Petals on the River (75 page)

felt much like an emperor being restored to his kingdom after years in

exile a nd prison.
 
The joy I experienced was beyond measure.
 
I could

not have imagined that you would remain unaffected by Roxanne's

malevolent charges.
 
The experience left me overwhelmed, .
 
.
 
and a bit

amazed at your confidence in me."

Shemaine was perplexed by his reaction to her shameless display, but

after reaping the dire fruits of a thieftaker's allegations and finding

no one who had cared enough about compassion and human decency to

consider that she might have been innocent, she could well understand

another's fervent desire to be believed and trusted.
 
In some surprise

she realized she was no longer shaking.
 
Snuggling against her husband,

she giggled.

"I was terribly wicked, wasn't I?"

Gage chuckled and held her wonderfully close to his heart. "Absolutely

depraved, my love."

i_.

, ,, CHAPTER 17

l The return of Andrew resettled the Thorntons into the comfortable

niche of a genuine family, and although the boy found it strange that

Shemaine was now ensconced in his father's bedroom, he willingly

accepted her as a replacement for the mother whom he barely remembered.

Indistinct memories of a loving face and long, pale hair through which

he had once twined his fingers as his mother rocked and sang to him

occasionally flitted through his child's mind.
 
Another, more troubling,

memory of his father leaving him sobbing in his bed and, after a

terrifying space of time, returning to the cabin with the limp, battered

form of that beautiful lady in his arms haunted his dreams.
 
Even after

so long a time a recurring vision of her lying on the larger bed with a

trickle of blood running from the corner of her pale lips could wrench

him awake and leave him sobbing and yearning to be reassured that all

was well.

His new mother sang to him, too, and when he woke from a nightmare, she

would hold and comfort him.
 
She would even take him into bed with her.

It was her shoulder upon which his head rested as she sang him a lullaby

and his father's arm under which the two of them snuggled until he

drifted to sleep again.
 
Then, some time later, he would rouse long

enough to be aware that he was being carried back to his own bed by his

father.
 
There he would pass the remainder of the night in peaceful

contentment.

In the ensuing days, Andrew's room became officially separated from his

parents'.
 
A wall with a door was built into the large opening between

the two rooms, and another door was added on the adjacent wall, allowing

direct access from his bedroom to the parlor and the main living area.

The division lessened the chances of Andrew being disturbed by the

noises and murmuring voices that drifted from the master bedroom, while

it allowed his father and new mother more privacy.

The new door did not totally negate the possibility of interruption.

That fact was made evident when Andrew awoke during the night with an

urgent need to go to the privy and, after swinging wide the door

between, ran into the master bedroom.
 
The boy did not understand his

father's mad scramble to roll to the far side of the bed away from

Shemaine or their frantic snatching for bedcovers.
 
He heard a muted

groan as his father fell back upon his pillow, and he wondered if his

stomach was hurting.
 
Their sudden amusement was just as confusing.
 
He

only knew his need was great, and as he halted near the bed and peered

through the moonlit shadows into Shemaine's smiling face, he could

hardly restrain himself.

From then on, a small chamber pot was placed in Andrew's room each night

before he went to bed.
 
With its initial presence came his father's

encouragement to use it whenever he had a need during the night.
 
A

latch was soon affixed to the opposite side of the door which connected

the two rooms, alleviating the likelihood of the couple being intruded

upon without prior warning or the child being startled by seeing

something he shouldn't.

From Newportes Newes drifted rumors that Roxanne was carrying through

with her threats, but as yet, none of the inhabitants had deigned to

give the spinster an attentive ear, though she earnestly sought to

convince everyone of Gage's responsibility for Victoria's death.
 
The

majority of the townspeople were of the opinion that after being reected

for a second time by a man whom she had adored for nigh on to ten years,

Roxanne had been inflamed by spite rather than by any new discovery or

revelation.
 
Then, too, speculations as to the real reason for Victoria

Thornton's death had become rather hackneyed, especially after Mrs.

Pettycomb had spent the better part of the last year voicing her own

theories, trying to implicate Gage Thornton and blacken his name. But

even the hawk-nosed matron did not dare repeat Roxannes recent

assertions with her usual verve for fear of being reproached by those

who had declared that no one in their right mind would believe the

spinster.

