Petals on the River (58 page)

Having no doubt that Gage Thornton would do whatever he pleased,

Shemaine made to turn away, but he caught an arm around her waist,

temporarily imprisoning her close against his side.
 
A sudden murmur in

the crowd affirmed the constant vigil maintained by their audience.

"Stay with me or I shall kiss you here and now," he threatened,

squeezing her waist.

Shemaine nodded readily, wishing to avoid the tumult which would

certainly be created if he did such a thing.
 
"Mary Margaret was right,

sir!"

"In what way, my sweet?"

Her soft lips curved in a fetching smile.
 
"You are a devil!"

Gage threw his head back and laughed, raising the eyebrows of many who

had not heard the like from him in some time.

When the dance ended, Shemaine was inclined to let her fingers linger in

his as they made their way across the hall.
 
The gentle pressure of his

grip assured her that it suited him to hold her hand. They were so

intent upon each other as they exchanged smiles and murmured comments on

the music, they failed to see Roxanne scowling at them as they passed in

front.

The evening continued pleasurably for each of them.
 
They shared most of

the dances, yet the two apprentices and Gillian were always eager to ask

their employer' s permission for a spin about the floor with her.

Except for the gossipmongers and those resentful of Gage Thornton, the

townspeople seemed to tolerate Shemaine's presence.
 
They could do

nothing less with her stalwart protector near at hand.

It was much later when Gage leaned near his bondslave to ask, "Are you

hungry, Shemaine?
 
We can eat now if you wish."

"Mmm, I'm starving!"

A grin accompanied his reply.
 
"Then come, my sweet slave, and I shall

find us a spot where we may indulge our appetites."

Gage straightened and motioned for his friends to join them at a far

table.
 
They were quick to respond and, after fetching food which Sly

graced, they entered a lively repartee about the wit of the Irish, which

Gillian and Mary Margaret had started some moments earlier. Laughter

made the rounds as they ate, but silence descended like a sledgehammer

driving nails when a caustic male voice intruded.

"Humph!
 
Bringing a convict to mingle with the good folk of this

community.
 
Some men don't care how they abuse their neighbors."

Gage turned sharply to find Samuel Myers sneering at him past the

profiles of the hawk-nosed Alma Pettycomb and other women of her sort

who had gathered nearby to observe the couple.
 
The clothier obviously

thought himself safe from reprisal with such formidable witnesses near

at hand, but with an angry snarl Gage pushed himself back from the

table, setting the women to flight.
 
He would have stood up to confront

the man, but both Shemaine and Sly were quick to intercede before he

could rise from his chair, the girl by a gentle hand on his arm and the

cabinetmaker by a rumbling entreaty.

"Forget the li'l pipsqueak, Gage," Sly urged, loud enough for the

clothier to hear.
 
"He's not worth yer bother."

"Why, you cloddish oaf!
 
Who do you think you're calling a pipsqueak?"

Myers demanded, stalking with stiff-legged outrage toward Sly's chair.

Gillian snickered in sudden delight.
 
"Show im, Sly!"

The apprentices made no effort to restrain their mirth as the hulking

cabinetmaker pushed himself leisurely to his feet.
 
Myers's gaze was

drawn slowly upward until he had to lean his head far back to even meet

the chiding gaze of the other.
 
Myers's jaw slackened abruptly, and he

gulped hard as he considered the breadth and height of his antagonist.

Faced with such overwhelming strength, he could find no more caustic

comments to make.

"Me name's Sly Tucker, if'n ye're curious,'' the cabinetmaker informed

him bluntly.

"Yes, well, I won't bother you any longer," Myers replied in anxious

haste.
 
"I'm sorry to have disturbed you."

Gage chuckled as his friend resettled himself in his chair.
 
"You do

seem to have a calming influence on some men, Sly.
 
Remind me to take

you with me if I ever go to war.
 
The enemy would see you coming and

likely turn tail and run, saving me a lot of trouble."

The relaxed camaraderie resumed, as did the dancing.
 
Mrs. Pettycomb

never ceased her chattering, nor Roxanne her scowling and stewing, but

for Shemaine and Gage, the affair ended on an enjoyable note as they

finished the last dance together.
 
After bidding adieu to their friends,

Gage drew his bondslave's arm through his and escorted her back toward

the livery, ignoring those who gaped and sneered after them.

