Cora (Southern Hearts Book 3) Read online

  Sarcasm laced his words. "Are you sure? I mean I might arrive before nine just to see that it too has already departed."

  "Don't get haughty with me, young man. You asked for the coach and I told you the truth. It ain't here. Now you can take the one in the morning or you can walk. Don't really matter to me."

  Frederic muttered curses under his breath, grabbed the coins off the counter, and stuffed them in his pocket. Cora looked up expectantly, and he heaved a sigh. "I'm sorry but it has already left."

  They exited the office, but Frederic had no idea where to go. As they passed a tavern, the rowdy noises of off-duty workers wafted through the bi-fold swinging doors. Horses neighed at hitching posts.

  Suddenly, Frederic knew who could help them. Excited, he tugged Cora's arm. "Come on, I have a plan."

  They raced through the streets until they came to a two-story home nestled in a copse of trees and hidden from the road. A well maintained path led to a manicured lawn. Rose bushes overflowed with blooms. Green shrubs shone waxy in the afternoon light. Frederic helped her onto the porch and knocked timidly.

  "No one will hear that. You have to do it like this." She slammed the decorative knocker forcefully against the wood.

  Voices filtered to them and the door was jerked open. An elderly man with a shock of white hair dropped his jaw and widened his gaze. "Frederic? Is that you? What are you doing here?"

  "Jock, can we come in?" Frederic implored with his eyes, hoping for a small measure of pity from an old acquaintance.

  The man stepped back and ushered them inside. Frederic led the way to the study urging Cora to follow. Jock entered behind them and closed the door. Frederic didn't give him a chance to speak before he said, "I need your help."

  ****

  Frederic explained their situation in vivid lies that even Cora started to believe. They had fallen madly in love and married without her parents' permission. Angered, her brother pursued them. Frederic wanted her secreted some place safe just until the family calmed down.

  "What do you want from me?" Jock rested on the corner of a massive desk and crossed his legs at the ankles.

  "A carriage, or better yet a pair of saddle horses."

  "Do you have destination in mind?" asked Jock, cocking a brow.

  "Actually, yes. I have friends in Louisiana that I believe would assist with our cause." Frederic grabbed her hand and squeezed, sending her such a longing look that she almost believed he loved her.

  Jock rubbed a spot between his eyes. "So let me get this straight, you went against your parents and married Frederic and now you want to run away with him until they have time to calm down and accept him?"

  Frederic blinked, his lip twitching. What would he say if she denied his claims? Then again she did want to get out of the city. She nodded.

  "I don't understand young people today. Just running off willy-nilly and not taking the time to consult your parents. If you'd given them half a chance I bet they would have seen how fond you are of one another and given in. But I guess that is water over the bridge now. Like you say, they need time to cool off." Jock walked to a sideboard and prepared a drink. Amber liquid swirled in his glass and he downed it in one gulp. "Whew, that's good."

  Patiently they waited, holding hands, snuggled together on the sofa. Heat from Frederic's body seeped through the thick material of the maroon gown. Sweat beaded her brow and worry twisted her gut. Why didn't Jock get it over with? Was he willing to help them or not?

  "Frederic, you're lucky that I owe you. I guess that is why you came here in the first place. I always knew you would collect. I'm kind of glad you're doing it now because once my debt is paid I never want to see you on my doorstep again."

  "I understand, sir," said Frederic. Concealed fury welled beneath the surface. Cora felt the tense line of his shoulders, the sweat on his palms.

  "All right then. I'll give you two horses." He raised his hand when Frederic started to interrupt. "They are fine horses, more than you deserve I assure you."

  Frederic said, "Of course, thank you, we're very grateful."

  "Go around back and I'll have one of the stablehands saddle them for you. Mind you I will not give my best saddles, but you won't have to ride bareback."

  Cora and Frederic headed toward the study door. Jock called, "And Frederic?" Frederic faced him. "I hope you weren't stupid enough to be followed here. The last thing I need is for some of her family to come snooping around trying to find out where you two went."

