Magnolia Summer (Southern Seasons Book 1) Page 23

  He reached out and gently caressed her elbows, drawing her toward him. She knew if she looked up he would kiss her. She kept her eyes focused on his chest.

  She let him draw her closer until her forehead rested against his shoulder. She knew she shouldn’t let him kiss her, not when she was so uncertain about what she wanted. For that matter, she shouldn’t let him hold her like this. Before Truett, she’d never let a man touch her at all. One or two times, a fellow had kissed her hand, and she’d danced with a few partners through the years, but everything with Truett was new.

  Where had her anger and bluster gone? They had deserted her, leaving her with a warmth that made her wish this moment never had to end.

  Chapter 25

  Truett held Celia close for a long time, neither of them speaking. What was going through her mind?

  She’d been so scared at the sight of Sheriff Suggs walking toward him, she’d fainted. He wanted to reassure Celia that everything was going to be all right, that she shouldn’t worry so much about the sheriff killing him, but he didn’t want to bring it up if she wasn’t thinking about it. Mercy sakes, but she could get upset.

  Her head fit perfectly under his chin. Soon he would kiss her good-night, but it felt so good to hold her, he was pretty sure he could stand there all night if she wanted him to.

  “I suppose you should go.” Celia’s voice was muffled against his shirt. She made no move to let go of him or pull away, so he didn’t move either.

  “I suppose I should.”

  “I want you to promise me to be careful and avoid Sheriff Suggs.”

  “I promise.”

  “Don’t get into any more trouble.”

  “I won’t. Not intentionally, anyway.”

  She pulled away and looked up at him. “No. No more trouble.”

  “All right.”

  She reached up and laid her hand against the side of his face. “Your bruise isn’t even healed yet.”

  He tightened his arms around her. His breath seemed to have gotten stuck in his throat. He wanted to kiss her but she looked down again.

  “I liked dancing with you,” he told her. “We should have dancing at our wedding.”

  “You’re forgetting something.”

  “What?”

  “I haven’t said yes to your proposal of marriage.”

  “But you will.”

  Celia wanted to get angry and tell him he had no right to assume so much. But how would that sound, since she was allowing the man to hold her in his arms? If she didn’t intend to marry him, she was behaving like a hoyden.

  Truett pressed his lips to her forehead. Then he pulled back.

  She looked up. Truett stared past her, searching the lane. Then she heard it too. The patter of running feet.

  “Miss Celia! Miss Celia!”

  Truett let go of her and hurried down the steps toward the girl child’s voice. Celia was right behind him.

  She caught a glimpse of Annie’s tear-streaked face and her heart jumped into her throat.

  “Miss Celia, please come quick! Sheriff Suggs, he—” She stopped at the porch steps, bent over, and gasped for breath. “Please come . . . help my Daddy . . . I’m so scared.”

  “Get in the buggy,” Truett ordered. His carriage stood only a few feet away, the horse already hitched and ready to go. He picked Annie up and placed her on the seat.

  Celia began climbing up beside Annie, but Truett grabbed her arm. “You stay here.”

  “No! I’m coming with you.” She hoisted herself up without his help. “Let’s go.”

  Truett leapt up beside her, frowning fiercely. He slapped the reins and urged the horse into a canter.

  Celia turned to Annie. “What happened?”

  “Sheriff Suggs rode up with three other men and started telling my Daddy and uncle that they didn’t have no business setting up a store when Bethel Springs already has a store. He told my Daddy he would burn it down. He had a torch. I’m so scared he’s gonna hurt my Daddy.” Annie sobbed while staring straight ahead.

  Celia could only see Truett’s profile as he slapped the reins on the horses’ backs to urge them to go faster. His jaw looked carved from granite. She could only imagine how intense was the look in his eyes.

  The orange glow of a tiny fire became visible ahead. When they were still a hundred feet away, Celia made out the figure of a man holding a torch, the tiny fire she had seen. Three other men were there. The man with the torch, which she recognized as Sheriff Suggs, held one man’s hands behind his back. Another man lay on the ground, and another had his boot resting in the middle of his back.

