Petals on the River (33 page)

had swept over her and was curious to know how she had managed to be so

lightly scathed after Potts's assault.
 
"What made him stop?"

"Mr.
 
Thornton saved ye, dearie," Mary Margaret answered in Gage's

stead.
 
She had listened attentively to his scolding and was pleased

that he actually seemed to feel a genuine concern for the girl and not

his own purse.
 
Living so near the village, she had been privy to all

the ugly rumors that had cast him as a cold, insensitive man, but she

had reserved her opinion, preferring to see irrefutable proof before

condemning him as many in the hamlet had relentlessly done.
 
In spite of

the gossip, she had grown rather fond of the cabinetmaker throughout the

years, adopting him into her heart as she would a son, which she had

never been fortunate to have.
 
She found it difficult to imagine herself

being such a poor judge of character that she would have come to admire

a murderer.
 
"Ye should've seen his handsome self plowin' through all

those men ta get ta ye."

Gage tossed a perturbed scowl toward the woman.
 
He was sure she saw

prospects for matrimony in every unattached couple she crossed paths

with, but he knew only too well the risks of the widow expressing such

ideas about town.
 
With Roxanne threatening to incriminate him, her

hopeful chatter could well prove his undoing.
 
"Don't make it out to be

more than what it was, Mary Margaret."

The Irish woman smiled sweetly, taking his rebuke in stride.
 
For as

long as she could remember, Gage Thornton had been persistently reticent

about himself and shrugged off praise as if it were the plague.
 
EIe had

once saved a four-year-old girl from drowning in the river, but when her

parents and most of the townsfolk, who had witnessed his daring rescue

from shore, had tried to cheer and clap him on the back he had handed

the child over to her mother with a strong admonition to watch the

youngster in the future.
 
Then he had strode through their midst,

pausing only to pick up his musket and pack, which he had tossed aside

before plunging into the river.
 
After sliding his canoe into the water,

he had taken his leave in the same aloof manner that people had come to

expect of him.

The fact that he was disinclined to let the girl know that he had nearly

uprooted the whole circle of men to get to her side made Mary Margaret

wonder about his reasons.
 
Was he embarrassed by his warrior spirit?
 
Or

was he averse to having others suspect that, like all the other men who

might admire Shemaine and feel a strong attraction to her, he was

perhaps one who found himself hopelessly smitten?

Mary Margaret smiled at the idea that the tall, rugged man was so

vulnerable.
 
It only affirmed that he was human, a trait that many in

the hamlet had voiced doubts about.
 
But such judgments had been made

from a distance by those who snooped and spied from behind shaded

windows, much like those plump hens in the apothecary shop, for none who

really knew the man had ever spoken harshly of him.

Now Gage Thornton had a new enemy, Mary Margaret mused, thinking of the

tar wallowing in the mudhole.
 
But hopefully this one would be gone in a

few weeks.
 
" Tis sure I am that Mr.
 
Potts will be seeking vindication

now that he has been made the laughingstock o' the village.

Indeed, he'll be ready ta kill us all if anyone happens ta call him

Mudsucker' in his presence."

Gage's disposition softened a trifle, and a grin passed briefly across

his lips.
 
"After being laughed out of town, I doubt that Jacob Potts

will ever want to show his face again in Newportes Newes."

Shemaine scoffed.
 
"It has been my experience that Mr.
 
Potts pays back

double for any offense he has been subjected to.
 
He'll not rest until

he avenges himself."

"Then the two o' ye will likely be seein' the man again," Mary Margaret

predicted somberly, "because ye both shamed him ta the core. Imagine!
 
A

little slip o' girl givin' that big hulk a proper threshin' !
 
An' if

that wasn't enough, her master bootin' him inta the muck. Potts's pride

has suffered mightily under yer insults.
 
He'll not be able ta live it

down for years ta come."

Gage rose from the lounge and faced the elder, desiring to change the

subject for Shemaine's sake.
 
"I have business to take care of while I'm

here in town.
 
If it wouldn't be too much of an imposition, Mary

Margaret, I'd like to leave Shemaine with you for a while so she can

rest."

" Twill be a delight ta have her as a guest in me home," the elder

avowed.
 
"And I'd consider it an honor if ye'd let Andrew stay with me,

too.
 
He's such a good boy, I love ta have him around.
 
