Page 16 of A Season Beyond A Kiss (Birmingham #2)

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S TIRRING FROM THE PLEASURABLE ARMS OF M ORPHEUS , Raelynn lay for some moments trying to determine what had awakened her. The draperies which had earlier been drawn across the French doors had since been pulled aside. Beyond the upper panes of glass in the last portal, a bright October moon hovered in the night sky while vaporish clouds, driven by a westerly wind, drifted across its luminous face. The zephyrs rustled the tops of the huge trees. Now and then she could hear the boughs of the live oak at the end of the house scraping the brick facade, but beyond that meager sound, the room was deathly silent.

Her hand reached out to the far side of the bed in search of the man in whose presence she had learned to trust and take comfort. Alas, no one was there. Her eyes probed the darkly shrouded areas of their chambers, but alas, she found no smallest evidence of the man within the confines of the room.

“Jeffrey?” she called in a muffled tone, and her brows gathered in deepening confusion as the silence continued. Clearing her throat, she made another effort in a somewhat louder tone. “Jeffrey? Where are you?”

Once again a hushed stillness answered her.

Sweeping back the covers, Raelynn swung her legs over the side of the bed and hurriedly donned the nightgown and robe Jeff had left on a chair beside her commode. She searched the bedside table, found the tinderbox and managed to light the oil lamp residing there. By its meager light, she peered obliquely at the clock on the mantel.

Half past one!

At best, she had slept for no more than forty minutes. But where had Jeffrey gone? Why had he left their bed?

Rubbing her arms against the chill sweeping inward on the wings of the night breezes, Raelynn wove an unsteady path across the room. The currents flowing through the open French doors were fairly bracing, but she gave hardly a second thought to the insufficiency of her garments as she stepped out onto the veranda. Certainly Jeffrey was out here, she assured herself, but after a glance in each direction, she grew even more mystified, for she realized she was quite alone.

To her knowledge, Jeffrey had never once wandered from their bed in the middle of the night, and she was greatly troubled by his absence, for she had no idea what had prompted him to leave. Had he heard a noise that he had found troubling? Instantly Gustav came to mind, and at the possibility that that boorish lout might have decided to come back with his men to do more mischief, perhaps to revenge himself upon Jeff, a violent shudder shivered through her.

“Jeffrey, where are you?” she called forlornly.

Suddenly she fell victim to a chest-constricting emotion comparable to the grief she had suffered after each of her parents’ deaths. No longer confident of her husband’s safety, she felt lost and forlorn. It seemed as if in an instant of time her whole life had become barren and destitute.

Raelynn clutched a trembling hand to her throat in some astonishment and stared into the shadows surrounding her as a slowly awakening awareness began to dawn. “Oh, Jeffrey,” she whispered. “What work have you done in my heart?”

No answer came; nor did she have a need for one. Her emotions had transcended everything she had ever known before. The feeling likened itself to a burgeoning warmth that ran like a winding river through her, infusing her very being with essences of joy, serenity, benevolence, devotion and ... Raelynn canted her head as she strove to bring the eluding thought into focus. No longer merely infatuation, she thought, but was it really love?

Out of the corner of her eye, Raelynn caught a glimpse of a flickering light off in the distance and glanced around expectantly, only to be met with a darkness faintly mottled by the moonlight shining through the foliage at the tops of the lofty oaks. Wondering if she had imagined the tiny radiance, she squinted in the direction from whence it had seemingly come, hoping to find a viable source for the ephemeral twinkle. At first, she saw nothing, only heard the wind rustling through the leaves and a few droplets of rain falling belatedly to the ground, but as she swept her gaze slowly about, the lower branches of the live oak dipped downward with the impetus of the freshening breezes, allowing her to verify that there was indeed a wane light, and that it appeared to be coming from the stables.

Normally at such an hour, the trainers and grooms would be asleep, but if there was perhaps a problem with one of the horses, then, with a certainty, they’d be up and moving about. Quite possibly Jeff had noticed the light from the house or had heard something and gone out to investigate.

