Shenandoah Valley
Northern Virginia
1030 Local
Avis looked up from her sewing when Mac came in through the kitchen door. Without much of a wardrobe to choose from, she was back in the shirt and trousers she'd shown up in. They might not be appropriate but at least they were clean. If pressed, Avis might even be inclined to admit they were much more practical for farm chores. Sarah had been restless and somewhat anxious this morning. Against her better judgment, Avis had finally escorted her to the barn and handed her a list of chores. She made Sarah promise to do no heavy lifting and headed back to the house to alter another dress. "All done?" Avis inquired mildly.
Mac nodded wordlessly and glanced at the floor for a moment, "I'm sorry. I'm afraid I haven't been very good company this morning."
Avis stopped sewing, "I'd call it preoccupied. Do you want to talk about it?"
Mac pulled out a chair and sat down as she shook her head, "Not particularly." She gave a half-shouldered shrug, "Night terrors - I'd rather forget them."
"That's understandable," Avis could appreciate wanting to forget nightmares. Her own mother hadn't been much help, Avis had turned to her grandmother to learn how to deal the dreams her mind had conjured up. She held up the dress she was working on, "Almost done. Why don't you get cleaned up and we'll see how this fits? Corinna will probably be here in the next couple of hours."
Mac nodded again but made no move to get up. She studied the table top and finally asked quietly, "How do you do it? How can you remain so... so serene knowing what's going to happen? I'm bouncing between anger, fear and guilt so quickly, it's making me dizzy."
Avis let go of an exasperated sigh, "Sarah, look at me." She locked eyes with Mac for a long moment.
Mac leaned back and blinked, then stared at Avis again, "I had no idea... Avis, how... ?"
Shrugging, Avis looked back down at her sewing, "I've learned to present a calm face to the world. People find me scary enough because of my abilities. I don't need to alarm them with emotional outbursts. When I feel the facade slipping, I head for my garden," she grinned and held up the dress, "or I sew. You, on the other hand, apparently need more physical labor." Avis paused a moment in thought, looking down at the dress, "It's not a bad defense. I've used it for years. I never really know when someone's emotions are going to hit me like a sledgehammer. It's easy to get overwhelmed, especially if your own mood is out of control. It's one of the reasons that I stay out here by myself - living in town would make me crazy. Look at Mary Patrick."
Mac's eyes widened, "What?"
"Oh Lord, did I say that out loud?" Avis frowned and glanced up at Mac, "You're a dangerous woman to be around."
Mac ran her hands through her hair in frustration, "You're right and I think that's part of the problem. I shouldn't be here."
"Stop," Avis ordered, "That's not how I meant it. Yes, there is danger, but it's coming whether you're in this house or not. What I meant is what I've said before, you're a catalyst. It's not a bad thing, just a little unnerving at times. I'm normally more circumspect around other people but with you, I keep putting my foot in it." She sat quietly for a few seconds, "Oh well, in for a penny, in for a pound..." She drummed her fingers on the table and then said, "I'm the youngest of three surviving children. My grandparents came here when my mother was just fifteen. They're buried on the hillside up behind the barn. This was their home. My mother married when she was seventeen and moved to the other side of town. As I've said before, she hated the gift and rarely spoke to my grandmother." Avis sighed and looked over at Mac, "You have to realize how hard this can be to live with. Mother was subject to fits and eventually my father couldn't take it anymore. He finally left when I was twelve. I was the only one still at home and after a month or so, Momma sent me to live with my grandmother. About a year later, she hung herself."
"Dear God," Mac said softly, "Avis, I'm so sorry."
"Don't be, Sarah, it was years ago and I had my grandparents. I was here quite a bit anyway. I don't honestly remember my mother spending much time with me. She was a tormented, unhappy woman." Avis gave a lopsided smile, "That's part of the reason that Corinna was so aghast that Avril proposed to me. Bad enough that the Payne women are 'different', but who wants to marry into a family that has craziness running through it?"
"I don't understand. One isolated case and your family is thought to be crazy?" Mac frowned, "That seems extreme."
"I suppose it would if my mother were the only one," Avis fell silent, watching Mac carefully.
Mac stared back and then her eyebrows rose, "Mary Patrick?"
