Dunaway's Crossing (15 page)

Bea Dot smiled at Will, whose green eyes softened as they gazed at the infant.

“Why don’t you let Will hold him?” Eliza said.

“Oh, of course.” Bea Dot gently handed Troy over to Will, who knew exactly how to support a baby’s head. He seemed much more comfortable with a baby than she was.

Will wrapped Troy’s blanket tightly around him to keep him warm against the October chill. Then he swayed gently back and forth as he gazed at the little bundle. “You’re a good looking little boy, Troy. Yes, you are.”

Bea Dot didn’t expect to see such affection in Will’s face. She was accustomed to the Will who drove a wagon and carried a knife in his boot, not the gentle man rocking an infant. But then considering Eliza’s description of Will’s compassionate side, it made sense that he’d be taken in by a baby.

“Look at you,” she said before she’d thought about it. “You’ll be a good father one day.”

He nodded. “One day.”

His reply made Bea Dot smile. Usually men only considered baby boys a continuation of the family name. At least that was always Ben’s attitude. Will’s short response spoke volumes about his perception of raising a family.

He handed Troy to Eliza, who held the baby up to her shoulder. Then he turned to Bea Dot. “We should be going. Netta will be wondering about us.”

 “It was a pleasure to see you again, Thaddeus, and Eliza.” Bea Dot smiled at her hosts. “I’m so glad to meet you. I hope we can talk again soon.” She meant that. Something told her she should press her neighbor for more information about childbirth.

“Thank you, Miss Bea Dot,” Thaddeus replied. “That’s mighty kind of you. You’re welcome to come out any time you need anything. And Will says he’ll be gone a while. I’ll be sure to check on you every day. If I can’t come, I’ll send Terrence.”

“And don’t you worry about Netta’s baby,” Eliza jumped in. “I can help deliver it if you need me. Everything’s gone be just fine.”

Bea Dot thanked Eliza for her offer and hoped she was right. She’d feel more relieved once the baby was born and well.

After saying their goodbyes, Will helped Bea Dot back onto Buster’s back and the horse rode them back into the pine wood. Will hardly had to manage the animal.

“He seems to know his way home,” Bea Dot said.

“He ought to,” Will replied. “He’s ridden these paths hundreds of times.”

“Did you grow up around here? You seem to know about Thaddeus’s property pretty well.”

“Yep.” Will shifted the reins from one hand to another. “What did you think of Eliza and Thaddeus?”

“They’re nice people.”

“I’m glad you liked them. If you ever need them for anything, just follow this path. It’s not even half a mile.”

“You’ve known them a long time?”

“Mm hmm. I grew up with Tommy, their oldest boy.”

“Eliza says he’s in Macon?”

“That’s right.”

“Does he have a job there?”

“Mm hmm. At the brick works.”

The two remained quiet for a few minutes. Ahead, a light from the clearing appeared at the edge of the woods. Just through the trees, the lake water flickered in the afternoon sunlight. Will found a gap in the brush and turned Buster to the bank for a drink. He dropped the reins as Buster lowered his nuzzle to the water. Will slid off Buster’s back, then held his hand out for Bea Dot, who took it and eased herself to the ground beside him.

“Won’t Netta be wondering about us?” she asked.

He tied Buster’s reins to a branch, then turned to face the woods, his hands in his back pockets. “We’ll only be a few minutes. The horse could use a drink, and Netta could probably use a few more minutes of quiet time.” He pointed into the woods, which sloped up a slight hill. “See that cabin back there?”

Bea Dot peered into the pine trees. In the shadows she finally made out the dark structure. “Oh, yes. I wouldn’t have noticed it if you hadn’t pointed it out.”

“My grandfather built that cabin years ago. It’s just an abandoned shack now, but sometimes I go there when I have thinking to do. Sometimes it does the soul good to get away, don’t you think?”

Bea Dot’s heart stopped for a moment. Did he know why she had come to Pineview? “Yes,” she said cautiously. “I suppose it does.” After a pause, she asked, “So you own all this land around the lake?”

