Brides of Arizona, page 37
Slinging the bag of utensils over his shoulder, Josiah hurried after Lavette as she carried the full basket to the house. He stretched out a hand to open the door for her. Lavette turned to him, her mouth open like she planned to invite him in. Her fingers closed around the latch, and his covered hers before he could stop. Lavette’s eyes widened. Josiah couldn’t breathe. Time seemed to stand still as they stood transfixed, gazing into one another’s eyes.
Lavette moaned and tugged her hand from under his. Josiah pulled the latch and opened the door.
“Can I get the basket for you?”
She darted through the open door, her gaze downcast. “No, thank you. I’ll put the clothes in the other room and be right back. Please have a seat.” Her skirt swished as she crossed the room.
Stepping inside, Josiah closed the door behind him. His hand still tingled from the contact with her. His arms ached with the desire to hold her close. Shaking his head, he put the bag of utensils on the table and began to examine the room. How could he feel this way about a woman so fast? Until a few days ago, he hadn’t recognized the longing inside as loneliness and a suppressed desire for a wife. Was he reacting to Lavette simply because he’d finally admitted the truth to himself?
“May I offer y’all a drink?” Even her speaking voice carried a trace of the melodic singing he’d heard outside. “We have some cake from last night’s supper, too.”
He grinned. “I believe you said the right words. I’m never one to pass on a piece of something sweet and a cup of water or coffee. Will you join me?” He waited while Lavette dished up two pieces of cake, a tiny one for herself and a huge one for him. His mouth watered, and his stomach growled.
The corner of her mouth turned up at the sound. “Sounds like you must be starving. Did you miss your lunch today?”
He chuckled. “If I haven’t eaten in the last hour, my stomach thinks I’m dying of starvation.”
“We can’t have that, then.” Lavette carried the plates to the table. Turning to the stove, she lifted the coffeepot, then brought two cups. “Do you want a little milk or sweetening in your coffee?”
“No, thank you, but you can leave the pot here. I’ll probably need a refill.” Josiah held the chair for Lavette, then sat across from her. He wasn’t sure if he could take his eyes off of her long enough to eat; she was so beautiful.
“Mmm. This is delicious. Kathleen Kirby makes a cake exactly like this.”
Lavette’s mouth twitched. She began to giggle. Even her giggle didn’t sound girlish, but musical. Josiah wanted to shake himself. He must have it bad, whatever this was.
“You seem to find that funny. Did you get the recipe from Kathleen? She told me she visited you yesterday.” He stared as Lavette broke into peals of laughter. Tears streamed down her face. She pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped her cheeks.
“I’m sorry.” She gasped for a breath. “Mrs. Kirby brought the cake over yesterday when she and Mrs. Sullivan came to visit. I didn’t mean to make you think I baked this. I’m not sure why I’m laughing.”
Josiah began to chuckle. “I’m not either, but I’d rather see you laughing than throwing something at me.”
“Like the cake?” She laughed harder.
“Like the cake.” He grinned as he watched her struggle to control her mirth. This woman was as changeable as a cat he used to have. One day the beast would be friendly, the next, a tigress ready to attack. He’d loved the cat, though, because she was never boring. He thought life with Lavette would never be dull, either.
Giddiness welled up inside Lavette. She couldn’t seem to stop laughing. What is the matter with me? Since the moment Josiah’s fingers closed over hers on the door latch, she hadn’t been able to think straight. No, that’s not true. A small voice whispered the words in her mind. Since the moment she’d heard his deep bass blending with her voice, she’d lost the ability to think rationally. Something had snapped, and she thought it must be the protective covering she’d put over her heart long ago.
When his hand touched hers, she was transfixed. The look in his eyes mesmerized her. She found she wanted to have him hold her, to feel those strong arms around her lending strength and comfort. The sudden desire to belong to the man of her dreams had been almost more than she could bear.
Now, he was sitting here, trying to eat cake, and all she could do was cackle like some lovesick hen. That thought made her start laughing all over again. She could see Josiah strutting around like a rooster. No, he wasn’t like that at all. He wouldn’t think the world of himself, but he would think the world of his wife. If he strutted around, it would mean he was proud of her.
