Home to Caroline (3 page)

“I love you,” she whispered.

“I love you too,” he said, though her words filled him with a chill he couldn’t describe. Though he knew their truth, it sounded…almost as if she were saying good-bye somehow. That this wasn’t the homecoming he thought it would be. His eyelids grew heavy. For now, he had his wife in his arms. That was all that mattered. In the daylight, they could sort things out. Though he worried she wouldn’t want him when she learned he lacked a farmer’s skills, something about the way she’d said the words made him realize that perhaps it was her secret that he’d fear the most.

Caroline listened to her husband’s deep, even breathing and envied his sleeping. He probably needed it. War wasn’t easy for man or beast, and the scars she’d discovered on her husband’s body attested to how hard it had been for him. Not just his ribs, though the angry gash was by far the worst, but the small one on his thigh and the jagged line on his shoulder. He’d borne so much, and she’d been unable to bear him a child. Her shame lay buried in the family cemetery next to Samuel.

She had told him she loved him. She’d spoken the truth. Once she showed him the grave, her cards would be on the table. She had to do it sooner rather than later. Except what if the sight of their child’s grave drove her husband away? Women were plentiful now after the war. A soldier come home would do far worse than to leave a barren wife for one who would give him sons. She doubted anyone in town would blame him. The doc’s words wouldn’t matter. Like a broodmare who slipped a foal or two, she’d be forever tainted by her failure. She could be a workhorse, but breed strong, valiant sons—that might never happen.

Her worry ran round and round in her mind, making it impossible for her to fall asleep. Distant thunder rumbled and she prayed it wouldn’t rain. They’d had too many setbacks with the field. Beneath the blankets Travis’s legs pressed against hers, one muscled thigh draped against her hip. His chest braced against her back, his arm heavy over her ribs. His hand splayed across her stomach, close enough to her breasts that a deep breath would have him caressing her.

She had to tell him. Squeezing her eyes closed, she shoved the images of the dead infant from her mind. He deserved to know. Some secrets just couldn’t be kept. Resting a hand over her womb, she hoped that the doc was wrong and she could redeem herself. The old woman who lived on the Oakland estate said that she was a sinner and that was why God had taken her child. The only sin she’d committed was loving a man too much. Now, she snuggled even closer to him. Lulled by the thunder and her husband’s presence, she slipped into sleep.

Wearing her husband’s trousers and shirt, Caroline walked along the edge of the field. Travis had gone to the stables to tend to the horses and check their supplies. Over breakfast she’d made a list of what they’d need to make a good start at rebuilding and feared her husband’s money wouldn’t hold. He’d promised her they had plenty; there wasn’t much for a solider to spend his money on besides women and booze. He’d winked and told her he had a woman at home and they’d needed sober officers to lead the men.

She knelt by the field and picked up a handful of dirt. Squeezing it in her hand, she watched the way it crumbled back to the ground. She repeated the action, frowning when a clod didn’t release and landed like a tiny boulder. While she’d slept more rain had fallen, leaving the ground too wet to plant.

Sighing, she stood and prepared to go to a higher section of the field. Maybe where the drainage was better they’d be able to plow. She walked to the higher ground, her disquiet growing with every step. Kneeling, she picked up the soil and frowned when it was as waterlogged as the last. She stood and shook her head. At least they wouldn’t have to worry about losing time if they went into town today. Brushing her hands on the legs of her pants, she hurried back to the barn and to her husband.

Travis leaned in the doorway and watched his wife kneel by the field. She scooped up a handful of dirt and squeezed it before letting it fall back to the ground. She must not have liked what she had seen, because she did it again with a little shake of her head. He wished he knew how to read the dirt like she could.

He waited, ready to duck back into the barn and start hitching up Dolly for the drive into town. When she didn’t turn around, he watched her continue to a higher part of their property, maybe thinking it was dryer up there and ready to plant. Travis frowned.

Caroline worked too hard. He’d laid in bed last night, his wife in his arms, and listened to heavy rain. He knew the ground would be too muddy to plant, and he looked forward to taking his wife into town, taking care of her. Caroline was a woman who deserved to have a man care for her. Once they were in town he’d buy her the prettiest bauble he could.