  "Of course," said Frederic, bowing his head.

  Jock frowned as Frederic clasped her hand. Outside the sun had disappeared behind a thick black mass of clouds. A rain drop landed on her arm and she huddled beneath the eaves of the house. Frederic led them to the stables. Just as Jock said two horses were saddled and waiting. The servant assisted Cora astride and handed her the reins.

  "Young lady, this here horse is a spirited one so mind yourself."

  To Frederic he said, "This is the finest horse the master is willing to give you. If you take it slow it should make it, if you aren't going too far."

  The mare neighed and whined throwing its head back and forth. Frederic fought for control, rubbing its nose, and whispering soft words. At last it calmed and they set out.

  They hadn't been on the road for very long when the clouds dumped rain. In seconds they were drenched. But instead of stopping, Frederic increased their paced. Cora struggled to keep up. Wind snapped her hair in her face causing a stinging sensation. She opened her mouth to ask about stopping only to be interrupted by a loud crack of thunder. Her horse rose on its two hind legs. Her bottom slid along the wet saddle threatening her tenuous hold. She yelled for help but the wind threw it back in her face and Frederic continued forward unaware of her plight.

  The horse landed, jarring her and sending her teeth into her tongue. Wet reins drooped in her hand and she tugged. The horse slowed but didn't stop.

  "Whoa! Whoa!" she yelled, tugging harder and harder.

  The beast skidded in a mud puddle, and dislodged her from her seat. The ground flew beneath her and she closed her eyes against the imminent impact.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Frederic whipped the horse's flank. If he remembered correctly, just around the bend was an old barn. The roof leaked and the walls contained holes but it was better than being in the open.

  He peered over his shoulder. Wet tendrils of hair covered Cora's face, and she lifted her hand and swiped them away. She appeared capable of handling the beast, and he sighed with relief. Just a little farther and they would be in the clear.

  Lightening streaked the sky. He tensed in anticipation of the thunder to come. The horse beneath him strayed to the right and he tugged the reins hard to straighten the animal. He sent another look at Cora. Her horse reared on its hind legs and she fought for control. Cursing under his breath, he slowed. Her horse dropped and took off in a wild run, headed for the trees.

  Horrified, he watched as the horse skidded and she was thrown. She tumbled through the air, and splashed into a pond. Frederic urged his horse forward.

  Time slowed and stretched. He'd never reach her in time – but he had to. Cora needed him. Move, horse! He kicked the thick flanks, pushing his mount to the limit. Muscles bunched beneath him as the horse lunged along the trail. Then he was there, leaping from the saddle to the slippery ground. Cora's head went under water, came up again, then she disappeared beneath the rolling waves. Raindrops pelted his skin as he dove under the pond's surface. The muddy water clouded his vision. He came up, gasped for air, and dove again. Fear seized him and his heart beat roared between his ears, matching the rumbling above him.

  He went under a third time. The thick fabric of her gown grazed his hand. He grabbed and pulled. They broke the surface and he drew her to the shore. Cora's skin mimicked a porcelain doll. His heart clenched in his chest and he bent forward to feel her breath. No air whooshed from her blue-tinged lips.

  Placing his hands on her chest, h
e pushed up and down, praying, hoping. She coughed and water spewed. He helped her sit. Leaning back on his haunches, rain stinging his face, he lifted his eyes toward heaven and mumbled a prayer of thanks.

  She trembled and he lifted her in his arms and carried her toward the barn.

  ****

  Cora closed her eyes and inhaled. Fresh hay and wet animal reached her nostrils. She stretched, wincing at her sore muscles.

  "Good morning, sunshine. I'm glad you decided to wake. I didn't think I could hide you much longer."

  She fluttered her lashes. Frederic stood above her. Pieces of hay stuck from his hair, his clothing hung askew. He held out his hand and she clasped it. The world tilted out of control as he drew her forcefully to her feet.

  "Whoa, there."

  The heat of his touch penetrated her chilled skin and she drew in slow, deep breaths.

  "That's better. Now open your eyes slowly and give them time to focus."

