Читать книгу The Angel and the Outlaw - Kathryn Albright - Страница 11

The strong September sun had finally burned away the fog that hovered each morning over the peninsula. Rachel lifted her face to its warmth for a moment and then glanced behind her. Two wagons and five carriages loaded with churchgoers and food snaked their way to the point like an army of determined ants.

She sat in the bed of the wagon, one arm resting on a picnic hamper, the other holding tight to the wooden side. She had spent all of yesterday baking. Her mouth watered at the thought of the pies nestled between the slow-baked beans and cold chicken.

“So, how much longer do I have to put up with this prison sentence?” Caleb asked from his sprawled position beside her. “Haven’t I been okay for the past couple weeks?”

“The sheriff said at least two months,” Rachel answered. “You’re lucky he didn’t put you in jail for starting that fire.”

Caleb scowled. “No one cares about those hide houses anyway. One less wouldn’t hurt anything.”

“But they aren’t your property!” she said, exasperated with his attitude. “Besides, you could have torched the entire town. It was irresponsible.”

He clamped his hands over his ears to shut out her voice and glared at her. After a few minutes he looked up at Reverend Crouse. “Is the light keeper coming to our picnic, Reverend?”

Rachel tensed. It had been three weeks since her visit with Mr. Taylor and three weeks spent pondering the man. Impulsively, she’d even ordered a book on sign language from back east, just in case it could help the young girl.

“He’s welcome, as is anyone,” Reverend Crouse answered her brother. “After all, this is a community picnic.”

“It’s not a good idea,” Caleb said.

Reverend Crouse glanced over his shoulder. “Why do you say that?”

“’Cause he shot at those fisherman a while back. He’s not right in the head. Living out here has made him crazy. Enrique said—” Caleb stopped at the amused look in Reverend Crouse’s eyes.

“Don’t believe everything you hear. Rumors have a way of growing and changing over time.”

“I still say you shoulda had the picnic somewhere else.”

They crested the last brush-covered rise and saw the lighthouse. When they neared, Mr. Taylor stepped through the open front door, his jaw set tight. Resentment radiated from him, thick and strong.

“Look at him.” Heaviness lodged in the pit of Rachel’s stomach. “He doesn’t want us here.”

“Whether he does or not is of no concern. This is government property. The town has had a picnic here for the past seven years.” He stopped Jericho at the gate. “In any case, I’ll ask if he and his daughter would like to join us.”

Rachel couldn’t hear what was said between Reverend Crouse and Mr. Taylor but watched while Hannah inched up to her father and tucked her hand in his. She looked once in Rachel’s direction. A moment later she slipped back into the darkness of the house. Mr. Taylor soon followed his daughter and firmly shut the door.

The reverend climbed back into the wagon. “We’re welcome to enjoy the view but he prefers not to join us.” He clucked at Jericho, urging the horse on, and then waved at the others to follow.

“What of Hannah? She might like the games later,” Rachel asked.

“He’ll keep the girl with him.”

Rachel didn’t understand the ambivalence she felt. She’d worn her favorite navy-blue skirt and white blouse, trying to appear tailored like the perfect teacher in order to impress them. And she’d packed enough food in the hope that Hannah and even Mr. Taylor would join them. But now, learning they wouldn’t, a wave of relief washed over her. Perhaps she could relax now and simply enjoy the day.

A hundred feet farther, Reverend Crouse pulled the wagon to a stop on a stretch of level ground. Rachel spread out their large quilt with the faded star design between two small sagebrushes. The wind swirled and caught the edges of the makeshift tablecloth whipping it about. “Caleb! Help me, please!”

Amanda Furst caught a corner as Caleb caught the other.

“Didn’t want you sailing off,” Amanda said.

Rachel glanced up from anchoring her corner with a rock. Amanda, as always, looked prim and proper in her brown satin dress. “Why, thank you.”

Amanda nodded toward the lighthouse. “He won’t join us?”

“Mr. Taylor was invited, along with his daughter,” Rachel answered. “He said no.”

“Well, at least he has some common sense.” Amanda stood and twirled her parasol over one shoulder. “He would make us all uncomfortable. He treated me abominably in the mercantile.”