He watched the sway of her hips as she strode toward him. Though a scowl marred her face, she was as beautiful to him as she’d been on their wedding day. Those scandalous trousers made his cock rise. He loved seeing her long legs and imagining them wrapped around his waist.

She stopped in front of him. “We’re not going to plant today. I’ll change into a traveling dress if you’ll hitch up Dolly. Hopefully the weather will hold.”

He glanced at the sky, seeing nothing but blue and a few wispy white clouds. “I’m sure it will,” he said with more authority than he felt.

“I hope you’re right.” She rose on tiptoe and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, then hurried to the house.

Travis stepped into the dim barn. He touched the spot his wife had kissed, holding onto her faith. Hitching up horses he could do, and by the time he led Dolly from the barn, hitched up to the buckboard, his wife came down the steps wearing a pretty blue day dress. She’d done something to her hair and pinned it up off her neck, only a few golden tendrils framing her face. Setting the brake, he stepped from the wagon to help her into it.

“You look lovely.” Travis offered his hand, thinking he should have changed into better clothes. He gave a half bow.

“Thank you.” She flushed prettily and allowed him to help her into the buckboard. “It’s nice to wear a day dress for a change. It’s been so long since I’ve gone into town.” Her almost wistful tone made him stop.

The horse snorted, urging him to get into the buckboard and get the journey started.

“You haven’t gone into town?” He hated to think of her out here, far from their nearest neighbors, all alone. “Did something happen?”

“I made it just fine,” she insisted. “I had supplies.”

Wisely he kept quiet, choosing not to mention her empty larder. “I don’t like to think of you working by yourself. What if something had happened? I’d heard stories—” He stepped into the wagon, grabbing the reins as he sat. “I wish I’d been able to come home sooner, but my unit needed me.”

“So did your wife.” Her soft words floated away on the breeze.

“I know, honey. I know,” he answered. Travis flipped the reins, sending Dolly forward into a spritely trot. He might be taking his wife into town for supplies, but he’d never escape the ghosts of all the times he wasn’t there for her.

Chapter Three

Travis approached this trip into town the same way he did the battlefield. Scout the terrain, be stealthy, gain the objective and get out unscarred. Before he left for the war, he’d been into town, mostly the saloon, sometimes the blacksmith’s shop helping out, which was how he’d happened to meet Caroline. Her father had brought Dolly to the blacksmith to be reshod and he’d seen her dashing down the street to the mercantile to look at newly arrived bolts of fabric.

The vision sitting next to him stole his breath. With his absence, she’d matured into a woman as striking as the Ozark views. He’d guessed at the strength of her spirit to bring her through the war, though he figured he’d never know its true measure. Knowing what she’d gone through with the war only made him love her more. He feared his wife had needed him more than his family or his country. Too late to change things now.

She clung to the pouch she’d carried from the house, her fingers wrapped around it so tightly her knuckles were turning white. It jingled softly. Not coins but jewelry, he guessed, and wondered if the items were hers or her mother’s.

A flash of frustration hit him. She was bringing jewelry because she didn’t think he’d have enough money for the things they needed. The length of her list bothered him. Yes, provisions were scarce all around, but this part of the country had been spared everything except some raiders. She had no reason to have cupboards as empty as she did unless it was the lack of ready cash that made it so. Though no one had much cash these days. He had what he did because he hadn’t sent it home, not trusting that it would arrive safely. He should have. He saw that now.

“You can set that between us. I promise it’ll be safe.” He patted the wooden bench between them, hoping she’d close the space between them as much as her hoop skirt would allow.

“It will be better if I hold it.” Her stiff manner hinted at that prickly pride of hers.

“All right.” Travis listened to the discordant jangling coming from the pouch. It had to be jewelry. He couldn’t question her. Well, he could. He was her husband and by law he ruled the household. He’d just returned home. Right now, she knew far better than he what they’d need. He could, however, get her to speak about the farm. “You showed me the list of what we need. What else would make the farm run smoothly?”

