Promise Me Forever Page 2

  “Thank you, Burke, but I don’t want you or Lula Mae getting into any trouble because of me. Just tell the truth, then it’s up to them to believe us or not.” She smiled as the strapping man mumbled under his breath about setting the law straight if they fooled with him and his loved ones.

  Rachel and Burke stripped the linens from the bed, removed the feather mattress and pillows, and carried them outside to a clearing. They hauled several wash tubs there, then filled them from the well near the house so they would be prepared to battle any blaze that might sneak its way from the safe area. The black man tossed lantern oil on the pile and lit it. The empty whiskey bottles were broken and tossed into the roaring flames; later they would be buried after the fire killed any disease on them.

  While the linens and bedding were being consumed and dark smoke rose skyward, Rachel asked, “Burke, did Phillip give you anything to hide for him in the last month or so?”

  “No, ma’am, Miz Rachel, why’d you akst me dat?”

  She trusted and liked the manager and housekeeper, but she didn’t want to draw either of them into this mystery. She offered a logical explanation, “Sometimes Phillip didn’t want to worry me about business problems, but if there are any and he’s hidden papers about them, I need to know, and now!”

  “No, ma’am, Mr. Phillip didn’t gimme nuttin’ to hide for him.”

  Rachel sighed in disappointment, which Burke mistook as exhaustion.

  “Why don’ you git in the house and res’, Miz Rachel? Ah kin tend dis fire. Ah’ll holler if’n Ah needs help. You looks pow’ful tired.”

  The blaze was under control, so the new widow thanked him and went to the house.

  Lula Mae had opened all windows in the guest room and kept the door closed to prevent the stench from wafting through the rest of the two-story house. When Rachel joined her upstairs to help with the repulsive but necessary task, Lula Mae had finished her kitchen chores and had begun to mop up splatters. Any area Phillip might have touched where a smidgen of the dreaded disease might have been left behind had to be cleansed.

  Rachel looked at the woman who was working so hard. “I’m sorry you have to help with this mess,” she said. “I can do it, if you mind.”

  “I reckon I cleaned up worse messes in my life. When Mr. William or his son was sick, they ruint many a cover and floor. When I’m done, I’ll toss these rags on the burnin’ heap and bury this bad water. Won’t be no sickness left in this house when I’m finished. The air’s better a’ready.”

  As Rachel went to work with hot soapy water on the bed’s woodwork, she murmured, “Why did this have to happen to me, Lula Mae? I’m not a bad person.”

  “A body hasta takes what the Lord keeps on his or her head. Don’t let on it don’t hurt bad. A good cry never did a body no harm.”

  Rachel halted to look at the woman whose sternlooking features made many think she was mean and cold. Today, concern and affection for Rachel seemed to soften them. Rachel knew Lula Mae to be one of the kindest people alive. The woman’s words and her own thoughts stirred up memories.

  As Rachel scoured the bedside table for smeared fingerprints and drops of whiskey that had escaped the fallen bottles, she murmured, “I wish I could keep his death a secret forever and not go through all that again, but I can’t sell any of Phillip’s holdings without exposing his death. How can I just walk away and leave everything that is rightfully mine? How can I start over somewhere else without funds?” And if she tried to flee, what all would happen to her if those faceless and nameless “enemies” tracked her down?

  “I hate to see more trouble coming up the road,” the woman said, “but do what needs doing. I’ll stand by you.”

  She smiled. “You always have, Lula Mae, and I’m grateful.”

  Rachel slipped into deep thought as they continued their work. For some inexplicable reason, her kind and gentle husband had gotten heavily inebriated following a visit from Harrison Clements, his business partner in Athens. She didn’t know what had transpired between the two men, but it had sent Phillip McCandless over the edge of a dark precipice. She wondered what Phillip’s strange mumblings meant. In slurred speech, he had talked about her life and all she owned being in danger, about enemies who could get to her anywhere and any time and who would stop at nothing to get what they wanted, and about her selling everything to repay a debt she didn’t know existed as it was the only way for her to stay alive and safe. What was the mysterious deal that she must honor, and where was the money she must return to its owner? And why was it hidden? She knew it had to do with guns and ammunition, with strange phrases like “you can’t go to the law,” and “you’ll be blamed.”

