Wild Sweet Love by Beverly Jenkins
Chapter 5
For the rest of the week, Teresa and Mrs. Nance worked on the sewing room. When they were finally done and had every pin, bobbin, and ribbon in place, they both stood back and admired the now clean and organized space.
“We make a very good team,” Molly declared.
“Yes we do. Are you going to go back into business?”
“Yes, and you’re going to be my first customer.”
“I don’t need any clothes.”
“Teresa, you’re wearing hand-me-downs. Every woman needs new clothes. Skirts, blouses, gowns.”
“Gowns?” Teresa frowned. “Why on earth would I need a gown?”
“For social outings.”
Teresa had no intention of attending any social outings, but Mrs. Nance seemed so entranced by her plan that she didn’t have the heart to argue. Then again, Mrs. Nance had been so wonderful and caring, Teresa knew she would probably don a potato sack and dance a jig in the center of town if the lady asked her to.
So for the next two weeks, Teresa stood for fittings and Mrs. Nance sewed. Using her Singer sewing machine, she ran up enough blouses and skirts to keep Teresa well dressed for the time being. She decided to wait until Teresa’s weight evened out before taking measurements for gowns. She wanted them to fit perfectly when the fall social season began.
They’d not heard from Madison. His mother wasn’t worried about that, but every now and then she’d muse aloud about missing him. Teresa held no such feelings, or at least told herself that she didn’t.
In addition to getting Teresa outfitted, they also began tackling the list of things Mrs. Nance thought she needed to master in order to have a successful rehabilitation and to make her more of a lady. Every morning, Teresa was required to scan the newspaper and read to Mrs. Nance the most interesting item she came across. Before going to jail, the only time Teresa picked up a newspaper was to see if any new bounties had been placed on her head and how much reward money was being offered for her capture.
Reading to Mrs. Nance showed her that there was a lot more going on in the country and around the world than she thought. A man named Eugene Dubois was in Europe showing off an old skull he’d dug up. He’d named the thing Homo erectus but the papers were calling it “the ape man of Java.” Another man, James Edward Keeler, had somehow figured out that the rings around Saturn didn’t rotate together, and a Russian scientist named Konstantin Tsiolkovsky believed that in the future, liquid fuel would be used to send vehicles up to the stars. Teresa shook her head at that.
She was also required to read the slew of Negro newspapers that Mrs. Nance subscribed to in order to keep up with the state of the race and the ongoing national battle between the Radicals and the Conservatives led by the powerful Booker T. Washington. As far as Teresa could tell, Washington was winning hands down. From the Cleveland Gazette to the Washington Bee, he was criticized for his opinions and leadership, but when President Grover Cleveland needed the names of men of color to appoint to jobs, he consulted Washington. White charities that wanted to give to Negro causes funneled their funds into the programs and schools he designated. For now, the nation considered him the chief spokesman for the race, and all the Radicals could do in response was fume.
Learning to sew was harder than learning to walk a train, however. Teresa didn’t have the necessary patience. For the past few days, she’d been practicing sewing seams with little success. Instead of the small, tight, uniform stitches Mrs. Nance had started the seam off with, Teresa’s finishing stitches were oversized, out of line, and loose.
Mrs. Nance was now studying her work silently. Teresa knew it wasn’t very good, but felt the need to defend herself. “What difference does it make if they’re not tiny like yours? The two pieces of fabric stay together.”
Mrs. Nance peered down at her through the sewing spectacles perched low on the bridge of her nose, silently letting Teresa know she wasn’t buying the excuse.
“Suppose going back to prison hinged on you being able to sew a decent seam?”
Teresa’s lips thinned.
Mrs. Nance waited.
Grumbling, Teresa took the fabric from her mentor’s hand and ripped out the stitches. Cursing silently, she picked up the threaded needle and started over. Again.
Thanks to Emma’s cooking, Teresa was starting to flesh her out, and the more she ate, the more Emma prepared. Teresa knew she wouldn’t be restored to her former self overnight, but by the end of those first two weeks, when she looked at herself in the mirror, her reflection was no longer frightening. She’d stopped resembling a fledgling now that her thick black hair was growing out, and her ebony skin was beginning to reclaim its luster.