"My mother's oldest sister. Although I think losing two sons on the same day could make anyone crazy with grief. Mary Patrick never recovered from it," Avis idly traced a pattern on the table. "Personally, I think part of the reason is Axel, her husband. He's a very forceful man. He's gone from grief to rage to an ugly, smoldering anger. I can't be around him for very long. It's like being inside a huge drum. I can't say that I blame Cousin Sophie for running off with that Yankee officer. It was probably the only way to keep her sanity."
"Annabel told me about Mary Patrick, but she didn't say anything about being related to her," Mac frowned slightly, it probably wouldn't be a good idea to tell Avis that Mary Patrick would one day kill Axel. God only knew what the ramifications would be if Avis somehow managed to stop it.
Avis gave a slight shrug, "This isn't a large town and most people generally stay put. In one hundred and thirty-some-odd years, I imagine everybody will be related to everybody else in one way or another. Your Annabel probably didn't think about it or maybe she didn't know. As far as Axel's concerned, he has no more children. Unless he marries again, there aren't any sons to carry on the McNair name."
Mac sat silently, going over what she'd just learned. She eyed Avis, "So Mary Patrick has 'the gift'?"
"For her, it's more like a curse," Avis replied. She scowled lightly, staring absently at Mac, "Should we ever go into town, stay away from her, Sarah. I get the worst feeling when I think of you two together..." Shaking her head, she stood up and handed the dress over, "Why don't you go get cleaned up and try that on? We need to get ready for Corinna."
Shenandoah Valley Northern Virginia 0930 Local
Mac put down the bucket of water and contemplated the mass of harness. It didn't look like that much when it was actually on Jupiter and Jenna, Avis' sturdy little team of Morgans, but sitting there in a pile... . Oh well, she'd told Avis she'd spend the morning cleaning tack and it looked like it would take the entire time. It had been nine days since Deacon had brought her here and things were settling into a routine. Corinna's visit on the day Avis had told her about Mary Patrick had yielded a surprising quantity of clothes and sundries. So much so, that Corinna had volunteered to help with the alterations. Fortunately, she accepted the explanation that as a member of Russian high society, Mac had never learned how to sew. Mrs. Simpson was due here in the afternoon. Mac figured she could finish the harness and still have time to get cleaned up and into a dress. She'd gone back to wearing pants, at least for the farm chores. Avis hadn't said anything about it but she'd disappeared into the attic and several pairs of trousers had appeared in the sewing pile.
There was a growing civility between the future in-laws, to the point where Avis confessed that she was enjoying Corinna's visits. Even Roger was beginning to skirt around the fringes. Corinna kept them informed on the doings in town, as well as anything she heard on the fighting. Lee had pulled into the trenches of Petersburg; Avril was there and still in good health. He'd survived the hellish fighting during the Wilderness campaign. Mac sent a fervent thank you skyward that Josiah hadn't been there. Grant had lost something like 7,000 men in twenty minutes of fighting at Cold Harbor. Meanwhile, Early and Sheridan continued their dance up and down the Valley, there were skirmishes almost daily. Nothing had been said about destroying the Valley, but Mac knew it had to be starting soon. Avis had done what she could to pass the warning along.
Two days ago, Deacon Turner had stopped by, he was on his way to New Market. Mac gave him a letter to deliver to Col. Rabb and he'd promised to do what he could to see that it reached its destination. It gave her a modicum of comfort thinking that Josiah might soon learn that she was alive and well. The only jarring note this past week had been the unexpected visit of Eudora Dickerson. She'd shown up yesterday while the two of them had been hoeing the truck garden. Roger, once again, had been their first alert. He had burnt the wind streaking past them and howling like a banshee as he left for parts unknown. Mac had given a credible imitation of the cat a few moments later, when she sprinted to the house to get out of her shirt and pants. Although she didn't howl, she did manage to keep up a steady stream of invective while she threw on a dress and fussed with her hair.
It had been a stressful visit. Eudora was a grasping, mean-spirited woman. In a society that gave points for composure, she delighted in emotional upheaval. Her gossip and innuendo were both vicious and petty. Mac had never seen Avis so close to the edge before and had done what she could to deflect the worst of it. She kept a rein on her own temper by directing a steady stream of increasingly colorful Russian epithets at the woman, all delivered with a smile. They had been rescued by the arrival of Corinna. For all her bluster and talk, Eudora was obviously leery of the older woman. She beat a hasty retreat, leaving Mac and Corinna to deal with the aftermath.