  She didn’t want to be blamed for whatever was involved. She remembered the terrible incidents—“all those warnings came”—over the last weeks to which he must have been referring. She had assumed they were unrelated crimes: the ship that was burned and sank, the warehouse that was vandalized, the two seamen who were beaten, and the dockworker who was slain. “Don’t double cross Harry and….” Scary words from him.

  What if Harry did something wicked to Phillip last night? Rachel wondered in fear. If it shows, I’ll be blamed, not him. The law would never believe me over him.

  Whatever was going on, it was real and dangerous, as one worker was already dead. She couldn’t go to the authorities with a wild mystery and become entangled in it. If she didn’t solve it herself, she could be in even worse trouble than from a third investigation of husband killing and “Black Widow” gossip.

  “That’s all, Miss Rachel,” Lula Mae announced. “I’ll takes these rags and burn ‘em. You git washed up and rest a spell. Supper’ll be ready on time.”

  Rachel started to ask Lula Mae if the clues meant anything to her, but changed her mind. Some things were too personal or dangerous to confide in friends or employees.

  Rachel didn’t know any other woman who had lost three husbands, not even as a result of the war with the North. Yes, she reasoned, cholera did run its lethal course in a matter of hours to a few days, and death resulted from massive and swift loss of body fluids. But arsenic had the same effect as the symptoms Phillip had displayed. She knew about diseases and poisons, because she had lived on a plantation nearly all of her life where accidents and illness were commonplace and where items with deadly ingredients were used—both facts the law and townfolk knew, and had tried to use against her when William died.

  Rachel glanced around the spotless room. Phillip was gone, forever. She couldn’t believe it, even though she had helped wrap his body in clean sheets and hauled it to the site where Burke had dug a secret grave. She felt guilty over not washing and dressing him for a proper interment, but none of them had wanted to touch anything that might be infected by the cholera. Phillip didn’t even lie in a coffin; his grave wasn’t marked and he hadn’t been given a service. None of that could be helped, she told herself, then closed the door to keep from looking into the room again.

  Rachel’s mind was in turmoil as she bathed and dressed. She had not wept over her husband’s death because she was so angry with him. She was afraid of what loomed before her because of both his loss and the mystery he had mentioned for the first time on his deathbed. Phillip had been the one man she felt she could trust, the man who had taken away her wariness of all men; now, her faith in him was shaken. He had deceived her, endangered her, and deserted her. Yes, she fretted, she had a right to be angry and bitter.

  As Rachel brushed her dark-brown hair, her thoughts returned to the path that had brought her to this point in her life. She had not had good luck with men. From the day the lecherous Earl Starger had entered her life, most had proven themselves untrustworthy and selfish.

  Rachel dismissed Earl from mind. Maybe, she speculated, the war had brought forth the animal instinct in men: survival at any cost and take anything you desire to prove you’re the strongest. She wasn’t certain what had happened to men, but she knew her father and brothers and male friends had
not been this way years ago. Some day in the far future when all of this was years behind her, hopefully she would findRachel’s thoughts were interrupted by a knock at her door. She opened it. Lula Mae stood there, looking hesitant. “Is something wrong?” Rachel asked.

  “You have cumpny. It’s a man, a stranger, who wants to see Mr. Phillip. You wants me to send him away?”

  Rachel released an annoyed sigh. She didn’t want to be disturbed tonight, or have to begin her false tale on this horrible day before her mind cleared. “A stranger?” She repeated Lula Mae’s words.

  “Yes. He says he has important business with Mr. Phillip.”

  “Business?” She came to alert and her heart drummed in trepidation.

  “Yes, Miss Rachel. What must I do?”

  She witnessed the housekeeper’s worried look. “Tell him I’ll be down shortly. We don’t want anyone getting suspicious. I’ll speak with him.”

  “Should I serve coffee or spirits?”

