The River Widow(42)

She bit her lip to keep from gnawing on a nail. “I’m not giving up on someday getting custody of her, but for now . . . I don’t want you to take the letter. You were right; it could backfire.”

He darted a glance over his shoulder. “What about you?”

“That doesn’t matter now. It’s all about my stepdaughter.”

He brushed the horse slowly, calmly. “Like I said, you should get away from there.”

“I can’t leave her,” Adah barely managed to say, her voice trailing off.

“They’re the most bloodthirsty people in these parts.”

“I can handle myself.”

He stopped brushing and simply laid his hand on the horse’s neck. “The way I figure it, justice was done when that river swept your husband away. No matter how it happened, he got what he deserved.”

No matter how it happened? Adah’s spine stiffened. What did he mean by that? What did he know or suspect?

He turned again to face her. “Go for a ride with me.”

His mood shifts were rather startling, and she could hardly believe his words. “A ride? I can’t. I have to get back home.”

“What’s your hurry?”

Adah didn’t answer.

“They’re watching you, aren’t they?”

She blinked. “I’m practically a captive.”

“What are you afraid they’d do if you came back late?”

She gazed up at him and met that gaze again. His eyes were open and candid like a door to his soul while also communicating to her, I’m safe . “I don’t know. I’m worried every day about what they’ll do to Daisy.”

“Hurt her?”

Adah nodded once. She paused and waited for better words to come. “If not by beating her, then by killing her on the inside.”

“You want something on the Branches?”

Baffled, Adah finally nodded again.

He said, “Go snooping around. There’s other rumors about what the Branch clan is up to. I’m not sure how you can use the information, but you never know . . .”

She shuddered. “I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to spell it out for me.”

“Rumor is they’re making moonshine and have been since Prohibition days.”

The old log curing barn, of course. She said a slow “O-kay.” Here was another thing that made perfect sense. Even with tobacco farmers faring somewhat better than others, the Branches seemed to positively prosper during these times, and the selling of illegal moonshine to supplement their income had to be the reason.

“So when’s the last time you did something nice and easy?” he asked. On his face was a lovely expression of hope and expectancy.

Adah gulped. He was standing before her so honestly vulnerable, and he had been so helpful. He had told her the truth, a truth they now shared. There seemed little reason not to let down her guard a bit.

“You’re not afraid of a little nice and easy, are you?”

“Should I be?”

He laughed, and it was the first time she’d heard him laugh, an amused low-pitched chuckle. “Come on. Come with me. We won’t be gone long, I promise.”

Adah stood by silently, unable to summon a protest, as he saddled a chestnut mare for his mount. Another horse, a gray gelding, would be Adah’s for this ride, and she moved forward to saddle him herself, showing Jack that she knew what she was doing. She had learned how to handle a horse and ride with Chester and Henry’s family before leaving them in Virginia.

Adah was wearing a faded calf-length print dress that was too big for her and old brown oxfords, not exactly riding attire. But she gathered the skirt up to her knees and swung into the saddle. They rode to the back of his farm and soon left behind all signs of human life as they entered a wood. Jack took the lead, and she followed. The horses were sure and sound animals, and her gelding had a nice gait that she soon fell into.

Jack was following what looked like old wildlife trails. This land, lusher and dimmer than the farm, was marked by streams down every small green gully. They passed an undersized herd of deer that regarded them, flicked their ears, and then bounced away as if propelled by springs. Occasionally Jack stole a glance at her over his shoulder, and she could tell he was sizing up her skills, making sure she knew how to handle a horse.

Why was she doing this? Why had she agreed to take this time with Jack when the most important thing right now was getting back to Daisy as soon as possible? Why did she trust Jack? She couldn’t say why, but she simply understood, as if by instinct, that he would not betray her. She might have been a bit intrigued by him, too. It was more than his rugged attractiveness. He held something inside, something she wanted, even needed.

The wind rushed in through the trees and moved her hair, the sun was still and warm through the branches, and the land was damp and sprouting new life. She had a momentary sensation of frozen time, as though her light and spirit were a permanent part of the landscape. So many moments went unnoticed, and suddenly, for this brief one, she was thankful for everything that had brought her to this place and this second and this sensation—an awareness of her unique life. However imperfect, it was hers alone. And if personal sacrifices were a part of it, so be it.

They stopped in the dappled shade of a stand of maples, Adah reining in her horse next to his. She looked up to the sun through the lacing of tree leaves, then closed her eyes and felt the warmth on her face. As a bird crr-reek -ed in the branches over them, Jack asked her where she was from originally.