From This Day Forward (13 page)

“You have really given up on your grandfather.”

Nathan rose. “He has made it clear that I am not part of his life anymore. I have accepted that.”

“Have you?”

“What choice do I have?” Since the Lord had forsaken him, he was alone. And that was fine by him. At least his happiness did not rely on another’s acceptance and love.

“I cannot accept all of this from you. It is enough that you, John, and your workers are helping me repair the barn and house.” Rachel swept the last of the dirt from the floor out the front entrance with its newly hung door wide open.

Sarah set the rag on the table she had been cleaning and faced Rachel, with her hand on her waist. “I will not take this furniture back now. It was in storage and not being used. When you get your own, if you must, you can give this all back to me then. It will go back into storage.”

Rachel locked gazes with Nathan’s sister for a long moment. She was not used to accepting charity, but ever since she had arrived in South Carolina, she had been forced to do that very thing. Usually in England she was the one helping others. Uncomfortable with the turn of events, she swung away from Sarah and stared at Faith asleep in the cradle, a cradle Sarah had lent her to use. “How will I ever repay you and your husband or Nathan?”

“We don’t want you to repay us.” Sarah strode to Rachel and took her hands. “When you see someone in need, help them if you can. That is all I ask. That is what the Lord asks us to do.”

Tears fought for release, blurring Rachel’s vision. “I don’t know why I am crying all the time. I didn’t used to do that.”

Sarah laughed. “Now
that
I can help you with. After Sean was born, I cried all the time, but gradually that lessened as he neared his first birthday.”

“So I have a year of this to look forward to.”

“It will go by fast. I cannot believe Sean is three years old. Before long he will be a young man following his papa around and learning how to run the plantation.”

Rachel leaned the broom against the wall near the front door. “Is that what Nathan used to do until his father died?”

“Actually, Nathan used to trail our grandfather all over the plantation.”

“He did? Then why did your grandfather…” Rachel attempted a smile that failed. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked that.”

“I don’t know what has gotten into Grandfather’s head. I sometimes wonder if it was sheer grief at his only living child’s death. Patrick is the one who seems to be able to reach him some, but even that is not often.” Sarah walked to a basket and lifted it to place it on the table she had cleaned. “I had our cook prepare you some food for the next few days.”

“You didn’t have—”

Sarah raised her hand. “Not another word. You will be busy getting this place livable and will not have time to bake and cook.” After removing her apron and cap, Sarah picked up her bonnet and tied it on her head. “We will be back tomorrow to finish.”

Rachel bit back the words,
You don’t have to come back and help.
She saw the determined look in her new friend’s eyes and knew she would not appreciate her saying such a thing.

“I had better go find my husband.”

“I will come with you.” Rachel moved to the bedchamber. “I will be going to the barn,” she told Maddy, who was making the bed. “Faith is still asleep.”

“Do I have to clean the other bedchamber?” The young woman threw a wide-eyed gaze toward the room where Rachel had discovered the dead man.

“No, we will leave it alone for the time being.” Rachel could not bring herself to go into that bedchamber either. At least she could shut the door and ignore the area until she could muster her bravery enough to go inside.

When Rachel stepped outside, the fresh, cool air with a hint of pine in it cooled her cheeks. She scanned the land around the house and realized she owned it. She had never owned anything like this. In England she had been beholden to her family for everything. What if she could make this work and have it become a productive farm? Be able to hire field hands to work her land for her and provide a home for her child? Would that rid her of this constant fear in the pit of her stomach?

“The barn is looking like a worthy barn.” Sarah started for the wooden structure seventy feet from the house, between them and the swamp.

Rachel followed her, passing one of Liberty Hall’s workers putting the panes in the last window. She would write down all the items the McNeals had “loaned” her and would find a way to repay them, in spite of what Sarah said. If this young country could declare its independence from England, twice, with the ending of the War of 1812, then so could she from her family. And yet as she thought that, she recalled her younger sister and wished she could be there for her coming out. Did Elizabeth fulfill Papa’s wishes for her? Rachel might never know. That realization saddened her and made a mockery of her declaration of independence.

Sarah disappeared in the barn while Rachel woolgathered, rotating in a full circle. Glimpses of the river could be seen through the trees to the south of her home. Nathan had mentioned at one time there was a pier that extended from her property where boats could tie up. He did not know if it was still there.

Suddenly a ruckus erupted to her right. Her heart pounding, Rachel whirled toward the screeching sound at the moment two hens flew out of the bushes with the new cat right behind them. Out of the corner of her eye she glimpsed Nathan, John, and Sarah rushing out of the barn. Rachel dove for the nearest chicken. Her first attempt landed her in the dirt. She jumped up and ran after the bird as it raced for the house with Cat right behind it.

“Get the other one,” she shouted over her shoulder while pursuing the white hen.

At the entrance to the house, the hen flapped its wings and hopped up into the main room. Rachel twirled around and blocked the cat from entering while slamming the reattached door shut. She leaned back against it and surveyed the area. Clucking the whole way, the hen headed straight for the bedchamber where Maddy was.