Caroline turned to stare across a vista of the Ozark Mountains. To his left, a small stream bubbled among the rocks. To his right, a few trees scrambled to find purchase on the rough ground. The terrain rose, merging into the tall hill they ascended, the peaks and valleys making it difficult to see beyond more than the next bend in the road. “Too much,” she said at last.

“The plow probably needs sharpening. And I bet the harness needs mending.” Travis mentioned the things he knew his father had tended to on their farm. “We’re getting Dolly reshod in town.”

Caroline gasped.

“Don’t worry, honey. I’ll take care of things.” The blacksmith owed him a favor; he’d saved the blacksmith’s son during a battle. The young man had come home wounded too much to fight. With some nursing, he should’ve still been able to run the forge and bellows. “So tell me what we need.”

She did, and the length of the list left him reeling. Though he’d guessed she had limited herself on the list for town, he had no idea she’d hidden so much. And he wondered why she hadn’t gotten some of the items sooner. It was almost as if she hadn’t come into town on purpose. He didn’t like the direction of his thoughts.

“Thank you for telling me,” he said. “As your husband, I need to know these things so I can start to take care of them.”

Caroline fisted her hand in her skirt, bracing the pouch beneath her wrists. “You can’t fix them, Travis. No one can. I doubt even the governor has the money to cover all the things we need. We’ll have to make do.”

Transferring the reins into his left hand, he reached across the seat with his right. He patted the only part of her he could reach, her arm. “Why don’t you come over here and ride next to me?” He halted Dolly.

Caroline eyed the space between them. “It isn’t seemly.”

“Darlin’, I just returned home from the military. I think having you all the way over there is what isn’t seemly.” He smiled, using the same tone of voice on her he would with a reluctant filly. A bit of his natural drawl slipped in, and he figured it wouldn’t hurt. “Now why don’t you join your husband?” He held out his arm.

She slid across the bench to sit next to him.

Travis rested his arm around her waist, holding her against him. With one hand, he managed the reins. He turned his head just enough so he could nuzzle the sweet-smelling skin behind her ear. “Now isn’t that better?” He flicked the sensitive area with his tongue.

“Keep your eyes on the road,” she admonished, but her words were a little softer.

“Dolly knows the way.” He drew the fleshy pad of her earlobe into his mouth and suckled. One tug and a shiver wound down her spine. Though layers of her chemise, corset, under dress and day dress kept her breasts from his touch, he bet her nipples hardened. A glance down her chest showed the soft globes plumped inside her corset, a seductively demure show of décolletage. If their lists hadn’t been so long in town, he might have pulled Dolly over to a secluded cove and showed Caroline just how well he could take care of her.

They couldn’t. The farm’s needs were too great to be forgotten in the pleasures of the moment. Straightening up so he could focus on the road, he contemplated once more everything she’d told him. Perhaps a letter to his parents would help. Anxious to get back to his wife he hadn’t ridden to their farm, though one of his brothers had been stationed with a different company at Memphis, so he’d been able to send word back home. Funny how a war, and a wife, had made him change his mind about the family trade.

Caroline stood at the counter in Mr. Nash’s mercantile. One of his boys helped Travis load the wagon with enough supplies to see them through for a while. Her husband had taken Dolly to the blacksmith, and she swore when he’d driven the wagon up in front of the store the draft mare had pranced with delight.

The bell above the door jingled. “The wagon’s all loaded. I think we’re ready to go.”

Caroline pulled her fingers back from a bolt of cloth the same rich blue as her husband’s eyes. “Thank you again, Mr. Nash, for everything.”

“It’s the least we could do, Caroline. Your pa was a good friend, as was Samuel. If you hadn’t come into town, why, we’d have come out there with a wagon.” Mr. Nash smiled, the lines around his eyes crinkling. His wild crop of white hair curled around his head like a thundercloud, his clothing impeccably tailored as always. “Glad to see you home, Travis. You need anything just let us know. I know you’ll take care of Caroline, especially after—”

“You’re always so generous.” Caroline cut off his words. “Next time I come into town, I’ll bring you and your wife one of my apple pies made from my momma’s recipe.”