“He was just looking out for his daughter. And we were gossiping.”

Amanda raised her chin. “I don’t gossip. I was telling the truth.”

Why Rachel should feel the least bit protective of Mr. Taylor, she couldn’t fathom, but she thought a change in topic was warranted to keep the peace. “I see your brother is here,” she said, nodding toward where a few men were setting up tables.

Amanda wrinkled her nose. “Trying to get on Mother’s good side. He’s up to something.”

“I hope he stays clear of my brother.” Sam was well-known as the town terror. A few years older than Caleb, he had harassed her brother more than once when she and Caleb had first arrived at La Playa.

Amanda nodded. “Me, too. I suppose Mr. Morley will be sitting with you?”

Rachel stopped pulling things from the basket and looked up. “I’m not sure. He has relatives visiting from San Diego. I imagine they’re talking business.”

“Oh.” Amanda blushed. “Well…that’s nice. I, ah, better get back to help Mother.” She spun around and returned to where her family was setting out food.

Rachel sat back on her heels. Amanda was interested in Terrance! Before the thought registered any further, a flash of white from the lighthouse drew her eye.

Hannah stood on the catwalk, her chin on the railing, watching the people below. Rachel started to wave a greeting, but then lowered her hand when Mr. Taylor appeared behind the girl and placed his hands on her shoulders. Without turning, Hannah reached up and grasped one of his hands. Such a small gesture, full of trust and innocence. And with it Rachel’s heart softened considerably toward the light keeper.

As if he felt her watching, Mr. Taylor’s gaze caught hers…and held. Something tenuous reached out to her. Almost without realizing it, she rose to her feet, her gaze still locked on his. The wind picked up the ribbons on her bonnet and tickled her cheek, but she barely noticed. His eyes held hers as though he tried to read her thoughts, see into her soul. Before she could muddle through the strange sensation, he pulled Hannah back from the walkway and disappeared from sight.

Rachel let out the breath she had been holding and turned back to setting out the tin plates and napkins. Her cheeks flamed with heat as she tried to concentrate on the dishes, but could only see his face before her. Even her breasts tingled with awareness of him.

Caleb lugged over another basket and dumped it awkwardly in the middle of the quilt.

“My pies!” She reached out and righted the hamper, glad to have a diversion from her thoughts of the light keeper. She held up a squashed cherry pie in her hand. “To think it made the trip all the way here, and then to end up as flat as a sand dollar.”

“Where’s the problem, Rach? I’ll eat it, anyway.”

She lowered the pie, placing a cloth napkin beneath to protect the faded quilt. “No matter, I guess,” she said grudgingly. “It will still taste the same. Besides, we have the apple pie, and there will be ice cream later. Just try to be more careful.” Caleb was getting clumsier every week. Lately he reminded her more of a disjointed rag doll, all elbows and knees, than a flesh-and-blood boy.

Across the quilt from her, Reverend Crouse rose awkwardly, pressing on his knee with one hand. Skirts and coats rustled as those assembled stood for the blessing. Once he was finished, everyone gathered around the tables piled with food to fill their plates.

At Rachel’s makeshift table, the chicken pieces disappeared quickly. Rolls with butter and then molasses cookies followed. Caleb sectioned off a large piece of mashed cherry pie and ate it with boyish gusto. Rachel had just put her tin plate back in the basket when Terrance strolled up.

“Hello, Rachel.”

He towered over her, pulling on one end of his drooping mustache. He nodded to the reverend, Emma and Caleb in turn, and then his gaze locked on her to the exclusion of the others. What was it that Amanda found appealing about him?

“Ready for that walk?”

She glanced over at the other picnickers. They were finishing their meals. “What about starting the children’s games?”

With a wave of her hand, Emma Crouse intervened. “Oh, go on now, you two. I still remember a game or two. And Caleb can help me.”

Terrance pulled Rachel to her feet. “It’s settled, then.” He offered his arm.

He led her along the perimeter of the peninsula. From this high position, she could see a steamer leaving the harbor. Two ships headed toward San Diego, their white sails taut against the wind as they navigated the deepest part of the channel.

