Petals on the River (50 page)

came open in surprise, she laughed softly.
 
"And the pain has passed."

"Well, so it has!" Turning her head on the pillow, Calley looked at

Shemaine through elated tears.
 
"Can it be true?
 
Can I talk meself into

keeping this babe?"

"I don't know, Mrs.
 
Tate," Shemaine answered honestly.
 
"But twould

seem to me that being hopeful and relaxed can be more advantageous to

the both of you than being anxious and fretful."

"Call me Calley, mum," the woman earnestly implored.
 
"I can tell ye're

a real lady, just like Mr.
 
Thornton is a proper gentleman.
 
He needs a

wife like ye."

"I'm only his bondswoman," Shemaine asserted.
 
The last thing she

wanted, especially after the previous night's ordeal, was to have this

woman presume that her master intended to marry her and to make the

mistake of saying something to him about it.
 
She had apologized to Gage

Thornton much too often of late.

"That'll change," Calley predicted, growing more confident. "Ramsey says

it will.
 
He said Mr.
 
Thornton is already taken with ye."

"Mr.
 
Thornton is taken with my cooking," Shemaine stated firmly.

"Nothing more.
 
Your husband is mistaken."

Calley was amazed by her insistence that nothing could come of their

association.
 
"Would ye not marry him if he asked ye?"

"I was engaged to be married before I came here .
 
.
 
." Shemaine's

words trailed to a halt, and she found herself unable to finish her

statement.

The memory of her betrothal seemed strangely detached from the reality

of the present.

"England is a far piece off, mum, an' Mr.
 
Thornton is here, right ready

ta become a husband.
 
Do ye not think he'd make a handsome one?"

"Certainly, he would, but I .
 
.
 
." Again words failed Shemaine.

"The man ye were engaged ta in England, was he as handsome as Mr.

Thornton?" Calley pressed.

''I don't know...." Shemaine moaned, uneasy with such questions. By the

standards of every eligible young lady in England, Maurice du Mercer had

been considered the best-looking man in all of London.
 
Yet Gage

Thornton would have caused as much confusion in the hearts of those same

maidens as she was presently experiencing.
 
It seemed somehow disloyal

to imagine her former fiance as less attractive.
 
It also seemed silly

to fret about the degree of handsomeness of one over the other.
 
She was

sure that if she did think that Gage Thornton was more appealing, it was

only because he was near and Maurice so far away.

"Do ye still love your fiance?"

"I thought I did once," Shemaine admitted lamely.
 
"But that seems so

long ago, and much has happened.
 
I'm indentured to Mr.
 
Thornton and

even if Maurice were to find me, I would not be free to marry him unless

Mr.
 
Thornton was willing to release me.
 
Besides, Maurice may not even

want me anymore, considering my arrest and all."

"Mr.
 
Thornton wants ye, ta be sure."

"This discussion really seems pointless," Shemaine replied,.hoping to

squelch the disturbing conjectures.
 
"No one can predict with any

certainty what Mr.
 
Thornton may be thinking.
 
I am simply his

bondslave, and unless he speaks for himself, I shall consider any

discussion on the subject of marriage purely speculative."

"Aye, tain't right for us ta say what Mr.
 
Thornton will do," Calley

conceded.
 
"There be plenty enough o' those what try ta guess at what

he's up ta without us doin' the same."

Shemaine breathed a sigh of relief, having made her point. Gathering the

woman's fingers in her own, she smiled down at her.
 
"How are you

feeling now?"

"A bit tired," Calley acknowledged, smiling easier.
 
"But better."

"A little rest may do you and the baby good."

"Aye, I think I can rest now .
 
.
 
.
 
and hope."

"Then I'll leave you so you can.
 
If you should have need of me, I'll be

in the kitchen."

With a relaxed sigh, Calley closed her eyes, and Shemaine slipped

quietly from the room.
 
Ramsey was waiting in front of the hearth, and

the stricken look on his face made her hasten to allay his fears.

"Your wife is feeling much better now and will be able to rest for a

while." The strain of the last hours was evident in his face, moving her

to compassion.
 
"I think twould do you good to get some sleep, too," she

said kindly.
 
"I'll call you if something happens."

Gage Thornton climbed down from his wagon and approached the physician's

cottage.
 