Raelynn ran back into the bedroom and hurriedly donned slippers before making her descent of the stairs at the end of the porch. She raced across the lawn, shivering as she went. Upon reaching the stables, she quickly discovered that the meager illumination was streaming from a single lantern hanging from a buttressing beam in Ariadne’s stall. Though the door stood open, she could see no sign of the mare and felt a sudden stabbing concern that the beautiful animal had colicked and was perhaps down in her stall.

Worry quickened Raelynn’s strides, but barely an instant later, she was brought up short by a sudden squalling.

A baby? Her mind had trouble accepting such a feasibility. Here in the stables?

Raelynn no longer walked. She ran. Toward the stall. Upon reaching the door, she clasped the corner timber and was about to swing inward when she was brought to a stumbling halt. Ariadne was nowhere to be seen. In her stead was a hideous nightmare. Raelynn had a sudden, sweeping vision of blood. Everywhere! On the fresh wood shavings covering the clay floor! On the bodice and skirt of a yellow dress! On slender fingers curled limply in death! On a small bundled form from whence came the outraged wailing of an infant!

Raelynn clasped a trembling hand over her mouth to smother a threatening scream as her eyes swept along the small, trim form sprawled grotesquely across the thickly mulched floor. Though the skirt was splotched with dark stains, the source of the bleeding seemed to have come from the area of the midriff. A deep pool of the gore had soaked the yellow gown above the slender waist. From there, Raelynn’s gaze rose upward to the golden hair and the youthful face.

“Nell!”

It was hardly much more than a strangled whisper that escaped Raelynn’s throat, but at the sound, a tall, manly form rose from the dark shadows obscuring the corner of the stall. A startled gasp was wrenched from her and, in sudden trepidation, she stumbled back, fully expecting to be attacked by this culprit who had killed the girl. Then the lantern’s glow lit upon the man’s face, and she could only stare in confusion at his chiseled profile and bloody shirt.

“Jeffrey? What are you doing ...”

Her eyes swept downward to the knife that hung limply from his grasp, a gleaming blade with a handle carved in the shape of a ram’s head.

“Raelynn ...” His voice sounded strange, as if it came from a distant vale. He stepped toward her, reaching out his free hand. His face looked strained, his mouth drawn in a grim line, his eyes strangely shadowed by an emotion she had never seen in them before. She stared at him as if he were a stranger. Yet, less than a pair of hours ago they had made love as man and wife, and only a moment ago she had come to a heartfelt realization ...

Her eyes dropped again to the blade that he still held and, from there, swept to the dead girl. In an instant, her awakening awareness that this man was as dear to her as her own lifeblood, her recent awareness that a change was taking place in her own body, the joy she had come to know in her husband’s arms and in his house were cruelly trodden beneath the heart-wrenching emotions of past doubts and fears, the heartache of parents who had been cruelly betrayed, and a deeply buried sense that her fairy tale existence was too good to be true ... Whatever joy she had recently been savoring as the wife of Jeffrey Birmingham was marred by the sweeping stain of blood. A sobbing cry surged upward from the pit of her being, and this time she could not contain it.

“Noooo!”

No longer able to suppress her horror and the hideous suspicion that now assailed her, Raelynn retreated. For a moment, Jeff seemed frozen. Then, with a muttered curse, he hurled the bloody knife into the bedding near the corner of the stall and stepped toward her.

“Hear me out, Rae ...”

A slash of her hand negated any possibility of that happening. Blinded by tears, she whirled and fled his presence, forcing every measure of strength she possessed into her legs as she broke into an all-out, desperate run toward the house. She should’ve known! It had all been too perfect! Jeffrey, their marriage, her growing involvement with the man! But it had all been a sham, a deceitful lie!

