The Bride Fair Read online

  “I see.”

  “I didn’t want her to have anything to do with the man, but she—”

  “I see,” Max said again when she didn’t go on.

  “My brothers gave me the earrings. I was to wear them when I married. They wanted me to have them in case they couldn’t…get home.”

  She gave a quiet sigh before she continued. “It’s because of my brother Rob that Nell meant to get them back. She loved Rob once.”

  “Once?”

  “Now she hates him, I think.” Maria looked at him. “For dying. I think that’s why she lives the way she does now—she’s punishing him, even if he’s dead and gone. It’s the only way she can endure his leaving her.”

  She didn’t say anything more, and neither did he, for a time. A night breeze stirred the leaves on the trees. Once again, he could hear a whippoorwill.

  “I’m sorry about your father,” he said quietly.

  She looked at him, but made no reply to his expression of condolence. “I have been remiss in not thanking you,” she said. “For the earrings and for sending the surgeon. I find it very difficult to express the gratitude I feel—to you.”

  “I don’t require—”

  “Colonel Woodard, Sir?” Perkins said behind him.

  “What is it?”

  “Another fire, Sir. Downtown this time.”

  Even as Perkins spoke, church bells all over town began to ring the alarm. “Looks like it was set, Sir.”

  Max swore and got to his feet; he could already see the glow in the night sky. A soldier came running with a fresh mount. Max looked back once as he was about to ride away. Maria stood watching from the steps, her face a pale blur in the moonlight, her arms crossed over her breasts as if for comfort.

  Maria.

  Chapter Nine

  Max’s mount had been well trained somewhere along the way and had already detected his rider’s agitation. The animal was eager for the fray, and Max made no effort to hold him back. He left Perkins to follow as best he could.

  In spite of the line of tall shade trees along the street, the glow from the fire was clearly visible. Max could see townspeople who had come out onto their porches, but none of them dared venture any farther or call to him as he rode past. When he reached the town well in the main square and was still several blocks away, he could see the sparks shooting high in the air, and he reigned his horse in. It sidled and pranced in protest.

  “Perkins!” he called over his shoulder. “You said the fire was set?”

  “Looks like it, Sir,” the sergeant major called back. “Big burned spot on the ground—next to an outside wall—”

  “What’s burning?”

  “Sir—it’s Phelan Canfield’s house—”

  “What about Mrs. Canfield?”

  “She’s dead, Sir.”

  Max looked at him sharply. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, Sir. The surgeon was there. He says she suffocated from the smoke.”

  “And the boys?”

  “Some of the men were trying to find them when I came to fetch you.”

  Max gave the horse his head again. He arrived on the scene at a gallop and in the midst of chaos. Soldiers from the garrison and the men from the civilian fire brigade rushed back and forth trying to get water on the flames.

  But there was little doubt that the house would be lost.

  “Mrs. Canfield is over yonder, Sir,” Perkins said.

  Suzanne Canfield had been wrapped in a quilt and placed in the back of a wagon left standing in the middle of the street. Max came up beside it and peered in. In the flickering light of the fire, she could have been sleeping.

  “The boys—have you found the boys?” Max asked the nearest soldier.

  “No, Sir. Sergeant Briggs thought he heard them, but they don’t know him and they wouldn’t come to him. One of the men—he thinks they’ll hide. He says little ’uns will do that—try to hide from a fire.”

  Max dismounted and ran to the back of the house. The flames were not as bad here, but the smoke was heavy. He leaned into an open window.

  “Joe!” he yelled. “Hurry up, son! We’ve got a ride to take! Joe! Did you hear me? Hurry! Bring Jake! We’ve got to go!”

  He listened hard, straining to hear something, anything, above the sounds of desperate men and crackling flames.

  “Joe!” he yelled again. “Answer me, boy!”

  This time he heard something.

  “Sir,” Perkins said as Max was about to go headfirst in through the window. “I’ll go, Sir—”

  “No. You stay here by the window,” Max said. “So I can find my way out. The boys know me a little. I think—hope—they’ll come to me.”