A small woman in a neighboring yard was pulling weeds that had

overgrown an earlier year' s garden, but when he strode up the walk, she

straightened and squinted against the sun to watch him.

When he tapped on the front door, she called to him.

"If ye've come ta see the doc, he's gone upriver a ways ta mend a broken

leg.
 
He won't be back for a spell.
 
If'n ye can write, ye can leave a

note sayin' where ye wants him ta go once he gets back.
 
Doc Ferris said

for me to say as much ta any what came.
 
He also left a quill an' things

on his porch for those what be o' such a mind."

Gage Thornton faced the drably garbed woman, wondering if he had ever

met her before, for her voice sounded strangely familiar.
 
As he walked

across the lawn toward her, he noticed that the whole side of her jaw

was darkly bruised and swollen.
 
Even so, he keenly recalled the tiny

woman who had encouraged him to buy Shemaine on the London Pride.

"Annie Carver?" The facial bruises looked even worse up close, and he

couldn't help but inquire, "Good heavens, woman, what has happened to

you?"

- Dumbfounded, Annie lifted a dirt-crusted hand and shaded her eyes

against the brightness of the solar orb as she tried to see him clearly.

" Oo is it?"

"Gage Thornton.
 
I bought Shemaine O'Hearn, remember?"

The woman hooted and slapped a hand against her leaner cheek. "Blimey,

gov'na!
 
Remember ye?
 
How could I forget?
 
It just took me a bit ta see

ye clearly, what with the sun in me eyes an' all.
 
How's Shemaine?" Her

eyes filled with sudden apprehension.
 
"She aren't hurt, is she?
 
Be that

why ye're wantin' the doc?"

"No, she's all right, Annie.
 
Actually I came for a friend of mine.
 
His

wife is due to give birth in late spring, but she's having trouble now .

.
 
.
 
may even lose the babe."

"I knows a thing or two about birthin' babies," Annie informed him

shyly.
 
"Me ma were a midwife afore she took ill an' died, but she

taught me what ta do ta help a woman a wee bit.
 
But me master, he'd

the'er let me go with ye."

"Did your master do that to you?" Gage asked gently, indicating her

blackened cheek.

Embarrassed, Annie lifted her shoulders in a feeblehearted shrug. "I

guess Mr.
 
Myers thought I deserved a knock or two for burnin' his

supper.
 
He told me ta go out an' chop some wood cause his parlor was

chilly.
 
It took a mite longer'n I figgered." She peered at Gage

quizzically.
 
"What bout yerself, gov'na?
 
Ye getti4' enough ta eat with

Sh'maine cookin' for ye?"

"I'm happy to say she's an exceptional cook, Annie.
 
I couldn't have

found a better one had I ventured clear to London town."

Annie gave him a sober, sidelong stare.
 
"Last night, this here Mrs.

Pettycomb come o'er ta talk ta me master .
 
.
 
.
 
Samuel Myers .
 
. .

bout how ye'd gone an' bought yerself a convict ta service yer manly

cravings, an' how ye'd almost killed the bosun from the London Pride

cause he tried ta take her away from ye."

Gage grew a bit irate over the unswerving verve of the old busybody in

spreading her biased stories about the hamlet.
 
"Mrs. Pettycomb usually

enlarges upon everything she hears, Annie, so I wouldn't put much stock

in what she says if I were you.
 
She seems to enjoy deliberately

distorting the facts to enliven her tales."

Annie was in hopes that he would explain further, but Gage remained

reticent about his purposes for buying Shemaine, for he saw no reason

for justifying himself to everybody who lent an ear to the lurid tales

being told about him.
 
If he ever made such an attempt, he'd never come

to the end of it, especially since the matron and her circle of

busybodies seemed inclined to prattle about him continuously.

The front door was snatched open, and Samuel Myers stalked out to the

edge of his porch, where he stood with one arm behind his back. Glaring

at them, he assumed the disposition of a red-faced dictator. "You lazy

bitch!" he snarled at Annie.
 
"I didn't buy your papers so you could

talk to every no-account that passes my gate.
 
Get back to your work

before I lay my fist to your other cheek.
 
And I warn you if you know

what's good for you, you'll stay busy while I'm gone, or I'll flay your

blooming hide.
 
I can't leave my shop every hour on the hour just to

check on you.

My customers will begin to fret and think I've left town."

Gage's brow grew sharply peaked as he peered across the yard at the man.