With her departure, Avis had become completely distraught, something Mac had never expected to see with the self-possessed young woman. Surprisingly, it was Corinna who stepped in to comfort, shooing Mac off to the kitchen to make tea while she offered Avis a shoulder to cry on. It had taken both of them to get Avis calmed down enough to consent to a nap. Afterwards, Corinna had commandeered the kitchen. Mac found herself on KP, peeling and cleaning vegetables as the older woman prepared a stock pot of soup. After it was simmering, Corinna had left, but not before giving Mac precise instructions on what to do. She promised to be back today with plans for social revenge on the odious Mrs. Dickerson. Mac was curious to see just what that might entail.
Mac broke off from her musings when Roger suddenly appeared in the tackroom doorway. She looked at him in surprise as he went into Halloween cat mode and began hissing and growling. Uneasy, she put down the strap she was cleaning and quietly made her way to the barn door. Peering out, she saw that three horsemen had ridden into the yard. One was dismounted and talking to Avis over in the garden. Uneasiness gave way to alarm when she saw Avis shift into a defensive posture when the second man dismounted and walked up to her. Mac shot a quick look around the barn in frustration. The only weapons on the place were in the house and there was no way to get there without being seen. She could probably slip out the back of the barn but then what? Going for help was out of the question. It would take too long on foot and there was no way she would leave Avis with these three.
She peered back out of the doorway and tensed. All three men were dismounted now, one had Avis by the arm while the other continued to talk to her. The third was headed for the house. Mac pulled back and leaned against the wall. They were looking for her. When they found she wasn't in the house, they'd start searching the outbuildings. She looked around the barn again, she didn't have much time to plan.
********
Avis resolutely attacked the weeds that seemed to proliferate overnight. She was beginning to see what Sarah meant about working off frustration. Losing control yesterday had been mortifying and she was still feeling rattled by it. She jabbed her trowel into the earth with a little more force than necessary, Eudora Dickerson was a hateful, spiteful... Avis took a deep breath, she was doing it again, letting that woman get to her. She sat back on her heels, contemplating the roses and blotting the sweat off her face with the corner of her apron. If there was a silver lining in all this, it was Corinna and Sarah. Corinna Simpson had provided the sort of comfort Avis hadn't experienced since her grandmother died. Sarah had also been sympathetic. When she had managed to get herself somewhat under control again, Avis had been surprised to see Sarah start to grin. With a devilish gleam in her eye, the beautiful brunette translated exactly what she had been saying to Eudora in such a pleasant tone. Even Corinna had begun to laugh. Avis smiled to herself, if she ever got caught with that awful woman again, she'd have to remember some of Sarah's more creative descriptions of Eudora's attributes.
Avis sighed and leaned forward to attack the next group of weeds. She hated feeling off-balance like this. 'Out of whack' was what Sarah called it, an odd expression but apt. According to Sarah, getting things back in balance required giving something or someone a good swift kick. Avis hefted the trowel, she could think of someone to kick. The sound of hoofbeats broke into her reverie and she brought up a hand to shade her eyes as she squinted in the bright sunlight. Three riders, and close enough now that she didn't think she could get into the house. She stood up, wiping her hands on her apron and took a quick glance at the barn. Sarah was still in the tackroom, cleaning harness. Straightening her shoulders, she lifted her chin and went to greet the men. She didn't have a good feeling about this but maybe she could bluff her way through.
The bad feeling grew worse when she got close enough to recognize two of the men. Shoving her hands into her apron pockets to conceal their trembling, she managed a slight smile as one man dismounted and walked towards her, "Hunter, how nice of you to call. What brings you out this way?"
Hunter Milroy touched the brim of his hat, "Hey, Miss Avis." He gave her a grin that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up and gestured for the other men to dismount. "Me an' the boys just thought we'd come visitin'. Hain't seen you in town for a spell." He glanced around the yard, "Hear tell you got some foreign lady stayin' with you. That right?"
Avis nodded wordlessly, her eyes straying to the man who had stopped just behind Milroy. He glanced over his shoulder and his smile grew wider, "You remember ol' Jud, don't you, Miss Avis?"