Her heart hammering wildly, her choked sobs smothering her, Raelynn threw a teary glance over her shoulder and found her husband striding swiftly after her. By the time she bolted up the porch stairs, she was gasping for breath between harsh, anguishing sobs. Swiping an arm across her face to wipe away the flooding rivers spilling forth in gushing torrents, she raced into their bedroom and glanced around desperately for a place to hide. Jeffrey knew his chambers far too well for her to feel safe in any shadowed corner here. The best she could do was to delay him in his search while she sought a way to escape.

Gasping from fear, torment and the exertion reaped from her fierce effort to escape, Raelynn slammed the French doors closed along the veranda and then dashed across the room, brushing away tears as she ran. Once she slipped into the hallway, she closed the portal quietly behind her. Barely had she gained the security of her former bedchamber and turned the key in the lock than she heard footfalls in the hall. It had taken Jeffrey less than a thrice of moments to discover her deception.

Jeff tested the door briefly before he rapped his knuckles against the plank. Knowing well that his wife was terrified after what she had seen, he made an effort to keep his voice gentle and softly subdued, “Raelynn, my love, don’t be frightened of me, please. I didn’t kill Nell. You’ve got to believe me.”

Crouched on the bed, shivering with fear and heart-rending emotions, Raelynn pressed violently shaking fingers to her lips to smother her sobs. In the dark gloom that surrounded her, she stared fixedly through blurring tears at the wooden barrier that stood between herself and the man she had come to know as husband and lover. She heard him mutter a curse and then, in some relief, his footsteps retreating to his bedroom. In the dis tance, a door opened and closed. She listened warily in trembling trepidation as silence reined unimpeded for what seemed like a century or more. Then a soft thump on the porch and an advancing light sent her flying off the bed as she realized what she had forgotten. One of the pair of French doors was always kept unlocked for the servants!

An instant before her husband reached the double doors, she slammed the bolt home, securing her safety, at least temporarily. Bathed in the glow of the oil lamp, the two of them stood facing each other, scant inches apart, separated not only by the glass-paned, rectangular-shaped muntins of the French doors, but by the horrible suspicions that had suddenly erupted between them.

A booted foot could have easily dispensed with the barrier, but Jeff knew that breaking down the door would likely send his wife fleeing like a woman possessed and, no doubt, solidify the awful suspicions in her mind. Somehow he had to soothe her fears.

Meeting her gaze through the wealth of tears brimming her eyes, Jeff made every attempt to speak calmly. “Raelynn, my love, I realize you’ve had a terrible shock, but there’s no reason for you to be afraid of me. Don’t you understand? When I reached the stables, Nell was already dead. I was just falling asleep when I heard her scream, and I went down to investigate. Now, please, Raelynn, my love, just open the door and let me talk with you. I’m not going to hurt you. I would never do such a thing.”

Over and over, the hideous reminder of Nell lying bloody and lifeless in the horse stall jolted Raelynn with waves of shocking horror. She had no idea why the girl had come out to Oakley again after Jeff had warned her not to, but with all the guests arriving and then later departing, Nell’s presence would hardly have been noticed, certainly not by any of the staff. The stable hands had been assigned the task of fetching water for the teams of visiting carriages soon after their arrival. It was a courtesy extended in consideration of the lengthy jaunt from Charleston and neighboring plantations and the possibility of the festivities lasting until the wee hours of the morning. After performing the service, the grooms had likely gone to their respective quarters and then, later, to their beds.

Perhaps once again, Nell had come to the plantation to plead for support for a child she had insisted was Jeff’s, conceivably having reasoned that if he could give such a lavish ball in honor of his wife, then surely he could afford a monthly stipend for the babe. Nell’s most recent accusations had attested to her inability to comprehend Jeff’s reluctance to share any portion of his wealth with her and her offspring in spite of his vast riches. Quite simply she had failed to understand his refusal to be blackmailed. Though he could expend a generous sum saving a black girl from the abuse of her former master, there was a hard-core stubbornness within Jeff that would not allow him to be coerced by threats. Raelynn had seen it in her father, and she had glimpsed it in her husband. That hadn’t bothered her in the least. What now plagued her was the possibility that Nell might have driven Jeff beyond the limits of his patience. He had told the girl during her last visit that he wanted to strangle

her. If he had become truly vexed with her, there was the possibility that he had lost his temper and put a permanent end to her harassment.