  “That’s my Daddy!” Annie said. “He’s gonna hurt my daddy.”

  Two women stood nearby yelling and sobbing. Sheriff Suggs’s torchlight flickered bright against the night. He handed his prisoner over to the other man and stalked toward the door of the store.

  “Hey!” Truett yelled as the horse galloped even faster.

  The sheriff halted and turned his head in their direction. He planted his feet apart and faced them.

  Celia’s heart beat so hard it hurt, but she wasn’t sure if it was more fear or anger. How dare the man commit such an atrocity toward innocent people? He was a menace, evil and cruel.

  Celia and Truett jumped down at the same time. Rage made her voice screechy. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  Truett stepped toward Curtis, who was the man holding Annie’s father and the other man on the ground. Then she noticed three or four other men standing around with their horses in the shadows.

  Truett’s hands clenched as he held them by his sides. Annie’s soft wailing came from the buggy behind them, the only sound.

  “If it isn’t Miss Celia Wilcox and Dr. Truett Beverly.” Sheriff Suggs spoke slowly, drawing out his words. His features were highlighted by the garish orange light of his torch. His teeth showed and his upper lip curled into an animal-like sneer.

  Celia knew Truett wouldn’t let the sheriff hurt her, and the men around him, warped as they obviously were, probably wouldn’t either. But what would they do to Truett? And to Annie’s father and his store?

  “The lady asked you a question,” Truett said.

  The sheriff glared at Truett for a long moment, then he spit a long stream of tobacco at his feet.

  “This is none of your business, and if you don’t get out of here and keep your mouth shut, you and the lady will be sorry.” He glared at them some more. “Now git.”

  Truett didn’t move. Neither did Celia.

  “All right, then.” Sheriff Suggs grinned. “You can watch while I set fire to this Negro store.”

  As Suggs turned and walked toward the front door, Truett leaped toward him. Curtis moved away from his prisoners and grabbed Truett by the neck just before he reached Suggs and dragged him back. Suggs disappeared inside.

  What should I do? Celia took a step forward, her eyes glued to Truett.

  Truett elbowed Curtis, breaking free of his grip, then slammed his fist into Curtis’s nose, and he fell to his knees on the ground.

  Truett turned toward the store as the sheriff ran out of the front door. Flames leapt in the windows. He threw the torch down and mounted his horse.

  Truett ran to the clothesline, which was not far from where they were standing. He yanked down two rag rugs and raced to the well. Celia hurried to help him. They soaked both rugs with a bucket of water.

  Over her shoulder, she saw the men leave Annie’s father and mount their horses. They fired their guns in the air and filled the night with their hoots and laughter as they rode away.

  Truett took one of the rugs and Celia the other and ran toward the burning building.

  Inside the store Truett beating at the flames and Celia followed his example. There were so many fires going at once, at least six separate blazes all around the room.

  Celia beat at some flour sacks and was quickly able to extinguish that fire. Then she moved to a wooden crate, which took a bit longer. She beat it
until it was out. The room was filling with smoke and Celia began to cough. Her eyes and lungs burned and she could barely breathe. She began beating a bolt of cloth that was blazing high. Her chest ached and she wasn’t sure she could even lift her rug again.

  Truett appeared beside her. He hit the blaze once and left the rug on top of it. Then he grabbed her around the waist and half dragged her toward the door.

  They sank to their knees outside in the front yard. Celia coughed so hard she thought her throat would turn inside out. Truett was lying still on the ground beside her. She grabbed his shoulder.

  “Truett, are you all right?”

  He opened his eyes and smiled up at her. “We did it. We put out the fire.”

  She laughed, sounding a little hysterical. Then she started coughing again. Truett sat up and pounded her on the back.

  Annie and her family surrounded them. The women were weeping and thanking them. The men smiled and shook their hands.

  “You saved us. You surely did.” He sank to his knees beside them. “My name’s Isaac Hartley and this is my brother Sam.” He pointed to the man beside him.