She stared at him, trying to swallow the sudden lump in her throat. How could she forget Judson Peavey? Two years ago the jackass had gotten liquored up on corn squeezings and burned down his own house. Then he had the audacity to claim that it was her fault, that she had hexed him. It hadn't mattered one whit that no one else in town believed him. After a week of working himself into the right mixture of righteous indignation and drunken anger, he appeared on her place, hellbent on claiming his pound of flesh. Deacon had shown up in the nick of time, with Avril turning up a little later. It turned out that Deacon had had his sons keeping an eye on her place, just in case. Avril had beat the man within an inch of his life and then dumped him on the outskirts of town, promising he would kill Peavey if he ever saw him again.
Peavey smiled at her, his eyes glittering, "Oh, I think she remembers." He swept his gaze around the property, "No darkey to save you this time, is there Miss Avis? I hear he's up around New Market." He fixed his glare on her and Avis tried not to flinch, "And your fiance's stuck down at Petersburg. Ain't that a shame?" He looked over at Milroy, "Quit wastin' time, Hunter. She owes me."
Milroy held up a hand, "Hold your horses, Jud. That foreign gal's around here somewheres. We don't need her runnin' off lookin' for help." He lowered his voice just a little, " 'sides, I hear she's supposed to be good lookin'."
Avis looked at Milroy in alarm, "Hunter, no! Leave her out of this!" She started to move towards the house only to have Peavey grab her arm and hold her in place. A wave of anger, vengeance and lust hit, making her recoil in disgust and fear. Staring at Milroy, Avis forced herself to try again, "Hunter... please!"
Hunter Milroy gave her a slow smile and called over his shoulder, "Stafford? Go search the house."
Shenandoah Valley Northern Virginia 1030 Local
Sergeant Fitzgerald knocked on the tent pole and then stuck his head in, "Colonel, sir?"
Rabb didn't bother looking at him. "What?" he asked in a gruff tone, as he continued to write his report of the latest skirmishing. He'd thrown himself into his duties but it was a poor substitute. All his inquiries had met with failure. Sarah, Atkins, Caine and Garrett had vanished off the face of the earth. He'd been sure the sutler would have shown up somewhere, the man had to make a living. Resolutely, he pushed the thought of Sarah away. Her fate was the stuff of his nightmares, he couldn't let himself dwell on it in the daylight hours.
Fitzgerald cleared his throat, "Sir, there's a darkey out here. Says he has a letter for you - from Sarah MacKenzie."
Josiah froze and then turned towards the Sergeant with haunted eyes, "What did you say?"
Avis looked up from her sewing when Mac came in through the kitchen door. Without much of a wardrobe to choose from, she was back in the shirt and trousers she'd shown up in. They might not be appropriate but at least they were clean. If pressed, Avis might even be inclined to admit they were much more practical for farm chores. Sarah had been restless and somewhat anxious this morning. Against her better judgment, Avis had finally escorted her to the barn and handed her a list of chores. She made Sarah promise to do no heavy lifting and headed back to the house to alter another dress. "All done?" Avis inquired mildly.
Mac nodded wordlessly and glanced at the floor for a moment, "I'm sorry. I'm afraid I haven't been very good company this morning."
Avis stopped sewing, "I'd call it preoccupied. Do you want to talk about it?"
Mac pulled out a chair and sat down as she shook her head, "Not particularly." She gave a half-shouldered shrug, "Night terrors - I'd rather forget them."
"That's understandable," Avis could appreciate wanting to forget nightmares. Her own mother hadn't been much help, Avis had turned to her grandmother to learn how to deal the dreams her mind had conjured up. She held up the dress she was working on, "Almost done. Why don't you get cleaned up and we'll see how this fits? Corinna will probably be here in the next couple of hours."
Mac nodded again but made no move to get up. She studied the table top and finally asked quietly, "How do you do it? How can you remain so... so serene knowing what's going to happen? I'm bouncing between anger, fear and guilt so quickly, it's making me dizzy."
Avis let go of an exasperated sigh, "Sarah, look at me." She locked eyes with Mac for a long moment.
Mac leaned back and blinked, then stared at Avis again, "I had no idea... Avis, how... ?"
Shrugging, Avis looked back down at her sewing, "I've learned to present a calm face to the world. People find me scary enough because of my abilities. I don't need to alarm them with emotional outbursts. When I feel the facade slipping, I head for my garden," she grinned and held up the dress, "or I sew. You, on the other hand, apparently need more physical labor." Avis paused a moment in thought, looking down at the dress, "It's not a bad defense. I've used it for years. I never really know when someone's emotions are going to hit me like a sledgehammer. It's easy to get overwhelmed, especially if your own mood is out of control. It's one of the reasons that I stay out here by myself - living in town would make me crazy. Look at Mary Patrick."