A burst of laughter and giggles came from behind her. Rachel looked back toward the picnickers. Emma and Elizabeth organized the boys and girls for the three-legged races, handing out long strips of cloth to bind legs together.

“I should get back and help,” Rachel said, starting to release Terrance’s arm. She glanced again at the children and Elizabeth. Where was Caleb?

Terrance patted her hand back into place. “Those children get you all week. They can do without you for a few more minutes.”

Reluctantly, she allowed herself to be led toward the ocean side of the point. Here the ground dropped steeply down hundreds of feet. Sagebrush and scruffy vegetation covered the higher ground, but in two areas, the wind had bitten into the high land, carving naked sandstone cliffs. Far below, the waves beat against their base. “Is that a beach down there?”

“A small one. You can’t see much from here.”

She searched for something to say. “How are your cousins from San Diego enjoying their stay?” she asked.

“They’re hoping to see a whale or two while here. So far there haven’t been any.”

“I’m not sure it’s the season for them,” she said, trying to remember what a Portuguese whaler had recently told her in town.

Terrance stopped walking and faced her. “Rachel, ah, I don’t quite know how to say this.”

She glanced up at him. “Just say what’s on your mind. I don’t bite.”

He offered a weak smile. “You know that I sit on the school board.”

“Yes.”

“Well, the others have asked me to inquire into your qualifications.”

Suddenly concerned, she met his gaze. “But they’ve already done that—when they interviewed me. They don’t think I’m doing a good job?”

“No, it’s not that.”

He ran a hand through his straight hair, and she noticed a pink tinge to his usually pale face.

“Will you be taking the teacher examination this year?”

“I plan to—after studying more. Probably in early spring.”

“Oh…well, then. That should appease them,” he said, but he wasn’t looking her in the eye.

She tried to remain calm, but her insides were in turmoil. She needed this work. “Would they hire someone else? Someone with a certificate in place of me?”

He hesitated in answering at first. “I’ll be honest.”

“I would prefer it,” she said, her alarm growing.

“A few of the board are talking about it.”

“Terrance, they hired me knowing I didn’t have that piece of paper. And I promised to work toward it. Surely they can give me a little more time. At my interview they said they understood my experience in Wisconsin was as valuable as that certificate.”

He stepped close, and this time he did meet her eyes. “I’ll talk to them. I, for one, want to keep you happy. If that means teaching for a year or two, so be it.”

“Thank you.” Her smile trembled a little. “You know my schooling has been haphazard. There are gaps in it because my father moved us around so much. But I’ll study and be ready for the test in the spring. You can count on me.”

“I know. And I’m sorry to worry you.”

“I need this job, Terrance. Caleb and I—we both do.”

He nodded his acknowledgment just as a chorus of lively shouts rose behind them. “Maybe we should join in the games now.”

She smiled slightly. After all, this was a picnic and she intended to have a good time. “Let’s join in the race. I promise I won’t trip you.”

He raised a brow. “Think we’ll make a good team?”

“Of course,” she said quickly, then realized as he continued to watch her that he wasn’t talking about the race at all. She swallowed hard. Did her job depend on her relationship with Terrance?

They neared the lighthouse, and she glanced once more at the empty catwalk. She had to talk with Mr. Taylor before she left today. Just once more—to encourage him to send Hannah to school. It was best for the girl, and it wouldn’t hurt her own job security to have another steady student.

Suddenly a series of loud pops exploded through the air. Someone cried out, and people began running to the cliff’s edge. A woman screamed.

Rachel scanned the cluster of people for Caleb. She found him crouched at the edge beside Sam Furst. Her heart pounded in her chest as she picked up her skirt and raced toward them. What had happened?

Murmurs rose from the group. “It’s little Benjamin! Somebody get a rope.”

Several men rushed past her, heading for their wagons.

The crowd moved back to allow Reverend Crouse in. Rachel peered over the edge, and then covered her mouth to stifle her cry.

Thirty feet below, seven-year-old Benjamin Alter clung to a small outcropping of sandstone and brush, his stomach flush against the side of the cliff. Blood trickled from a large scrape across his forehead. Hundreds of feet below him, the ground fell away to the foaming ocean and jagged rocks. The boy looked up at them with terrified eyes.