Much as Raelynn shrank from the idea of her gallant, handsome husband harming any woman in any fashion, she could not dismiss what she had seen with her own eyes. He had been holding a bloody knife that had obviously killed Nell, a knife that he himself owned and normally kept on his desk in the bedroom. How could she thrust those facts from her mind?

Raelynn’s face contorted with wrenching emotions as cascading tears continued to flow unheeded. Jeff was her beautiful husband. He had saved her from the dire fate of becoming Gustav’s possession, had transported her into a world of luxury, and had taught her the joy of marital bliss and fulfillment as a woman. Yet, at the moment, she felt as if she really didn’t know him at all. The experience of the past year had taught her how easily one could trust the wrong people and be betrayed by them. Hadn’t her own father been accused of traitorous deeds by other noblemen, albeit strangers to her? Her mother’s acceptance of Cooper Frye as her long lost brother had eventually led to her tragic death aboard ship. Lately trusting seemed a very risky business indeed.

“Please go away, Jeff,” she choked tearfully, fearing now to meet his gaze through the glass panes. Those darkly translucent eyes silently pleading for her to listen and to believe in him had the strength to rend her very soul. “I need time to sort this matter out in my mind and for the shock to ease. Perhaps I can think more clearly after I’m allowed some time to myself.”

Jeff lifted a hand to make another appeal, but when his wife’s gaze became riveted on the extremity, he glanced toward it and realized his fingers were covered with sticky gore. Slowly he lowered his arm to his side and heaved a despondent sigh. Talking to his wife at this point seemed futile; she was clearly terrified of him. Slowly he walked away, retreating to his bedchamber and leaving her to consider his innocence or guilt.

Exhausted and trembling so violently she could hardly stand, Raelynn turned on wobbly limbs and stumbled back to the bed. Flinging herself across it, she buried her face into the pillows and allowed her sobs to flow unrestrained. The cold, dark, murky feeling in the pit of her stomach refused to yield to reason and trust. It was as if Jeff had already been convicted, and there was only the hanging to be witnessed.

Dark, impenetrable gloom settled in with a vengeance, and at length, mental exhaustion dragged her down into a dazed stupor. Merciful darkness flickered at the edge of her awareness, drawing her down into a dark, deep vale.

“G RACIOUS ME ALIVE, M ISTAH J EFFREY ! I S YO ’ wounded, suh?”

Having scrambled out of bed and dragged on a dressing robe on his way downstairs, Kingston was still blinking sleep from his eyes when he caught sight of his approaching master. The shock of so much blood had widened the dark orbs precipitously. Almost as swiftly his jaw had dropped.

The slamming of several doors had awakened Kingston even in his quarters on the top floor of the manse. Before hastening from his room, he had seized a stout stick, which after Gustav Fridrich’s visit, he had been keeping underneath his bed on the chance that the German and his unruly rabble would come back and launch another forceful invasion. Yet, upon espying his master, Kingston had cause to wonder if he should have collected the medical supplies instead.

Jeff could imagine the morbid spectacle he presented in bloodstained garments and with his hands and arms smeared with sticky red. Though he had been on his way to awaken the butler and issue instructions, in view of his own appearance, it now seemed necessary to allay the man’s qualms. “The blood isn’t mine, Kingston. I’m afraid it came from Nell. Someone stabbed the girl to death in the stable. Her baby is out there, too, squalling his head off, but, as far as I know, he’s unharmed. What I need you to do is to fetch the boy and find him a wet nurse, but you’d better be prepared for a ghastly sight. Whoever murdered Nell was rather vicious about it.”

Jeff paused to force the scene from the forefront of his own thoughts. After a moment he heaved a troubled sigh and continued. “Send one of the grooms to Charleston to fetch the sheriff. While we’re waiting for him, ask Sparky and Thaddeus to search the stall for some clue to the murderer’s identity.”