At breakfast that morning, Mrs. Nance said to her, “My friend Rebecca has a horse farm. Would you like to go riding? I know you must miss it.”
Teresa’s smile lit up the room. “How soon can we leave?”
“Whenever you’re ready.”
An hour later they were on their way. Mrs. Nance was behind the reins of the buggy, and they were soon traveling down a quiet country road.
Teresa relished being out of doors. “I’m still getting used to how green everything here in the East is. Back home it’s all browns and reds.”
“Is it beautiful?”
“Oh yes, ma’am, but it’s a different beauty than here.”
“How so?”
“The beauty here is lush. Back home it’s stark, almost harsh, but it’s beauty just the same.”
“I’d like to visit the West someday.”
“I’d get a kick out of showing you around. Ever seen a desert?”
“No.”
“In the spring when the cactus blooms, it’s enough to take your breath away.”
“Then I shall be sure to see the desert when I come.”
The horse farm of Miller and Rebecca Constantine had been in their family for over a hundred years, and was situated on five hundred acres about an hour’s drive outside of the city.
“Rebecca and I have been friends since childhood,” Mrs. Nance told her. “She’s smart, opinionated, and very eccentric, and I love her like a sister.”
“Never had a friend like that.”
“Good friends can help you through the rough patches of life, and Rebecca has always been there to offer a hand when I needed one.”
They were entering the fenced-in property and when Teresa caught her first glimpse of some of the Constantines’ fine-looking stock, she found it hard to contain her excitement. There were comely mares, proud stallions, and knobby kneed foals. The sight was so moving, tears stung her eyes. She discreetly dashed them away.
“She and Miller breed racehorses for the wealthy planters in Kentucky,” Mrs. Nance was saying. “Some of the richest men in the country buy from the Constantine farms.”
Off to her right, Teresa saw a young man on a long striding stallion that reminded her of Cloud. Watching the horse and rider eat up the ground before disappearing from sight made her hands itch to hold a pair of reins. She prayed the Constantines had a suitable mount.
The woman who stepped off the wide porch of the large white house to greet their arrival had enough paint on her face to be a circus clown. Unlike Mrs. Nance, who wore her graying hair pulled back into a fashionable knot that rested demurely on her neck, the woman now waiting for them to get out of the buggy had on a red wig that matched the rouge on her cheeks.
Mrs. Nance made the introductions. “Rebecca Constantine…Teresa July.”
Rebecca threw open her arms and gave Teresa a big hug. “Welcome, my dear. You’ve no idea how long I’ve wanted to meet you. I’ve followed your adventures in the paper religiously. Here in the East we can’t get enough of the Wild West.”
Teresa had been so busy taking in the woman’s makeup, she’d failed to see the leather trousers Rebecca was wearing. Unlike the black pairs Teresa had worn back home, Mrs. Constantine’s were brown. Teresa liked her immediately.
Noting Teresa’s scrutiny, Rebecca asked, “Do they look authentic?”
“Yes, ma’am, they sure do.”
She clapped her hands with glee. “Oh, wonderful. I was hoping they were at least close to the genuine article.”
“Right on the money.”
Rebecca grinned. “Come inside, you two. Molly, thanks for bringing her out. What a great way to start my day.”
Sharing a smiling, they followed Rebecca inside.
Once they were settled into the parlor, Rebecca brought in some refreshments, and while they drank punch and ate little cakes, Rebecca asked Teresa, “Is Molly treating you well?”
“Yes ma’am. Just like kin.”
“Good. Molly is known for her generous hospitality.”
“Why thank you, Becky,” Molly said, then asked, “Where’s Miller?”
“He went up to the convention in Boston.”
“So did Madison. Ida Wells Barnett is supposed to be speaking. She’s doing us ladies proud with her fiery attacks on the lynchings.”
“That she is. I was so impressed when she spoke here last year. What a crowd she drew.”
Teresa asked, “Who is she?”
“One of the most progressive women journalists in the country,” Molly informed her, “and she’s a woman of color.”
Rebecca added, “So progressive the bigots in her home town of Memphis burned her out and she was forced to flee. A few years before that she sued one of the transportation companies there for their Jim Crow practices, and won.”
