Murder in the Marsh Read online

  “It’s alright, Adam. I know I’m a terrible cook. And if I didn’t know it a couple of days ago, I surely know it now.”

  Adam put his hand over the top of hers and patted it. He then swallowed hard before responding, “You’re… not a terrible cook. I wouldn’t say that at all.” He gave her hand a little squeeze.

  A jolt went through him. He wondered if she felt it as well.

  At the very least she must’ve been flustered. Finally, she looked quickly at her brother and his wife for their reaction before slipping her hand away back into her lap. “It was really good of you to eat all of the breakfast I served you yesterday. I finally had some myself after you went outside to see Cyrus and, well, it was just awful.”

  “No, Laney,” said Will, “it wasn’t just good of him to eat all of what you served him yesterday morning, it was downright heroic. How he was able to muscle down those dry, overcooked grits and the burnt bacon I’ll never know.”

  “Come on, Will. It wasn’t that bad,” said Adam. “It was actually fine. Just needed a little butter and salt.”

  “Pfft! You only say that because you fancy her,” Will said.

  Both Catherine and Laney were obviously shocked that he’d come right out and say that.

  Adam inhaled sharply and felt a tiny bit embarrassed, but he knew it wasn’t a secret to anyone that he had an eye for Laney. He was only surprised that Will seemed willing to publicly acknowledge it and not warn him to keep away from her.

  “Well,” said Adam, “perhaps the lovely company enhanced the flavor of the food.” He winked at Laney playfully in an effort to lighten what otherwise might be an awkward moment.

  Just then someone tapped on Adam’s shoulder. He turned to see it was Ben, the guitarist from the tavern.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt you, but do you think we can have a word?”

  Adam raised his eyebrows and looked at the Martins in surprise before excusing himself to go talk to the man. He walked with Ben over to the staircase that led up to the living quarters and motioned for them to sit there to talk, out of the way of the guests.

  “What can I do for you?” Adam asked.

  “I hate to pull you away from your friends there, but I reckon we’ll be leaving shortly, and I wanted to ask you something before we go.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I didn’t realize you worked for a shipping company when we spoke the other night. I used to do this kind of work.” He motioned around the warehouse.

  “Oh really?”

  Adam was wondering why this man pulled him away from a memorable moment with Laney Martin to talk about his work history. As he glanced across the room, he spotted Francis approaching Laney and her brother at their table. He wanted to jump up and fly across the warehouse to drive him away, but he fully realized that would make him look like a complete lunatic. He tried to turn his attention back to Ben but kept one eye on Francis.

  “Yes, and I’m told you’re close to the owner.”

  “Huh?” It took Adam a second to register what Ben had just said. Then he nodded, “Oh yeah, I reckon you could say that.”

  “See, like I mentioned before, I’m looking for a way down to South Carolina—Charleston. My sister lives down there, and so I thought I could work here for a stint and get together some money so I don’t go down there empty-handed. I have all these little nieces and nephews that I want to take presents for, and to be honest, this music bit just ain’t cuttin it.”

  Adam suspected he knew what Ben was getting at, but right now that was the last thing on his mind. He noticed Francis put his hand on Will’s back, and they laughed as though they were lifelong friends. He wondered what in the world the two of them could be talking about. This was really very distracting.

  Ben continued, and Adam made a halfhearted effort to listen. “Well, I was wondering if you might put in a word for me with your master. Tell him I’m looking for a temporary situation, and see if he’d be willing to help me out. I’m a hard worker. I’m happy to work twice as hard for half the pay, so long as it gets me to where I’m going.”

  Adam was moved by Ben’s sincerity, but really, all he could think about was getting back over there to Laney’s table.

  “A temporary situation? What did you have in mind?”

  “I was thinking maybe he can hire me as crew the next time he has a shipment going out, so long as it’s going south.”

  “Hmm… It’s not very likely he’d do that,” said Adam. “He’s real particular about who he lets work for him, but if he has any other odd jobs around here, I’ll mention to him that you’re looking for something.”