Though several weeks passed, no official came out from town to make an

arrest.
 
Gage cautiously breathed a sigh of relief, as did his wife, and

their lives began to take on a new significance.
 
To their amazement

visitors from the hamlet began to bring small gifts as token offerings

of friendship to Shemaine, as if to declare their acceptance of her and

their desire to get acquainted.
 
It was mainly through the persistence

of Calley Tate (by way of callers coming to her bedside), Hannah Fields,

and Mary Margaret McGee that a change in attitudes was beginning to take

place.
 
The three women fervently lauded the praises of their new

friend, declaring to everyone who would listen that Shemaine was a

genteel lady who had been wrongly convicted.

Life was not altogether idyllic, however, for Shemaine began to suspect

that Jacob Potts had recovered from his wound and was back in the area.

She could hardly walk outside without sensing that she was being spied

upon by someone hiding deep within the wooded copse.
 
Gage searched the

forest time and again, but he could find only some freshly broken twigs

and recent disturbances of the rotting leaves that covered the forest

floor.
 
A deer or some other animal could have done as much.

Even so, Shemaine could not escape a feeling of foreboding, and for the

sake of caution, she began toting a flintlock with her whenever she went

outside.
 
Whether she went to play outside with Andrew, to wash clothes

or to do some other chore, she was intent upon being prepared for the

worst.
 
If her apprehensions proved to be nothing more than an overly

active imagination, then she had lost nothing, but if Potts was really

out there somewhere, she wanted to stop him before he harmed one of

them.
 
After Gage gave her further instructions on the use of the

firearm, her accuracy improved to the degree that she began to feel

quite tenacious about using the weapon if circumstances warranted it.

Gage kept up a constant vigil even though his young wife remained

unaware of the depth of his concern.
 
Every morning and afternoon, he or

one of his workmen would either ride in a wide sweep through the woods

or tread more stealthily on foot to see what they could find or even

surprise.
 
None of them were experienced trackers, and they only noticed

what was apparent, which was very little.
 
If Potts was hiding in the

trees, then he was being extremely cautious about it.

After bidding his men to keep a protective eye on his family, Gage

ventured into Newportes Newes to question Morrisa again.
 
But the harlot

had been ordered to go down to the docks with some of the other

strumpets and meet the large ship that was just coming into port.
 
The

London Pride would be setting sail soon, now that her cargo holds were

full, and the girls were expected to find new customers among the

incoming male passengers and crew.
 
If their earnings diminished,

Freida had threatened, they would soon find their victuals limited to

the bare necessities.
 
Except for a curt retort denying the whereabouts

of Potts, Morrisa refused to be delayed unless Gage could promise her a

full evening's entertainment upstairs with her fee paid in advance, for

she could not chance arousing the madam's ire.

"That li'l pipsqueak Myers complained ta Freida bout me, an' now I'm

havin' ta drum up twice as many gents ta placate the shrew.
 
Tain't

7cause I'm fond o' bein' at her beck an' call, ye understand.
 
I'd just

as soon stay here with ye an' give ye me services free, just ta show ye

how much better I can pleasure ye than that li'l bogtrotter ye married.

But if'n I cheat Freida out o' what she thinks is due her, she's

threatenin' to sell me ta one o' them mountain men what comes in here.

Do ye ken how mean an' nasty those brutes are?
 
Why, one took a bite o'

me so hard he drew blood.
 
Made me scream, he did!"

"You should be used to such behavior after being with Potts," Gage

remarked without a trace of sympathy.

Morrisa squawked in outrage and swept up a heavy pewter mug from a

nearby table.
 
She hauled back an arm to send it flying, but the

unperturbed smile on Gage's lips made her pause in sudden wariness.

"Freida is watching," he warned with a full measure of satisfaction.

The harlot's rage rapidly dwindled as he raised a hand to direct her

attention to the stairs, where the madam stood like a well-fortified

fortress.
 
With her pale, flabby arms folded in front of her and her

slippered toe tapping an irritated staccato on the step, Freida readily

conveyed the fact that Morrisa would forfeit more than a few victuals if

she aroused the ire of another customer.

Morrisa carefully lowered the tankard to the table as Freida strode down

the stairs and came forward.
 
Gage had no wish to hear the stern rebuke

that promised to be forthcoming, and he took his leave of the tavern,