Ruth Langan

Dulcie's Gift


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never let him know that. Instead, she fought back with haughty indignation. “You go too far, sir. Release me at once.”

      “Tell me why you are running.”

      Dulcie froze.

      Seeing her reaction he said, “If it is in my power, I will help you. But you must be honest with me.”

      She struggled to push free of his arms, but he held her fast. “Damn you, woman. Trust me.”

      She gave a sound that might have been a harsh laugh. Her throat was so constricted she could barely get the words out. “If the war has taught me one thing, it is not to trust anyone.” Anger darkened her eyes. “Certainly not a man who tries to force his will on me.”

      Cal’s eyes narrowed as though he’d been struck. Without a word he turned away and strode from the kitchen, slamming the door behind him.

      For long minutes Dulcie stood, listening to the sound of his footfall as he stalked to the barn. If only she was free to confide in him. But she dared not. She had sworn the others to secrecy. She would not be the one to break the vow.

      For now, she must live in a prison of her own making. And there was no room in that prison for the embittered Cal Jermain.

       Chapter Five

      As Dulcie and Starlight entered the dining room for the morning meal, they were met by Aunt Bessie.

      “Good morning.” The older woman studied them both with a cool, calculating look that had Dulcie’s cheeks blooming. “Are the children still abed?”

      “Yes. I thought I would let them sleep awhile.” Dulcie glanced around the table, noting with relief that Cal was missing. “I see they are not the only ones still sleeping.”

      Barc gave a short laugh. “If you mean my brother, Miss Trenton, you are mistaken. Cal has been out in the fields since sunup.”

      “Oh, dear. We disturbed his sleep, I fear,” Starlight said in dismay.

      “Cal?” Barclay shook his head. “I wouldn’t worry about him. Since his return from the war, he rarely sleeps more than a few hours a night.”

      “Does his wound still pain him?” Starlight asked.

      “To which wound do you refer?” Barc sipped hot, strong coffee and watched as the two young women helped themselves to food from the sideboard.

      At Dulcie’s urging, Starlight filled her plate. Satisfied that the girl was eating enough to regain her strength, Dulcie helped herself to eggs and a biscuit and took her seat at the table.

      Starlight arched a brow. “I don’t understand. How many wounds has your brother suffered?”

      “There is the obvious one,” Barc said, “and I suppose the loss of a hand would be enough to do in most men. But Cal carries other, hidden wounds, as well.”

      “Hidden?” Starlight said softly.

      Beside her, Dulcie went very still.

      Barc glanced at his aunt, who was frowning in disapproval.

      “It is not proper to discuss such personal matters with strangers,” she protested.

      He shrugged. “Aunt Bessie, Cal is not the first man whose beloved refused to wait for him while he was off fighting the war.”

      His revelation had Dulcie reeling. She could imagine Cal’s pain at returning, broken in body and spirit, only to find that the woman he loved had deserted him. That would explain at least some of his bitterness.

      And then another thought intruded. Sarah. The woman’s name was Sarah. That was what Cal had called her in the boat. She shivered, recalling dark, angry eyes, the threatening, ominous stance. Did she look like Sarah? she wondered. Was that why he was forever scowling at her?

      “Fortunately,” Barc added with a chuckle, “I do not share my brother’s problems. In fact, quite the contrary. There were so many ladies waiting for my return I was forced to lavish attention on dozens of them. It’s quite exhausting work, which continues to drain me more with each passing evening.”

      Dulcie managed to smile at his joke, grateful that he always seemed able to relieve the tension. But his aunt was still frowning.

      When Robert appeared at Dulcie’s side with a cup of tea, she accepted gratefully. “Thank you, Robert,” she murmured. “Where would you like us to begin work today?”

      He looked beyond her to Aunt Bessie, who said, “You can begin on the upper floor today. I would like the bedrooms thoroughly cleaned and aired.” She wrinkled her nose and added, “Barclay’s room positively reeks of cigar smoke whenever I pass by. And Darwin has accumulated so many books it’s a wonder he is able to find his bed.”

      Across the table, Dar blushed clear to his toes, but as was his custom, he said nothing in his own defense.

      Starlight’s eyes danced with unconcealed joy. “You have books to read, Dar?”

      When he merely nodded, Barc answered for him. “It’s my younger brother’s passion. I believe he would rather read than eat or sleep.”

      “I envy you,” the young woman said shyly.

      “Would…would you care to borrow one or two of my books?” Dar asked.

      Starlight was suddenly as shy as he. “Oh, no. I couldn’t possibly. But thank you.”

      Both of them seemed to become deeply engrossed in the food on their plates.

      Barc pushed away from the table. “It’s time we got to work. By now, Cal has probably plowed another acre. Or five. He seems in an especially dark mood today. That always means more work than usual.”

      Dar stood and followed him from the room without a word. For a moment Aunt Bessie watched them go with a look of sadness in her eyes. Then, as if pulling herself back from her thoughts, she faced the two young women.

      “You may begin with Barclay’s room. I’ll send the children along to help after they’ve eaten their breakfast.” As Dulcie and Starlight got up from the table, she added, “But don’t bother with Calhoun’s room. He left word that he did not want anything disturbed.”

      

      Barc’s room did indeed reek of cigar smoke. And whiskey. A crystal decanter of aged bourbon stood on the nightstand, along with an impressive array of legal tomes, which showed evidence of having been much read.

      Dulcie and Starlight threw open the windows and stripped the bedding. At Dulcie’s insistence, Starlight was allowed to help only with lighter tasks, which would not tax her fragile strength.

      With Robert’s help Dulcie hauled the feather mattress outside, where she beat it and left it in the sun to air. When the children had finished breakfast, they helped scrub the floors until they gleamed, under the stern, watchful eye of Aunt Bessie. Nathaniel again worked on the stones of the fireplace until all the soot had been removed.

      In Dar’s room Dulcie and Starlight found a lantern still burning beside a pile of books on his night table.

      “Absentminded,” Starlight muttered as she began to clean the blackened chimney of the lantern.

      “Look at all the books!” Dulcie exclaimed.

      There were history books stacked on the hearth. Books on astronomy, science, biology on a table near the window. Mathematics books, English textbooks, poetry peeking out from beneath his bed.

      “Do you think anyone could read all these?” Starlight asked.

      “Of course,” Dulcie replied. “Why else would they be here?”

      Starlight seemed awestruck as she flipped through the