  “Wait, Sir,” another soldier said. He tied one end of a rope around Max’s waist, then threw a sopping wet blanket around his shoulders.

  “You give us the word, Sir, and we’ll drag you out. But if the smoke gets to you and you can’t, you ain’t going to be left in there.”

  Max gave him a curt nod and worked his way through the open window into the room. When he stood up, the smoke hung in a heavy layer at his face, and he crouched down into better air, moving along the floor toward the center of the house, looking under tables and behind chairs as he went. The farther he went, the more searing the heat became. It hurt to breathe.

  “Joe! Jake!” he kept yelling.

  He heard something, but not in the direction he was going. He could hardly breathe now. He began crawling in the opposite direction, still yelling their names. As he passed a flour barrel, a little hand reached out and grabbed his sleeve.

  “Joe!” Max said, dragging him out. “Where is your brother!”

  Little Jake came crawling out from behind the barrel on his hands and knees. Max scooped them both up and wrapped them in the wet blanket. There was a sudden burst of heat and flame behind him, and he began to run. Overhead timbers fell all around him. A burning twoby-four clipped him hard on the forehead.

  He kept going, but he was disoriented now, blinded by the smoke and the pain.

  “Which way!” he yelled. “Perkins!”

  “Here, Colonel!” Perkins yelled. “Here!”

  Other men took up the cry, and Max kept going, following the sound of their voices and the pull of the rope, finally locating the window by feel. Hands took the boys from him and dragged him through to the outside. He took several steps and fell on his knees. Two of his men dragged him into the road away from the heat. He couldn’t stop coughing, couldn’t stop retching. And he was struck by the ridiculous thought that it was a good thing he hadn’t eaten the pie or drunk the coffee Mrs. Russell tried to force upon him.

  One of the men poured a bucket of water over his smoldering uniform coat. Max looked around to see the surgeon, Major Strauss, kneeling on the ground with the boys, and he made himself get up and walk in that direction, only to collapse again in a fit of coughing.

  “Are…they…all right?” he finally managed to ask.

  “I think so,” Strauss said, coming to his side. “I can’t find any obvious damage. They’ve likely breathed in a lot of smoke, though. Let me look at you—”

  “I don’t need—”

  “I think I phrased that wrong,” the major interrupted. “I made it sound as if you had a choice. You don’t. Sir,” he added. “Bring me a lantern!”

  Max suffered the compulsory examination, his eyes on the two little boys lying on the ground.

  “Your head’s going to hurt,” Major Strauss said, poking at the place where the two-by-four had struck Max’s forehead with all the disdain of a veteran army doctor who could cut a wounded soldier’s entire leg off in a matter of minutes. But Max was way ahead of that prediction. His head pounded with every movement, however slight.

  “Are you sure the boys are all right?” he asked.

  Both children started to cry suddenly, and Max went and knelt on the ground beside them. Without hesitation, they came to him. He stayed there, with his arms around them. He
knew nothing of soothing children, but neither of them seemed to notice.

  Perkins came to offer him a swallow of brandy. He took it gratefully in spite of the rawness in his throat. A shower of sparks went up as the house began to fall in upon itself.

  “Was anyone else…supposed to be—inside?” Max asked.

  “No, Sir.”

  “I thought there was a woman staying…with Mrs. Canfield.”

  “She weren’t there when the fire started. She’d gone to the apothecary—to get Mrs. Canfield some medicine. Something different the doctor ordered made up for her because she was in so much pain. I reckon her regular medicine wasn’t working anymore. She just got here. She’s over yonder with—”

  He didn’t finish the sentence, and Max looked around to see a completely distraught woman kneeling in the back of the wagon with Suzanne Canfield’s body, keening loudly, tears streaming down her face.