  Southern hospitality was expected, so she said, “Coffee will be fine.”

  The older woman nodded and left.

  Rachel checked her appearance in the mirror. She summoned her wits and courage, then went to face her first challenge since Phillip’s death. As she walked along the lengthy hallway toward the stranger, she saw that Lula Mae had left him standing in the entry hall, no doubt with hopes of her mistress sending him on his way fast. Rachel noticed how his size and presence seemed to fill the doorway and how they pulled one’s full attention to him.

  She halted her approach with a few steps left between them to prevent having to strain her neck to look into his face. Her gaze met his as she said, “I’m Rachel McCandless, Phillip’s wife. How may I help you, sir?”

  Dan had met beautiful women before, but this one possessed even more allure than he had noticed from a distance this morning. He wondered why she had chosen Phillip as her third victim. Surely there were plenty of men in town with more wealth. To begin his own ruse, he extended his hand and said, “My name is Captain Daniel Slade, Mrs. McCandless. I’m here to see Phillip. Will he be down shortly?”

  Rachel accepted his strong hand and shook it, noticing how he stared at her. She forced a polite smile to her lips and replied in a serene tone, “I’m sorry, Captain Slade, but my husband is out of town. I don’t expect his return for many weeks. May I be of service? I take care of business matters whenever he’s away.”

  Dan feigned surprise and displeasure. “I don’t understand. Phillip was expecting me. Is he in Athens or Augusta? May I join him there?”

  Rachel tensed, but kept control of her expression and voice. “I’m afraid not. He’s in Baltimore to check on several new investments. I don’t anticipate his return until the end of April or middle of May.”

  To dupe her, Dan gave a heavy sigh and frowned. “That’s too long to wait. Where can I reach him? My business is pressing.”

  Her anxiety mounted in fear of this handsome stranger causing trouble for her before she could leave home. Yet she retained her poise, a skill she had learned over the years when people were cruel to her. “I’m afraid I can’t help you there, either. Phillip said he’d be moving around and he’d contact me, but he hasn’t done so yet. What is the problem? Perhaps I can handle it, or tell you who can help solve the matter.”

  Dan watched and listened for clues to her personality and character. She seemed at ease, as if she were telling the truth. Nothing in her mood, expression, speech, or manner exposed her as a new widow—his brother’s widow and Phillip’s murderess. He put aside his grief to carry out his task. “The business is between me and Phillip. He offered an old friend a good deal on an arms and ammunition contract. I wrote him of my acceptance and arrival date. I don’t understand why he left, knowing of my imminent arrival. My ship docked tonight, and I came straight here with the money.”

  Rachel glanced at a large carpetbag on the floor. “Money? For a weapons and ammunition deal?” Suspicion filled her.

  Dan perceived a curious reaction to his false claim, but it seemed a logical fabrication. He thought fear and panic had registered in those odd-colored eyes before she hurriedly composed herself. Her response was strange and unexpected. He nodded as his reply.

  “Why don’t we sit while we talk?” she invited, motioning toward the formal parlor. She needed time to think and to recover her wits. As they entered the spacious room, she indicated for him to be seated on a floral sofa and she took the matching chair across from it. The positions allowed her to study him while conversing. “Special orders usually go through Harry in Athens, not through Phillip here. What was it for, a custom-made weapon and special-size ammunition?” she questioned, even though she had caught that the mentioned items were plural.

  To make the alleged deal sound important, Dan corrected, “No, for three thousand rifles and enough ammunition for each one to last for months of fighting. There’s a conflict raging in the Mediterranean area, and I agreed to buy and deliver needed arms.”

  Rachel decided she must lead him on to learn all she could about him and his curious business. “Isn’t such a deal illegal?” she asked.

  Dan looked surprised, then grinned. “Stars, no. The Americans are assisting the battle against Turkey, though not publicly, of course. Guns and ammunition are needed badly there. I’m a private shipper who will deliver them for a tidy profit. Phillip said he could arrange the order for me. Why would you think your husband would become involved in something illegal?”