“Then lost after the company appealed, of course, but she’s a true crusader.”
“Sounds like my kind of woman,” Teresa said approvingly.
“Ours as well.”
As the women continued to talk about Ida Wells, Teresa discreetly scanned the windows for a glimpse of more horses.
Noticing, Mrs. Nance apologized, “Teresa dear, I’m sorry. You didn’t come with me to listen to two old hens talk politics. Rebecca, she needs a horse so she can go riding.”
Rebecca brightened. “Well, Molly, why didn’t you say so? Come, Miss July, I have the perfect mount.”
And the stallion Hannibal was perfect, Teresa thought as the two of them thundered across the countryside. According to Mrs. Constantine, Hannibal had won many races down in Kentucky, but now that those years were behind him, he was back with the Constantines as a stud. Teresa was in heaven atop the powerful animal. Rebecca had sent one of the young grooms along to make sure she didn’t get thrown or lost, but Teresa didn’t need a duenna. She was certain the stallion would know his way back to the barn when it came time to return home, so she urged to Hannibal to show her his stuff and they soon left the groom behind.
She rode and rode and rode. Tired of cursing her skirt, she rolled up the hem until the yards of fabric were around her waist and tucked it into the waistband. Her legs encased in black cotton stockings were now free and she was able to ride the way she preferred.
The horse seemed to be enjoying the adventure as much as Teresa. She knew horses well enough to sense how much Hannibal loved to run, so she let him have his head. Since he knew the terrain better than she, all she had to do was lean low and let him carry her where he wanted, and when she saw where they were headed, she yelled with joy. The land ahead was flat as the Kansas plains for as far as she could see. The evenness of the terrain meant Hannibal could go all out, and when she felt his powerful muscles bulge against her knees, she knew that’s what he was about to do.
Teresa was ecstatic. This was the closest she’d come to riding since she and Cloud were brought down by the posse back in Arizona. All she could hear was Hannibal’s thundering hooves and her own breathing.
It crossed her mind that while she was out here riding, she could turn the animal west and head home. It would be hours before anyone guessed what had happened. The old Teresa wouldn’t have thought twice about it. She’d have stolen this fine animal from Mrs. Constantine and thumbed her nose at Mrs. Nance’s many kindnesses because the ends would have justified the means; home was the only place she wanted to be, and she knew instinctively that this beautiful horse could get her there. But she was a different Teresa now, and the idea of sneaking off and breaking Mrs. Nance’s heart in the process didn’t sit well. Not to mention the crow Molly would have to eat when her son found out. Teresa refused to give him the satisfaction of telling his mother, “I told you so!” Vestiges of the nineteen-year-old hothead she used to be were alive and well, but they’d been tempered by the maturity forced upon her by incarceration, so she shook off thoughts of escaping home and enjoyed the ground-shaking ride.
“We’ll I’ll be. Would you look at that!”
Driving the buggy, Madison turned his head in the direction Miller Constantine was pointing and saw a rider bent low over a fast moving horse.
“Why, that’s Hannibal,” Miller exclaimed. “Who’s that riding him? Doesn’t look like one of my grooms.”
Madison could see the horse and rider heading toward the road the buggy was on and traveling at a tremendous pace.
“What’s he wearing on his legs?” A confused Miller turned to Madison as if seeking an answer.
“I’ve no idea.”
As the horse and rider approached, the men were unable to take their eyes off the pair.
“Whoever he is, he’s riding like a bat out of hell,” Miller added in a voice laced with admiration and excitement. “Look at that form.”
By now the horse was on the road, only a few yards behind the buggy and closing fast. Madison had to admit the rider and horse did appear to be fused. As the rider’s features became clearer, his jaw dropped. Teresa July!
“Why, it’s a girl!” Miller gasped.
Sure enough, as the horse drew closer, Madison got a good look at the rider’s face and it was all the verification he needed. Why in the hell is she riding around with her legs bared that way?
As she and the horse hurdled by, her face was such a study of gleeful concentration, Madison couldn’t tell for certain if she even saw him or not. He, however, had no difficulty spying the shapely legs encased in the dark stockings, and the startling sight of her comely behind moving up and down as the horse headed away from the buggy and up the road.
