The Heart of the Mountains, page 15
Luckily, he caught her before she fell and steadied her back to her feet before slipping back—with extra distance between them.
“I’m—I’m sorry.” He shook his head, distancing himself even more.
“No harm done.” She sounded breathless, and he liked that sound too much.
He pinched his eyes closed. Lord, help me. “Hopefully not, but there’s no tellin’ who’s watchin’.”
“Watching?” She turned toward him, her eyes widening. “What do you mean? Watching?”
He growled and rammed his fists into his pockets. Stupid talk. He needed to keep his mouth shut. “Nothin’.”
“Jeb.” Her tone firmed. “What do you mean?”
He released a sigh and turned to face her. “Some folks in these mountains, especially the busybodies, keep a lookout for anything worth gabbing about.”
“And they have a reason to gab about us?”
“I just don’t want to start any trouble for you, especially since you’re an outsider and folks round here aren’t keen to take too kindly to strangers.”
She studied him with such intensity, he just kept on talking like he knew what he was saying. “We don’t want no rumors to start for you that might lead to wrong thinkin’ about you and—” He cleared his throat. “Me. If folks thinks there’s anything sinful goin’ on betwixt the two of us.”
“Sinful?” She laughed out the word.
He cringed. “It ain’t like there’s anything sinful going to happen.” His face heated. “But if someone thought we was in a romantic way without goin’ about it properly then things might not turn out so good for either of us.”
“Good heavens! How would anyone imply such a thing? And why would it matter to them?”
“It shouldn’t, but it does, and since you ain’t of a matrimonial mind, I’m tryin’ to keep you clear of any possible misunderstandings.” He’d butchered this conversation worse than any hunting mistake he’d ever made. He raised a brow. “Safe, if I can.”
“What are you not saying, Jeb McAdams?”
He looked away and prayed for help.
“You ain’t got no notion to get married?” Isom emerged as if from nowhere, but clearly he’d heard enough.
Cora blinked, effectively releasing Jeb from her stare, and turned to Isom. “I would love to get married someday, Isom, but I’d like to choose who that person would be.”
“You don’t get to choose where you’re from?”
“Not as easily as I ought, I’m afraid.” She smiled at Isom but narrowed her eyes up at Jeb.
He conveniently looked away.
“Well, it’s a good thang you come all the way here then.” Isom’s confident stride returned as he kept in time with them. “Fellers and gals ain’t got no qualms choosin’ and marryin’ a’tall.”
“That’s a relief to know.” And though Cora focused back on the walk, her tight smile sent Jeb a clear message she wasn’t finished with their conversation.
“You took care of folks in the war, didn’t you?” Isom continued, oblivious to the tension in the night air.
“I did.” Cora retied her scarf. Double knot, and Jeb had the strange notion she wished his neck fit behind it. “For my part.”
“Which means you’re the caring sort?”
Isom’s words trickled through Jeb’s frustration to reach recognition. The caring sort?
“I like to think I am.” Her words returned to their gentle tone. “I hope so anyway.”
“Caring, easy on the eyes, and good at talkin’?” Isom drew in a deep breath and sent Jeb a rascally grin. “That’s an awful nice list for a gal worth marryin’, ain’t it?”
Chapter Eleven
Cora wasn’t certain whether her brother truly wanted her to drive the wagon so she could get accustomed to the mountain road to Flat Creek or if he’d noticed her avoidance of Rowen, but no matter the reason, magnanimity or practice, she wouldn’t complain. Besides, she’d driven all sorts of conveyances while at the Front, so this experience proved one of the less shocking of her time in the Blue Ridge.
Laurel sat in the bed of the wagon, keeping Rowen Hawes entertained as he sat propped by blankets to soften the dips and bumps of the ride. The timing wasn’t ideal—her brother leaving only a little over a week after she’d arrived—but she couldn’t fault him for it. After all, he didn’t know she’d taken a ship then a train to Appalachia to escape a very unwanted future. But still, she’d barely gotten enough time to bask in his nearness after almost a year apart.
