The Devil's Cold Dish (31 page)

“No.” He hesitated for a second or two but decided he could trust Marsh. “No doubt Piggy Hanson will hang me if you turn me in. And give you some reward besides. But I swear to you I did not kill Sam Prentiss. Or Zadoc Ward or Thomas McIntyre either. I had to send Lydia away to protect her and the babe she's carrying. And all the children as well, save David. I need to discover who is behind this plot against me.” He paused and waited. Marsh nodded, not as though he agreed, but to show he was prepared to listen. “I thought Molly Bowditch might be at the bottom of it. She hates me, maybe with good reason, and we both know she shoots and rides as well as a man.”

“She does, but she's been fair taken up with that Virginian. And although she might have shot Mr. Ward or Mr. McIntyre, I know she did not kill your brother-in-law. You see, she rode off in her carriage the day before Mr. Prentiss was shot. And, from what I've heard, Sam was still warm and pouring his blood into the ground when the constable found him.”

“Rode off? To where?” Rees's voice rose.

Marsh smiled slightly. “Why, to Virginia. She told us she was marrying Drummond. And she took all her bits and pieces with her. Including her jewelry.”

“I daresay no one told Mr. Drummond about Molly's past,” Rees said.

“Maybe. Maybe not. All I know is I wouldn't trust that Drummond as far as I could spit. And Mrs. Bowditch may not own land, but some of those earbobs and other trinkets are worth a fair amount.”

“You think Mr. Drummond promised marriage but is planning to rob her?” Rees heard the surprise in his voice.

Marsh shrugged. “I don't know.” Rees nodded. “Miss Grace doesn't like him,” Marsh added. He did not need to say anything more.

Rees thought about Molly for a moment and then put her aside. “She could not have killed Sam,” he said, returning to his primary concern. Marsh shook his head. Now Rees had no excuse at all to prevent him from questioning his sister. “I'd appreciate it,” he said, looking at Marsh, “if you didn't mention my visit here.”

“Of course not,” Marsh said. “And I don't want to know where you're hiding neither.” He examined Rees. “You look rough. Do you need anything? Food? Water?”

“Food,” Rees responded immediately.

“Go down, wait by your horse,” Marsh said with a nod. “I'll be by directly.”

Rees hesitated, thinking about the reward. He didn't think Marsh would betray him, but then he'd expected more from Potter. Marsh glared at him. “Get along, now.” So Rees turned and went down the drive to the entrance. But he took cover under the trees just in case someone else came to meet him besides Marsh.

In less than twenty minutes, Marsh—and Munch—trotted down the hill with a canvas sack. As Rees left the copse of trees, Marsh said, “I gathered what food I could. Cheese. A bit of ham. A jug of ale. I didn't want you coming up to the house. Mary Martha is in the kitchen and, as you know, she can't help but talk.”

“Thank you,” Rees said, accepting the bag. He held out his hand. Marsh took it.

“Be careful now,” he said. Then he turned and hastened up the hill.

As Rees mounted the horse, he reflected upon the difference between the two black men and Potter. The former could lose their lives, but they'd helped Rees nonetheless. Potter was too afraid of Piggy Hanson to assist someone he claimed as one of his best friends. There was a lesson in there somewhere, Rees thought.

Now he must face his sister.

 

Chapter Twenty-nine

Rees did not dare approach his sister's farm from the front. He elected to sneak up from the rear, a feat that was not so easy since the neighboring farmers kept their fields cleared and planted and there was little cover approaching the back of Caroline's farm. So he rode along a stream and cut through a field of barley to reach the property line. It was instantly recognizable. Left untended for several years, the trees had grown up and the stone wall marking the division had vanished under a coat of greenery. Once inside, Rees found his cover. But carving a path through the thicket of trees, downed trunks, and other vegetation, especially without knocking his head on a low-slung branch, was a challenge. This bit of forest had been untouched for a long time. Many of the evergreens were sickly and coated with the greenish growths that took root when the tree was beginning to die.

