The sun had shifted to the other side of the pane by the time the door clicked. Late afternoon. Morning Fawn’s tongue clung to the roof of her mouth. She stirred at the sound of steps, her body a concoction of aches too numerous to count.
“Let me help you up.” Flora’s rich voice broke the dull air.
Morning Fawn pushed up to her knees and rocked back onto her folded legs.
Kind eyes shone from beneath a wrinkled brow. “The missus done sent me up to get you cleaned up a bit.”
“Are they going to take me to jail?”
The middle-aged servant clucked her tongue. “I’s don’t knows their plans. I reckon the missus doesn’t either.” The hefty lady dressed in a red floral dress and a white apron bentover and offered her hand. “I’ll get you a wet washcloth and a change of clothes.”
Floratsked at the shards of pottery from the broken pitcher and shoved them out of the way with her shoe as she led her to the other side of the room.
Morning Fawn dropped onto the wooden seat Flora righted. The room spun.
“Least they had sense enough to not break the lamps.” She heaved the desk upright and stepped over the strewn contents of Morning Fawn’s trunk. “I’ll be back with water. You sit tight.” She exited, and the lock clicked.
Why lock it? Where would she run? What was there left to do? Morning Fawn rubbed her hands over her arms. Why couldn’t she stop trembling?
Minutes later, Flora returned with a new pitcher, a glass, and the sweetest water Morning Fawn had ever tasted. She swallowed deeply and sat numbly as Flora washed her face and cleaned the scrapes on her face, hands, and limbs.
“You put up quite a fight.” Flora dabbed away with water and ointment.
“Do…do you know anything else about the lieutenant?”
Flora exhaled. “He’s alive, I reckon. In bad shape. They’s got him in jail. Can’t wait to hang him. Mister Moyer wants it done proper. Your uncle’s ready to have it done today.”
Morning Fawn closed her eyes. Her stomach threatened to erupt again. “And the cotton warehouse?”
Flora wriggled the filthy dress off her. “Some of the cotton burned. But they’s saved most of it. Now, that quartermaster’s place is a different story. Blowed most of the supplies to kingdom come. All them fancy-dressed gents and soldiers are fit to be tied. And it being on Christmas Day and all. Massar done cancelled Christmas.”
A partial success? None of it was worth Devon’s life.
“And Lucy?” Morning Fawn shivered.
Flora tugged a clean chemise from the pile on the floor. “They’s got her locked up in the cellar.”
“Did they beat her?”
“Slapped her around a bit, but when you tried to take off on that horse, that got them all scattered. All they could think of was getting to town.”
At least her actions had helped somebody.
Flora nudged Morning Fawn’s arms upward. “Only someone done went and told about the wedding.”
“Who?” Feeling more like a marionette than a living, breathing person, Morning Fawn held her arms up while the garment shimmered downward.
“I’s don’t know. If we’s find out, he’ll done be shunned.”
“What…what will happen to Lucy?”
“I’s don’t know. Massar had a fit. Might sell her. Right now, he’s too busy with the mess in town and you.” Flora had her stand and take off her pantalettes as the chemise flowed past her knees.
Tears stung her eyes once more.
Flora took her in her arms and held her. “The good Lord will watch over ya, girl.”
“I’m not worried about me.”