  She obeyed. His handsome face came into view. New whiskers poked her hand, as she stroked his cheek. His eyes sparkled as he moved her hand to his lips and he kissed her palm. She gulped and reclaimed her hand. In an attempt to forget her growing feelings for Frederic, she asked, "How long was I out?"

  "Three hours, give or take."

  She widened her eyes and he laughed under his breath. "It hasn't been all bad. We've stayed warm and dry inside this old barn. The storms have kept the farmer inside his house."

  "Oh." She stepped backward and leaned against a stall wall. Moisture from the damp wood seeped through her drying chemise and she looked down at herself and frowned. Mortified by her state of undress, she crossed her arms over her front. Between clenched teeth, she asked, "Where is my dress?"

  "The gown was soaked, I had to–"

  "You took it off me!" Her voice raised three octaves as she stalked toward him and punched him in the arm.

  He rubbed the spot. "Ow! Be reasonable. How was it going to dry out if you were lying down? It is hung over another stall door."

  "Humph," She twisted, swinging her wet hair along her back and went to retrieve her gown.

  He didn't reply to her actions instead saying, "The sun just started shining so I'm thinking our luck has run out. So if you think you can ride, then maybe we should."

  Every bone in her body ached as she pulled the gown over her head, but what choice did she have? "Where are our horses?" she asked, as she stepped before him.

  He rubbed a hand through his hair. "They wait in one of the stalls."

  "You went out in the storm?" Her tone was harsher than she expected and she cringed and hoped he would ignore it.

  "Yes. I didn't exactly look forward to the prospect of walking, or stealing a couple of the farmer's horses." He held out his hand. Her heart skipped a beat. He said, "So are you ready?"

  She nodded and went along with him as he retrieved the horses, and they sneaked them out of the barn. Her first steps were slow and she felt as if she was ready to fall with each one, but as she continued to move, her confidence grew, her strength reinforced itself, and hope grew in her breast that they might have a chance. By the time they reached the pond, her body was steady.

  Frederic found her a place to sit as he allowed the horses to drink. When he returned, his face transformed into a broad grin and bowed at the waist and swept out his hand. "Your steed awaits, your majesty."

  She narrowed her eyes and shook her head, as she placed her hand on the pommel, put her foot in the stirrup and began to hoist herself onto the horse. A gentle hand touched her shoulder and she stopped.

  "Why don't you ride with me for awhile? If the horse tires, we can switch to the other one."

  She placed her foot back on the ground, fighting a feeling of pleasure. "All right."

  She climbed astride and he climbed up behind her, wrapped his arms around her middle and grabbed the reins.

  Hot air struck her ear as he whispered, "Feel free to move around until you're comfortable. If you need to lay your head back on my chest, that's fine too."

  She relaxed but didn't lay her head back. Images of him looking at her while she rested in her chemise brought a flush to her cheeks and she looked straight ahead. He clicked his tongue and the horse began a slow walk.

  By midday they were sore, tired, and in need of food. The thought of riding double with her neck held stiff all the way to Louisiana was overwhelming and almost brought tears to her eyes. They would need to think of a better way. Maybe she should climb astride her own mount? Or maybe they could find another stagecoach. These thoughts plagued her until her heavy lids drooped. Frederic jerked the reins and she woke with a start.

  "Whoa," he called to the beast.

  "Why are we stopping?" she asked, rubbing her sleep filled eyes.

  "We need to rest and get something to eat."

  They dismounted. He gathered pine needles that had been protected from the weather by heavy bushes, struck a match from a box he'd found in the stables, and started a fire. She warmed her hands as he wiped down the horses and tied them to a tree. Before she could offer her assistance he disappeared into the woods. She gnawed her lip and paced the small area. Had he left her? Her stomach rumbled with hunger. Bushes rattled behind her and she twirled on her heel and dropped her jaw. Frederic strolled into the clearing with a rabbit. She watched in awe as he skinned it and attached it to a makeshift spit.

  "Can I ask you a question?"