The young woman came to the doorway, and the chicken detoured and ran around in circles, its cackling growing louder and louder. Rachel stood in the center of the room, watching the bird until she felt dizzy. She clutched the table near her, closed her eyes for a brief moment, then refocused on the chicken. It zipped by her. She pounced on it and grabbed it up into her arms. She held the wiggling body close to her.

“I did it,” she said.

“Is that dinner?” Maddy asked as Nathan came into the house clutching a brown hen.

“No.” The white chicken settled down, but its heart still beat quickly against Rachel’s palm.

“I agree. John found a rooster and another hen in the bushes.”

“Who do they belong to?” Now that she had stopped chasing the hen, Rachel’s exhaustion demanded her attention. She collapsed onto the stool nearby, still clasping the bird. She didn’t have enough energy to go after it again.

“They belongs to you now.”

“This means eggs.” She grinned at Nathan. “Perhaps more chickens.”

He nodded.

Rachel peered down at the white hen perched in her lap, the beating of its heart slowing.
The sign I asked for
.
Thank You, Lord.

Five days later, while Maddy completed washing the clothes, Rachel hung them up on the line Nathan had strung for her. Every part of her body ached from pushing, pulling, hauling, and anything else she needed to do. But she would not utter a word of complaint to Nathan.

Today she planned to chop wood for the fireplace and show him that she could. He was out with the ox and plow, preparing a field. If she could have it done by the time he came in for dinner, it would be one more task she had learned and finished. The day before, she had finally managed to bake a decent loaf of bread. Then she thought of the dense piece she had sliced off a rather small, flattened lump. Perhaps not decent, but edible at least. Next time she would let it rise longer. At Mansfield Manor, the food was served at meal times, and she never thought of all the work that went into putting it on the table.

After a quick peek to check on Faith in the cradle under the live oak, she marched toward the stump Nathan used to chop the wood. As she had seen him doing it, she positioned the log to be split standing straight up. She picked up the ax and dropped it at her feet. All right, it was heavier than she thought. Clasping the handle with both hands and gathering all the strength she could muster, she again lifted the ax and swung it toward her target. The tool grazed the top of the log, causing it to fly off the stump—into her. Knocking her back as the ax sailed through the air. Her bottom landed on the ground with a thud.

The hard impact with the earth jolted her. Her eyes slid closed until she remembered the ax wrenched from her grasp. They bolted open to find a large man, probably the size of the bear she had heard so much about, with the tool she had flung away in his hand.

Eight

Rachel’s gaze passed the dirt-covered black boots, skimmed over the brown trousers and white shirt, to the face of a giant with the reddest hair she had ever seen and bright blue eyes that wrinkled at the corners. From laughing. At her. His booming merriment filled the morning air, the ax still gripped in his hand.

“Who are you?” she said so softly she had to repeat it for him to hear her over his amusement.

Before the man had a chance to answer her, Maddy rounded the corner of the house and charged at him, tackling his legs and sending him and the ax propelling toward Rachel. She scrambled to the side as the giant hit the ground where she had been only a moment before.

Maddy yanked the ax from his hand and poised it above him.

“Maddy!” Rachel screamed, never having seen her servant so fierce looking.

The man rolled away from Rachel and scooted back from Maddy, but instead of anger lining his face, his merriment deepened the crinkles at the corners of his eyes and a huge grin, displaying a missing tooth, met Rachel’s perusal.

While Maddy still held the ax as though she would use it at any moment, Rachel asked, “Who are you? Why are you here?”

A sober expression descended as he took in Maddy’s ferociousness. “I came to ask ya that. You ain’t a Dalton.”

“No.” Rachel pushed herself to her feet and towered over the man. “But I own this farm now. My husband bought it from Mr. Dalton.”

“You English?” He started to get up, but Maddy lifted the ax higher and took a threatening step closer. He settled back on the ground, all laughter gone from his eyes.

“Yes,” Rachel said with as much of a challenge as she could muster with her legs trembling. He could overpower both Maddy and her at his leisure. His arms were like tree stumps, his hands so big one could circle her neck and snap it.

“Mr. Dalton went to England after the storm in 1811, but I thought he would come back. I live over yonder.” The giant gestured toward the northwest.

In the swamp?
“No, this is my farm now.” Rachel reached for the ax and took it from Maddy. “Thank you. Please check on Faith.”

“But, ma’am, I can stay—”

“Please.”

Maddy gave the man a narrow-eyed look then stomped off toward the oak tree. She kept her gaze glued to them while she sat next to the cradle, singing a lullaby.

“Can I git up?”

Rachel backed up a few feet. “Yes. Do you live in the swamp?”

“No ma’am. On the other side. I have a farm.” He rose effortlessly to his feet for such a large man, which only reinforced the thought he could have overwhelmed them whenever he wanted.

She relaxed. “A neighbor?”

He nodded. “I didn’t mean to scare ya. My name is George Baker.”

“I am Rachel Gordon. Why did you come?”

“To check the pier.”

“Why?”

“I do it every spring.”

“Why?”

His gaze clouded for a moment. “To fix it, if need be.”

“Why would you do that?”

“To use it when I need to git me to Charleston.”

“But it is on my land.”

Her neighbor removed his hat and scratched his head. “Uh…” He glanced away then back at her. “I have been usin’ it for years. Since the hurricane changed the river. ’Tis the easiest way to git my crops to town.”