Kingston finally closed his mouth and gulped. “Yassuh, Mistah Jeffrey. Ah’ll be seein’ ta those things right away, suh. But in de meantime, be there anythin’ yo’ll be needin’? Yo’ sho’ is lookin’ mighty upset.”

Jeff could think of several things right off, beginning with the reasons behind Nell’s death and the name of her murderer. “I am, Kingston, but there’s nothing you can do about that. It will probably take some time for me to get over the brutality of this foul deed. Considering my last confrontation with Nell, I suppose people will be thinking I had something to do with her murder.”

“Naw, suh!” Kingston shook his head, affirming the fact that such an idea had never crossed his mind. “At least, not any o’ us whad’s been knowin’ an’ workin’ for yo’ for a while. If’n yo’ had it in yo’ ta do somethin’ like dat ta Miz Nell, then yo’da’ve been o’ a mind ta beat one o’ us or maybe dat ornery mule, Brutus, but yo’ ne’er even been so much as cross wit’ us, Mistah Jeffrey.”

“I was certainly cross with Nell,” Jeff pointed out.

“Yassuh, an’ so was ah, but yo’ had good reason ta be aftah whad she done tried ta do, sneakin’ inta your bed when yo’ was asleep an’ den tryin’ ta say yo’ made a baby wit’ her. Why, ah was so vexed wit’ her ah wanted ta take a switch ta her myself.”

“There’s a baby in the stables crying to be fed, Kingston,” Jeff reminded the man. “We shouldn’t stand here talking about this matter while the boy is in need.”

“Yassuh, I’ma goin’ now.”

Upon his return to his bedchambers, Jeff made quick work of removing his bloodstained clothing. The water in the washbowl was tepid, but he hardly noticed. He scrubbed his hands, face and chest with soap and water, wishing he could scour with the same cleansing results the bloody scene from his mind.

Once more garbed in fresh clothes, Jeff picked up a lamp and made his way back along the veranda to the French doors behind which his wife had taken shelter. The room was dark, and only by the soft light streaming from his lamp could he see her huddled in a knot on the far side of the bed. The meager radiance failed to draw a reaction, leaving him no other option but to conclude that his wife had fallen asleep in the midst of the horrible trauma she had suffered.

It was just as well, Jeff mused dismally. Her mind needed the soothing succor of sleep after what she had seen. If he had been able to block the morbid scene from his own mind in such a way, he’d have gone right then and there to his bed, but he had heard Nell’s pitiful requests for some show of affection and was now plagued by a deep remorse for not having helped the girl in a way that, in the simplest sense, could not have been construed as kowtowing to her blackmailing demands.

A pensive sigh slipped from Jeff’s lips before he realized that he was as tense as a twisted cord. He had a clear idea what the scene in Ariadne’s stall must have looked like to Raelynn. After all, he had been holding the murder weapon, a knife that had obviously gone missing from his desk sometime during the ball. Anyone attending the affair could have entered his chambers and taken it, for that’s exactly what the murderer had done, stolen his knife to kill a young girl.

Growing curious as to the child’s welfare, Jeff went downstairs to make inquiries and intercepted Kingston just as the butler was returning with the wailing infant.

“Lawsy, Mistah Jeffrey,” the man drawled above the squalling. “Ah ain’t ne’er seen de likes o’ a woman stabbed afore. For a li’l thing, Miss Nell sho’ lost a lot o’ blood. Ah was sure dis li’l fella was hurt, too, what wit’ him all covered wit’ blood an’ squallin’ enuff ta raise de roof, but he’s jes’ mad, Mistah Jeffrey, jes’ like yo’ said.”

Jeff glanced down at the baby who was making every effort to let his distress be known. Considering the fact that the tiny face was compressed in a small, outraged ball, it was impossible to make any firm judgments as to the infant’s looks. Other than black hair, any resemblance between the two of them seemed farfetched in spite of Nell’s assertions, but then, coincidences had a way of happening.

“Have you found a wet nurse yet?”