I'll even cook

us up a bit o' food, so ye needn't fret they'll go hungry afore ye "Your

kindness is appreciated, madam." Gage glanced around in search of the

storekeeper, who, at the moment, was nowhere in sight "If you'll excuse

me, I must find Mr.
 
Foster and thank him before we take our leave."

Mrs.
 
McGee casually indicated the rear of the store.
 
"I believe Adam

was headin' toward the back the last time I saw him."

Gage completed his mission in short order and returned to escort the

women outside.
 
Once in the wagon, Shemaine took Andrew on her lap to

make room for Mary Margaret on the seat beside her.
 
Gage climbed in

and, slapping the reins, set the mare in motion.
 
They traversed the

road through Newportes Newes and, a few moments later, halted in front

of a small, quaint cottage located on the outskirts of the hamlet.

Gathering Andrew in his arms, Gage accompanied the two women to the

door, measuring his pace to the careful steps of his bondswoman, who

refused his assistance.
 
After seeing her settled he took his leave in

the wagon, pledging to return as soon as he could.

Three hours later, Gage finished loading supplies in the wagon, having

been enlisted to make several dining pieces for a wealthy woman from

Richmond.
 
With the order, he had been able to recoup almost half of

what he had spent for Shemaine's papers.
 
It relieved the strain on his

budget considerably, and he was confident that progress would again be

made in a good, timely order on the ship.

He returned to the Widow McGee's cottage and was silently motioned into

the interior by the elder.
 
She laid a finger across her lips and

pointed to a closed door down the hall.

"Shemaine laid down with Andrew ta put him ta sleep bout an hour ago,"

she whispered softly.
 
"Since then, I haven't heard a peep from either

o' them."

Gage stepped quietly to the portal and, after a light knock that gained

no response, turned the handle and pushed the door slowly inward.
 
The

sight that greeted him warmed his heart as it had not been warmed in

many months, and he crept forward carefully to bask in the wonder of the

scene.
 
Shemaine and Andrew were both sleeping soundly. Sharing the same

pillow, they were cuddled spoon fashion in the middle of the bed with

Andrew on his side with his back against the girl's chest.
 
Her cheek

rested against his curls and her arm lay over him, like a mother with

her son.

''Would ye be carin' for a cup o' tea, Mr.
 
Thornton?" Mary Margaret

murmured quietly from nearby.

Gage glanced around, surprised to find the woman leaning against !

.

the doorjamb.
 
She smiled at him, and he inclined his head a slight

degree, not at all sure that he should take the time, for he needed to

get home soon and he still hadn't taken Shemaine to the cobbler to order

a pair of shoes.

" Twould be an awful shame ta disturb such peace, do ye not think, Mr.

Thornton?" the woman ventured, contemplating him covertly.

Gage's eyes were drawn back to the bed, to the sight of Shemaine lost in

slumber.
 
She looked immensely delicate and beautiful, like a small,

bright flower in a shady spot of verdant green.
 
Her soft, pink lips

were slightly parted, as if she anticipated being kissed by a phantom

lover.

Her silken lashes, of a dark brown hue, rested on cheeks that had grown

rosy in her sleep.
 
Her round bosom rose and fell in languid repose

against the small back of her sleeping companion, and at that moment,

Gage almost envied his son.

"She must be exhausted to sleep so soundly," he mused in a hushed tone.

"I cannot imagine she was able to get much rest on the voyage over

here."

Mrs.
 
McGee followed his unswerving stare and thoughtfully tilted her

head as she, too, contemplated the girl.
 
"She's a rare beauty, isn't

she?"

Gage cocked a wondering brow as he cast a glance awry at the widow, for

it was apparent what she was about.
 
But he curbed the temptation to

question her plans to make a match.
 
"Do you have the tea already

brewed, or should I awaken Shemaine and Andrew and be on my way?"

"Smooth yer ruffled plumes, me fine-feathered peacock," Mary Margaret

gently chided, beckoning him to follow as she led the way back to the

hearth.
 
There she took up the teapot and thoughtfully poured a cup

full.

"If I'd have ye speak the words with the girl, tis only a desire o' me

own ta see ye an' yer son with a good woman in the house."

"How can you say that Shemaine is good when you don't know anything

about her?"

Mrs.
 
McGee smiled and tapped a forefinger against her temple. "I've a

bit o' wisdom up here in me noggin an' can see what's plainly in view

before me eyes."

"And what is that, old woman?" Gage questioned as she handed him a cup