  Rachel eyed him intently as Phillip’s warnings about “war, freedom, and need guns badly” echoed through her mind. But there were contradictions: the money “must return” and “hidden” did not match with the captain bringing along his payment, and “Cuba” was a long way from Turkey. Contradictions, yes, if Daniel Slade was telling the truth. “I didn’t say I thought Phillip would do anything illegal,” she said, “But it isn’t past evil and greedy men to lie and cheat or kill to get what they want. Are you sure the shipment will go into the hands of the right side?”

  Dan was cognizant of her quick intelligence. “Since I’ll be delivering them into American hands, I presume so, unless our country is wrong to interfere. I don’t get involved in politics, local or foreign. But I do try to sail on the right side of the law.” He grinned again. “Of course, some things are never what they appear. I’ll head to Augusta and Athens. Maybe his partners know about our arrangement and have my order ready for transportation to Savannah. Harrison Clements in Athens, isn’t it?”

  Rachel smiled and thanked Lula Mae as the housekeeper served the coffee. Both added sugar to their cups, but neither took milk. She waited until Lula Mae returned to the kitchen before continuing the conversation.

  The use of Harry’s name instead of George’s or that of both men seized her interest. A daring plan came to mind. “Yes, it is. If you can wait until Monday morning, Captain Slade, I’ll be leaving by train for both companies. Phillip asked me to take care of business there during his absence. Please feel free to come along with me. I want to learn if Harry knows about this curious deal of yours that Phillip didn’t mention to me, and I also want to make certain it isn’t detrimental to our firm. I wouldn’t want Phillip misused by an ‘old and trusted friend.’”

  “Don’t worry, Mrs. McCandless; I would never do anything to harm Phillip or his businesses. And I wouldn’t do anything, even for a lot of money, to get myself thrown into a boiling sea of trouble. I’d be delighted to ride along with you. I appreciate the assistance, and the lovely company. Phillip is a lucky man to have a wife with such beauty, charm, and wits.”

  “Did you know my husband well?” she asked, unaware she used the past tense, as Captain Daniel Slade was distracting and disarming. She sipped the sweetened black coffee as she observed her guest.

  Dan caught Rachel’s slip, but didn’t point it out. As he summoned the best response, he sipped his coffee to conceal the slowness of an answer. Her appeal was potentially dangerous. Her unblemished skin was an o
live gold, her features small and perfect. She looked delicate and angelic, though he knew she wasn’t. Her brows and lashes were the deepest shade of brown before it became black, as were the silky cascading waves of her hair that flowed over her shoulders. Her eyes were a fusion of pale yellowy brown with just a hint of grayish green, encased by a dark-brown band. She was clad in a simple day dress in a hue of grayish green that almost enticed her hypnotic eyes to reflect the color of it, but fell short of victory. Her gaze possessed strange power and magic. He was astounded and vexed she could sit there so serene and poised after what she had done today. She seemed the perfect reflection of a genteel lady! He placed an empty cup on the table and replied, “A long time ago, Phillip and I knew each other well and were very close. I’m looking forward to seeing him again. We’ll have plenty to talk about.”

  “You were close friends?” she probed after witnessing a curious look of affection and fond remembrance in his seawater-blue gaze.

  Dan assumed she would be less doubtful of him if she believed they were close friends, not just business acquaintances. “Yes, years ago in Charleston. That’s where we’re both from. You knew that, didn’t you?” he inquired to test her knowledge of Phillip’s past.

  “I knew Phillip was from Charleston, but he didn’t talk much about his life there. With his family dead, it seemed to pain him too much to speak of the past. But I’m surprised he never mentioned such a close friend.”

  Dan again caught her use of the past tense. “I left Charleston in ‘71,” he said truthfully, “and haven’t seen him since. He contacted me through the mail. He seemed eager to make our deal. It must have been something urgent and unexpected to call him away like this.”

  Both were silent as Rachel rose to refill Dan’s cup. She added two spoons of sugar as she’d seen him do earlier, then she replaced the silver pot on the matching tray, took her seat, and straightened her skirt. She retrieved her cup and sipped her coffee, as if waiting for him to go on.