What else was McCaskey confessing?
At last the kitchen was redolent of the sugary-spicy drink ready to ferment. Or so she hoped, as she felt so addled concocting it.
“Selah.” At her name so tenderly spoken, she swung round, nearly singeing the hem of her skirts.
Lost in thought, she hadn’t heard Xander enter the kitchen. She’d simply stood stirring the concoction in the kettle, her back to him. Now, facing him, she braced for ill news, his expression unreadable.
“The last time McCaskey saw Watseka, she was alive.”
Alive? Overcome with relief, she closed her eyes, a dozen more questions dancing on her tongue.
“If McCaskey is to be believed, there’s still hope, though his conduct is inexcusable. He and the nurse caged her and placed her at the farthest reaches of Laurent land.”
“Caged?” Her heart was so heavy she wasn’t sure she could bear it. “Like an animal?”
“They fed her occasional scraps till the day she disappeared. They couldn’t decide what to do with her once they’d caged her. They debated whether or not to kill her.”
She shuddered, such depravity flipping her stomach. “They don’t know where she is?”
“He claims she was moved. By whom he doesn’t ken. A sennight ago, I came upon the spot at the far west corner of Laurent’s land where she was being held, which may confirm his story.”
“But what of all the rest? The fire and Nurse Lineboro’s liaison with Helion Laurent?”
“She told McCaskey ’twas Laurent who started the fire. When she learned what he’d done, and the dire ramifications under Virginia law, she decided McCaskey was her choice. Their intent was to implicate Laurent for both the fire and Watseka.”
Selah stared at him, grappling with all the facts and implications. ’Twas a love triangle gone dangerously awry as both men sought the favor of one woman.
“The nurse may have returned to Laurent after all.” Xander’s ire was evident, his tone tight. “For now, we’ll renew our search for Watseka.”
“Of course.” The bubbling kettle drew her notice, and he swung it off the fire to rest on the hearthstones for her. “What are you going to do with the factor?”
“If Watseka isn’t found, I’ll turn him over to the Powhatans. I told him so after he confessed to Meihtawk as well. McCaskey has a great deal at stake.”
“What if he runs too?”
“Meihtawk will shadow him. For now, McCaskey will continue to search with us.”
She leaned against the kitchen table and raised the edge of her apron to dry her damp eyes. “I fear for Watseka if she’s in Laurent’s hands. After his treatment of Mattachanna—”
“Say no more, Selah.”
Their eyes locked, the depths of their distress communicated in a single, wordless look. He didn’t want the past to impose upon the present, which was disturbing enough. This she understood, though she felt like wringing her hands.
“I’ll continue to pray,” she told him.
What more could she do?
42
Suppertime came, but no Xander.
As her mother, Shay, and Widow Brodie ate, Selah pushed her food around her plate and listened hard to every sound outside. Table talk was nearly nonexistent, each of them silently entertaining their own questions and concerns. The dwindling day brought a soft rain, muting the hoofbeats she longed to hear. Search parties usually ended by late afternoon. What could be keeping them?
Tomorrow was the Sabbath. A blessed reprieve from work if not worry. Dwell on the good, Father would say. And so she would. Thankfully, Cook had seemed better once Candace gave her a medicinal posset. Shay lent a hand wherever he could and had found a great many nails to be reused in the rebuilding. The maids cleaned the main house from top to bottom, not only the empty garret.
But no hoofbeats. No husband.
Her imagination made fearsome leaps. Had they had another confrontation with Laurent or found Nurse Lineboro with him? What if McCaskey had run after all? What if all three of them turned on Xander?