“You have the most beautiful soprano I ever heard.” Josiah’s words were like cold water and sobered her in an instant.
“Thank you.” She ducked her head and began to cut a bite from her cake.
“I remember Mrs. Thompson back home. She had a fine voice. We would hear her every Sunday when she stood up and sang at church.” Josiah’s bright gaze caught hers when she looked up. “But Mrs. Thompson couldn’t sing at all compared to you. You make me think the angels are listening so they can take lessons.”
Fire burned in her cheeks. Miss Susannah’s papa talked about how pretty her voice was, too. He even took her with him to a house where he wanted her to sing for the folks. She hated the memory. The women there hadn’t been dressed right. The men were smoking and drinking. The talk made her ears burn, and she was sure God would never forgive her. Maybe He hadn’t; look what all had happened to her. Miss Susannah’s papa insisted that when Lavette grew up, that was all she’d be good for—to entertain and work in one of those places. For so long after the war, she’d been terrified to sing.
“Do you enjoy the music in church at your home?” Josiah must not be able to see the turmoil going on inside her. She thought it would be obvious for anyone to notice. “We don’t have a regular church here.” Josiah continued without noticing her distress. “Sometimes we get a pastor passing through, and he stays for a few weeks to preach to us, but mostly we get together with friends and share Scripture.”
Lavette pushed away from the table and picked up her plate with the uneaten cake. Before walking to the washing tub, she scraped the cake into the scrap bucket. She knew what would happen when she told Josiah about her beliefs. He’d be gone so fast, she wouldn’t hear him leave. She could tell from looking at him, he was a decent man. He wouldn’t want to be seen with the likes of her.
“Maybe this Sunday you could join me when I meet with the Sullivans, the Kirbys, and some others.”
She gripped the edge of the washtub, willing her hands not to pick up the plate and throw it at him. Didn’t he understand? Not only was she not worthy of him, she wasn’t free to love him, either. She would never be free. Anger at that thought bubbled up like acid, eating through her.
“I don’t go to church.” She spat out the words.
“This isn’t like church exactly.” He stood and brought his empty plate and cup over to her. “We’re friends, taking time to share some Bible and to pray. Afterwards, we eat the noon meal together. They’re good people, and I’m sure you’ll love them as much as I do.”
Taking his dishes, she plunked them into the basin. Whirling around, she was startled to see he still stood there, a solid mountain of a man. She tilted her head back to look in his face. The anger drained away. How could this man affect her so? Every fiber in her being was aware of him. He was like a magnet, drawing her to him, and she was helpless to resist.
“I have to take care of Mrs. Sawyer.”
“I heard her daughter and son-in-law are taking her to their house for the day. That means you’ll be here all by yourself, unless you have other friends in town that I don’t know about.” His grin softened, and he leaned closer.
Lavette wanted to move back, but the wash basin wouldn’t allow that. “I don’t go to church.”
“You said that before, but this isn’t going to church. This is friends getting together.” His grin widened. “The only one of us that bites is little Andrew, and then only when he’s getting another tooth.”
She couldn’t help herself. She chuckled. “I’ve met Andrew. He’s adorable, and I don’t think you’re very nice to say mean things about him.”
He pretended to be stricken. “Oh, I’m not being mean. I’m telling the honest truth. The last time he cut a tooth, I carried the evidence on my thumb for a week.” He touched her arm, sending her emotions awry. “Will you come, please?”
“I don’t even have a Bible.” What a feeble excuse. Maybe I should tell him I’ll be sick by Sunday. After all, thinking of spending the day with all of them talking about God could make me ill.
His huge hand touched her cheek. The warmth in his gaze stole her breath. When he spoke, his voice was husky with emotion. “That’s no problem. I’ll share mine.”
