Morning Fawn clapped. “I’ll work with her and figure it out. Set it for Ned’s next visit if we can.”
He pivoted, a deep crease between his eyebrows. “I don’t know how much time I have here. Sooner or later, I need to head out to look for my regiment in Louisiana.”
Her hands dropped to her sides. “There’s no need to hurry to the frontline again and get yourself shot at.”
“I recall a conversation where you insinuated any warrior worth his snuff would return to the battle lines as soon as he could.”
“I don’t know whatinsinuatedmeans, but I do know a warrior can take an extra month or two to heal and rest up.” Why did her stupid voice wobble?
He shot her a look, then grabbed a hoof pick. “I can’t give you any guarantees, Morning Fawn. Only that if I leave, I’ll be back eventually.”
They were in the middle of a war. No one could guarantee anything. “I’m going to go tell Lucy.” She jutted out her chin. “Don’t you forget what you promised me the night you came to my room. I’m going to hold you to it.”
Shoes in tow, she hurried to the door before he could object.
“I won’t forget. As long as you don’t have a stall of horses at your beck and call by then.” His voice trailed after her.
Someone ought to sew her mouth shut. Morning Fawn dug her nails into her palms and stomped up the back steps to the main house. The scent of freshly baked bread wafted from the detached kitchen. Why in the world had she said all of that? Holding him to his promises? What kind of forward talk was that? Trying to tell him he needed to stay around? She might as well throw herself at the man.
Aunt Judith called from the library office. “Is that you, Beth?”
“Heading out for a walk.” Morning Fawn quickly stepped down the tiled hall to the front, blocking her ears to whatever words followed. The last thing she wanted was to be dragged into conversation. She’d only come into the house to avoid Devon’s gaze from the stables. Or was it a glare? And that comment he’d made about horses... Did he think she was someone whose hand could be purchased?
“Beth?” Her aunt’s voice rang down the hall.
Morning Fawn skedaddled down the front steps and around the corner, away from the stables and toward the barren apple orchard. Gnarled limbs stretched toward the sky. Farther down the lane and to the right, two slave children ran about with buckets gathering pecans, searching the trampled grass beneath the trees.
“Ouch.” Something sharp poked her toe. She sat down on a flat rock and rubbed her foot. Thistles and wisps of grass clung to her torn stocking.
Devon had loved his wife deeply. How long did it take to get over a love and loss like that?
Morning Fawn swiped her nose. He’d probably felt sorry for her that night in the attic. His promises had likely been nothing more than an attempt to settle down someone half out of their head on laudanum. Guilt over his role in bringing her here. And goodness knows he had plenty to feel guilty about. But guilt had nothing to do with love or even affection.
Horse hooves clomped toward her, followed by a jingle. She shoved her feet into her shoes and stood.
Thea. Of all people. Atop a palomino quarter horse and wearing a black satin riding habit, her cousin wove her way down the narrow path toward her. Morning Fawn stiffened. She could scurry back to the house, but she wasn’t about to give Thea the satisfaction of seeing her flee.
Sitting tall and proud on her sidesaddle, Thea drew rein. “I’ve had quite a day.” She fanned herself with her hand. The wind fluttered the ostrich feather in her hat and jingled the tiny bells that decorated her horse’s bridle.
“I won’t keep you, then.” Morning Fawn gathered her skirts and pivoted toward a path between the apple trees.
“I’ve been visiting the sick.” Thea nudged her mount forward. “You should try it sometime. Helping others is a balm to the soul.”
As if Thea knew anything about the soul or genuinely caring for anyone other than herself. Morning Fawn halted. “Exactly how did you help?”
Thea beamed. “I went with Beulah Larson and Eva Brown, other members of the Confederate Ladies of Colorado County. Not just anyone can join, you know.” She looked down her nose as if Morning Fawn was one of the anyones.“We took baskets of baked goods to the poorer soldier families. Their farms look like mud pits. You should see what pitiful hovels they live in. I’m sure our slaves are better provided for. I shall have to bathe when I return to the house.” She scrunched up her nose as if she could smell the odor now.
Morning Fawn crossed her arms. “Have you ever been?”
“To where?”
“The slave cabins?”
Thea swatted the dangling ostrich feather away from her cheek. “You know my constitution is too delicate for the air in those places.”
Morning Fawn rolled her eyes. She had better things to do than listen to Thea’s fluff. “Your mother’s in the house if you’re looking for her.”
A crow cawed from a nearby branch.
