frightened. “Some even say bodies will hang from the trees come morning.”
Karlee stood. “When you close tonight, you and your mother come home with Ida. I'll make room for you both at our place.”
Valerie shook her head. “I don't know if Madre will do that.”
“Tell her I'm afraid for the children because Daniel will be away.” Karlee thought that wasn't far from the truth.
Valerie nodded. “I will tell her. Madre loves the little ones.”
Karlee hugged Valerie good-bye and walked calmly back down the street to where Gerilyn stood waiting to know if she had passage. She'd wanted the twins to keep her company, but now crossed her eyes with exasperation.
“I thought you'd never come back, Cousin. You really should be more aware of the time you waste. If you were better organized, you could accomplish twice as much each day.”
“I'll remember that.” Karlee motioned toward the papers in Gerilyn's hand and quickly changed the subject. “Are you going?”
“Tomorrow, late morning. On a steamer I would call adequate and nothing more.”
“Since it's your last night, I've invited company for dinner.”
Gerilyn plastered on a smile that was almost believable. “I love dinner parties. But nothing too fancy, Cousin. I have to pack and really have little time to prepare.”
“Nothing fancy,” Karlee promised.
The afternoon was spent with Karlee trying to cook and Gerilyn packing. She asked Karlee to bring her three matching trunks up one at a time. As Karlee delivered each, she knew it was only a matter of time before Gerilyn realized one trunk was missing. She couldn't empty out the guns from her trunk inside the house with the children about. If she emptied them on the porch all the town would probably notice.
Karlee had to think of something. A idea popped full-blown into her mind as she dragged a loaded trunk from Gerilyn's room, down the stairs and across the foyer. It was a great plan.
She slid the hidden panel open quickly. Lifted the trap door carved in the floor remembering how Daniel had asked her to climb into the hole that first night.
This was perfect. Gerilyn would never miss the clothes, and if she did, she'd think one of her trunks was lost in transport.
Karlee opened the trunk, grabbed armfuls of carefully folded clothes and shoved them into the coffin-sized hole. In less than a minute, the trunk was empty.
Out of breath, Karlee closed the trap door, slid the panel shut and began pulling the now-empty trunk back up the stairs.
She'd only made it halfway up when Gerilyn appeared on the landing. “Oh, there you are, Cousin. I was just about to tell you I needed my last trunk.”
“I have it right here.” Karlee smiled at the brilliancy of her plan. What could possibly go wrong?
TWENTY-SIX
DANIEL WALKED THE STREETS OF JEFFERSON, LISTENING to the sounds of hate around him. It was bad enough that the Southerners resented the Yankees' presence while the Northerners thought the Rebs should pay for the war. But the hatred was deeper. Far deeper. A kind of wound that has festered so long no one remembered how it started.
Sometimes he felt like the world had gone mad with resentment and prejudice. It reminded him of a story he'd read once about a tribe long extinct. The culture considered itself to be a civilized lot. So when two chiefs had a quarrel, they would stand on either side of the river with their people behind them. To show his belief in his cause and anger with the other chief, the leader on one side would kill one of his own tribe. The other chief would do the same. Back and forth it went, until one leader was sick of how many of his people lay dead at his feet. That chief was declared the loser for he would kill no more of his own. Sometimes, according to legend, only the chief would remain. He'd killed his entire tribe to prove how strongly he believed in his cause… he'd won.
Somehow being right and getting revenge were more important than saving those he loved. Like the ancient tribe, everyone in Jefferson seemed to have lost sight of what mattered.
Added to an already boiling pot were men of Cullen Baker's type, who preyed on the festering wound like maggots. Daniel was not happy to hear that Baker was coming to town to even the score between one of his former men and himself.
A nagging thought brewed in the back of Daniel's mind. Rumor was, Baker's former partner withheld part of a loot stolen from a federal troop shipment. The guns that had been in Daniel's hidden closet were all new Union- issue rifles. Maybe it was just coincidence, for nothing else matched the former preacher and owner of Daniel's home to Baker… nothing except a mother who'd disappeared and the stash of rifles.
He planned to ask Karlee what she'd done with the guns. The sooner he could get rid of them, the better. But when he opened the door of his home, a dozen people greeted him.
Valerie and her mother were cooking. Ida fussed over the children. Several of the young German men talked by the fire. Gerilyn sat at the table looking very much like she'd been committed to the state ward for the insane. His sister-in-law was dressed for a dinner party that obviously hadn't turned out to be what she'd expected.
Before he could close the door, Gerilyn jumped at him as if drowning. “Oh, Daniel!” She didn't seem able to say more.
Daniel nodded at everyone. “Welcome,” he said, and caught Karlee's glance.
She smiled back a little shyly. “We've company for dinner, Dear.”
Daniel almost laughed out loud. He must be getting used to her unpredictability. “So I see.” He took time to greet everyone individually, moving about the room with Gerilyn following in his wake asking questions.
Finally, he turned and took her hands. “Gerilyn, don't worry. We'll have a great time even if all the china on the table doesn't match.”
She looked at him as if he'd joined the craziness she wanted him to save her from. “But don't you see, everything has to match. One just doesn't set a table with two kinds of dishes. It's simply not done.”
For the first time, Daniel saw her for what she truly was. She never meant to be cruel and hurtful with her constant advice. She had lived by all the unimportant rules of society for so long they'd become her Bible. Informing people of their shortcomings was more important than their feelings. Proper manners more cherished than kindness. The social code had somehow replaced the Ten Commandments.
Daniel put his arm around her shoulder and led her toward the hallway. “It's all right, Gerilyn. Don't think of this as a dinner party.” He needed to calm her. There were enough problems this night. “Think of it as an indoor picnic.”
She took a deep breath.
Daniel clasped both her hands in his. “Now, I know everyone will be depending on you to guide them in setting the table and organizing the line for eating. With this many people, it will be chaos without your help.” He patted her hands. “But first, why don't you go upstairs and change? You wouldn't want to be overdressed.”
“Oh, no.” Gerilyn lifted her chin, silently fighting her way back to known ground. “There is nothing more gauche than being over-dressed at a party. A picnic, you say?”
“A German peasant picnic. They held them inside on rainy nights.” He made up the tradition. “Neighbors would help cook the food. Some would even eat on tablecloths on the floor. It's a custom passed down from village to village during the winter months when folks only long for picnics.”
“Really? I never heard of such a thing.”
“Oh, it's very much a German custom. We should feel honored they are willing to share it with us, outsiders to their ways.” Daniel smiled, feeling rather proud of himself for his fib. “But many of our guest are young and dearly need a gentle hand guiding them on what's proper. For I'm sure, as you know, even a picnic must have rules.”
“I'll do what I can, now that I understand the custom.” Gerilyn straightened her bony shoulders. “An original idea, but my cousin should have informed me earlier. And the dress is…”