He could hear at least two horses in the paddock before he could see them. Since the horses owned by Caroline and Sam had been sold long ago to pay bills, leaving only a pair of oxen, Rees knew his sister had a visitor. He crept a little closer, finally coming up against the weathered wood at the back of the barn. He peered through the cracked boards. By twisting his head, he could see the corner of a buggy. A plain, ordinary buggy, not Hanson's sleek, stylish carriage with its yellow wheels and gilt trim. After a moment of indecision, Rees decided to chance meeting Caro's visitors. He crossed the yard at a run, jumping over the rotting steps, and darting through the open door into the shadowy shelter beyond.

He heard only Caroline speaking. By the tone of her voice, he suspected she was giving instruction to her daughters. He moved through the front room until he could see into the kitchen. Caroline stood over Georgina and Gwendolyn as they washed and dried dishes.

Rees's gaze traveled around the room. It looked like a different house. The old ashes were gone and the hearth stones scoured clean. The floor had been swept, the table scrubbed, and the air smelled of vinegar and soap.

Caroline turned suddenly and started to see her brother standing in the door. Rees had a moment to take in his sister's changed appearance—her neatly combed hair was caught under a sparkling white cap and she wore a fresh apron over a newly laundered dress—before she burst into angry speech. “Are you here to murder me too?”

Rees stared at her. “Murder you? I'm not the murderer. I was wondering about
you
.”

She cast a quick look at the two children, both staring at the adults with wide eyes, and said, “Go outside and play, girls. I need to speak to your uncle for a minute.”

Neither adult spoke as the children disappeared through the back door. Caroline crossed the kitchen to shut the back door. Then she turned to face her brother. “How dare you accuse me! You shot Sam, everyone knows it.”

“I didn't shoot him,” Rees said. “Did you? He would obey you…”

“What are you talking about? Why would I kill Sam? Now I have no husband at all.”

“Perhaps living as a widow is preferable,” Rees said.

“To living with a husband who can't even dress himself?” Caroline regarded her brother, her face set in lines of anger. “And whose fault is that? Yours. You hurt him. Why won't you take responsibility for that?”

“It was an accident,” Rees shouted. “I didn't intend to injure Sam. He came at me…”

The back door opened and slammed into the wall with a crash. Rees jumped and stared. His sister Phoebe glared at him and Caroline both. “I could hear you yelling all the way to the well,” she said, depositing the bucket on the floor.

“You came to Caro's farm?” Rees asked. He'd expected her to reply to his letter or come to his farm.

“My husband and I drove down from Rumford to collect Caroline and the children. We thought they could come home with us.” She looked at Rees and he understood what she did not say. Now that Sam was dead she was willing to take in Caroline and her children once again. Phoebe had never liked Sam and had made it clear he was not welcome in her home.

“It's good to see you,” Rees said, moving forward to hug her. “Even under these circumstances.” Phoebe was taller than Caroline, lanky almost, and she had not escaped the curse of the red hair and freckles. But her hair had darkened with age as her freckles had faded, so she was no longer the homely little girl Rees remembered.

“But she won't come,” Phoebe said in annoyance.

“I told you,” Caroline said, irritated in her turn. “I don't want to lose the farm.”

Phoebe turned a fleeting glance upon Rees and he understood that Caroline didn't mean this farm. She meant
his
farm.

“I already know you spread malicious rumors about my wife,” Rees said in distress. “Did you do it so that my farm would come to you when I was hanged as a murderer?” He regretted the accusations as soon as they left his lips.

“Will!” Phoebe gasped.

“I didn't murder my husband,” Caroline cried, tears flooding her eyes. “I didn't. You did. You know you did.”

Rees could feel the beast rising. Using every ounce of his control, he said through gritted teeth, “I didn't kill him. How can you believe I would? When I hit him, he struck his head by accident.” Without realizing it, he approached Caroline until he stood only a scant few inches away. He towered over her, intimidating her with his size and strength.

“Oh, are you going to strike me now?” Caroline cried at him. “Well, go ahead.” She placed her hands over her face and sobbed into them, peeking through her fingers. Now he really did want to hit her.

“Weeping will not help you,” he said. “Mother and Father are not here.” How he hated it when she wept her false tears.

“Stop it, stop it now,” Phoebe said, thrusting an arm between them. “I don't know why I always have to be in the middle of you two.”

Her interference gave Rees pause and he stepped back. He paced around the kitchen twice, trying to calm himself.

“He's so cruel to me.” Caroline wept, turning to her sister for comfort.

