Healing Grace (14 page)

Constance slowed as she rode by the Murphy farm. Just like the last several nights, nothing of significance was going on. The house was dark and quiet. Her next stop would be the Klan’s abandoned barn. That is, if Etienne didn’t foil her plans yet again. Every night she’d spotted him in the distance, and every night he’d given chase. Not that he’d ever caught up to her, and he wouldn’t. She was confident about that. One of these days though, she hoped he would just stay home and let her do what she needed to do. If he didn’t, she would never get inside that barn. Perhaps—hopefully—he wouldn’t be out and about getting in the way again tonight.

Once she was on a more secluded stretch of roadway, as always, she let Izzy fly. It was true that she had a purpose for these jaunts, but she couldn’t deny how exhilarating they were. In fact, she couldn’t remember ever feeling so revitalized while riding. Whether this had anything to do with her attire, wearing a kerchief to hide her face, because it was night, or because she was being pursued—even though she knew by whom—it didn’t much matter. Even if she never discovered anything about the Klan, she wasn’t giving up on these escapades. Nothing would stop her, especially not the most insolent Colonel Grace.

Izzy thundered onward and Constance knew the horse reveled in this as much as she did. The velocity was so intense, her kerchief pressed flat against her cheeks. To see, she had to squint. This was the state she was in when she noticed it—a large mass blocking the road.

She drew back on the reins so hard Izzy reared. It was all Constance could do to cling until the mare, whinnying in discontent, came down hard. Then she had to calm the animal. Not such an easy thing when her own heart was ferociously pounding. As it was, Izzy snorted and pranced about, obviously as nonplussed as Constance.

They were a mere twenty yards away, if that. And…
no!
… the large bundle stretched across the path was a person… a
woman
… lying in the middle of the road!

Constance’s first thought was that whoever had murdered Luther had done this. She glanced around frantically, seeking something, anything that would indicate the killer was near. But other than the light breeze rustling the trees, the night was peaceful. Then she realized she hadn’t heard a gunshot. Only God knew what had happened to the poor lady. And she was elderly. In the darkness it wasn’t easy to see, but Constance could tell the woman’s hair was white.

She was about to dismount, to run over and see if she could help, but some sixth sense kept her mounted. Tentatively she directed Izzy closer. She was barely three yards away when she noticed the smell. Whatever the odor was—something tart but putrid—was strong. The woman was partially on her side, one arm flung out, her bonnet askew. A corner of her shawl covered most of her face. Looking down, Constance took in the patterned print fabric of the dress. The breeze ruffled the skirt enough to make visible a portion of a petticoat, and… something else. Constance’s breath caught.

Boots. The woman was wearing men’s boots, and not just any boots. Constance’s eyes shifted once more to the face, and the small portion of exposed jaw.

In one swift move, she directed Izzy to back up, just enough. And then she kicked in her heels. Thank God she hadn’t dismounted. Thank God the moonlight was bright enough to enable her to notice those booted feet. Thank God she’d figured out the farce! Izzy’s hooves plowed the earth, and in the next heartbeat went airborne, sailing over the figure lying in the road.

Horse and rider landed and sped onward, waves of dirt, pebbles and other debris, shooting out to pelt the prone body, who was none other than Etienne Grace… dressed as a woman!

* * *

Etienne was there, where he always was, leaning against a nearby tree trunk, waiting for Daniel and Jules. The second she opened the schoolhouse door to let her students go for the day, Constance noticed him.

The last thing she wanted to do was talk to him, but because of the ridiculous stunt he’d pulled the night before, she had little choice. After coming upon him in the road, she’d been so frazzled, she’d barely been able to get Izzy unsaddled and brushed down. Thankfully Rex had been waiting for her in the house. By paying attention to the pup she’d been able to calm down. Once the fury had worn off, she’d found humor in the whole mess. Etienne had looked so silly. She still couldn’t believe a manly being like him would ever stoop to wearing women’s clothes, not to mention a bonnet and wig!