“Let’s go, Madison! I want to find out who she is!” Miller urged.
The tight-jawed Madison already knew her identity, so he slapped down the reins and got the buggy moving again.
Teresa righted her clothing when she got within sight of the house, and after dismounting and giving the spirited stallion a grateful hug, she turned the reins over to the waiting groom, then joined the smiling Rebecca and Molly on the porch.
“How was it?” Molly asked.
An ecstatic Teresa sat down on the lip of the porch and stretched out flat on her back. “Wonderful. Miss Rebecca, I believe I’m in love with Hannibal.”
“You’ll have to fight the mares for him, dear.”
Teresa chuckled. “What a prized animal. I see why he won all those races. He can fly like the wind.”
Molly said, “We were concerned when the groom returned alone.”
“He was slowing us down. Hannibal and I didn’t need hand holding.”
Then Teresa met Molly’s eyes and confessed, “I have to admit that once we took off, I did play with the idea of stealing Hannibal and heading home, but I didn’t want to disappoint you. Not after all you’ve done for me.”
Molly and Rebecca shared a look.
Teresa added, “Thought about you having to eat crow for your son too. Didn’t want that to happen either.”
Molly’s feelings were in her eyes. “I appreciate that, Teresa. He’d never let me live that down.”
“I know.”
When a buggy pulled up in front of the house, Teresa sat up, and Rebecca said, “Speak of the devil. Here comes Madison and Miller now.” She hurried off the porch to greet her husband, while Madison pulled Miller’s luggage out of the back of the buggy.
Teresa suddenly remembered the buggy she and Hannibal passed back on the road. She’d been too busy enjoying herself to pay any attention to the occupants. Had it been them? Had Madison seen how unladylike she’d been riding? It was a pretty safe bet he had if he’d been in that particular buggy. It was also a safe bet that he hadn’t approved.
Miller stepped up on the porch and greeted Molly with a smile before asking his wife, “Who was the girl riding Hannibal?”
Rebecca gestured to the now standing Teresa. “Miller meet Teresa.”
“That was you?”
“Yes, sir.”
The silent Madison was taken aback by the startling change in her physical appearance. She was downright beautiful.
Miller went on, “You were riding so well, thought you were a man with some kind of black stuff on your legs.”
Molly’s forehead creased with confusion. “Black stuff?”
Madison, studying Teresa with his arms folded, drawled, “Yes, Mother. Your charge was riding across the countryside with her skirt hiked up and her legs out.”
Molly swung surprised eyes Teresa’s way.
“Tattletale,” Teresa groused. “You ever tried riding a horse in a skirt?”
“No, but well brought up ladies do it all the time.”
“Since I am neither, why should I care?”
“Next time you’re riding like a hellion,” Madison countered, “try thinking about Mother’s reputation, since you obviously don’t care about your own.”
“And you might think about minding your own damn business.”
Mrs. Nance tried to nip the escalating battle in the bud. “Children. We’re guests. You can fight when we get home. What happened to the truce?”
Teresa grumbled under her breath, “Tinhorn.”
“I heard that.”
“Good. Tinhorn!”
“Call me that again and I’ll paddle your behind.”
“Touch me and you’ll wake up in the middle of next week. Tinhorn!”
He advanced, and before Teresa could react, he snatched her up against his chest, looked down into her furious eyes, and kissed her. Really kissed her. And he did it so well and so deliciously she forgot to sock him and melted right there on the spot.
When he turned her loose, her insides felt like butter.
“Now, I’m going home,” he stated firmly. Nodding terse good-byes to his startled mother and her friend, Madison strode to his buggy, set the horse in motion and drove away. Only when he’d driven off did he smile. That ought to give her something to think about.
The still stunned Teresa watched him depart. Her lips were still stinging from his forceful kiss, but not in a bad way. She turned startled eyes to Mrs. Nance. “He kissed me!”
“Yes, he did, dear.”
The irrepressible Rebecca asked, “Was it a good one?”
“Yeah!” But upon hearing herself, Teresa declared, “No!”
Mrs. Nance’s soft chuckling didn’t help matters.
