Hunter's Prize (6 page)

Her mother lowered her head. “Tending a family to the best of your ability is a gift of God, too. One that I treasure.”

Her heated stand doused with guilt, Addie’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh Mother, I didn’t mean to imply—”

Father cleared his throat. “We’ll let this offer pass, Addie. There will be others, I’m sure.”

Lurching to her feet, Addie strode to the door and spun. “I would never deliberately defy you, Father, but I feel led of God to go. I’m not asking your permission. I’m announcing my intentions.”

Speechless for several seconds, Father closed his startled mouth and wagged a finger in Mother’s direction. “This is your fault, Mariah Bell McRae. She inherited your willful spirit.”

Mother sat back in her chair and calmly placed her napkin beside her plate. “Caroline, Martha, Matilda, go to your rooms.”

Carrie, Marti, and Mattie likely couldn’t understand the reason for the breakfast-hour skirmish, but the use of their proper names sent them scrambling. Carrie turned back long enough to make a face at Addie and snatch a slice of jellied toast.

Wincing, Addie glanced at her mother, bracing for a glimpse of her fiery temper.

Respect shone from her dark eyes instead. She touched Father’s arm. “The words sting because they’re coming from Adelina. You look at her heart-shaped face and delicate features and see your five-year-old daughter. She’s a woman now, Tiller. One who’s been more than patient with us.” She reached across and patted his hand. “It’s time to let our little bird fly.”

Addie bit her trembling lip and shot her mother a grateful smile.

Father steepled his hands on the table and sighed. “I get the distinct feeling that I’m outflanked.” He quirked his mouth to the side. “I guess this means you’re bound for Texas?”

Squealing, she crossed the room and hugged him around the neck. “You won’t be sorry. I promise.”

Standing, he gripped her shoulders. “Don’t be so sure. I already regret my decision. And on one point I won’t compromise. You can’t leave until after your birthday. Otherwise, you’ll break your father’s heart.”

“But sir, my birthday is over a month away.”

Mother stood, her arm circling Addie’s waist. “We’ll write Miss Whitfield of your intention to interview. If the position is filled by the end of April, it wasn’t meant to be.”

Addie bit her bottom lip. She didn’t view it the same way, but after the concession her parents had made, it wouldn’t be fair to say so. Excitement bubbling in her chest, she turned to go. “I’ll run upstairs now and write her when to expect me.”

Father caught her wrist and hauled her back. “Not so fast, young lady.” His green-eyed gaze searched her face. “Sometimes, with the best of intentions, we misread God’s voice. That said, your mother will be traveling with you to meet your Miss Whitfield. If she doesn’t approve of the arrangement, you’ll feel led of God to take the next train home. Is that clear?”

Addie lowered her head and nodded. “Quite.”

Mother held out the letter. “You’d better take this, honey. You may need it.”

“One second,” Father said, snatching the envelope. “I want to see exactly where my womenfolk are going.” He stared at the return address then lifted puzzled eyes. “I’ve never heard of this place, Addie. Where in blazes is Marshall, Texas?”

Marshall, Texas, April 1905

C
eddy trudged up the walkway to Aunt Priscilla’s two-story house. Clinging to Auntie Jane’s skirt, he counted the soaring white columns stretching from the porch to the rooftop like bars on a giant cage.
One, two, three, four
across the front. He couldn’t see those extending around the sides of the house, but he counted them from memory.
Five, six, seven
on one side.
Eight, nine, ten
on the other.

The door swung open before they reached it, and Aunt Priscilla appeared on the stoop. It wasn’t right. Wasn’t right. Lilah should’ve answered, wearing her white ruffled cap.

“Cedric, my dear child, how tall you’ve grown! You’re as brown as pork pie, precious.” She leaned close and smoothed his hair the way she’d always done with Daddy. The skin of her face sagged, and her breath reeked of lemon tea.

He stiffened and flapped his hands, grunted, and spun away.

She sighed and stood up straight. “Hello, Jane. So nice to see you again. I suppose some things never change, do they?”

“Ever so sorry, Priscilla,” Auntie Jane said. “He’s in a right foul mood. Thoroughly knackered, I suppose.”