But since he and Laurel had asked her to tend house for them while they were gone, Cora would, at least, have some time to delve into Jonathan’s medical books.
“I hate we’re leaving you just as you’ve arrived.” Jonathan sat by her side in a dapper suit. His felt hat was poised too far back on his head, but he still managed to look above reproach. Well, except for the mischief tipping his smile. “Who will be here to keep you out of trouble?”
“And you automatically assume that I’m the one who causes all this trouble, are you?”
His grin broadened and then he sobered. “It is quite the adjustment, Cora. This place.” He glanced to the back of the wagon. “But at least you’ll have the McAdamses and Uncle Edward. There’s some relief in that.”
“I’ll be alright, you know?” She nudged him with her shoulder. “I’ve grown up a lot in the past year.”
“Be that as it may …” He nudged her back. “You’re still my little sister, and there are things about these mountains and these mountain people that you may have never encountered in the war.”
She nodded, allowing him that. “As strange as it sounds, helping you with Rowen’s bullet wound has been the most natural thing that has happened to me since I arrived here.”
He released a laugh. Oh, how she loved his laugh. It had been so long since she’d heard it. “If that doesn’t tell you how topsy-turvy the world is right now, I don’t know what would.” His expression sobered. “But do be careful. I’m glad you can tend to the house, but go to Uncle’s at any point you feel unsafe. Won’t you?”
“I’ll certainly keep that in mind.”
His cheek twitched at her lack of commitment. “And don’t forget that Mrs. Cappy and her store are available to you. You can see her store from the front of the house.”
“Jonathan.” She settled her gaze in his. “I know I’ve never lived here with all of its many differences, but I have been on my own, somewhat, and in a dangerous place, I might add. You must trust me a little.”
His shoulders slowly lowered with the release of a long breath. “I know you’re right, but … but I’m so glad to have you here that I want you to remain safe and …” He shrugged. “Well, just remain for a while, I suppose.”
“That’s my plan.” She grinned. “After a mountain lion, a shooting, and a childbirth in the middle of a storm, I feel as if I’ve passed some sort of test already.” She refused to mention the “haint,” mostly because she didn’t believe in them, but also for the simple fact she didn’t want Jonathan to know the idea of the shrouded woman unnerved her.
“Let’s hope those are the worst of it.” He looked ahead. “Yes, let’s hope.”
She flinched at the foreboding in his response, determined to end on a lighter note. “Of course, there are things about this place that have been”—she almost said “frightening,” but refused to admit such aloud—“surprising and that I’ve felt ill-equipped to manage at first, but the longer I’m here, I think I’m beginning to see a little of what kept you in this place.”
“Besides Laurel, you mean.”
“Yes, besides Laurel.” Cora grinned. “There’s a need, but also a beauty. And the way some families find joy in the smallest things, well, it’s refreshing, isn’t it?”
“And if you know where to look, you’ll find goodness, creativity, intelligence. So many things.” Jonathan shook his head slowly. “The handiwork these mountain folks create with the meagerest of resources is astounding. I can’t seem to sell their crafts fast enough. Have you seen Jeb’s woodcrafts?”
Cora turned toward her brother, her mind flipping back to her first day when she’d awakened in Jeb’s cabin and saw the woodland creature carvings on the mantel in the bedroom. Had those been his? She pressed her lips together to keep her smile under control. How could she be both surprised and not so surprised by this knowledge? “I don’t think I’ve seen much of them.”
“The shopkeepers and craftsman in Wilkesboro snatch up his work as fast as I can bring it to them. And he’s not the only one who creates quality products. There are dressmakers, quilters, basket weavers, potters, so many things.”
“Now if we could just get them to improve their hygiene and diet, we can say we’ve discovered a lost colony of renaissance men and women.”
