Patricia Rice (26 page)

Dora felt an ugly, sick feeling in her stomach. This had all the evidence of Joe Mitchell's dirty dealings. She'd thought him a friend of Charlie's, but obviously friendship was worth sacrificing when a plum like this came available, especially when that friend was conveniently behind prison walls. She'd heard rumors of Joe buying up property around the county for little or nothing. As mayor, he knew who owed what and when. And with a district representative for father, he would have the law on his side. No doubt they would declare the notice of auction "lost" if anyone protested. By then, the deed would be transferred and the opportunity lost. She couldn't let that happen.

Dora bought the sulfur and hurried back to the cart. Solly hadn't returned yet. That was all right. She needed to talk to somebody, somebody on her side, or Pace's, at least. She didn't trust Charlie's friends any farther than she could throw them.

She hurried down the back alley praying the man she sought still lived. It had been years since she had gone down this road. She hoped Pace had kept in touch better than she had.

The shack was a little more run-down than she remembered. No one had cut the autumn weeds, and they brushed the split log sides with a dry rustle. But a lantern light glowed behind the yellowed paper window. Someone lived there.

Uncle Jas's voice hadn't diminished with age as he yelled for her to come in when she knocked. Hesitantly, Dora pushed open the door and peered inside.

The old black man sat on a stool in front of the fire, whittling at a piece of log. "Come in, chile, and close that door. The draft is intolerable."

She slipped in and shut the door as firmly as it would go. "I'm sorry to disturb thee, Uncle Jas."

"You ain't supposed to be here now any more than you was when you was a chile. You don' never learn, do you?" He shook his head, and when he looked up, Dora could see that his eyes had grown white with disease. For all intents and purposes, Uncle Jas was blind.

She ignored his admonitions. "I need help. I don't know where to get it."

He snorted and waved his carving knife. "So you come to a blind old man? That's a lot of faith you have, gal."

"Thou knowest everything that goes on around here," she answered accusingly. "Why didn't thee warn us of this auction?"

Jas shrugged. "I don' owe Marster Charlie nothin'. Let him take care of his own."

"And what about Pace? That's his home too. It might not belong to him, but it's all he's got right now."

The old man's head nodded to his unspoken thoughts. "Still that way, is it? S'pose that chile is his, too?" When Dora stiffened, he just laughed. "Don't matter none to me. But I'd kindly like to see that boy Joe taken down a notch some. What do you think I can do?"

"Thou knowest Pace's friends, who to trust. If I can just keep Joe from that auction, I might halt it or do something to keep the place from being sold."

Jas looked at her shrewdly. "Wouldn't paying the taxes be easiest?"

"I thought of that. Today's Saturday. City Hall isn't open. I'd wager that notice never got posted until yesterday for just that reason. If Joe isn't around, I might persuade them to take the tax money at the courthouse in the county seat."

"That's a long old ride to the courthouse. You could hurt that babe."

"I'm fine. I'm healthy. I can do it. I just can't let Joe get away with this. Someone must stop this nastiness. If we don't, he'll own the whole town."

Jas shrugged. "Far's I can see, he and his papa already does, but that ain't none of my concern. I cain't vote against the rascals. I cain't own property they can take. I ain't even supposed to live here like I do. But I'll do it this time, for Pace. He's a might wild, but his heart's always been in the right place. You go on now and get yourself over to the courthouse. I'll see what I can do about Joe."

"I thank thee," Dora whispered in relief before fleeing out the door and back up the alley.

Solly was loitering about the street, staring in shop windows when Dora returned to the main road. He looked up in surprise when she hailed him, but he was all seriousness when she ordered him to hurry home. She would send some of the smoked ham in the shed to Uncle Jas in return for his help. And a basket of jellies. If he could pull this off, she would see that he never worried about food again.

When they came in sight of the house, she ordered, "Give the mare some grain when we get there, Solly, but don't unhitch her. We're going to the courthouse just as soon as I can run in the house and come out again."

"Somethin' the matter, Miz Dora?"

"Something bad's the matter, Solly, and thou wilt have to help me stop it."

He stayed silent for the rest of the ride, concentrating on reaching the house as quickly as possible. He didn't ask questions and Dora didn't explain. They would have time enough for that later.

For now, she had to find enough money to pay the taxes.

Chapter 19

There is no courage but in innocence;

No constancy, but in an honest cause.

~ Thomas Southern,
Fate of Capua

Dora clasped her chilled hands and the little bag of federal notes, hoarded gold, and receipts inside Josie's muff as the rude wooden cart rattled down the winter-ravaged road. She was shaking inside, but the jolting of the cart had little to do with it.

The Nichollses' place had become as much a home to her as her own small farm. It was Pace's birthplace, Amy's home. It still supported a half dozen slaves as well as Pace's mother. Furnishings carefully carried over the mountains from Virginia by earlier generations filled the rooms, along with the expensive china and carpets and other luxuries acquired in the years since then. It was a true home, a shelter for generations of family. It would be a sin to have all that destroyed by one greedy man. It would be a sin for Charlie and Pace to come home to nothing.

But the burden of saving an entire farm weighed heavier than Dora's shoulders could bear. She had searched Carlson's desk for tax receipts. She had found his small drawer of coins and added her own, along with the money from the horses. Still, she shook inside, knowing her inability to deal with problems as serious as this one.

Assuming such responsibility terrified her. She had always had help, had always drifted into things without really taking on the responsibility of decision. The only things she had actually done on her own had all been wrong. The burden she carried inside her now was evidence enough of that.