“Think nothing of it. I’m used to him. You must be exhausted as well.”

“That I am. It’s an endless trip across the Atlantic. Days of nothing but ocean on all sides. It’s enough to drive you quite insane after a time.”

“Yes, it’s maddening,” Aunt Priss murmured. “Before the dawn of transatlantic steamers, it took months to cross. You can’t imagine the ordeal.”

Aunt Jane moaned. “I’d perish.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t, poor thing.”

The driver struggled up the walkway with two bulky trunks then returned to the buggy to fetch two more. “Where shall I put these, ma’am?”

“Heavens!” Aunt Priss cried. “Are they yours, Jane?”

She shook her head and pointed at a small green case. “I won’t be staying that long. I have to be back in England soon or Richard will summon King Edward’s Guard.”

Aunt Priss’s skirt swished as she spun toward the luggage. “Then whose …”

“Those are Ceddy’s things.”

“All of this for one small boy?” Her voice grew shrill at the end.

Ceddy cowered and covered his ears.

“I’m afraid so. I had the man swing by my sister’s house to pack the boy’s belongings, as you requested. You can’t imagine the odd assortment of toys, books, and such. I tried persuading him to leave most of it behind, but he fell into such a panic, I gave in.”

Auntie continued talking as Aunt Priscilla herded them inside the great hall, their footsteps echoing overhead. “He became most unreasonable about a collection of rocks and stones.” She waved her hand at the trunks as the driver carried them over the threshold. “They weighed us down until I feared the poor horse might collapse.”

“I wish you’d sent for my carriage, Jane.”

Auntie waved her hand. “There was no need to trouble you. Ceddy and I have traversed the African continent.” Her laugh was like jangling bells. “Mostly on foot. Traveling from the station required far less effort.” She lowered her voice. “At least there are no
lions
in Marshall.”

Aunt Priss gasped. “You can’t be serious! You’ll have to tell me all about it once you’re settled.”

Lilah hurried down the hall and bent to hug Ceddy, her smiling cheeks smooth and dark. “How you, Little Man?” she whispered in his ear. “I’m mighty pleased you here. We gon’ have us a high old time.”

Ceddy pressed closer to her baked-bread smell.

Handing her shawl to Lilah, Auntie tugged off her gloves. “It’s unseasonably warm in Texas, isn’t it? I hardly needed my wrap.”

“I wouldn’t put it away just yet,” Aunt Priss said, bending to help Ceddy take off his jacket. “The weather here can be quite unpredictable.”

Aunt Jane glanced toward Ceddy. “Speaking of unpredictable, there are things we need to discuss about the boy. Can we talk in private?”

Aunt Priss paused with Ceddy’s arm still halfway up his sleeve. “But Jane … there will be plenty of time for that later. Won’t you have a lie-down first?”

“I’d rather not. I need to speak my piece before I can relax.”

Aunt Priss blew a shaky breath. “As you wish. We can retire to the study.”

Handing Lilah Ceddy’s coat, she guided him into her hands. “Delilah, show the boy upstairs and entertain him for a spell. This won’t take long.”

Lilah shoved back the brim of her cap and smiled. “Yes’m, Miss Whitfield.” She nudged Ceddy toward the stairs as the study door closed with a loud click. “Let’s us go see your new bedroom, Little Man.”

Ceddy frowned. His room was on North Washington Avenue from where they’d just left, not here in Aunt Priscilla’s big house. Shying away, he ran his fingers along the white rail on the wall, following the smooth, shiny board to the end of the hall.

Lilah’s soft footsteps trailed at his heels. “What’s this, now? You don’t care none to see your quarters? Well, suit yo’self, but your toys and such be there. Miss Priscilla done bought you a shiny new book … filled to bustin’ with pictures of rainbow-colored rocks.”

Spinning, Ceddy took her hand. Halfway up the staircase, the study door opened, and angry voices filled the downstairs hall.

Lilah stopped so fast she jerked Ceddy’s arm.

“You’re being stubborn and unreasonable, Priscilla Whitfield,” Aunt Jane spat.

“I rather think
you
are, Jane. Don’t you wish to honor your sister’s wishes?”