Regardless, she knew why he’d done it. He’d expected her to come to the rescue of a fallen lady, and as soon as she did, he would catch her. Fortunately he’d failed, and although she’d been close, she was still confident he had no idea she was the rider. Nevertheless, his preposterous deception was the reason she needed a new approach.

From his tree stance, if he noticed her, he didn’t acknowledge it. Then again, both Jules and Daniel were yanking on him and bellowing, “Uncle Eddy… Uncle Eddy… take us to the swimming hole… no, let’s go fishing!”

“I think that can be arranged,” he told them, grinning.

“Excuse me, Colonel,” Constance interrupted.

“Miss Pruitt,” he said. His smile didn’t waver as he turned and tipped his hat. “Constance.”

Suddenly aghast, Constance gaped. A handful of prickle-like cuts shadowed the left side of his face. They were so miniscule she might have believed they were caused by a dull razor, except one of the cuts was well above the beard line. That cut, at the corner of his eye, was deeper and encircled by purple bruising. Similar marks riddled the backs of his hands.

This man wasn’t one to slouch. Even leaning against a tree, his bearing was statue-like and regal, but as he pushed off and straightened, Constance could have sworn he suddenly gained several inches. The way he came close and towered over her proved her earlier assumption was wrong! He did know she was the rider, and he knew she and Izzy had caused his injuries. Now… now he wanted revenge!

Except he was still grinning.

“As you see, I had a little accident. Not to worry, Constance, I’ll mend,” he said amicably. “How was school today?”

Too flustered for pleasantries, Constance stammered, “I’ve…I’ve learned some things…
er
… from Harry. I was wondering if we could meet…
er
… later… to discuss them.”

Though his eyes were locked on her, he said, “Boys, go on ahead. I’ll catch up.” Then he waited until Daniel and Jules scampered off. “Shall I come to your home? Tonight. After dinner?”

“That will be fine,” she said.

“I look forward to it, Constance.” He smiled again. “For now, good day.”

“G…good day.”

She couldn’t watch him swagger off. She had to look away, to collect her rattled wits. Rather than going back into the schoolhouse, she went around it and hastened to her home. Fortunately the door wasn’t locked. She never locked it while she was at the schoolhouse.

“Rex,” she murmured to her circling, yipping puppy. “I swear that man will be the death of me.”

“Woof,” said Rex.

* * *

Her dog was the one who alerted Constance to Etienne’s arrival. She was in the shed saddling Izzy when Rex took off around the side of the house. His barking, however, didn’t last. It was replaced by a deep, southern drawl, “Hey, boy. Are you a good boy? That’s the spot, right there, behind the ears. Like that, do you? Let’s go find your mistress.”

Constance didn’t look as Etienne sauntered in, leading Igore. She knew though, that he’d perched himself casually with an elbow on the wall.

“Are you going somewhere?” he asked.

“Harry told me the Klan has been getting together and having meetings,” she lied. “They invited him, but like I told you before, he isn’t interested.”

“So, you’re going to a meeting on his behalf?”

“No,” Constance retorted, still refusing to turn. “Harry didn’t say
when
the meetings will be. He told me
where
they’re held, and I thought you’d want to know.”

“I do.” He paused—a long pause—then asked, “Are you going to tell me where?”

“Izzy’s ready,” Constance stated. That was almost true. One last buckle to go. “I’ll show you where.”

“No, you won’t.”

The emphatic renunciation was enough to make Constance swing around. Just like earlier, every thought left her head. She was gawking, although this time not because of the scratches on his face. Every time he’d come to the schoolhouse he’d been dressed in casual, but nice clothes—britches, shirt and vest. Now, he was wearing Indian buckskins, complete with fringes on the trouser seams. And they were a good three inches too short. Not only that, but he smelled. It was the same tart odor she’d noticed last night. She didn’t know whether to laugh or sneeze, or to tell him firmly she was indeed coming with him.

“Let’s start over, shall we?” he said, smiling. “Hello, Constance. How are you this evening?”

“I…I’m fine.” Oh, he was so disarming, even smelly.

