a smile rounding his high cheekbones into boyish appeal. “Will you come with me?”

“I don't know if my father will need me at home—”

“Then I will ask him.” He grinned and spurred his gelding to a brisk trot. When he reached Bayberry and Mr. Miller, he slowed again to a walk. Their hats bobbed as they spoke words Ann could not catch. After a minute or two, both men halted in the road.

“Whoa!” Will called, reining in the mules. As the wagon rolled to a halt, her father dismounted and led Bayberry back to the wagon.

“Mr. Bowen would like to ride with you, so I told him it would be best if you went now for a short ride and then joined us in half an hour at the house.”

“Father, don't you need me to help put the house in order?” She adjusted the lay of her skirt on the wagon boards to avoid Eli's gaze.

“We will manage. I don't want to disappoint a young man who rode in such haste to catch you.” Her father's face remained straight, though his tone was arch.

Will seemed to be ignoring the whole business from the driver's seat.

“Very well.” She stood. Her father maneuvered Bayberry close to the wagon, and as carefully as she could, she sat backward on the saddle and turned to hook her right leg over the pommel, skirt and all. Modesty preserved, she gathered the reins and clucked to Bayberry, squeezing with her left leg where it hung down by the girth. The mare swung into a walk, and Ann urged her toward Eli's gelding.

“We'll move on ahead, Mr. Miller.” Eli tipped his hat to her father, then looked over at Ann. “Shall we canter?”

She nodded. Eli's gelding took off up the road, its silver shoes flashing. Herd instinct prompted Bayberry to follow. After a few bouncing strides of trot, the mare broke into a smooth canter. Gripping both horns with her legs, Ann gave the mare some rein without allowing her to open into a gallop.

They left the wagon far behind, and then Eli turned up the road that led along the top of the valley. Below them sunlight glanced from the surface of the creek so it sparkled like a diamond necklace winding through the trees in the river bottom. Eli slowed to a trot, then to a walk. Ann cued Bayberry to slow as well, as the steep bank was too close for a fast pace here. The breeze was picking up; it stirred her hair and even chilled her a little through the thin fabric of her blue bodice.

“You look beautiful.” Eli turned toward her. “Your hair turns the richest color in the light.”

She stared straight ahead between Bayberry's ears, abashed by his intense regard.

“Did you enjoy your stay with the Sumners?” he asked.

“Yes, very much.” A diffusion in the light made her look up. The clouds rolled swiftly across the sky, white fluffy mounds running ahead of gray storm clouds that threatened to swallow them from the south. This did not look promising.

Eli had followed her upward glance and was watching the clouds himself. “This blasted weather. One can never count on it.”

The horses walked with spring in their steps; horses always knew when rain was on the way. Bayberry danced sideways as a low-hanging branch blew toward Ann. She swayed in the saddle but tightened her knee grip and kept her seat.

Eli's brow wrinkled. “Does Bayberry shy often?”

“Hardly ever, but the winds bother her sometimes.”

“Let's dismount, then. I can't have you falling from a wild mustang.” He swung his leg back over the saddle and dropped lightly to the ground. His shiny Hessian boots made his legs look very strong in their close-fitting trousers.

He tied his gelding's reins to a sapling by the path. This was not standard practice, tying reins, as a horse could snap them or injure its head, but she knew Eli needed his hands free to help her.

He walked back and took hold of Bayberry's head with one hand. “Can you extricate yourself?”

She unhooked her knee and dismounted. Her skirt caught on the leaping horn and made a ripping noise before it gave way and dropped her into Eli's arms.

He did not release her right away. Instead he lowered his head and gently kissed her. Her head swam and she wanted to lean into his kiss, but she pulled back. He would not think well of her. Women were not to allow too much liberty to their suitors, and she had already allowed him to kiss her once before.

She steadied her breathing and made a show of looking at the back of her skirt. Thank goodness there was no visible tear. It must have been her petticoat that ripped.

“Shall we walk them back?” Eli extended Bayberry's reins to her, and she took them. As she did so he caught her hand in his and held it.

“I can't wait any longer.” He took off his hat, threw it to one side, and knelt in the path, charming her with his lack of care for his pristine trousers. “Will you be my bride, Ann Miller? You're the most beautiful girl I know, both outside and in. I love you with a passion.” He searched her face and jumped to his feet, reaching for her and crushing her to him. Her breath left her as she felt his warmth and unfamiliar masculine body through their clothing. He kissed her urgently, depriving her of the ability to think.

Lightning flashed over the trees and a thunderclap echoed it. The reins jerked in her hand, which was now wound around Eli's side. In a second, she had lost her grip. She tore herself away from Eli as Bayberry half-reared, presented her haunches to them, and bolted back down the path toward home. The gelding jerked his head so the leather reins strained, then snapped. He staggered back and pivoted on his hocks to gallop after the mare.

Ann saw her dismay mirrored on Eli's face. Not only would they risk losing their mounts, but the gelding's snapped reins would make it obvious that they had dismounted and tied their horses. People might assume the worst.

A droplet touched Ann's hand, then another. She saw them falling like tiny needles in the increasing gloom. As they stood gazing at the receding horses, the rain came in earnest. In the downpour, Eli ran for his hat and returned to grab her hand and head for home. A true spring drenching. His fine-boned face was slick with rain, and her hair was totally soaked, hanging in wet tendrils on her neck, one damp lock plastered down the side of her face.

“How can we go back like this?” She stopped.

“Engaged,” he said. He gently pulled her toward him. Her indignation vanished at the sheer romance of being there in the rain with him, the water running down her neck into her sodden dress, pouring down Eli's face as he bent his head and sheltered her as best he could. He whispered right in her ear. “Marry me, please, Ann.”

She wanted to say yes and be done with the decision. But an insistent prodding from her more rational self would not let her. “I can't think,” she said in a louder voice. “This is no time to answer a proposal.” She turned and marched down the road, trying vainly to shield her face from the rain. She heard the splash of his footsteps as he followed. He would have to wait, like it or not. She was not the heroine of a Gothic romance; she would not answer while she was swept away by storms, without and within.

Now they would have to hope her father would trust that no compromise had taken place, despite unseemly appearances. She hurried on into the rain.

“What I fail to understand,” her father said, “is why you did not accept his proposal.”

Eli was gone, having left for home as soon as he deposited Ann on her doorstep. He had apologized to her father, assuring him, red-faced, that she had “come to no harm.”