Teresa seethed. “Next time I see him I’m going to kick his tail from here to Tucson!”
Miller was staring. “Do you have a last name, young woman?”
“Yes, sir. July. Name’s Teresa July.”
His eyes went even wider. “Teresa July! The outlaw?”
Teresa tore her eyes away from Madison’s disappearing buggy. “Yes, sir.”
“My lord. Molly, did you know that?”
“Yes, Miller. She’s staying with me for the next year.”
He looked as stunned as Teresa had after Madison’s bold kiss. “No wonder you were riding Hannibal that way. Well, welcome to my farm!” And he stuck out his hand.
Teresa shook it. “Thanks, sir. Do you mind if I come out and ride once in a while?”
“Of course not. Come every day, if you care to. Do you know how famous you are?”
Rebecca took her husband by the arm. “Come on inside, Miller, before you forget you’re married to me and propose to the girl.”
Molly laughed. “We should get going. Are you ready, Teresa?”
She nodded.
“Becky, Teresa and I will be back in a few days.”
“We’ll be here. And Hannibal will be too, Teresa.”
“Thanks, ma’am. Nice meeting you and your husband. Thanks for letting me ride.”
“You’re most welcome.”
Teresa didn’t have much to say on the ride back to Molly’s, she was too busy fuming. Although she was doing her best to fight it, she kept recalling the heat and vividness of his kiss. She didn’t even like Madison Nance, yet the power of his embrace had shaken her from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. She’d be the first to admit that she hadn’t done a lot of kissing in her life, but none had ever seared her like his. The memory of its sweetness started her heart pounding all over again. She was counting on her bad mood to shoot it down, but it wasn’t working.
“Are you all right, dear?” Molly asked.
“No.”
“Still mad at Madison?”
“Yes.”
“If it’s any consolation, he looked as surprised as you.”
“Tinhorn.”
“Considering the results, you might want to refrain from calling him that.”
Teresa muttered unladylike beneath her breath.
“I don’t understand it. Madison has always prided himself on his mental control.”
“Well, I don’t, and I never have.”
“That’s evident,” Molly pointed out with mild reproach.
Teresa sighed. She supposed she had let the hothead parts of herself take over. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you in front of the Constantines. I’ll apologize next time I see them.”
“That’s acceptable. I’m sure Becky didn’t care. She was probably as stunned as I by Madison’s actions. It was interesting, I must admit.”
Teresa began grumbling again, but had nothing more to say.
Madison let himself into his home and dropped his luggage at the door. First things first, he walked over to his finely made liquor cabinet, withdrew a bottle of aged scotch, and splashed some into a glass. Draining it, he poured another, then sat down and slowly swirled the contents of the glass in his hand.
Kissing Teresa July had not been planned, but at the time it was either throttle her or kiss her, so he chose the latter, because he’d never laid on a woman fueled by violence. Admittedly, he’d been in a bad mood when he arrived at the Constantines’.
The convention had been a disaster. The arguing and heckling that preceded and followed each of the speakers became maddening, and then to be told by the train conductor that the only car available for the trip back to Philadelphia for men and women of color was the cattle car had left him infuriated. He and Miller Constantine had opted to rent a buggy and split the cost. The trip took much longer than it would have by train, but they’d arrived home with their dignity intact, and just in time to see Teresa ride by dressed in her stockings.
He took a sip of the scotch. She needed to be fenced in. The kiss had stopped her in her tracks, though; something that probably didn’t happen often, he thought with a glint of humor in his eyes. He was willing to bet she was still fuming. The feel of her in his arms, the sweet taste of her mouth, were as memorable as the image of her leaning low over Hannibal’s back with her lovely bottom moving rhythmically with the animal’s gait. Had he found the answer to taming Miss Wild West? Maybe. He had to admit it was a novel approach, one he might want to try again should the situation warrant it, because truthfully, he’d enjoyed kissing her. He couldn’t place the blame for his bad mood on that. More likely, the combination of her sassy mouth and surprising beauty were what sent him over the edge.
Madison drained the scotch, grabbed up his luggage and went upstairs to get some sleep. Guaranteed, there were bound to be fireworks when he saw Little Miss Outlaw again, but he was certain she wouldn’t call him a tinhorn again unless she wanted to be kissed.