Mac's eyes widened, "What?"
"Oh Lord, did I say that out loud?" Avis frowned and glanced up at Mac, "You're a dangerous woman to be around."
Mac ran her hands through her hair in frustration, "You're right and I think that's part of the problem. I shouldn't be here."
"Stop," Avis ordered, "That's not how I meant it. Yes, there is danger, but it's coming whether you're in this house or not. What I meant is what I've said before, you're a catalyst. It's not a bad thing, just a little unnerving at times. I'm normally more circumspect around other people but with you, I keep putting my foot in it." She sat quietly for a few seconds, "Oh well, in for a penny, in for a pound..." She drummed her fingers on the table and then said, "I'm the youngest of three surviving children. My grandparents came here when my mother was just fifteen. They're buried on the hillside up behind the barn. This was their home. My mother married when she was seventeen and moved to the other side of town. As I've said before, she hated the gift and rarely spoke to my grandmother." Avis sighed and looked over at Mac, "You have to realize how hard this can be to live with. Mother was subject to fits and eventually my father couldn't take it anymore. He finally left when I was twelve. I was the only one still at home and after a month or so, Momma sent me to live with my grandmother. About a year later, she hung herself."
"Dear God," Mac said softly, "Avis, I'm so sorry."
"Don't be, Sarah, it was years ago and I had my grandparents. I was here quite a bit anyway. I don't honestly remember my mother spending much time with me. She was a tormented, unhappy woman." Avis gave a lopsided smile, "That's part of the reason that Corinna was so aghast that Avril proposed to me. Bad enough that the Payne women are 'different', but who wants to marry into a family that has craziness running through it?"
"I don't understand. One isolated case and your family is thought to be crazy?" Mac frowned, "That seems extreme."
"I suppose it would if my mother were the only one," Avis fell silent, watching Mac carefully.
Mac stared back and then her eyebrows rose, "Mary Patrick?"
"My mother's oldest sister. Although I think losing two sons on the same day could make anyone crazy with grief. Mary Patrick never recovered from it," Avis idly traced a pattern on the table. "Personally, I think part of the reason is Axel, her husband. He's a very forceful man. He's gone from grief to rage to an ugly, smoldering anger. I can't be around him for very long. It's like being inside a huge drum. I can't say that I blame Cousin Sophie for running off with that Yankee officer. It was probably the only way to keep her sanity."
"Annabel told me about Mary Patrick, but she didn't say anything about being related to her," Mac frowned slightly, it probably wouldn't be a good idea to tell Avis that Mary Patrick would one day kill Axel. God only knew what the ramifications would be if Avis somehow managed to stop it.
Avis gave a slight shrug, "This isn't a large town and most people generally stay put. In one hundred and thirty-some-odd years, I imagine everybody will be related to everybody else in one way or another. Your Annabel probably didn't think about it or maybe she didn't know. As far as Axel's concerned, he has no more children. Unless he marries again, there aren't any sons to carry on the McNair name."
Mac sat silently, going over what she'd just learned. She eyed Avis, "So Mary Patrick has 'the gift'?"
"For her, it's more like a curse," Avis replied. She scowled lightly, staring absently at Mac, "Should we ever go into town, stay away from her, Sarah. I get the worst feeling when I think of you two together..." Shaking her head, she stood up and handed the dress over, "Why don't you go get cleaned up and try that on? We need to get ready for Corinna."
Shenandoah Valley Northern Virginia 0930 Local
Mac put down the bucket of water and contemplated the mass of harness. It didn't look like that much when it was actually on Jupiter and Jenna, Avis' sturdy little team of Morgans, but sitting there in a pile... . Oh well, she'd told Avis she'd spend the morning cleaning tack and it looked like it would take the entire time. It had been nine days since Deacon had brought her here and things were settling into a routine. Corinna's visit on the day Avis had told her about Mary Patrick had yielded a surprising quantity of clothes and sundries. So much so, that Corinna had volunteered to help with the alterations. Fortunately, she accepted the explanation that as a member of Russian high society, Mac had never learned how to sew. Mrs. Simpson was due here in the afternoon. Mac figured she could finish the harness and still have time to get cleaned up and into a dress. She'd gone back to wearing pants, at least for the farm chores. Avis hadn't said anything about it but she'd disappeared into the attic and several pairs of trousers had appeared in the sewing pile.