“Yassuh, de overseer’s wife say she can nurse Mistah Daniel right along wit’ her own. Ain’t gonna be no trouble atall, Miz Fergus said ta tell yo’.” Kingston glanced aside as he heard the patter of brisk footfalls and inclined his head toward the housekeeper who was hurrying toward them from the back of the house. “Here’s Cora now, suh. She’s come ta fetch de babe for Miz Fergus.”

Cora gathered the bawling baby into her arms and checked him over quickly to verify for herself that the gore on his blanket wasn’t from him. “We’ll look aftah de po’ li’l fella, Mistah Jeffrey. Doan yo’ go worryin’ yo’self none atall ’bout him.”

Having been reassured in that area, Jeff returned to the stables and felt some relief when he noticed that a sheet had been draped over Nell’s body. Sparky and Thaddeus had been given the task of sorting through the wood shavings and, when Jeff appeared at the stall door, the younger man stepped near.

“We ain’t found nothin’ yet, Mistah Jeffrey.” The trainer cast a nervous glance toward the covered body. “We’ve searched everywhere but underneath Miz Nell.”

“The sheriff can do that after he gets here,” Jeff said, taking pity on the two men.

Visibly relieved, Sparky nodded jerkily.

Thaddeus shuffled from the stall, solemnly shaking his head. “Mistah Jeffrey, ah’ve asked all de stables hands, but I can’t find nobody whad heared or seen whad went on here last night.”

Jeff glanced down the aisle toward the other stalls before he returned a bemused frown to Sparky. “But where is Ariadne?”

“We put her in the paddock next to the stables last night, suh, but since then, we ain’t seen hide nor hair o’ her.”

“Why in heaven’s name did you put her out, Sparky? You know that if she takes it into her head, she can jump any fence on my land.”

“Well, suh, she was a-kickin’ the boards o’ the stall next ta hers an’ makin’ such a racket, we was afraid she was gonna knock down de barn. I tell yo’, Mistah Jeffrey, she was madder’n ol’ wet hen. The minute I opened the stall door, she came a-chargin’ out like her tail was on fire. Nearly trampled me in her haste ta be gone.”

“Did you perhaps notice if anyone was in the stall next to hers?”

“Like I said, Mistah Jeffrey, she come a-stampedin’ outa there like a flyin’ demon. After I got holdt o’ her, I didn’t bother takin’ a lantern an’ havin’ a look-see in the stall. There didn’t seem ta be any need at the time. I was more concerned about gettin’ her settled down.”

“Can you remember about what time that was, Sparky?” Jeff probed.

The trainer scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Maybe ’round eleven or even a li’l later. Can’t remember for sure, suh.”

“Search the next stall to see what you can find, Sparky. If a stranger was hiding there at the time, it could explain why Ariadne was raising up a ruckus.”

“That fool mare would’ve kicked the fella’s head off if’n he’da’ve tried goin’ inta her stall, but I guess that didn’t happen, ’cause I ain’t seen another body laid out around here.”

“The murderer might have taken such a chance in order to hide out from one of you. Maybe that’s what set Ariadne off in the first place.”

“Well, if’n the fella still has his head, he’s probably nigh senseless. That mare’s too ornery for just any fool ta get cozy with.”

Thaddeus cast a doleful glance at the sheet-draped body and shook his head mournfully, overwhelmed by the grotesque horror of it all. “Whad kind o’ man could do such a thin’, Mistah Jeffrey? Killin’ a li’l gal what’s done had herself a baby jes’ seems like somethin’ de devil’d do.”

To kill a young mother with a nursing infant definitely seemed a violation of nature, Jeff mentally agreed. People in the area would be aghast at the foulness of the deed. What was worse, Nell had been killed in his stables. Realistically he could imagine that Raelynn would only be the first of many who’d be suspicious of his involvement in the girl’s murder.

The tears and fear Jeff had glimpsed in his wife’s eyes when she had stared at him in the stables pierced him anew. Somehow he had to persuade her of his innocence.