Chapter 7
The door of the mercantile squeaked as Lavette pushed it open. A mixture of smells rushed out to greet her. The earthy scent of burlap, spices, leather, and an undefined musty odor all combined in an aroma that made identifying the more subtle fragrances difficult. High walls lined with shelves were packed full of assorted necessities. Her hand tightened on the short list she’d brought.
A group of men in the back of the store glanced up. Their stares made her want to fidget as the door creaked shut behind her. The brightness of the sun and the dim interior made distinguishing the men impossible, but she knew they’d stopped talking and watched her. Fear clutched at her with icy fingers. She wanted to fling the door open and run home as fast as she could.
Blinking, Lavette forced her feet to carry her to the counter, where a middle-aged man waited. His large mustache wiggled as he smiled at her. “May I help you?”
“I need some things.” She tried to keep her voice from quaking but knew she hadn’t succeeded. Holding out her trembling hand, she placed the crumpled list on the counter.
“Let’s see.” He frowned and put on a pair of spectacles. Squinting at the writing, he glanced up at her. “Thread, a pound of sugar, beans.” He continued reading the list silently. “I’ll have these things ready in a few minutes, if you’d like to look around.”
She shook her head. “Thank you. I’ll wait here.” She kept her gaze lowered, trying to keep from seeing what the men in the back of the room were doing. One of them let out a loud guffaw, followed by laughter from the rest. She glanced around for the clerk. He wasn’t in sight.
Murmuring and snickering alternated from the group in the back. Lavette could feel a trickle of sweat inching down her back. Her muscles ached from staying still so long. Where was the man who took her order? Could she leave the cash on the counter and come back to pick up the goods later? She knew that wouldn’t work. What if someone came along and took the coins before the man returned? Then, she would be in trouble with him and with Mrs. Sawyer for wasting money.
The ribaldry grew louder, along with a few comments that made her ears burn. Reaching into her bag, she fished around for the change Mrs. Sawyer had given her. She could hardly hear the jangling over the racket from the back of the store. Why hadn’t she waited until tomorrow, when Mr. Ashton would be able to go to the mercantile for them?
From the corner of her eye, she saw one of the men sauntering in her direction. She froze, her fingers clenched so hard around the coins that they cut into her palm.
“Well, hello there, Miss Johnson. What a pleasure meeting you here.” Bertrand Mead’s nasal whine sent a chill racing down her spine. She shivered.
“I’ve been telling some of the boys here about you and how well you can sing. They were wondering if you would give us a little preview.” Mead stopped next to her. She gagged on the nauseating scent of him. “I told them you would be entertaining in one of my establishments soon, and they are very excited. How about a song?”
“No.” Her lips trembled. “Leave me alone.”
Mead turned toward the men. “She’s a little shy. Perhaps if you were to make it worth her while, she would give us a tune.” His voice lowered. “She might even remember you favorably when you come to my place.”
A chorus of hoots and laughter jolted Lavette. She jumped and began to sidle closer to the door. She didn’t care about the items she came to buy. All she wanted was to get away from these men. Oh, why was the door so far away from her?
“Now, don’t think you can run off, Miss Johnson.” Mead took hold of her arm and began to drag her back to the table where the other men sat. Lavette couldn’t look up. She didn’t want to see the stares. Memories from her childhood haunted her, wrapping her in a cloak of terror.
“My, my, these gentlemen really do want to hear you, Miss Johnson.” Mead pulled her to a stop beside the table. She could see a pile of coins thrown in the center. Mead’s fingers held her in a painful grip. “Let’s hear you do something for the men.” His grip tightened, and she feared he might break her arm.
“Well, if you won’t sing for us, let’s at least let them get a look at your pretty face. I’m sure these men will want to look you up when you belong to me.” Mead clasped her jaw and forced her head up. She closed her eyes, wishing the ground would open and swallow her.
“Here you are, Miss.” The clerk swept through a curtained-off area at the back of the store. “I’m sorry I took so long. We were out of the thread you needed, and I had to find the new shipment in the back. Will this be all?”