  “Truett Beverly and Celia Wilcox. I’m afraid you still have a terrible loss on your hands.” Truett winced.

  “Never you mind that. You saved me and my brother, and the store is still standing. I’m mighty beholden to you.” He shook their hands again. “Thank you. Thank you kindly.”

  Celia wanted to sing with joy at knowing she and Truett had put out the fire, especially when Annie ran over and threw her arms around her neck. When she pulled away, Annie’s cheeks were glistening with tears.

  “Thank you, Miss Wilcox. God sent you.”

  “I’m so thankful God helped us.” The way Annie was looking at her made Celia ask, “What is it, Annie?”

  “Miss Celia, I don’t understand. Why is Sheriff Suggs so mean but you and Dr. Beverly are so good? You’re white, and the sheriff is white. He wants to kill us but you help us? It don’t make sense. My uncle says it’s because we live in the South. He says people up North are different, but my granny says that’s just a fairy tale. It makes me afraid. I don’t know who hates me and who don’t.”

  Celia sighed and squeezed Annie’s arm. “I know. But the truth is, whether you live in the South or the North, some people’s hearts are full of hate and some people’s are not, and it will always be that way, I suspect.”

  Annie sighed. “I suspect so too. Some people are mean and some are not. It’s the same with colored folk.” She nodded with a wise look on her young, dark face.

  Good and evil would always be warring for men’s hearts, but as long as there were good men like Truett, there was hope.

  Annie soon joined her kinfolk as they stared at the damaged store. Celia’s heart grew heavy again as she ruminated on the fact that Sheriff Suggs would find out his attempt to burn them out was unsuccessful. He would be furious, and he wouldn’t give up harassing them.

  On the way home, Celia’s unease increased with every fall of the horse’s hoofs. What would happen now? Sheriff Suggs was fully aware of Truett’s bravery and willingness to stand up to him. Would he put the pieces together and realize Truett was the hooded horseman?

  He would have to be stupid not to.

  Celia twisted her hands together in her lap. It was a miracle that she and Truett had been able to put out the fire and that the sheriff hadn’t hurt anyone. But would God give her another miracle, one big enough to save Truett from Sheriff Suggs?

  Truett glanced over at her a few times, but Celia pretended not to notice.

  They turned down the lane to her house, the trees forming a canopy of limbs and leaves over their heads. Celia began to wonder what she would say to him when he stopped to let her out. She couldn’t say, “Thanks for the drive. I had a lovely time.” Perhaps just “Good-night” would suffice. Her thoughts and emotions were so mixed up inside her she didn’t know what to say.

  He stopped the buggy and Celia prepared to jump down, a sudden panic making it impossible to speak.

  Truett took her hand and held it tight. “Celia, wait.”

  She turned to him. His eyes were red and watery, and soot streaked his face. She must have black smoke marks on her face too, and her hair must be a wild, tangled mess. She wiped at her cheeks with the back of her hand.

  The look of love and vulnerability on his face made her heart trip and stumble into her throat. She shook her head and stared down at his hand holding hers, a big ball of tears pressing against her chest. “I can’t do this. I have to go.”

  “Why?”

  She simply shook her head, but he still wasn’t letting go of her hand. “I’m terrified. Sheriff Suggs is going to do something terrible to you.” Then an idea struck her. “You must leave this place and get away from Sheriff Suggs—”

  “You mean run away?”

  “You told me once before that you wanted to run away from here. You could go and stay wherever James is staying. It’s just until something is done about this sheriff. Surely we can get help from the authorities in Huntsville.”

  “I can’t just leave, like a coward.”

  “And I can’t just sit back and watch you get killed.” She pulled her hand out of his grasp and jumped off the buggy seat to the ground. She ran all the way to the porch and up the steps and inside, shutting the door behind her.

  The horse and buggy rattled away down the lane.

  The ball of pressure pushed against her chest. “I’m sorry, Truett,” she whispered, leaning against the door. “I’m so sorry.”