“You two have been like dogs over a bone since he was in dresses,” Phoebe said with little sympathy. “You've always wanted what he had, Caro. When he went to school, you had to follow him. When he apprenticed to the weaver, you pleaded with Father to allow you to apprentice out as well. Do you remember what Father said?”

“That I was a girl and would marry,” Caroline said in a sullen tone. Phoebe nodded.

“Yes. Will is the oldest, and a boy. Of course he had to learn a trade. And of course he inherited the farm.”

“Dolly and I bought it,” Rees said.

“But it isn't fair,” Caroline cried at the same instant.

“Perhaps not. But it is the way of the world. And you'd best make your peace with it,” Phoebe said.

“Will injured Sam and left him touched,” Caroline said. “Then he refused to care for me and my children. Now my husband is dead, probably at the hands of my brother. Why shouldn't I have the farm?”

Phoebe turned a look of disgust upon her sister and shook her head.

“My wife and I were willing to help you,” Rees said angrily. “Willing to offer food and clothing. David has been here several days a week helping Charlie with this farm and has paid his cousin to help with ours. But none of that satisfies you. You want to behave like a lady, ordering Lydia and me around as though we are servants. You are selfish and spoiled and I suspect Mother and Father are turning over in their graves.”

Caroline slapped him as hard as she could, the crack of her hand hitting his cheek ringing through the kitchen. “I'm sure Corny Hanson would be interested to know you're still in Dugard,” she hissed. Rees lifted his hand to hit her back but Phoebe grasped his arm and pulled with all her weight. Rees shook off Phoebe and stepped back.

“Go ahead and hit me,” Caroline screamed. “You brute.”

“Stop it,” Phoebe shouted, grabbing Caroline's shoulders and shaking her with all her strength. “Stop it. This is just what you used to do as a girl.” Caroline pulled away.

“Why are you taking his side?” She screamed and slapped Phoebe in her turn and then began sobbing wildly into her hands.

“I think you should go,” Phoebe said to Rees, holding her wrist to her cheek. A scarlet handprint flamed against the white skin. She stepped to the water barrel and dipped a corner of her apron into it so she could apply the cool damp to her face.

Rees acquiesced to his sister and retreated. When he went through the front room he heard Caroline follow him. He turned to see her grab Sam's old musket. Rees laughed mockingly. But as he crossed the yard she ran after him. “I hate you,” she screamed from the porch. “I hate you.” She fired the musket. The ball went wide, smacking into one of the trees ten feet to the side with a thud. Rees could not believe she'd shot at him and turned to stare. He knew Hanson had set a “shoot on sight” order but hadn't expected the shooter to be his sister. And she would do it again. She'd begun the laborious process of reloading, pushing the ball down the barrel and tipping in black powder after it. Phoebe ran onto the porch and grabbed Caroline's arm. Rees didn't wait to see who proved the victor. Although muskets were notoriously unreliable and his sister was no marksman, Caro might be lucky and hit him next time. He fled into the woods, out of sight. From behind he could hear the screams of his sisters as they fought over the gun.

Reaction set him trembling. He leaned against the tree trunk for support and waited for his heartbeat to slow. After a moment or two, he reeled forward, toward the mare waiting so patiently a ways farther in. But once he reached the horse, Rees could not mount. His shaking legs wouldn't hold him.

What was wrong with Caroline? She could have killed him. Even a poor marksman with a musket could succeed sometimes. Taking hold of the bridle and drawing the mare behind him, Rees staggered into a trembling walk, eager to leave his sister behind.

When he reached the end of the forest and was facing fields, he used the crumbling stone wall as a mounting block and managed to clamber onto the horse's back. He turned her head toward Winthrop's cabin.

*   *   *

The journey took a long time and it was well into afternoon before they approached the property. Rees never pushed the horse into a gait faster than a walk. He couldn't. The shivering that afflicted Rees did not ease for some time and he felt as though he could barely hold the reins. He spent the first half of the trip wondering aloud how Caroline could be so cruel. He knew she could be a murderer; hadn't he just seen proof? But as the anger and the fear gradually dissipated, he began to consider his own part in the argument. He'd allowed himself to be drawn into his sister's clutches yet again. He should know better, should have learned by now how to pull back.