Daughters of the Summer Storm by Frances Statham (best sci fi novels of all time .TXT) 📗

relieved voice, turning from Maranta to take up the blue and white ball that rested on the gazebo floor.

While Robbie kicked it down the path toward the house, Maranta remained seated, trying to decide what to do with the information her brother had imparted to her. What if the note had been from Shaun? Would it make any difference now that Marigold was already married to Crane?

Almost as if she saw Marigold standing before her in silent supplication, Maranta knew what she must do. Find out the truth from Shaun Banagher. But after that, what?

Maranta walked toward the carriage house to give instructions to the groom and then went in search of Feena. Even though her father had left for Taborville immediately after the wedding, Maranta would not risk his wrath by going out unchaperoned.

She found the black woman in the hall outside the nursery, but when confronted by Maranta's request to come with her, Feena shook her head.

"No," the woman stated emphatically. "Shaun Banagher spells trouble where your papa is concerned. Better for you not to get anywhere near the man. And besides, I'm busy." She continued folding the white squares of linen for the baby Raven.

"You will not go with me?"

"Not while your maman is out," Feena answered.

"Then I. . . I will have to go by myself." Maranta turned from the woman and began walking toward the stairs.

"Now, Miss Maranta, lamb," the woman said, putting down the folded squares and following her down the stairs, "you can't go by yourself. You know the trouble you and Miss Marigold got into last time."

Maranta paid no attention to the woman but opened the door and hurried toward the small landau that was waiting in the street in front of the house. She climbed into it with Feena directly behind her, grumbling all the time at the girl's waywardness.

"I always thought Miss Marigold was the headstrong one. Now you're acting just like her."

"I have to do it, Feena—for Marigold. You understand, don't you? Because of the note. . ."

"I understand we're both going to get into a peck of trouble. And what if you're right? Miss Marigold is already married, and nothing's going to change that."

The landau creaked as Feena settled herself beside Maranta, with the hastily snatched parasol opened to protect them from the sun.

Feena's French accent had diminished little over the years, even though her speech had taken on some of the subtleties of the low country. Maranta looked at the light-skinned woman who had traveled from New Orleans with Grandmère and Maman many years before to the Carolina plantation. Even though Feena's words might be true, Maranta could not back down now. She guided the pony toward the station house, while Feena mumbled her discontent.

"He's going to skin us both when he gets back from Taborville. And looking exactly like Miss Eulalie did when she was young isn't going to help you a bit with Monsieur Robert."

Maranta continued to her destination on Line Street. When the landau stopped, Feena got out with Maranta. She walked into the rail station a few paces behind her, and then out again, for Shaun Banagher was not at the station. So Maranta climbed back into the landau, crossed the tracks, and slowed the carriage, her eyes searching for Shaun Banagher's abode. Maranta came to a stop in front of one of the shanty cars.

With Feena beside her, Maranta knocked at the door and waited, but there was no answer from within.

"I don't like this a bit," Feena whispered. "If the man is ill, as the stationmaster said, then you have no business going inside. No telling what he has."

"If you're afraid, you can remain outside," Maranta suggested.

"Oh, no. You're not getting out of my sight," Feena declared. "I'm sticking closer to you than molasses in a finger-poked biscuit."

Maranta knocked again, this time a little louder. "Chad?" a man's voice called out weakly, and at the sound, Maranta pushed open the door.

"It's. . . it's Maranta Tabor, Marigold's sister," she said, standing at the threshold. "May I c-come in, Mr. Banagher?"

"Maranta?"

The girl moved into the darkened shanty car, and Feena followed.

It took a moment for Maranta's eyes to become adjusted to the darkness. And then she saw him, lying on a cot in the corner of the small room. A fetid air pervaded the closed space—the stench of the sick room.

The man, staring at the two women who had invaded his quarters, attempted to raise himself. At his sudden movement, a red stain appeared on the linen wrapped around his chest and began to spread rapidly.

"Mon Dieu," Feena said, taking one look at Shaun Banagher. "The man is bleeding."

Feena, with a protective motion, waved Maranta back and headed toward the figure on the cot. With a swiftness that denied her age, the woman was beside the cot and lowering the man's head to the pillow.

"Do not move," she ordered. "You will make the bleeding worse."

Pieces of stained linen were heaped high upon the chair beside the cot. As Feena searched for fresh linen, Maranta spied some beside the window. Not heeding the woman's order to stay back, Maranta moved forward, handing the fresh strips to Feena.

In horror, she stared at the injured man. When had it happened—this accident? Was this why Shaun had not come that night, as he had evidently promised Marigold?

Shaun, oblivious to Feena's ministrations, gazed anxiously up into Maranta's startled face, his green eyes glazed with fever.

"The message—Marigold—she. . . understands?" the man inquired.

Maranta tried to keep her voice from quivering. "The message," she repeated. "We. . . we will talk about it later. When you are stronger."

So now she knew what the note must have contained. Marigold had not been abandoned by Shaun. But Crane Caldwell, taking advantage of the situation, had deliberately convinced Marigold otherwise. And Shaun Banagher, hanging on so desperately to life, was too weak to be told of the deception.

Maranta, belatedly reacting to the sick room and the sight of the bloodstained linen, felt