“Don’t bring my sister into this. Matters of earthly import can’t trouble her now. This is about Ceddy’s welfare.” Aunt Jane’s voice softened. “I’m thinking of you as well, dear lady. Do you have the faintest idea what a handful he can be? His parents shamelessly indulged the lad’s whims, and it hasn’t improved his behavior. You’re not gettingany younger, you know.”

Aunt Priss huffed. “While I thank you for your concern, it’s misplaced. Doddering old fool that I am, I can handle a little boy.”

“Can you?” In the quiet that followed, the two words danced in Ceddy’s head, bouncing, twisting, changing places until they’d lost all meaning. He counted the click of shoe heels across the floor until the door opened with a whoosh of air. “I’ll take a room at the Capital Hotel. You can reach me there if you come to your senses.”

“Dear Jane, is that necessary?” Aunt Priss’s angry tone had eased. “You’ll be far more comfortable here.”

“I’m leaving tomorrow afternoon, Priscilla. Think long and hard about the choice you’re making. Meanwhile, I pray to hear from you before I board the train. Afterward, it will be too late to change your mind. I won’t be coming back to the States.”

“Save your prayers, dear. I won’t change my mind.”

The door banged shut, and Ceddy tugged on Lilah’s hand. With a low whistle, she squeezed his fingers then led him to the top of the stairs.

North Atlantic Ocean, April 1905

Cursing his fetid luck, Denny Currie leaned against the rail and let the brisk Atlantic wind buffet him the way life had always done. Despite months of odd jobs, pinching every farthing with grasping fingers, the run-down ship he’d managed to book would take twice as long to cross the ocean as any modern steamer, since the outdated engines still required the use of sails.

By his reckoning, he and Charlie had another week to ride the pitching, dilapidated tub before reaching New York Harbor. Another week for the ghastly boy’s family to discover what he’d smuggled home in his pocket.

Denny had spent sleepless nights staring at the ceiling of his ramshackle flat, weighing the odds that the treasure might be undiscovered after so long a time. In its raw state, the big stone little resembled a diamond. Only a practiced eye would ever figure it out.

If memory served, the boy had gone to live with a dotty old aunt—afact that increased his odds tenfold. The old girl could be using it as a paperweight and be none the wiser. After all, it had happened before.

On the banks of the Orange River, in the spring of 1866, children of Boer settlers played about with sparkling rocks picked up from the ground, tossing them aside like worthless trinkets when they were bored. A roving peddler took more than a casual glance at one of the brilliant stones then passed it along to a government mineralogist. Denny’s gut-twisting quest to better himself began with the diamond rush that followed.

Since that day, he’d followed strikes across South Africa, from the Orange River to the Vaal. Griqualand. Kimberley Mine. The strike in Pretoria—his own backyard, for pity’s sake.

For endless years, his weary soles had trod upon the answer to life’s problems, his clumsy big feet tripping over his own destiny. Roaming the rich African soil, he’d dug, burrowed, and scoured the ground for diamond pipes until his fingers bled and muscles ached. The relentless search became obsession, aging him beyond his fifty-three years and netting him little more than frustration and dishonor.

How could there be diamonds on every farm in Africa, yet always just out of his reach?

Now a simple-minded heathen on his way to the docks in Port Elizabeth had stumbled onto a king’s fortune, only the dolt and his foolish aunt hadn’t realized what he held.

Blast it all! Could every blithering fool find himself a diamond? Everyone but him?

His chest swelled to draw a hopeful breath. With a clarity he’d never felt before, he sensed the earth tilting, shifting a bit of good luck his way.

Stand aside, world. It’s Denny Currie’s turn at last
.

“Hoy, Denny!” Charlie shouted, jerking him back to the present. Clinging to his cap, the big man staggered along the rail. “I’ve looked everywhere for you.”

“Not everywhere, have you, mate? I’ve been ‘ere all along.”

“Listen up, Den. We need to ‘ave us a chin-wag.”

“Go on then,” Denny growled. “I’m listening.” He gulped as the wind whisked the words right out of his mouth. Lowering his head, he waited for the gust to pass, but the next one plastered his thinning hair to his scalp and whipped his lashes like bloomers strung on a line.