They passed the tavern in time to see Freddy serving as a human crutch

for Potts, who appeared to have some difficulty walking upright as he

staggered through the doors.
 
The swabber held an arm clutched across

his midsection and was groaning aloud as if in great pain.
 
A makeshift

bandage had been wrapped around his brow, and another swathed his

knuckles.
 
From the poor condition he was in, it was clear that he had

come out much the worse for wear in his private set-to with the British

soldiers.

Moments later at the livery, Gage was harnessing the gelding to the

chaise when shuffling footfalls drew their attention to the deeper

shadows running alongside the barn.
 
As Gage stepped around to peer into

the darkness, Cain emerged with his cumbersome gait.
 
The hunchback

looked cautiously at the man and held out his hand to reveal a wooden

image of a graceful heron, as if to convey his reason for wanting to

approach Shemaine.
 
Gage gave his softly muted consent and watched as

the cripple made his way to her.

"Shamawn tawk bawrd .
 
.
 
.
 
gawft faw maw frawn," Cain mumbled, holding

out the bird.

Gage was able to interpret the garbled words more quickly now and

offered an explanation to Shemaine, who seemed confounded by what the

hunchback had said to her.
 
"I think Cain would like you to take the

bird as a gift because you're his friend."' "Cawn mawk bawrd faw

Shamawn."

"He made it for you," Gage informed her.

"Oh, Cain, it's beautiful,'' Shemaine murmured with a feeling of awe.

Though hideously deformed himself, the man had obviously been impressed

by the beauty of the bird and had painstakingly translated it into a

wooden likeness.
 
"You have a rare talent, Cain, and I'm honored by your

gift.
 
Tis a lovely memento of our friendship.
 
Thank you."

Shemaine moved forward, and Cain, with a look of wonder on his distorted

face, received another gentle kiss upon his brow.
 
Briefly she wrapped

her arms around him, giving him an affectionate hug, and .

D , ,' I g 1s then stood back with a tender smile.
 
Once again Cain

seemed astonished by her deeds and, as if again unable to believe what

he had just received, touched the place where her lips had brushed and

hugged himself as he offered a crooked smile that showed his sparse and

crooked teeth.
 
Then he mumbled a farewell, turned and left, shuffling

back into the shadows from whence he had come.

Gage stepped beside Shemaine to look at the gift.
 
He, too, was amazed

at her compassion.
 
"I think you've earned a friend for life, my sweet."

"Oh, sir, Cain is so lonely and pitiful," she replied with heartfelt

empathy.
 
"It makes me sad to think of what that poor soul has been

through, being an outcast.
 
Whatever I've suffered because of my arrest

seems so insignificant in comparison to what he has had to endure all

his life.
 
Indeed, I must be grateful for all that I've been blessed

with."

"You've made his life better because of your kindness, Shemaine," Gage

pointed out quietly.
 
"Cain would not want you to be sad.
 
That's 2 not

why he worked so diligently to carve your gift.
 
It was to give you back

some bit of the pleasure you've given him by your simple display i Of

affection."

Shemaine smiled at his gentle reassurances and allowed him to assist her

into the chaise.
 
Soon they were on the road again, making good time as

they sped home.
 
Shemaine reflected upon Cain's sculpture, studying it

as much as she could by moonlight, but she was tired after such a long

day, and the rhythmic clip-clop of the horse's hooves and the gentle

sway of the lightly sprung chaise lulled her to sleep.
 
Her head bobbed

forward several times, jerking her momentarily awake, until a hand came

up and gently pressed it down upon a sturdy shoulder.
 
What remained of

the ride passed into oblivion for Shemaine, and even when Gage halted

the gelding near the corral some time later, she slept on, undisturbed.

Gage tied the reins around the dash before he leaned back in the seat

and considered his slumbering companion.
 
Her head still rested on his

shoulder, and she was cuddled close against his side as if she sought

his warmth.
 
A soft breast seemed to brand him through his sleeve, and

it was all he could do to keep his hand from encompassing that tempting

fullness.
 
Her nearness had filled his senses with a delicate essence of

violets from the first moment he had sat beside her earlier that

afternoon.
 
In all, it had been a delightful experience to court her

throughout the evening.
 
It was just as pleasurable to watch her

sleeping and, albeit by moonlight, to closely scrutinize every minute

detail about her.

Gage swept an arm behind her, shifting her forward slightly until he

could lay it close about her shoulders.
 
A sigh escaped her parted lips,