  The creaking of the kitchen floor drew her attention. She turned. Her mother was walking toward her.

  Celia straightened and took a deep breath to calm herself. “Mama? Are you all right?”

  “Getting a glass of water.”

  “Can’t you sleep?”

  Mama gazed her questioningly. She stood in her nightgown and bare feet. Celia couldn’t remember ever seeing her mother in bare feet.

  “Where are your house shoes, Mama?” Celia started toward her, tears springing to her eyes. She clasped Mother’s hand. The lump in Celia’s throat forced her voice out in a whisper. “Let me get you a glass of water.”

  She led her mother into the kitchen and used the pump at the sink, then held the glass out to her. She took it and drank several sips, then handed the glass back to Celia.

  Celia led her mother back to her room, pulled the covers back, and waited for her to crawl under the sheet. Then Celia covered her to her chin.

  “I’m sorry, Mama, for not being very compassionate to you.”

  Mama stared up at her, and Celia caught the tear in her hand that almost dripped on Mother’s sheets. No doubt it would soil them, as sooty as her cheeks must be.

  Celia went back to the kitchen and gave her exposed skin a good scrubbing before taking off her dirty dress and going to her own bed. Thankfully, Lizzie didn’t wake, or else she might just tell her exactly what she was thinking—that Truett, the man they’d all fallen in love with, who was so good and brave, would soon be killed. Her heart would be broken, their money would run out, and she’d never be able to support her family by making dresses in Bethel Springs. Only God knew how they were to survive.

  Chapter 26

  The next afternoon, Celia stood over a pan in the kitchen, washing turnip greens for supper, when she caught a glimpse out the window of Will running across the back yard toward the house. His face was pale, but he was beaming and out of breath, as if he’d run a long way.

  Celia hurried out the door, her hands still dripping water. “What is it? What’s happened?”

  Will raised his hand in the air, caught his breath, and said, “I did it.”

  “Did what?”

  “I found the Glory Patch right on our land. We’re rich, Celia.”

  It took a while for Will to convince Celia they truly were rich, but once he did, she was so lightheaded she had to lean against the door frame. When she’d recovered both her breath and her
wits, Celia and Will each grabbed a bucket and a shovel and trudged off to a sheltered glade on their side of the stream. The other side belonged to someone else, either Truett’s family or a man who lived in Killingsworth Cove. But as they descended the hill, Celia’s eyes were fixed on a thick patch of green leaves carpeting the entire flat area on their side of the creek.

  “Is all this ginseng?”

  “Most of it.” Will set his bucket down and bent over the leafy plants. “You see those little berries, just starting to show? That’s how I knew this was ginseng.”

  Celia caught her breath. “You’re sure, Will? You’re sure this is ginseng?”

  Will shoved his shovel into the dirt at the outside of the patch. Soon he dug up a big white root, similar in shape to a sweet potato. He held it up.

  “Yep. I’m sure.” Will spoke in a hushed tone. “It may be too small to be a true Glory Patch, but it’s enough to hire someone to help take care of Harley and Tempie so Lizzie and I can go back to school, and to send you back to Nashville, Celia. If you still want to go.”

  Of course she still wanted to go. But she had to make sure her family was taken care of first. “We shouldn’t dig it all up, should we? I mean, shouldn’t we leave some for next year?”

  Will frowned, then pursed his lips into a grim line. “Once folks hear how much ginseng we brought in to Pettibone’s store, they’ll come looking for our Glory Patch. There won’t be anything left the next morning, much less next year.”

  “Oh.” Celia pictured men combing their land at night, searching every inch for their patch of ginseng. She gripped her shovel and started digging.

  Truett examined Griff as he sat on the table in his office. He’d gotten a nasty blow to the head when he tripped on a tree root and hit the edge of the back step.

  “Does it need stitches?” his mother asked.

  “No, he’s fine. The bleeding’s stopped. This bandage is all he needs.”

  “I’m fine, Ma!” Griff said with a seven-year-old’s petulance and a thirty-year-old’s deep voice.