He raised his brow.
“I read all of your letters over and over again.” She pointed at him. “I remember almost everything you’ve written about these people, and now I have my own information to add. They need more vegetables than potatoes and corn whiskey.”
He rolled his eyes skyward as his grin grew. “When I get back next month, I will show you all the gifts they have and the changes that are slowly happening, and then you’ll bite your tongue.”
Flat Creek proved nothing like any town Cora had seen back home. No cobblestone streets, limestone, thatched-roof character, or picturesque alleys. In fact, she didn’t see any thatch, cobblestone, or limestone at all. Few trees, though there were pockets of them, but the entire conglomeration of box-shaped buildings were framed in by the mountains in which she’d spent the last week.
The buildings lined both sides of the street, many brick, some white-painted wood slabs. A church steeple rose at the far end of the street with a large, gray building with stairs leading up to tall columns pitted across from the church. A government building, perhaps?
The entire scene reminded her of a photo she’d seen once related to the “Wild West” towns nearer the West Coast of the United States.
“There’s the town clinic Jeb has been working on.” She followed Jonathan’s gaze to a three-story wood-slab structure at the edge of town. “The plan is to use the lower floor for the clinic, the middle floor for living quarters, and the top floor as additional space for storage or housing, as needed.”
“Your hope is to be in town, instead of up in the mountains?” An unexpected decision, given his passion for the mountain people.
“Only part-time and until we can add another doctor.” He looked ahead. “Rock Creek is as in need of a doctor as Maple Springs. Their long-time physician passed away about six months ago and I’ve been staying in town for a few days when I take crafts to Wilkesboro.”
What doctors would come to this place? Jonathan needed help now. It was evident from the vastness of the place. From the stories she’d heard. From Jonathan’s own tales.
A large white house stood out from the other shops as they passed, its grand wraparound porch and varied rooflines jutted in typical Victorian style. Jonathan must have seen her staring.
“That is the mayor’s house,” he said. “He’s quite proud of it, from what I hear.”
“And rightly so.” Cora nodded to people as they passed, their attire less stylish than London, but much more up-to-date than Maple Springs. Her attention dropped to the feet of the passersby—they all wore shoes. Something about that mental acknowledgement pierced her in a way she didn’t expect. A need. A longing. A … purpose sparked to life inside her. Was this the same type of desire her brother had felt a year ago when he’d come into this wild place to teach school?
His comment from the day Rowen was shot came back to mind. I think I have a much-needed assistant.
Could the people of Maple Springs be her calling too?
“Back there is Rowen’s house.”
Cora followed her brother’s gesture to a massive three-story, whitewashed house on a hill a street behind Main. It felt as if it towered over them, even though it wasn’t as large as the mayor’s house. Close, but not quite. And tower seemed the appropriate word, because there were three of them, jutting up from the house’s roofline as if to garner attention in castle-like fashion.
“You like what you see, Miss Taylor?”
Cora swiveled on the wagon bench to the sound of Rowen Hawes’s question, the potency of his confident smile unscathed by the weakness in his body. The fact the town road allowed for her to hear his voice from the back of the wagon attested to the smoothness of the packed dirt.
“It’s a beautiful house, Mr. Hawes.”
“Stop puttin’ on airs, Rowen Hawes.” Laurel shook her head and added an exaggerated eye roll. “Everybody in this wagon knows where you’re from, so no need to get high on your horse.” She may look the part of a town lady in a navy suit and matching hat Cora gave her, but the mountain shone through in her speech.
Cora grinned. That accent was growing on her.
“Our train leaves shortly.” Jonathan glanced at Laurel and then looked at Cora. “Would you mind taking us to the train station before returning Rowen to his home?”
“My hotel,” Rowen corrected. “I need to check on things there first.” ‘
Jonathan sent a look to Cora, searching her face.
“It’s fine, Jonathan.” Her smile softened. “I’m certain I’ve seen worse than a small-town hotel.”