Mead released her as the clerk swept past them, his arms full of packages. Lavette ran after him in her haste to get away from Mead and his cronies. Her heart pounded. Her hands shook so badly, she dropped the money she pulled from her reticule. Scrambling on the floor, she did her best to retrieve it all. Laughter rang from the table at the back of the mercantile.
“Thank you.” Lavette managed to get the words out as the clerk finished wrapping her purchases together in a paper and tying them with a string. She could feel Mead’s gaze on her. What if he followed her? What could she do?
Stepping outside, Lavette reveled in the warmth of the sun. Her body felt chilled, as if she’d been exposed to the worst winter storm imaginable. Starting off down the street, she wanted to run but knew that was foolish. Mead was probably laughing about her with his friends. She’d been someone they made fun of, not someone he was truly serious about.
A door creaked behind her. Her heart pounded. Stomach churning, she glanced over her shoulder. Bertrand Mead stood outside the mercantile, watching her. With a deliberate smile, he began to stalk after her. Feeling like a rabbit running from a fox, Lavette quickened her pace.
She could not get to the house before he caught up with her. Mead’s legs were longer. Even if she could run that far, he could easily outdistance her. She had no defense against him.
Hurrying around the corner, Lavette began to trot. Her skirts caught at her legs, slowing her down, threatening to trip her. Heavy footsteps sounded from behind. A cruel snigger let her know what Mead thought of her efforts to elude him. A sob tore through her chest. Help me. She wanted to scream the words aloud, but couldn’t get them out.
Please, someone help me. No one paid attention to her. Some even pointedly ignored what was happening.
The footsteps were closer. Mead would have her in a moment. She picked up her skirts and raced full tilt around a corner. The wall she ran into wasn’t brick. For a moment she didn’t realize she’d run into a person. Only when arms came around her, did she understand. One of Mead’s men must have gone out a back way to catch her. How stupid she’d been to fall into such a trap.
Lavette twisted and fought to no avail. The package of goods she’d bought fell to the ground. The arms holding her felt like iron. He spoke, but she refused to listen. This man might be stronger than she, but she would at least put up a fight before they dragged her away.
“She doesn’t seem to want you, Blacksmith.” Mead’s whine cut through her fear. Lavette stilled.
“I’m taking her home, Mead. She doesn’t want to go with you.” Josiah’s deep voice rumbled in his chest. Lavette’s ear pressed tight against him.
Josiah. He would protect her. She quit struggling and rested against him, so exhausted, she knew if he let go she would fall. He smelled of horses, smoke, and sweat, reminding her of her father and comfort. She wanted to stay there forever, to hide from the evil of the world.
“You all right?” Josiah’s question spoken close to her ear sent a shiver down her spine, a very different kind of shiver from the one she got when Mead spoke to her.
She nodded. He seemed to understand, for his arms tightened a moment, then eased their hold.
“Let go of the girl.” Anger gave Mead’s voice a shrill sound. “I’ll take her home. I need to talk to her owner, anyway.”
Josiah stiffened. “No one is her owner. She’s employed by Mrs. Sawyer. We aren’t slaves anymore, Mead, no matter how much you want us to be.”
Lavette tensed. Not slaves anymore? Was he blind? Didn’t he understand they would always be in bondage? She started to push away, but Josiah’s arms tightened, holding her close.
“Oh, I know they fought a war for emancipation, but this girl still belongs to the lady. She’ll be for sale, and I’m going to buy her. If you don’t believe me, ask her. For now, you can have her, but she’ll be mine soon enough, and you won’t get near her.”
Lavette could hear Mead’s heavy steps fading as he returned the way he had come. Fear tore through her. What if Mrs. Sawyer agreed to let Mead have her? Money could buy most anything. Hadn’t she seen that, growing up on Wild Oak plantation?
“I have to get home. Thank you.” Lavette pushed back, and this time Josiah let go of her. She stepped away, unable to look at him. Her foot bumped against the package from the mercantile. Picking it up, she hugged the goods to her, wishing she were back in Josiah’s arms.
“What did he mean? Why does he think you’re still a slave?” Josiah stood like a mountain in front of her.