There was a growing civility between the future in-laws, to the point where Avis confessed that she was enjoying Corinna's visits. Even Roger was beginning to skirt around the fringes. Corinna kept them informed on the doings in town, as well as anything she heard on the fighting. Lee had pulled into the trenches of Petersburg; Avril was there and still in good health. He'd survived the hellish fighting during the Wilderness campaign. Mac sent a fervent thank you skyward that Josiah hadn't been there. Grant had lost something like 7,000 men in twenty minutes of fighting at Cold Harbor. Meanwhile, Early and Sheridan continued their dance up and down the Valley, there were skirmishes almost daily. Nothing had been said about destroying the Valley, but Mac knew it had to be starting soon. Avis had done what she could to pass the warning along.
Two days ago, Deacon Turner had stopped by, he was on his way to New Market. Mac gave him a letter to deliver to Col. Rabb and he'd promised to do what he could to see that it reached its destination. It gave her a modicum of comfort thinking that Josiah might soon learn that she was alive and well. The only jarring note this past week had been the unexpected visit of Eudora Dickerson. She'd shown up yesterday while the two of them had been hoeing the truck garden. Roger, once again, had been their first alert. He had burnt the wind streaking past them and howling like a banshee as he left for parts unknown. Mac had given a credible imitation of the cat a few moments later, when she sprinted to the house to get out of her shirt and pants. Although she didn't howl, she did manage to keep up a steady stream of invective while she threw on a dress and fussed with her hair.
It had been a stressful visit. Eudora was a grasping, mean-spirited woman. In a society that gave points for composure, she delighted in emotional upheaval. Her gossip and innuendo were both vicious and petty. Mac had never seen Avis so close to the edge before and had done what she could to deflect the worst of it. She kept a rein on her own temper by directing a steady stream of increasingly colorful Russian epithets at the woman, all delivered with a smile. They had been rescued by the arrival of Corinna. For all her bluster and talk, Eudora was obviously leery of the older woman. She beat a hasty retreat, leaving Mac and Corinna to deal with the aftermath.
With her departure, Avis had become completely distraught, something Mac had never expected to see with the self-possessed young woman. Surprisingly, it was Corinna who stepped in to comfort, shooing Mac off to the kitchen to make tea while she offered Avis a shoulder to cry on. It had taken both of them to get Avis calmed down enough to consent to a nap. Afterwards, Corinna had commandeered the kitchen. Mac found herself on KP, peeling and cleaning vegetables as the older woman prepared a stock pot of soup. After it was simmering, Corinna had left, but not before giving Mac precise instructions on what to do. She promised to be back today with plans for social revenge on the odious Mrs. Dickerson. Mac was curious to see just what that might entail.
Mac broke off from her musings when Roger suddenly appeared in the tackroom doorway. She looked at him in surprise as he went into Halloween cat mode and began hissing and growling. Uneasy, she put down the strap she was cleaning and quietly made her way to the barn door. Peering out, she saw that three horsemen had ridden into the yard. One was dismounted and talking to Avis over in the garden. Uneasiness gave way to alarm when she saw Avis shift into a defensive posture when the second man dismounted and walked up to her. Mac shot a quick look around the barn in frustration. The only weapons on the place were in the house and there was no way to get there without being seen. She could probably slip out the back of the barn but then what? Going for help was out of the question. It would take too long on foot and there was no way she would leave Avis with these three.
She peered back out of the doorway and tensed. All three men were dismounted now, one had Avis by the arm while the other continued to talk to her. The third was headed for the house. Mac pulled back and leaned against the wall. They were looking for her. When they found she wasn't in the house, they'd start searching the outbuildings. She looked around the barn again, she didn't have much time to plan.
********
Avis resolutely attacked the weeds that seemed to proliferate overnight. She was beginning to see what Sarah meant about working off frustration. Losing control yesterday had been mortifying and she was still feeling rattled by it. She jabbed her trowel into the earth with a little more force than necessary, Eudora Dickerson was a hateful, spiteful... Avis took a deep breath, she was doing it again, letting that woman get to her. She sat back on her heels, contemplating the roses and blotting the sweat off her face with the corner of her apron. If there was a silver lining in all this, it was Corinna and Sarah. Corinna Simpson had provided the sort of comfort Avis hadn't experienced since her grandmother died. Sarah had also been sympathetic. When she had managed to get herself somewhat under control again, Avis had been surprised to see Sarah start to grin. With a devilish gleam in her eye, the beautiful brunette translated exactly what she had been saying to Eudora in such a pleasant tone. Even Corinna had begun to laugh. Avis smiled to herself, if she ever got caught with that awful woman again, she'd have to remember some of Sarah's more creative descriptions of Eudora's attributes.