  Max tried to get up, but the boys clung to him for dear life. He looked down at them. Their faces were black from the smoke. They were no longer crying, and it struck Max that neither of them had asked for their mother, he supposed, because they were so used to her being unavailable, so used to being left to the kindness of people even as unlikely as himself, that they no longer expected her to be a source of comfort, no matter what the crisis.

  The church bells continued to peal, but, in spite of the fire, he saw no civilians, save the fire brigade, who had dared to break the curfew. He looked toward the wagon.

  “Perkins.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “I want you to send somebody to the Kinnard house. Have them tell Mrs. Kinnard that I need her help and advice. Understand?”

  “Yes, Sir. Help and advice.”

  “Maybe you should go yourself.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Tell her I don’t know the customs here, and I want her to take charge of the arrangements for Mrs. Canfield. I don’t want her left like that.”

  “Yes, Sir. If she wants to see you?”

  “I’m going to take the boys to Miss Markham’s. And then I’m going to the jail. I want you to make sure nobody tells Canfield what’s happened here. I’ll do that myself.”

  “I reckon you know, Sir, he’s going to blame you for it.”

  Max didn’t respond—but he knew. And he wasn’t going to hide from it. “All right, Joe—Jake. Come on. Stand up now. We’ve got a ride to take.”

  “Where are we going?” Joe murmured.

  “To see Maria,” Max said. “Stand up.”

  “Is Jake going to ride, too?”

  “I think we can make room for him if he’s good, don’t you?”

  “He’s not bigger enough,” Joe assured him.

  “Well, you and I are going to help him.”

  The boys reluctantly let go of Max long enough for him to stand, but he had to immediately pick them both up again. He carried them part of the way, then handed them over to Perkins so he could mount.

  “Sir?” Perkins said.

  Max looked at him, but it took the sergeant major a moment to say what was on his mind.

  “Miss Markham—she’s got her plate full already. I reckon this is going to break her heart, and that’s the god’s truth, Sir.”

  Max had nothing to say to that, and Jake began to cry again. The horse was still skittish from the excitement, and the crying didn’t help.

  “Take his head,” Max said to another soldier.

  Joe was a willing enough rider, but it took a show of complete exasperation on Joe’s part to convince his little brother that he wanted to participate in this venture, too. Max finally got them both more or less on the saddle in front of him. “Hold on to your little brother,” he said to Joe. “Hold him tight. Perkins, give the Kinnard woman any assistance she needs—or will accept.” He didn’t feel any compunction at all about imposing on Mrs. Kinnard in this way. She needed to learn that even the appearance of favoritism had its price.

  He spurred the horse and rode slowly down the street. Miraculously, Jake stopped crying. Max knew that Maria had her hands full with her father—but he didn’t know what else to do but bring the boys to her.

  The image of her playing with the children amid the wildflowers suddenly came to mind.

  What is this flower, Maria? What is this flower!

  Kiss me and I’ll tell you…

  He judged the Markham house to be a little over a half mile away—but it seemed a hundred. At one point Perkins caught up, then left him as they reached the Kinnard house.

  The horse walked steadily on, no longer looking for a cavalry charge. “Can we go fast?” Joe turned around and asked him.

  “Maybe next time,” Max said. It was all he could do to hold on to both of them as it was.

  The lamps were still lit at the Markham house. Max rode through the boxwoods right up to the front porch, thinking he could just set the boys off and then dismount with no fear of them getting stepped on.

  No such luck. Both of them had clearly decided that he was their anchor in this madness, and they wouldn’t get down or turn him loose. He didn’t want to chance just sliding off and perhaps dropping one of them or having the horse shy, and he didn’t want to yell for someone to come, because of Mr. Markham.

  Jake began to cry again. Max swore under his breath—only to have Joe repeat it verbatim. He sighed and managed to free one hand from the death grip the boys had on him to get into his pocket. He pulled out several coins, and tossed one of them against a pane in the front window.

  It clattered loudly against the glass. Jake cried harder, and still nobody came. Max decided to ride around to the back of the house, on the slight chance that all the soldiers camped at the edge of the property hadn’t been drafted to fight the fire.