He faced Sparky again. “Are any of the other horses missing?”

“No, suh, not that I’m aware.”

Jeff grew more determined. “Send someone out to find Elijah, Son of Wolf. I’d like to find out what he can make of all of this.”

“Yes, suh, Mistah Jeffrey.”

Upon his return to the plantation house, Jeff ensconced himself at his desk in the study and tried to concentrate on his account books for the plantation as he awaited the arrival of Sheriff Townsend. More than an hour later a knock sounded on the door.

Kingston entered at his summons. “Elijah’s here, Mistah Jeffrey.”

“Show him in.”

A tall, thin man of an age about two score five entered the room with hat in hand. He had obviously been awakened from a sound sleep by the summons. Nevertheless he was garbed in the clothes of his preference, buckskins and moccasins. His nose was lean and bore an aquiline curve, his features sharply chiseled, his black hair straight and cut bluntly just below his ears. His cocoa brown skin bore a reddish tinge, indicating his mixed blood. Rumor had it that Elijah’s mother, once a beautiful mulatto slave, had been taken captive at the age of five and ten by an Indian warrior, who had later made her his wife. A pair of years later another warring tribe raided the warrior’s camp, and after finding her husband dead, the mulatto had slipped away with her son. Thereafter they had lived in a hut on the outskirts of Charleston and fended for themselves until Elijah’s twelfth winter, when she had succumbed to pneumonia.

“Yo’ sent for me, suh?” Elijah asked in a deep voice that resonated in the room.

“Yes, I did, Elijah, and I thank you for coming so promptly.” Jeff peered at him questioningly. “Did anyone tell you what happened here?”

“Sparky let me know details on way ta house, suh,” the pathfinder acknowledged.

“The murder of the girl occurred in one of the horse stalls. At present, her body is still there. See what you can find in and around the stables. For a beginning reference, you can check the footprints of everyone working out there. If you come upon any prints that aren’t familiar, see where they lead. If they disappear near a set of carriage or wagon wheel tracks, we may be reasonably assured that the fellow either arrived or left by that mode of travel. If you should find a double pair of prints, one belonging to the girl, we can be fairly certain that Nell came out here with her murderer, but I leave you to be the judge of that.”

Any remaining traces of slumber had vanished from Elijah’s eyes. They were now keen, alert and imbued with a brighter light. “Sparky say it rain here last night. If water not wash prints away, I can do that, suh.”

Jeff managed a bland smile. Elijah’s tracking skills were nearly legendary throughout the Carolinas. Several years ago, the man had been sent out to search for a young child who had wandered off over rough terrain and bare rock ledges. Elijah never once lost the trail and eventually brought the youngster home safe and sound. Similar stories of his abilities assured Jeff that the man could find what others might overlook.

“Do your best, Elijah,” he urged. “Sheriff Townsend should be here shortly. If you find anything significant, you’ll be helping him solve this dastardly crime.”

Elijah left the study, and in his absence, Jeff began to pace about the confines of the room. Permanently etched in his memory was a haunting impression of Raelynn’s face stricken with horror. A strengthening desire to put things right between his wife and himself became almost overwhelming, and he struggled against the impetus that nearly drove him to leap up the stairs and to confront her about her readiness to believe the worst of him. There was that part of him that was highly offended by her refusal to hear him out. Once before she had taken Nell’s accusations seriously and had cast him from her bed, but he knew what Raelynn had recently seen would have shocked any woman. He also recognized the possible folly in stampeding her. If he faced her again and saw her quailing before him in mortal fear, it would nearly tear his heart out. No, he told himself, it was far better to let her have some time to put things into perspective. Perhaps then she could extend to him some marital courtesy by trusting

in him through thick and thin.

Sipping from the cup of hot coffee that Kingston had brought to him, Jeff turned his gaze toward the windows. Little had he imagined after the grand affair which they had enjoyed the previous night that today would be comparable to hell. Sadly he watched the first dawning rays stretch out over Oakley and heaved a sigh of lament.