He shook his head. “No, but my father used to. He lost it when he got sick. Now Thaddeus Taylor owns it.”

Bea Dot nodded. So that was how Will knew the lay of the land so well.

“Pardon me for saying so,” she said, “but Thaddeus Taylor doesn’t strike me as a man wealthy enough to buy so much acreage.”

“No, I see what you mean,” Will replied. “Thaddeus worked for our family for years.  He might have known more about farming than my father did. But when Pop died, Ma made a deal with him. If Thaddeus would pay the taxes on the land, she would give it to him, all but fifty acres of my choice. Once she settled Pop’s estate, she gave me half of what was left, then took the rest and moved to Thomasville to live with my sister and her family.”

“So you chose the property at the crossroads.”

Will nodded. “It already had a building, and it had lakefront. It was perfect for a store, but I had to postpone my plans a bit.”

“The war?”

“Yes.”

They stood quietly side by side for a few moments. As a slight breeze picked up behind them, a dark curl tickled Bea Dot’s cheek, and the pine needles whispered all around them. Attempting to lighten the mood, Bea Dot suggested, “Let’s take a look at that cabin.”

Will took her hand and led her up the hill, through the pine trees, holding down thorny vines for her to step over and pushing back low branches for her to stoop under. Bea Dot smiled at him each time he cleared the way for her, and even though Will seemed unaware that he held her hand the whole time, she hoped he wouldn’t let go. When they reached the cabin, he pushed open the creaky door, and a brown flutter startled Bea Dot as it rushed through the doorway. She screamed and leapt at Will, who exhaled a frightened laugh. Her heart pounded against his chest, and he held her close to him until the fear subsided.

“What was that?”

“An old barn owl,” Will replied. He lifted her chin with his finger so that she gazed into his eyes. A flock of barn owls took flight in her stomach. “Don’t worry, we’ve scared it much more than it scared you.”

“Of course we did,” Bea Dot laughed awkwardly. Red-faced, she stepped away from him and rubbed her sweaty palms on the fronts of her pants. “Let’s go in.”

She followed him into the blackness, then stood still while her eyes adjusted to the dark. Will pushed open the shutters, and the sunlight revealed an old crate in the corner and a pile of old newspapers. The interior was about the same size as Ralph’s camp house. A black pipe hung from the roof, a remnant of an absent wood stove.

“There’s nothing in here,” she said, surprised that anyone would want to spend time there.

“Well, I don’t really come here for picnics or tea parties,” Will said. “But sometimes I’ll come out here and whittle a stick and think.”

Bea Dot nodded, thinking about her bath tub in Savannah. Will came here to whittle for the same reasons she enjoyed along soak in hot water.

As the two walked back down the hill, Will led the way again, but chatted with Bea Dot each time he held back a branch for her. “You and Netta are as close as sisters,” he said. “I take it you don’t have any of your own?”

Bea Dot shook her head and stooped under a Virgina creeper he held up for her. “My mother died just after I was born,” she said, a little surprised at having done so. She hardly spoke of her mother. The brown pine straw crunched under her feet.

“That’s a shame,” Will said. “So your father raised you?” He pushed back a low pine branch.

“You could say that,” she said, slipping past it. “Actually, Netta and my maid, California, brought me up. My father never got over my mother’s death.” Why was she divulging so much personal information? Something comforting about Will made her feel at ease discussing her family. Maybe it was because she knew he’d suffered his own tragedy.

“Is he still in Savannah?”

“No,” Bea Dot explained, stepping out of the woods and across the dirt path, over to Buster. She rubbed her hand along his warm back and his withers shivered at her touch. “He died seven or eight months ago.”

“Bless your heart,” Will said. He took a step and stood behind her. “Was he sick?”

Bea Dot paused before answering, keeping her eyes on the horse. “I suppose he was sick in the head. He killed himself.”

After a pause, Will said, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pried.”

“No need to apologize,” she said, looking up at his sympathetic gaze. Then, trying to change the mood, she said, “But we should be going before Netta thinks we’ve gotten lost.”