  He couldn’t see anyone at the tents—but he did see Mrs. Russell coming out of the privy. She was carrying a lantern, and she was not happy about having him find out that she actually observed the call of nature.

  “Where is Maria?” he asked without prelude.

  “Miss Markham is not available at this hour,” she said with a haughtiness that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

  “Get her,” he said.

  “Surely you don’t mean to—”

  “Now!” Max bellowed in spite of his desire not to disturb the household, making the horse prance and Jake cry even harder.

  The woman left at a near run, and Maria appeared almost immediately with the lantern in her hand. Max didn’t realize how bad the three of them must look until he saw her lift the lantern so that the light would shine on them.

  She gave a small cry and rushed forward, setting the lantern down hard on the ground.

  “Take them,” Max said. “Jake, don’t cry, son. Maria’s got you.”

  “What’s happened?” Maria asked, catching his sleeve. “Suzanne?”

  “Not now,” Max said. “Can you get them to bed? I didn’t know where else to take them.”

  She nodded, handing Jake over to Mrs. Russell, who had dared to return. Max handed Joe down to her.

  “I’ll be back,” he said.

  “Wait!” Maria cried. “Where are you going?”

  “I have to go to the jail.”

  “Tell me what’s happened—”

  “Not now. When I come back.”

  “Has something happened to—” She broke off, he thought because she realized what the answer would be even as she asked.

  “Yes,” he said, because he couldn’t see any way out of it. She drew in a sharp breath.

  “And Mrs. Hansen?” Her voice trembled.

  He had to guess who she meant.

  “She’s all right. She’s with Suzanne. I’ll be back.”

  He meant to go, but Maria grabbed the horse’s bridle in spite of having Joe over her shoulder.

  “Has Phelan been told?”

  “No.”

  “I should do it.”

  “No,” Max said. “You have the boys to see to.”

&
nbsp; “Don’t you understand? He shouldn’t hear it from you.”

  “It has to be me. If I bear any blame in this, I accept it. And he will know I accept it. I will not hide from him.”

  He spurred the horse and wheeled away from her. And he didn’t look back.

  “Let him out.”

  “Yes, Sir,” the soldier said, in spite of his obvious surprise.

  The key in the lock made a lot of noise. Canfield ignored it. He was sitting on the floor in the corner, his eyes half closed.

  “Get up, Reb,” the soldier said.

  Canfield did as he was told, but he took his own good time about it. Max waited.

  “What’s this about? Don’t tell me Maria finally got to you,” Canfield said as he stepped out of the cell. “I shouldn’t be surprised. She can be very hard to resist—”

  “I have bad news,” Max interrupted.

  Canfield looked at him and then at the other soldier, still cocky. His eyes were bloodshot, and he swayed slightly on his feet. “What do you mean?”

  “There was a fire. The boys are all right—they’re with Maria. But Mrs. Canfield—”

  “What about Suzanne?” he interrupted.

  “I regret to tell you that Mrs. Canfield died as a result of the fire.”

  “You regret—No! It’s not so!”

  “There was nothing that could be done for her,” Max continued. “I’m having you released so that you can see to your boys and to the funeral arrangements.”

  “And what am I supposed to do—say thank you very much! Kiss your damn boots!”

  Max ignored the outburst. “I’ve asked Mrs. Kinnard to help. I understand she’s already seen the undertaker. If you have no objections, your wife’s body will be taken to her house until such time as—”

  “By God, you’re enjoying this!”

  Max had to work hard for control. “I can assure you, I am not. I had occasion to meet with your wife once—after one of your binges. We spoke at length. She was very gracious and kind.”

  Canfield ran his hand through his hair. “Gracious—and kind. Yes,” he said absently. “Did she—” He broke off and exhaled sharply, as if he were having trouble breathing, and he stood there, clearly not knowing what to do.

  “Maria has the boys,” he said finally.