  He must have been very obvious in his desire to get back to his friends, because Ben looked over at the same table and said, “I’m keeping you from your lady friend. I apologize.”

  Adam was a little embarrassed that he had been so clearly uninterested and rude while this man was coming to him with a genuine need.

  “It’s alright. I do feel like I should get back over there soon, though. We can talk about this some other time if you like.”

  Ben nodded. “That’s alright. Just tell him I’m happy with any job, long as there’s money at the end of it.” He grinned.

  Adam nodded. He felt sorry for the man because he knew Emmanuel wouldn’t hire him for shipping company work. Still, he didn’t want to dash the man’s hopes right away.

  “Alright then. I’ll have a word with him tonight, see what he says.”

  Ben reached out to shake hands with him. “Thank you. Bless you. I appreciate it, and I know my sister will, too. The sooner I can get to Charleston, the better.”

  Adam patted him on the shoulder and wished him well, then quickly went back over to where the Martins sat with Francis.

  Anyone who could observe the two of them at that table would say there couldn’t be a more stark contrast between Francis Smythe and Adam Fletcher. Smythe was tall, slender, and had light-blond hair—which he kept perfectly coiffed in the latest styles from England—fair skin, and pale-blue eyes. He wore fancy clothes imported from Europe that must have been tailored especially for him. His face was always, always clean shaven. In fact, so much so, one might wonder if he ever grew any facial hair at all.

  Adam’s wavy hair and dark features aside, he’d never had a tailored anything in his life, so his clothes nearly always fit him a little too long or a little too loose. Half the time he pulled his shoulder-length hair back into some kind of tie, but the other half of the time he left it loose, with a little bit tucked behind the ear. And it wouldn’t matter if he had just shaved that morning; by afternoon the shadow of the dark beard lurking beneath the surface of his skin could almost always be detected.

  While a woman’s preferences might vary in terms of whether she likes fair-featured aristocratic types or tall, dark, and handsome rugged types, one clear advantage Adam had over Francis was his physique. Francis had never worked a day in his life and it showed, whereas Adam was muscular, especially across the upper body, from the manual labor he did working for Emmanuel.

  “Who was that man?” Laney asked as soon as Adam returned to the table.

  Adam looked back over his shoulder to see if Ben had already left. “Oh, his name is Ben. He’s one of the musicians from the tavern.”

  “What did he want to talk to you about?” she asked.

  “He’s looking for some extra work.”

  “So are you going to help him?” asked Laney.

  “I told him I’d mention it to Emmanuel, but I doubt he’ll have anything for him.”

  He directed his attention across the table. “So, Francis, did you enjoy the dinner?”

  Francis gave a reserved nod, then looked in Laney’s direction as he answered, “Even those of us with more refined tastes can enjoy the rustic once in a while. Isn’t that right, Rocksolanah?”

  Adam rolled his eyes, but thankfully Francis didn’t see him. Nobody called her by her full name exc
ept Emmanuel, and that was because he was more formal in his social graces with nearly everyone. What was Smythe trying to prove?

  “It could be that some of us prefer the rustic to the refined sometimes,” Laney countered with a sweet smile.

  Francis gave a polite, deferential nod. “Perhaps,” he said.

  “It certainly allows us ladies, at the very least, to breathe a little easier,” said Laney. “Isn’t that right, Catherine?” She looked at her sister-in-law, who appeared to be increasingly uncomfortable after the large meal.

  Catherine rested her hand on the top of her belly and nodded. “Indeed. Though I think I could breathe easiest if we returned to the estate so I can recline in the bed for a while.”

  “Understood,” Will said. “I suppose we’ll go then.”

  At that the Martins bade both Adam and Francis farewell, and they left the warehouse to return home.

  Adam was always sad to part ways with Laney, but he was at least relieved that the conversation with Francis ended without incident or serious insult.

  Or so he thought.

  Just as he was about to return to helping clean up the warehouse, Francis stopped him.

