Читать книгу Handpicked Family - Shannon Farrington - Страница 16

Chapter Five

Give her marks for candor, Peter thought as he watched Miss Martin walk away. And for grit. There was no doubt she had put in a long, hard day. Her face showed it, as well as her clothing. Her stained cotton skirt was sweeping the floor. The back of her apron was tied in a lopsided bow. It was stained, too. No doubt it had come loose on her more than once and she’d stopped whatever she was in the middle of in order to secure it. He wondered then why he noticed such details.

I’m a journalist, he told himself, and in truth, I admire her work ethic.

She was fast becoming his right-hand man—or woman, rather. The paper currently in his hand, the one she had given him, bore testimony to that. Not only had she gathered Robert Smith’s physical description and basic information for publication but she had also thought to include a personal note, something only Smith and his wife would have known—his pet name for her, Chickadee.

Peter would have thought to ask something of that sort but it surprised him that Miss Martin had. She was definitely staff material—efficient, free-thinking...but it comes at a price. He stopped that thought, reminding himself then that the matter had been settled.

Still his mind betrayed him. In another time, in another place, he told himself. He was nearing forty. A man at his age with his physical limitation and lack of gentlemanly polish didn’t get that many looks.

Shoving the thought away, he went in search of Reverend Webb. Unfortunately he’d have to tell him how futile his efforts with Lieutenant Glassman had been today and prepare him for the unlikelihood of any real help from the man or his soldiers in the future.

He found the preacher at the well, a bucket of water at his feet. Jack Zimmer was with him. This time so was his wife. Darkness was falling but Peter could see how awkwardly the woman’s clothing hung on her frame. Mrs. Zimmer wasn’t dangerously thin like some of the other women he had come across in these parts, but he wondered what her shape had been before Philip Sheridan’s army had set fire to the land.

Peter nodded to her and her husband.

“Ah, Peter,” the reverend said, releasing the pump handle. “How was your venture into Larkinsville? Have you returned with good news?”

Peter blew out a breath. “I’m afraid not. The lieutenant has no idea as to the whereabouts of the rest of our supplies.”

The reverend’s dark mustache drooped. Beside him, Zimmer kicked the dirt beneath his worn-out shoes. “I told you, you ain’t gonna get no help from him.”

“What about another shipment?” the reverend asked, as usual doing his best to look ahead to possibilities. Peter hated to dash his hopes but he had to be frank.

“Wiring for supplies isn’t the problem,” he said. “In fact, I did that today. Getting them here without having them...intercepted...is.”

Zimmer nodded affirmatively. “That lieutenant is too busy protecting the carpetbaggers to care about the real citizens of Virginia.”

The reverend sighed. “That may be, but we will just have to keep praying.” He picked up bucket and turned for the church. Peter watched him go. He wouldn’t discourage the man from praying—that, of course, was his job.

But more is needed than prayer, he thought. Zimmer’s right. Lieutenant Glassman isn’t going to be much help. I’ll have to concoct some sort of scheme of my own to make certain this second delivery arrives safely.

He’d leave that, though, for tomorrow. He was too tired to think tonight and his leg was hurting. But before heading inside he wanted to take advantage of Mrs. Zimmer’s presence and ask her a few questions.

“I wonder, ma’am, if I may speak with you for a moment.”

“Yes. Of course,” she said.

“It concerns a relative of mine,” Peter explained. “A woman named Caroline Carpenter. She lived somewhere in this valley. She married a soldier in General Early’s command sometime about—”

Mrs. Zimmer didn’t let him finish. “I’m afraid I don’t know any Carpenters,” she said.

Peter was unwilling to give up just yet. “Well, that would be her married name. Unfortunately, I don’t know her maiden one. Do you know of anyone in these parts named Caroline?”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I’m afraid not...but I’ll ask about.”

At least that was something. “Thank you,” Peter said. “I’d appreciate that.”