“Hang on, now,” Reverend Crouse said. “We’re getting a rope.”

Rachel’s heart pounded in her chest. Ben could lose his grip on the ledge at any minute. She met the reverend’s worried gaze. “Surely Mr. Taylor has rope.”

Before the words were out of her mouth, the light keeper appeared at her side, a thick coil of rope slung over his shoulder, his manner so commanding that everyone backed away to give him room.

“Help! I can’t hold on!” Benjamin yelled.

Caleb grabbed the rope from Mr. Taylor’s hands and began tying it around his waist.

Rachel gasped. “Caleb! No!”

“It’s my fault he fell,” her brother mumbled. “It’s my place to get him.”

Stuart watched as the boy fumbled with the thick rope at his waist. It was a poor attempt at a knot and one he knew from experience would prove unsafe. Stuart could handle the rope and the climb. He’d climbed among the rigging of schooners being tossed and pitched about by the sea for years. He snapped the rope from the boy’s hand. “Step back.”

Tying an efficient knot at his own waist, he looked directly at Miss Houston. “Keep Hannah from the edge.”

At her wide-eyed nod, he handed the other end of the rope to Terrance Morley, wondering for a moment if he could trust him. But then another man, and then another gripped the rope, their faces set with determination.

Stuart lay down on his abdomen and lowered himself over the cliff’s edge. His last look at the handful of onlookers centered on one person—Rachel. Her eyes had clouded with worry. Likely for the boy; surely not for him.

“Don’t look up,” he yelled down to the boy below. “The loose sand will get into your eyes. And don’t move. Let me take hold of you.”

Pebbles and loose dirt shot out from beneath his boots as he scrambled down the steep wall of sandstone. All at once his feet met air rather than the cliff and he swung around, smashing his shoulder against the gritty wall. Finally he slid even with the boy.

“Just a minute more and I’ll have you. Don’t let go yet.”

The boy gasped as he struggled to hold on while Stuart wrapped the extra length of rope tightly around the boy’s waist and tied a lighterman’s hitch. To his credit, the boy remained still as instructed rather than panicking and grabbing hold of Stuart too soon.

“What’s your name?” Stuart asked gently.

“B-Benjamin.”

The boy couldn’t be much older than Hannah.

“Onto my shoulders now,” Stuart commanded. “Slide over to my back.”

“I can’t.”

His plaintive voice tugged at Stuart’s heart. “Sure you can.”

“I’m scared.”

“The rope will hold you.”

“My hands—they’re s-stuck.”

Stuart glanced at Benjamin’s white-knuckled grip on the ledge and a small tuft of weeds. How had the boy managed to hang on this long?

“Okay. Just do the best you can. I won’t let you fall.”

Benjamin’s eyes filled with unshed tears. Stuart could almost see the boy’s mind working, trying to bolster his courage.

“I’ll count to three and you grab my neck.”

A small nod.

“One…two…three!”

Stuart leaned toward the boy, snaking his arm around Benjamin’s waist and hauling him close. He struggled to keep his grip on the rope while the boy locked his legs around Stuart’s hips. Frantically, Benjamin grabbed Stuart’s shirt then scrambled up and wrapped his arms around Stuart’s neck. He could feel the thudding of the boy’s heart against his back.

He breathed a sigh of relief. “Good job. You ready now?” He felt Benjamin’s nod rub against his back. Looking up, he yelled, “Haul us up!”

The men pulled on the rope, a rhythm building as they heaved against the weight. Stuart braced his feet against the cliff to steady the swinging. Sweat beaded on his forehead. Above, Stuart could see the first man’s arm muscles bulging with the effort to draw him up.

Finally he and the boy came flush with the ground at the top of the cliff. Strong hands reached out to grip Benjamin and pull him from Stuart’s neck. More men reached down to help Stuart over the edge. He crawled a few feet then sprawled onto his back and gasped for air.

People crowded around congratulating the men who’d held the rope. A few nodded to him by way of thanks, but most seemed a little unsure what to make of him. He rose slowly to his feet.

An elderly couple stopped before him. The old woman dabbed tears from her eyes while she thanked him profusely for saving her grandson.