But she simply could not just stand by and do nothing. She no longer had the luxury of assuming someone would take care of everything. She knew better than anyone that Pace most likely wouldn't return, and Charlie couldn't. And now she had a child to look out for. She must learn to be stronger than her mother and go out into the world on her own.

Nervously, Dora twitched the gold band she had placed on her finger. She wasn't in the habit of wearing jewelry. She certainly wouldn't flaunt Pace's ring in front of his family. But she needed the support it gave her right now.

Solly slowed the cart and spoke warily, "They's somethin' goin' on up ahead, Miz Dora. Looks like trouble. Mebbe we ought to turn 'round and go 'nother way."

They traveled the main highway to the courthouse. Little better than frozen mud and ruts, this road was still the fastest, safest route, and she didn't have time for the bends and turnabouts of unknown lanes. She twisted at the bag inside the muff and strained to see the activity in the road beyond that stand of trees.

Masked highwaymen, three or four of them, all on horseback. In broad daylight! Her heart jolted beneath her ribs, and the babe in her womb turned a dozen somersaults, causing her to catch her breath.

She rested her hand on Solly's arm to slow him down. Whoever they were, they hadn't noticed the cart yet, hidden as it was behind a wooded bend in the road. Engrossed in their depredations, they faced a different direction and didn't pay attention to what happened elsewhere.

Screams of fury emerged from beyond the band of masked men. She couldn't see what they did. Their horses jostled each other, and Dora caught a glimpse of a pistol in the hand of one man as he struggled to keep his mount under control. She squeezed her hand tighter around Solly's arm in warning.

"You can't do this!" somebody screamed. "I've got business at the courthouse! You can't stop me. I'll have you all hung!"

Dora closed her eyes in fervent prayer as she recognized the voice. Joe Mitchell. It had to be Joe. She hadn't seen him since Charlie left, but she'd been the object of his taunts enough in the past to know his voice. She released Solly's arm and nodded. "It's all right. Keep going."

Solly gave her an incredulous look but did as told, his eyes wide with curiosity as the cart creaked and rattled into the bend.

Dora began singing loudly, alerting the men ahead of their presence in case their business entertained them too much to hear the cart and horse. By the time the cart rolled around the curve, only one horse and rider remained on the road. No sign of a mask or highwaymen remained, although the horseman had a rifle resting loosely across his saddle. Dora recognized Tommy McCoy's younger brother, Robert, and she stopped singing to give him a smile of greeting.

"Heading my way, Miss Smythe?" he called in response to her hello. "I'm going in for court day."

She nodded gravely. "I'd be happy of the company, Friend, if thou doth not mind the pace."

"I mind Pace well enough," he assured her ambiguously. The capital letter in "pace" was distinct in his emphasis. "There's rascals on this road often enough. A lady shouldn't travel alone. I'll be happy to keep you company."

They both knew what he had just done. The unbuckled rifle alone spoke of trouble. These were perilous times for man or woman. Dora tried behaving as if Robert's company had no significance, but she couldn't help saying with some concern, "I do not wish for thee to find trouble."

Had anyone overheard, they would find the conversation stilted but not inappropriate. Dora trusted Solly, but Robert didn't know him, and sometimes even the trees had ears. Even now, somewhere behind the flimsy stand of sassafras, sumac, and dead vines lining the road, masked men held their victim captive. It wouldn't do for any of them to know just how involved she might be with the incident.

"Trouble finds me more often than not," Robert replied carelessly. The cart had moved far enough down the road that he could speak a little louder without fear of his companions hearing. "I haven't much left to lose."

Dora glanced at him. He was younger than Pace by a few years, a slightly built man with a reddish mustache and hair already threatening to recede. But he held his shoulders straight and rode his horse with ease, exuding a degree of pride and male arrogance that brought a smile to her lips. She knew very little of Pace's friends, but she should have known they would match his arrogance.

"I was sorry to hear of thy brother," she finally answered, the smile slipping away. "He was not treated fairly."

Robert shrugged. "They drove him into thievery. He may not have committed the crime they hung him for, but he committed others. It was just a matter of time. Mostly I just want to see other criminals around here get the same treatment."

That was a perfectly innocuous statement that any law-abiding citizen might make, but Dora heard the tense undercurrent behind it. He held Joe Mitchell responsible for the McCoy family problems. Charlie's band of Home Guards had seen Tommy McCoy arrested. Neither Joe nor Charlie was precisely innocent of all wrongdoing; they were just a little more refined in their thievery and had never been caught. Dora understood that. But Robert's reply made her shiver.

"Thou canst not take the law into thy own hands," she admonished.

He gave her an amused look. "No? Seems to me that's what's been happening for some time now, but it hasn't been me or mine responsible for it. Nor yours, either, from the sounds of it."

Dora heard the gentle reproof in his words and held her tongue. If she understood what had just happened here, Robert and his friends had stopped Joe Mitchell from reaching the courthouse—for her. They knew she was trying to save Pace’s home.

Spitefully, she hoped they had taken Joe's money as well as holding him hostage. Lately, she had found herself saying the peaceful phrases she had been taught, but thinking of bitter, worldly things. Was this the result of daring the world on her own?

The conversation became desultory as they approached the crowded county seat. Court day always drew crowds. Solly dodged other farm carts laden with hay or winter greens or jars of canned goods. Robert helped him find a place to tie the horse on the back side of the court square, down a street, away from the line of horses and mules tied up by owners looking to trade or sell.

Dora's clenched her hands nervously inside her muff as she realized the moment had come. Keeping her small bag of money inside the muff, she took Robert's offered palm with her other and climbed down from the cart. If he noticed her girth when the cloak swung outward, he said nothing. A gentleman wouldn't.