  He looked at her. "Yes."

  "Why exactly did Amelia send you?"

  He lowered his chin and redirected his eyes. "I told you. I owe her."

  "I don't remember you."

  "Well you wouldn't remember, you were little more than a child."

  Irritated, she said, "Only one major event ever happened in my memory where Amelia helped a stranger, and I was sixteen years old at the time. Hardly a child. And I remember that incident very well. My family discussed it for weeks. Two strangers showed up and asked Amelia questions about a man from South Carolina, and then we read in the paper that Miles Jones had been arrested for tax evasion." She swallowed and blinked, exhaling as she said, "You were one of those two men."

  He lifted his chin and gazed directly at her. "Yes."

  "Forgive me, but I don't understand why you have been following me. Why not just present yourself and give me a letter, or proof that my sister sent you? Why wait until I'm shot at before you reveal yourself? Did my sister know I was in danger? Do you know why Jeffers stole my clothes?"

  "Clothes?" he asked, his eyebrow lifting.

  She wrung her hands. "I guess I should tell you the truth. I dyed my hair and dressed as a boy so I could work at the fish house to make extra money. They would never hire a woman, so I changed my appearance. The day Jeffers died he drew me into his office and informed me he knew what I was up to. He kept saying I was trying to steal his business or some such nonsense. I thought he knew of my disguise, and he was set on firing me. But he just placed me back on the line, and said he'd find out whether I told him the truth or not. When I left work that day, he followed me to the alley and grabbed my bag of dirty clothes."

  Frederic studied his hands and said in a hoarse voice, "Maybe he thought it was something else."

  She shrugged. "Apparently. Otherwise the man was a complete fool. Who dies for a sack of clothing?"

  She drew closer to the fire. She folded her hands in her lap and settled on a downed tree limb. "Whatever he thought was in the sack, the other man with the gun must have thought the same thing. They both ran from me. When I caught up to Jeffers he was with the other man. The stranger shot him and grabbed the bag." She gnawed on her lip. "What do you think they'll do when they realize the bag contains only clothes?"

  "I think they're already doing it."

  "What do you mean?" She leaned forward.

  "Your apartment building burnt down, and we were attacked outside the church."

  She leaned back and gasped. "They're trying to kill me because they took the wrong bag?"r />
  "I think it has more to do with you seeing the face of the shooter."

  She waved her hands about. "B-but Frederic, I didn't see his face. It was dark and I was staring at Jeffers and the gun and the window. I wouldn't know the man if he passed me on the street!"

  "While that may be true, the man searching for you doesn't know that." Frederic squatted and stared at the fire. A frown drew his brows together.

  "What am I going to do?" she asked, standing up and placing her hands on her hips.

  "You're going to let me take you to your family. You'll stay there until the murderer is caught."

  "How will they catch him?" Her throat constricted.

  He shook his head and shifted the ashes. In a low voice, he said, "I don't know."

  Chapter Fourteen

  The wood cracked and popped. The rabbit meat sizzled on the flat rock, and juices ran into the fire. Three hours he had waited for her to wake up. Three hours he had worried that she was going to die. Three hours he'd prayed the farmer would stay at bay. Three hours he'd hoped she would wake up and remember the face of the other man. And now he knew it was hopeless.

  Perhaps he should leave her. He could return to the city, meet up with Josh, and start scouting the other employees at the fish house. One of them had to be the real inside man. Ridding the investigation of Cory, or Cora, as well as O'Malley, had at least helped narrow their choices.

  He could draw a map, point her in the right direction, pass her some coins and she would be all right, she was resourceful. He didn't need to hold her hand and mollycoddle her all the way to Louisiana.

  Besides his flimsy answers about Amelia's involvement were falling apart. Cora was too smart to believe them for much longer.

  The stick of wood in his hand grew lighter and lighter as he whittled it away to nothing. Just like the wall he'd built to protect his heart. Piece by piece Cora was whittling it away just like a knife to a stick. He couldn't let that happen. Whenever he exposed even a portion of his heart something bad always occurred.