  “Fletcher, a word?”

  Adam turned towards him. “Hmm?”

  “I hope we can put the foolishness of our youth behind us. I think we both behaved poorly when we were younger and, shall we say, a bit wilder?”

  Adam wasn’t sure what to say at first. He raised his eyebrows and responded, “I already have put it behind me. And I’m paying my debt now for what I did to you.”

  “I know,” said Francis. “You appear to be doing fine for yourself. That’s a pleasure to see. I suppose in some ways our little disagreement has led you to bigger and better things, wouldn’t you say?”

  Adam took a deep breath, then sighed. “I suppose you’re right. Emmanuel always says Providence can be a funny thing.”

  Oh, there were so many things he could say to Francis—so many things he wanted to say—and yet Francis’s observation was true. Had they not gotten into that fight outside the Topsail a year and a half ago, he’d still be at the tavern, he wouldn’t have met many of those he considered his closest friends now, and most importantly, he wouldn’t know his father or his grandfather.

  In an effort to lighten a very awkward moment, Adam said, “So what? I suppose I should thank you for dishonoring my mother so I had an excuse to break your nose, huh?”

  Francis didn’t answer that question. He raised his eyebrows as if to say, Who knows? and gave a little shrug.

  “I am happy in my position,” said Adam. “I reckon I feel a little bit like Joseph.”

  Francis looked at him, confused.

  “You know, Joseph? His brothers sold him into slavery because they hated him, but in the end it was because of that he was able to rise to great power and save his family from famine. How was it he put it? ‘But as for you, you meant evil against me; but God meant it as good.’”

  “Yes, well, I’m delighted our childish fisticuffs helped to usher you into your destiny.”

  Adam chuckled.

  “But one thing, though,” said Francis. “About Rocksolanah… I hope you wouldn’t be so selfish and shortsighted as to try and win her affections.”

  Adam wrinkled his brow. He couldn’t believe Francis had the nerve to try and comment on his relationship with Laney Martin.

  “Listen, I’m not saying this to you as your adversary but rather as one of Rocksolanah’s peers. I have little doubt that she fancies you a bit. It’s been known to happen—the well-bred young lady being tempted by the fruit of a baseborn suitor. Maybe it’s a little bit of the rustic charm that does it.”

  “Baseborn suitor?” Adam felt his blood beginning to boil. “Are you completely out of your mind? You realize where we are—this is my home, my place of employment, and I have no intention of standing here letting you insult me and try to dispense advice to me about my personal life.”

  Francis stood there rigidly and unaffected.

  “You’re right. I’m not the hothead I used to be. I’ve grown, I’ve seen more than you can imagine, and I’m not stupid. I won’t get baited into another fight with you. You can keep calling me a bastard, but no matter how many times you say it, it doesn’t make it true. Furthermore—”

  “Fletcher,” Francis calmly interrupted him, “it isn’t my desire to fight with you. And I can assure you I am not trying to provoke you. I am only trying to encourage you to give serious consideration to the fact that you ought not toy with a young lady’s emotions. If Rocksolanah fancies you, and yet you know you’re not the best possible man for her, do the gentlemanly thing. Lead her not into temptation. Help her to preserve herself for someone who can give her everything she deserves—and she, no doubt, deserves the best of everything.”

  At that, Francis excused himself and left the warehouse.

  Chapter Fourteen

  THE PIG PICKIN HAD WRAPPED up about an hour before sundown. Once nightfall came the temperature would drop outside, and it would be less convenient for folks who had a good distance to travel home.

  After everyone left the party, Emmanuel had his employees gather around, and he told them he’d volunteered them to do an informal survey of the area where the canal would begin a few miles northwest of Beaufort. The team would include Adam, Martin, Jones, and Ed Willis. Cousins Elliot and Joe Salter would stay behind with Boaz to work in the warehouse, since Boaz had promised the Martins he’d make some new barrels for them for salting pork. They would be needed when Cyrus and a couple of other hired hands did their annual hog killing in the coming week.