He untied Buster’s reins and handed them to Bea Dot, then helped her onto the horse’s back for the trip home. Back on the path, Buster started his slow walk toward the crossing. The barn would be just ahead. As Will held the reins in front of her, Bea Dot silently wished the horse would walk slower so she could enjoy a few more minutes of the security of Will’s arms around her. After seeing Will handle a baby, she felt silly at feeling on edge in his arms before.

“Will,” she said, “I know you introduced me to Eliza to ease my mind about Netta’s condition.” She frowned and bit her lip as she considered her next sentence. “And I thank you for that, but…” she exhaled as she struggled to find the next words. “…I still have misgivings about staying at the crossing alone with her. Netta doesn’t want Eliza delivering her baby.”

Will stiffened behind her, and for several yards, the only sound was the clop of Buster’s hooves on the dirt path.

“I’m afraid,” she continued uncertainly.

He exhaled, his breath brushing her right ear and cheek. “So am I.”

Her heart sank. So much for words of confidence.

“How soon do you have to leave?”

From the corner of her eye, Bea Dot saw Will raise his arm to his hat as he looked at the sky. “Sun’ll be going down soon,” he replied. “I suppose I’ll spend the night at home and head to town first thing in the morning.”

She pulled the corner of her mouth into her cheek, sorry that he’d have to leave so soon. He’d just gotten home.

As Buster neared the clearing, he picked up his pace and startled Bea Dot, who unwittingly clutched the first thing she could get her hand on. At the touch of his firm muscles through the fabric of his pants, she realized she was holding onto his thighs, and she burned again with humiliation as she clutched the horse’s mane. What must he think of her now?

“I’m sorry about that,” Will said, pulling slightly on the reins to keep the horse at a smooth walk. “He must be ready to get back to his stall.”

A few minutes later, he steered the animal into the barn, and Buster came to a stop in front of a bale of hay. As the horse munched on the straw, Will swung his leg behind him and slid to the ground, then tied his reins to a wooden post. When he held out his arms to help Bea Dot dismount, she slid clumsily off Buster’s back. When she landed on the ground, her legs, sore from so much horseback riding, buckled under her.

“Whoa,” Will said as he took her by the waist and pulled her up.

She blushed with a combination of embarrassment at his touch and excitement at his closeness.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Yes, I think so,” she said. “I’m just not accustomed to riding that way.” She wasn’t accustomed to anything about today: his interest in her, his concern for her safety, his efforts to help her and Netta. Mostly, she was unaccustomed to feeling such a combination of emotions around a man. Instead of revulsion or fear, she felt charged, yet timid. She lifted her chin to see his green eyes. His hat had fallen off, and a lock of brown hair had lopped onto his forehead like a stubborn apostrophe. She had her hand on his shoulders, and though she knew she should move them, she couldn’t bring herself to step back. Will’s eyes acted on her like an elixir.

His smile faded, and he drew her closer to him. Her heart raced with excitement. In her nervousness, she hesitated, but then she reached around his neck. He lowered his face to hers and kissed her once gently, but then again with more emphasis. Still his kiss was not the clumsy, drunken, wet slather of Ben’s mouth. Instead, Will gave her a soft, warm kiss, one that allowed her to return it. She inhaled the hay and leather in his skin, and she felt the soft scratch of whiskers on her lip. Eventually, she let her fingers wander into the back of his hair, and when he pulled her against him, she felt the same energy she felt when they’d ridden horseback. For a few moments, all her trepidation vanished, and she lost herself in his embrace.

“Bea Dot, are you back?”

At Netta’s intrusion, she pushed away from him, and pressed her wet lips onto the cuff of her shirt. Buster huffed and shifted his weight behind her. Thank goodness the animal blocked them from Netta’s view.

“We’ve just returned, Miss Netta,” Will replied hoarsely as he quickly untied the reins from the post. He led Buster into his stall, and Bea Dot turned to see Netta’s silhouette in the doorway of the barn. Though she couldn’t make out Netta’s face, she couldn’t help worrying that Netta had seen her kissing Will. Or was Bea Dot simply feeling guilty?