Just Imagine aka Risen Glory

'Dolly Calhoun is hardly a proper chaperone. Why, she must have spoken to a dozen people today. By this afternoon everyone in the county will know about her. This won't do. It won't do at all. The gossip will be dreadful, Mr. Cain. You're far too young a man-'

'Kit is my ward,' he said.

'Nonetheless, there's no blood bond between you.'

Mary Cogdell gripped her prayer book. 'Katharine, you're an innocent young woman, so I'm sure it hasn't occurred to you how this will look to others. You simply can't stay at Risen Glory.'

'I appreciate your concern,' Kit replied, 'but I've been away from my home for three years, and I don't intend to leave again so quickly.'

Mary Cogdell looked at her husband helplessly.

'I assure you that Miss Dolly is a stickler for the proprieties,' Cain surprised her by saying. 'You should have seen her fussing over Kit this morning.'

'Still…'

Cain inclined his head. 'If you'll excuse us, Reverend Cogdell, Mrs. Cogdell. Please don't trouble yourself any further.' He took Kit's arm and led her toward the carriage, where Miss Dolly was already waiting.

Rawlins Cogdell and his wife watched the carriage drive away. 'There's going to be trouble there,' the minister said. 'I can feel it in my bones.'

Kit heard the crunch of gravel and knew Brandon had arrived. She rushed to the cheval glass to check her reflection and saw a proper young lady in a riding habit gazing back at her. There were no boy's clothes for her today, and no Temptation, either. She'd resigned herself to a sidesaddle and poor Lady.

That morning, while the sky was still the pale, soft pink of the underside of a seashell, she'd raced across the fields on Temptation. The wild, exhilarating ride was much different from what she could expect this afternoon.

She had to admit her new riding habit was flattering, no matter how much she disliked the idea of wearing it. Made of crimson broadcloth trimmed in black braid, the jacket fit her snugly in the bodice and accented her waist. The full skirt fell in graceful folds to the hem, which was decorated with a deep border of black braid in a swirling pattern that looked like a chain of script L's.

She checked to make certain there were no hanging threads or hooks that had escaped her notice. The four black frogs that held together the front of the jacket were all fastened, and her hat was on straight. It was black, a feminine version of a man's stovepipe, but with a lower, softer crown and a wisp of crimson veiling trailing from the back. She'd fastened her hair in a neat bun at the nape of her neck and even polished her boots.

Satisfied that she looked her best, she snatched up her riding crop and left the room, giving no thought at all to the black kid riding gloves lying in her glove box. When she reached the hallway, she heard voices coming from the piazza. To her consternation, she saw Cain standing in the drive talking to Brandon.

Once again she was struck by the contrast between the two men. Cain was much bigger, but that wasn't all that set them apart. Brandon was properly dressed in hat, coat, and trousers, with a bottle-green four-in-hand showing above the top of his vest. The clothes were old and no longer of the most fashionable cut, but they were neatly pressed, and he wore them well.

As for, Cain, he was bareheaded and wearing an open-collared shirt rolled at the sleeves and a pair of muddy trousers. He stood in an easy slouch, one hand stuffed into his pocket, a dirty boot propped on the bottom step. Everything about Brandon indicated culture and breeding, while Cain looked like a barbarian.

Her eyes lingered on him a moment longer before she clutched her riding crop more tightly and walked forward. Lady waited patiently next to the mounting block. The old sidesaddle Kit had found in the attic rested on the horse's back.

Kit gave Cain a cool nod and Brandon a smiling greeting. The admiration in his eyes told her that the efforts she'd taken with her appearance hadn't been in vain. Cain, however, seemed to be enjoying some private joke, one she quickly realized was at her expense.

'You watch yourself today, Kit. Lady can be a real handful.'

She gritted her teeth. 'I'm sure we'll get along fine.'

Brandon made a motion to help her mount, but Cain was quicker. 'Allow me.'

Brandon turned away with obvious displeasure to mount his own horse, and Kit placed her fingers in Cain's outstretched hand. It felt strong and much too competent. After she'd settled into the sidesaddle, she looked down to see him gazing at her cumbersome skirts.

'Now who's the hypocrite?' he asked softly.

She gazed over at Brandon and gave him a blinding smile. 'Now, Mr. Parsell, don't you ride too fast for me, y'hear? I've been up North for so long, my riding skills are rusty, 'deed they are.'

Cain snorted and walked away, leaving her with the pleasant sensation that she'd had the last word.

Brandon suggested they ride to Holly Grove, his former home. As they trotted down the drive toward the road, Kit watched him covertly studying the planted fields that stretched out on both sides of them. She could only hope he was already making plans.

Holly Grove had been put to the torch by the same soldiers who'd spared Risen Glory. After the war, Brandon had returned to a crumbled ruin and blackened chimneys already overgrown with wild grape vines and blackberry brambles. He hadn't been able to pay the punishing taxes on the land, and everything had been confiscated. Now it stood idle.

They dismounted near what had once been the smokehouse. Brandon tied the horses, then took Kit's arm and led her toward the ruins of the house. They'd been chatting pleasantly as they rode, but now he fell silent. Kit's heart swelled with pity.

'It's all gone,' he finally said. 'Everything the South believed in. Everything we fought for.'

She gazed at the devastation. If Rosemary Weston hadn't taken that Yankee lieutenant into her bedroom, this would have been the fate of Risen Glory.

'The Yankees laugh at us, you know,' he went on. 'They laugh because we believe in chivalry and honor. But look what happens when there's no chivalry and when honor's turned into a joke. They take away our land, tax us until we can't buy bread. Radical Reconstruction is the Almighty's curse on us.' He shook his head. 'What have we done to deserve so much evil?'

Kit stared up at the twin chimneys, like great ghostly fingers. 'It was the slaves,' she heard herself saying. 'We're being punished for keeping human beings in slavery.'

'Poppycock! You lived with the Yankees too long, Kit. Slavery is God's plan. You know what the Bible says.'

She did know. She'd heard it preached often enough from the pulpit of the slave church by white ministers the plantation owners sent to remind their people that God approved of their enslavement. God had even issued instructions regarding a slave's obligations to his master. Kit remembered Sophronia sitting by her side during these sermons, stiff and pale, unable to reconcile what she was hearing with the loving Jesus she knew.

Brandon took her arm and led her back along the overgrown path, away from the house. Their mounts were peacefully grazing in the clearing near the smokehouse. Kit walked over to a tree that had fallen long ago in a storm and sat on the trunk.

'It was a mistake bringing you here,' Brandon said as he came up beside her.

'Why?'

He stared off toward the blackened chimneys in the distance. 'This makes the differences between us all the more apparent.'

'Does it? Neither of us has a home. Remember that Risen Glory's not mine. Not yet, anyway.'

He gave her a searching look. She plucked at a piece of tree bark. 'I only have a month, and then Cain's going to force me to go back to New York.'

'I can't tolerate the idea of your living in the same house with that man,' he said, sitting next to her on the tree trunk. 'Everybody who came into the bank today was talking about it. They say Miss Calhoun's not a fit chaperone. You watch yourself with Cain, you hear? He's not a gentleman. I don't like him. Don't like him at all.'

She was warmed by Brandon's concern. 'Don't worry. I'll be careful.'

And then she deliberately tilted her face up to him, slightly parting her lips. She couldn't let this excursion end without kissing him. It was something she had to do so she could erase Cain's brand on her mouth.