“You sure we’re settled?”

“Fair and square.” Mr. Nash paused. His gaze shifted between Caroline and Travis.

Silently, Caroline willed him not to say anything.
Please let me keep my secret. Let me tell my husband on my own time.

“How much is the blue cloth?” Travis asked.

Caroline stilled her fingers, unaware she’d again stroked the soft-spun fabric. She stepped back from the counter.

Mr. Nash named a fair price.

“Would you like the cloth, Caroline?” Travis crossed the store to stand behind her. “I’d be happy to add it to our purchases.”

She nibbled on her lower lip, knowing exactly how many seeds or how much flour the expensive fabric could buy. She shook her head. “Let’s get through planting first. I won’t have much time for sewing.” She touched his arm and fixed a smile on her face. “Ready to go?”

Travis frowned and didn’t press her further. “I am. Thank you again, Mr. Nash.”

“Very welcome,” he replied.

Caroline allowed her husband to steer her from the mercantile and all the fruitless dreams it contained. Fine spun cloth to make shirts, a new kettle to replace her dented one…so many things beckoned with the siren song of an easier life. Not for her. Not until she eased her burden. Her mind stewed with worry over what the men might have said while loading the wagon. If one of them had let the loss of her child slip—she nibbled on her lip until they were well away from town.

Travis cast furtive glances at his wife. Back at the store, Mr. Nash had tried to tell him something, but then another customer had entered and the topic had never returned. Then, when he and Caroline had left, once again Mr. Nash had tried to reveal something. Caroline sat stiff on the bench, once more distant from him. She clutched her pouch between her fingers.

He opened his mouth to ask about Mr. Nash’s statements. Sitting here making assumptions would only darken Caroline’s character and make him mad. Even David, the shop owner’s son, had mentioned about being very sorry for his loss. He’d nodded, said the appropriate things, even as he wondered what it was he’d lost.

“That blue fabric looked nice,” he said, hoping to start a conversation. Sitting in brooding silence made for a difficult journey. “What were you going to sew?”

“A shirt for you,” Caroline replied.

Her thoughtfulness touched him. Though he’d come home with a few changes of clothes and some of Samuel’s and her father’s shirts remained in the wardrobe, a new shirt sewn for him by his wife would be nice. “Thank you.” The heavy load rode in the back of the wagon, a stark reminder of his lack of farming abilities. Caroline offered so much more than her love and responsiveness, she offered a chance for him to finally settle down and be the man his father wanted him to be. He reached across the seat to clasp her hand. “That’s very nice, but a color as rich as that one would undoubtedly make a beautiful dress.”

She ducked her head, her eyes downcast. “I have dresses aplenty. I need no more.”

Travis squeezed her fingers. “Were we in Memphis, I’d have you dressed like a southern belle, with more clothes than you could possibly ever wear. A
true
southern belle.”

A soft smile tilted the corners of her lips. “Were we in Memphis, no doubt we’d be hungry and beleaguered by the war. I’m glad we’re here. Working the farm has left me few opportunities to wear my dresses. For you, though, when possible, I shall be the perfect southern belle.”

“You already are.” Their gallant banter threatened to chase away the demons in his mind. The blue sky overhead dotted with a few wispy clouds promised a good day to dry out the soil. “What did Mr. Nash try to say in the store?” The question fell from his lips before he could stop it.

Caroline stiffened and pulled her hand away, holding it primly in her lap once more. “Nothing. Nothing at all,” she hastily answered.

Travis’s jaw tightened. “It didn’t sound like nothing. Has something happened? Has there been further loss?” His stomach knotted. “Is it something else?”

Caroline grew pale. “No, I’m sure he was just glad to have you home.” Her pulse fluttered at the base of her throat, a telltale sign of her distress.

“It didn’t sound like nothing.” He clucked to Dolly and the mare broke into a lumbering trot. The sooner they arrived home, the sooner he’d know the truth.