His brow darkened but he didn’t respond.
Once Jonathan and Laurel retrieved their tickets, Jonathan took Cora by the arm and pulled her aside. “Be careful in certain parts of this town. It’s good mostly, filled with good people, but there are places …”
“As there are everywhere.” She patted his hand on her arm. “I’ll be careful, brother dear.”
His smile crooked at her childhood nickname for him. “Mind you do, or I’ll be forced to have Uncle Edward give you a thorough tongue lashing.” He raised one brow. “And those are uncomfortable no matter how old one is.”
She laughed and gave Jonathan a hug before seeing him and Laurel off on their train. Even though she’d navigated field hospitals without him, a sudden loneliness swelled through her as she watched the train disappear around the bend. Of course she had Uncle Edward, but his schedule proved as malleable as Jonathan’s.
She pinched her eyes closed and straightened her shoulders. She would just have to make do, wouldn’t she? Her life had changed so much in the past two years, she barely recognized the lighthearted, whimsical girl she’d been before the war changed so many things. But she’d learned to fight for herself and others. To push beyond the fear and discomfort. And she’d do the same now.
As she approached the wagon, Rowen greeted her with his typical grin. “Just the two of us, Miss Taylor.”
“I suppose so.” She paused before him as he sat up from his pillowed place among the quilts. “But I will make our time together as short as possible since you need to rest and I mean to get back to Maple Springs before dark.”
“You can always stay in my hotel.” His grin teased wider. “Much finer accommodations for a fine lady like yourself.”
Before the war, if she’d been thrust into the world of Maple Springs and someone had offered her a warm room, carpeted floors, and a bed with a real mattress, she’d have pounced at the opportunity. But now? Well, she’d learned how to manage simpler expectations and recognize rascally intentions.
“That is very kind of you, Mr. Hawes, but I really—”
“I think we’ve gotten to know each other well enough that you can call me Rowen, don’t you?”
Her smile hitched but she held it intact. “Thank you, Rowen, but I need to start on back.”
He caught her arm as she moved to pass the wagon bed. “That mountain ain’t for the likes of you, Cora. You’re meant for grander things. And I’m sure you’re used to ‘em. Soft beds, warm rooms, excellent meals.” His fingers tightened ever so slightly. “I can promise to take real good care of you.”
Her body tensed. Unfortunately, she’d also experienced the sting of being manhandled. She pulled her arm away as easily as possible and forced a smile she didn’t feel. “Again, thank you, Mr. Hawes.” She enunciated his name. “But I find that war has taught me that the grander things, as you call them, are rarely related to how soft the bed is or how excellent the meal, though I have a keen appreciation for both.”
His smile faded, so she attempted to lessen the blow.
“But, perhaps, when I return to see to your healing, you will indulge me in a tour of your hotel and, perhaps, one of those excellent meals?”
He recovered his grin as well as the glint in his eyes. “It would be my pleasure, Cora.”
Her stomach knotted in unexpected revolt, but she held to her expression long enough to take the wagon ride down the street and help Rowen into the lobby of his grand hotel. For a small-town hotel, it held an element of grandeur she hadn’t expected. The four-story brick edifice stood tall, its roofline visibly taller than the steeple from the church across the street. A glossy black-and-white checked floor led to a massive grand staircase, splitting at the landing and disappearing up on both sides.
“Care to change your mind now?”
She looked at him as he leaned against her for support. Though with the way he’d been healing, he likely didn’t require her help. Her cheeks flared hot and she carefully led him toward one of the posh, red high-backs that stood facing a marble fireplace. What an anomaly! All of it! And how was he able to maintain such a place in the middle of nowhere?
As if reading her mind, he said, “Sawmills are all around, and with the development of Route 421 for access from east to west, we get a surprising amount of stopovers.”
“You must,” she whispered, taking in the grand room and accommodations.