Avis sighed and leaned forward to attack the next group of weeds. She hated feeling off-balance like this. 'Out of whack' was what Sarah called it, an odd expression but apt. According to Sarah, getting things back in balance required giving something or someone a good swift kick. Avis hefted the trowel, she could think of someone to kick. The sound of hoofbeats broke into her reverie and she brought up a hand to shade her eyes as she squinted in the bright sunlight. Three riders, and close enough now that she didn't think she could get into the house. She stood up, wiping her hands on her apron and took a quick glance at the barn. Sarah was still in the tackroom, cleaning harness. Straightening her shoulders, she lifted her chin and went to greet the men. She didn't have a good feeling about this but maybe she could bluff her way through.
The bad feeling grew worse when she got close enough to recognize two of the men. Shoving her hands into her apron pockets to conceal their trembling, she managed a slight smile as one man dismounted and walked towards her, "Hunter, how nice of you to call. What brings you out this way?"
Hunter Milroy touched the brim of his hat, "Hey, Miss Avis." He gave her a grin that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up and gestured for the other men to dismount. "Me an' the boys just thought we'd come visitin'. Hain't seen you in town for a spell." He glanced around the yard, "Hear tell you got some foreign lady stayin' with you. That right?"
Avis nodded wordlessly, her eyes straying to the man who had stopped just behind Milroy. He glanced over his shoulder and his smile grew wider, "You remember ol' Jud, don't you, Miss Avis?"
She stared at him, trying to swallow the sudden lump in her throat. How could she forget Judson Peavey? Two years ago the jackass had gotten liquored up on corn squeezings and burned down his own house. Then he had the audacity to claim that it was her fault, that she had hexed him. It hadn't mattered one whit that no one else in town believed him. After a week of working himself into the right mixture of righteous indignation and drunken anger, he appeared on her place, hellbent on claiming his pound of flesh. Deacon had shown up in the nick of time, with Avril turning up a little later. It turned out that Deacon had had his sons keeping an eye on her place, just in case. Avril had beat the man within an inch of his life and then dumped him on the outskirts of town, promising he would kill Peavey if he ever saw him again.
Peavey smiled at her, his eyes glittering, "Oh, I think she remembers." He swept his gaze around the property, "No darkey to save you this time, is there Miss Avis? I hear he's up around New Market." He fixed his glare on her and Avis tried not to flinch, "And your fiance's stuck down at Petersburg. Ain't that a shame?" He looked over at Milroy, "Quit wastin' time, Hunter. She owes me."
Milroy held up a hand, "Hold your horses, Jud. That foreign gal's around here somewheres. We don't need her runnin' off lookin' for help." He lowered his voice just a little, " 'sides, I hear she's supposed to be good lookin'."
Avis looked at Milroy in alarm, "Hunter, no! Leave her out of this!" She started to move towards the house only to have Peavey grab her arm and hold her in place. A wave of anger, vengeance and lust hit, making her recoil in disgust and fear. Staring at Milroy, Avis forced herself to try again, "Hunter... please!"
Hunter Milroy gave her a slow smile and called over his shoulder, "Stafford? Go search the house."
Shenandoah Valley Northern Virginia 1030 Local
Sergeant Fitzgerald knocked on the tent pole and then stuck his head in, "Colonel, sir?"
Rabb didn't bother looking at him. "What?" he asked in a gruff tone, as he continued to write his report of the latest skirmishing. He'd thrown himself into his duties but it was a poor substitute. All his inquiries had met with failure. Sarah, Atkins, Caine and Garrett had vanished off the face of the earth. He'd been sure the sutler would have shown up somewhere, the man had to make a living. Resolutely, he pushed the thought of Sarah away. Her fate was the stuff of his nightmares, he couldn't let himself dwell on it in the daylight hours.
Fitzgerald cleared his throat, "Sir, there's a darkey out here. Says he has a letter for you - from Sarah MacKenzie."
Josiah froze and then turned towards the Sergeant with haunted eyes, "What did you say?"