  “All of you come gather ’round here, and let’s look at the map.” Emmanuel spread out a large piece of parchment on top of a crate.

  “You’ll enter the mouth of Harlowe Creek here.” He pointed to a place on the map. “Then you’ll go north about a mile or so. You won’t be able to travel any further, because see this here?” He pointed to a small line that tapered off. “It will get too shallow. Then it’ll turn into pocosin. That’s where the canal will begin.”

  “How long will it be?” asked Martin.

  “That’s precisely why I’m sending you out there,” said Emmanuel. “Judging by the map, we’re thinking it should require between two and three miles of dredging and tree clearing to allow clear passage from the Neuse to Topsail Inlet, but it may turn out to be more.”

  “But we’re not to be doin any o’ that, right, sir?” asked Ricky Jones. “’Cause it’s filthy work, that.”

  Adam could see that his grandfather’s patience with Jones was growing thin. As if it wasn’t enough for Emmanuel having to deal with Martin’s increasingly reckless behavior, he was now having to hear Jones’s frequent complaining about whatever tasks the crew was assigned.

  “Not this time, Jones,” said Emmanuel. He smiled mischievously. “Not now, anyway. Though I reserve the right to keep you here next time the Gypsy makes a trip so you can be of assistance in the dredging efforts.”

  Jones raised his eyebrows in dismay and looked at Emmanuel in shock. Adam and Martin knew Emmanuel was just joking, so they laughed.

  “Why aren’t any of the other men from the meeting sending anyone out to help us do this?” said Martin. “I mean, we can do it ourselves of course, but I just don’t see why it’s all fallin on you, Emmanuel.”

  “I’m sure some of the others might be willing to send men out, but I’m trying to demonstrate good faith here in the project. I’m the only full-time shipping merchant in town now, and so obviously we stand to benefit from this canal as much as anyone might. Before I ask others to help out, I think it fair that I do my part. Don’t you?”

  Martin and the others nodded in agreement. Emmanuel was exceedingly fair. Some said he sacrificed too much in the name of good business. He’d say doing the right thing always pays off.

  “Why are we going up there now rather than waitin till the weather turn
s a little warmer?” said Martin.

  Emmanuel shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. “It’s up to you, Mr. Smith. You’re welcome to wait until the weather turns, so long as you don’t mind contending with the water moccasins and other creatures waking up from their winter slumber.”

  “Right, mate,” said Jones. “We’ll go straight away then, won’t we?”

  The others all agreed and they decided they would meet back at the warehouse shortly after sunup on Monday morning. Depending on the direction of the wind, it might take anywhere from an hour and a half to several hours to get from the dock at Rogers’s Shipping Company to the mouth of Harlowe Creek. They would take gear to make camp for the night and a Gunter’s chain to measure the expected length of the canal.

  In the meantime Emmanuel gave everyone Saturday off to get ready for Monday, since he didn’t let his men work on Sundays.

  LATER THAT EVENING ADAM RODE Emmanuel’s horse down to the tavern. Ordinarily he’d walk, but it was horribly cold outside, so the sooner he could get there, the better. He was sleepy because of getting up so early that morning to help Boaz cook the pig.

  He didn’t stay at the tavern very long. He had a pint with Valentine and talked to him about the day, then went upstairs to visit with his mother for a bit before returning to the warehouse. He told her how happy he was to see her enjoying herself at the party and that he hoped she would continue to be social whenever she had the opportunity.

  When he finally returned to the warehouse, he made a beeline for his bedroom. Though he felt physically exhausted, he couldn’t help but lay awake thinking about his conversation with Francis Smythe. He’d tried not to give it much thought after it happened, but now, in the solitude of his bed, he couldn’t get away from what had been said. The part about Smythe calling him “baseborn,” insinuating his illegitimacy, didn’t even bother him anymore. He knew without a doubt that was a lie. What bothered him was Smythe’s suggestion that he not pursue a relationship with Laney because he wasn’t good enough for her.