Because of Rebecca(16)

“Well, then perhaps afterwards.” He offered her his arm. “Do you mind walking over with me?”

“I’d like that.” She felt her cheeks warm when she took his arm. “How are Mrs. Paxton and the baby doing?”

“They’re good after the ordeal. Her coloring has returned and the boy is eating heartily. Paxton’s puffed up like a bantam rooster.”

“That’s wonderful. I’m so glad you were able to save that family from heartache. My d-niece died in childbirth last year.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Josephine.”

“Thank you, Ancil.”

He reached across and patted the hand that lay in the crook of his arm and they walked toward St. Anna’s. She relaxed beside him, matching his step with her own. She smiled when Constance Fletcher and two other women from the ladies’ auxiliary came out of the mercantile. Constance didn’t look pleased and that made Josephine smile even brighter.

****

Shading her eyes from the noonday sun Rebecca stepped out of the hotel. She waited a few moments for her eyes to adjust to the sun before she headed to the post office to mail her letter. She wanted to return before Lucas woke.

Down the street she saw her aunt and Doctor Gordon going into St. Anna’s for Mass. It looked like things were progressing nicely between them. Good. Her aunt needed love and it wasn’t too late for her to have a family if she desired.

Josephine as a mother! What a thought.

Rebecca entered the post office and waited in the short line for her turn.

“Good afternoon, Miss Davis,” the postmaster greeted when she stepped to the counter. “I have a letter for you.”

“You do?”

He nodded. “It came this morning.”

She looked down at the envelope in her hand and decided against mailing it just yet. She shoved it back in her purse.

The postmaster handed her the letter and she stepped away to read it.

Dear Miss Davis,

Please forgive my delay. Unforeseen circumstances have kept me from procuring the item in question. Will notify you within the week.

Your faithful servant,

R. Hollingsworth

A thrill of delight filled her. Ruth was safe. Her liaison had been delayed. She hadn’t failed the mission. She held the letter to her chest and said a silent prayer to heaven that she hadn’t put the woman in jeopardy after all.

Her liaison would be in touch within the week. And her liaison was R. Hollingsworth.

R. Hollingsworth? Could he be related to Jared? Only time would tell.

****

Crouching low in tall grass, Rory surveyed the surroundings and waited for the mocha-skinned woman in a faded red dress to come closer. He’d spoken with her briefly a few weeks earlier in this very spot. She’d been alone that day, and he’d expected today would be no different. Yet, he was having a devil of a time snatching her. Three other women waded in the water nearby washing a mound of homespun clothing.

Perspiration beaded his forehead and upper lip as the morning sun beat down on his head. He had to get the woman’s attention without alarming the others. There would be hell to pay if the women saw him and could describe him to the authorities.

“You there,” a large man on a horse called, riding up and stopping near the water’s edge. “You’re wanted at the house.”

Rory’s brows arched as the woman he’d been watching picked up a basket of clothes and started toward the main house at a brisk pace. When the man on the horse was preoccupied, Rory slowly inched his way toward a thicket of bushes and trees that ran along the path she took. He’d already scoped out the area and knew no one watched.

He grabbed a handful of pebbles along the way and began throwing them in her direction, hoping to distract her so she’d stop. She paid little attention at first, but when he threw a stick that landed a few inches in front of her she slowed.

“Ruth,” he called, keeping his voice low.

The woman’s head jerked, but she moved a little slower.

“Ruth.”

Finally, she stopped and looked around. Her eyes grew large and worried as she scanned the area.

“Over here.”

She turned in his direction, acknowledgement evident in her brown eyes.

“It’s time.” He reached out his hand to her.

Silently, she jumped into the bushes where he waited. “Leave the basket hidden here. We haven’t got a minute to waste. You’ll be with your family soon.”

Ruth nodded.

He took a huge risk seizing her during the day. Normally escapes were at night. No one would be expecting it to happen in daylight. Though, when she didn’t immediately arrive at the main house as requested a search would begin.

Adrenaline pumped through his veins as he silently led her through the wooded area, careful to avoid stepping on twigs or fallen limbs. Searing pain shot through his abdomen with each move he made. He winced and touched his side. Blood seeped through the rudimentary stitches in the flesh he’d haphazardly sewn last night and stained his shirt. He never should have agreed to one last round of cards when he’d already won the pot. A sane man would have cleared out of town. Instead, he’d followed greed and the loser pulled a knife to regain his losses.

The wound was yet another headache he had to contend with as he tried to complete the mission. He was over a week late in meeting with his contact, but he’d been thrown in jail after a brawl. He’d sent word upon his release explaining the delay, something he rarely did, not living by traditional standards. He enjoyed living dangerously. The higher the risk, the more he enjoyed the gamble.

When they reached the black carriage that awaited them, Rory opened the door and helped Ruth climb inside.

“There are clothes for you to change into in the box. I’ll ride on top with my driver until you are dressed. Use the cane to rap on the roof when you’re finished, and I will join you,” he explained before closing the door behind her.

“Did you run into trouble?” his driver asked.

“None, thankfully.” Rory grimaced at the twitch in his side as the carriage headed toward Jackson.

He placed a handkerchief over the blood stain and donned a full waistcoat to cover the soiled shirt. He tied his blond hair back in a queue at his neck. No one would deny he looked like a gentleman traveling with his lady friend.

A few moments later they heard the rap of the cane and the carriage slowed to a near crawl. He opened the door, filling the inside with light before he joined her. Then he closed the door and pushed the velvet curtains all the way open.

“My, but don’t you make a pretty picture.” He settled on the bench across from her taking note of the way the yellow dress hugged her scrawny frame, enhancing her features. “From now until I say otherwise, you are Delia, a fallen dove from New Orleans. Do you understand what I mean by ‘fallen dove’?”

She nodded.

“You’ll be staying with a friend of mine and her girls. She’ll protect you until I can safely get you to the next leg of the journey.”

“I won’t be one of her girls,” Ruth protested, indignation thick in her voice.

A deep rumble escaped him at her misunderstanding and he held his side until the pain subsided. “You’ll be hidden away. She won’t make you work for your room and board. I’ll be your only visitor.”

Rory watched her brown eyes widen. The girl was frightened, as expected in her current situation. It was his place to make her feel more at ease, but he did a poor job of it.

He picked up a medium size box lying on the seat beside him and removed the lid. “Here, you’ll need a wig to pull off your disguise. Try this on.”

The wig of ebony curls glistened even in the dim light of the carriage and it made her skin look more sallow than mocha against the pale yellow of the dress. He studied her for a few moments then handed her a pouch.

“You’ll need to learn to wear this as well. Lip and cheek rouge will draw attention away from your dark eyes. The face powder will make you look whiter,” he explained, recalling the detailed technique Monique had showed him before he left Jackson a month ago. “We might just pull this off.”

She shook her head, but he pushed the pouch into her hands.

“We made a deal when I first found you. You agreed to do everything I said in order to get you to your family.”

She nodded. “I remember.”

He opened a secret compartment underneath the opposite carriage seat and withdrew a summer weight cloak. “You’ll wear this over your dress to help cover your arms as we exit the carriage and enter the house. Gloves will cover your hands. Your skin must always be covered. Do you understand?”

She nodded her head, the curls of the wig bouncing on her shoulders.

“How do the shoes fit?” he asked, reaching to lift the skirt of her dress, but she slapped his hand away.

“I ain’t never worn shoes before.”