“I’m fine too, thanks for asking. It looks like we’re in for a storm.”

His sarcasm didn’t deserve a reply. But he was right about the weather. The clouds overhead had turned into layered pillows of purple, and just since Constance had been in the shed, the wind had drastically picked up. It was bad enough she had to keep swiping away hair repeatedly swept into her face.

If Etienne noticed her pique, it wasn’t evident. In his typical nonchalant manner, he reached into Igore’s saddlebag and withdrew a pie-shaped plate wrapped in red checkered kitchen towels.

“I brought this for you,” he said. “I thought perhaps while we talk we could treat ourselves. It’s blueberry, directly from Grace Manor’s kitchens, and you know how fine Miss Dora’s pies are. I was hoping to persuade you to brew some of that excellent coffee to go with it.”

Constance eyed him shrewdly. “Perhaps it would be better to go to the Klan’s meeting place now while it’s still daylight and before the storm hits. I’ll brew coffee later.”

“So, you don’t like blueberry pie? I thought for sure you did. You had a second helping Monday evening after dinner.”

It figured he’d noticed. “I do like Miss Dora’s pies, but I don’t want any now. I’ll put it inside for later.”

“How ’bout you pass along the directions Simpson gave you, and I’ll go check out this meeting place. When I get back we can indulge.” He grinned. “I promise to tell you about everything I find.”

“I can’t give you directions, because Harry didn’t
tell
me where the place is. He
showed
me. So I have to show you,” she lied again, then added stiffly, “I know where I’m going.”

“Not a good idea. What if the Klan is present and having a meeting? What then?”

“Then we don’t stop. We ride on past.”

“And if they show up while we’re there and demand to know what we’re doing on their turf?”

Constance refused to back down, though she hated the stutter that ensued. “Then we…we tell them we were… we were looking for a place to get away… for a… for a romantic tryst.”

“A romantic tryst? With me?” He smirked. “For shame, Miss Pruitt, what will Harry say?”

Constance pushed her chin up. “If the news gets back to Harry, and he’s upset, it will make the excuse all the more plausible.”

Etienne’s eyes narrowed and he cocked his head to the side. “And what happens if they don’t believe us and give chase?”

“Izzy’s a powerful horse. You said so yourself.”

He waited again, just staring at her with those penetrating brown eyes. “Okay, Constance. I’ll allow you to come along. But if we run into trouble, I can’t promise to protect you.”

“I don’t need protection.”

“Perhaps. Though I should warn you, someone is roaming these hills at night. He dresses in black and wears a mask over his face. I’ve caught sight of him several times, but I don’t know why he’s out here. I don’t know if he’s part of the Klan or what his intentions are. One thing I can tell you is he’s no gentleman. He’s the type that wouldn’t bother to stop for a hurt woman lying in the road. And he’s the fastest mount I’ve ever come across. If he pursues us, there will be no way to outdistance him.”

Constance had to turn away and pretend to recheck Izzy’s saddle buckles. Before she could speak, she had to clear her throat. “I guess we’ll have to take our chances.” Abruptly she turned and snatched the pie out of his hands. “I’ll put this inside. I’ll just be a minute. Come along, Rex.”

She could feel Etienne’s eyes on her as she hastened up the walk. Once safely out of sight and earshot, she was able to breathe. With breath came the laughter she’d suppressed. She was still laughing as she started braiding her hair. Originally she hadn’t planned to, but in deference to the wind, it seemed a good idea. This way, strands of it wouldn’t be slapping her in the face and blinding her every other second. And she didn’t care one wit that Etienne had to wait. She didn’t, however, take the extra time to tuck and pin the long tail. Rather she let it dangle down her back.

“Stay here and guard the house,” she told Rex. One fortifying breath later, she was on her way.

Etienne was still there, as she knew he would be, cooing to Izzy and smoothing the animal’s flank. Purposefully Constance strode across the lawn. Upon hearing her he turned and grinned. She was really beginning to detest that dimpled smile.