The next morning, Teresa came down to breakfast in a sour mood. She’d dreamt about Madison that night, and he’d been kissing her, again.
Molly glanced up from her newspaper. “You don’t look like you slept well.”
“I didn’t, but I’ll be fine.” She helped herself to the bacon, oatmeal, toast, and eggs.
An amazed Molly asked, “Where do you put it all?”
Teresa shrugged. “I’ve been around men most of my life. Guess I eat like them too.”
Amusement on her face, Molly set the paper aside and picked up her coffee cup. “I’ll be doing charity visits most of the day. Do you want to come along?”
“I suppose I could.” She would have preferred another visit to the Constantines’ and a ride on Hannibal, though.
Apparently, the desire showed on her face, because Molly said, “First thing tomorrow, we’ll ride out to Becky’s so you can take Hannibal out again. Would that be all right?”
Teresa’s smile told all.
In the dream, she had been wearing a fancy black gown. Madison had on an equally fancy evening suit. They were standing in what appeared to be Mrs. Nance’s gazebo. It was dark, and they were kissing each other like there’d be no tomorrow.
“Teresa? Did you hear me?”
She shook herself back into the present. “I’m sorry. Daydreaming. What did you say?”
But before Mrs. Nance could reply, Emma walked in. “Mr. Weathers sent a note around saying he can’t cut the wood today either.”
Mrs. Nance sighed with frustration. “That man. Why do I put up with him?”
“Who’s Mr. Weathers?” Teresa asked.
“The man I hired six weeks ago to chop some wood.”
“Where is it?”
“Behind the shed in the back.”
“I’ll chop it. How much is there?” She stood. The idea of being able to do something physical to work off her irritation with Madison made Teresa eager to volunteer.
“Quite a bit, actually. Which is probably why Mr. Weathers keeps sending notes of apology.”
“Can I see it?”
“Certainly.”
Behind the shed there was enough wood to keep Teresa busy for days to come. “Where do you want me to put it when it’s chopped?” she asked.
Mrs. Nance gave her instructions, then told her where to find the axe. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Mrs. Nance, if I don’t do something to work off all this energy, I’m going to burst. So please, you and Emma go on about your day, and this will be my chore until it’s finished.”
The women nodded, and Teresa went to change her clothes.
Madison could hear the axe ringing as soon as he stopped his buggy in front of his mother’s house. Glad that Weathers had finally shown up to do what he’d been hired to do, he went around the back to speak to the man, and to see how the work was progressing. Seeing Teresa swinging the axe instead slowed his steps. She brought the blade down precisely and expertly. Her familiarity with the chore was apparent, and when she looked up and saw him, she paused.
“’Morning,” he said, continuing toward her.
“You’re pretty brave walking over here while I have this in my hand.” She raised the axe again and brought it down with a powerful swing.
“Then I’ll stand out of range.”
“Smart man.” And she split another log.
“Where’s Mr. Weathers?” Her beauty had not been a figment of his imagination yesterday. Her hair was growing out thick and black, and there were no mistaking the lush curves beneath the old clothes she was wearing.
“He sent his apologies.” She freed the blade from the wood. “I volunteered to take his place.”
Teresa wiped the sweat off of her brow with the rolled-up sleeve of her blouse and studied Nance. She’d always been a vivid dreamer, and the one last night had left her not only with the memory of the kiss, but with the spicy scent of his cologne. This morning, he looked fine as always. She wondered why he hadn’t married. She raised the axe. “Why haven’t you married?” she asked, and lowered the axe. It rang out against the silence.
Accustomed to her blunt and sometimes nosy questions he replied easily, “Haven’t found a lady to my liking.”
“Then there’s your problem—you’re looking for a lady.” Her axe sank into another large log, then she worked the blade free. “Back home, men don’t go for ladies like the ones I’ve seen here. They want women who can ride and rope and shoot.”
“Women like you?”
“Oh, hell no. I’m never getting married.”
“Why not?”
“Getting married means falling in love, and falling in love makes you loco.”
He chuckled. “What?”
“My brother Neil fell in love, then turned himself into the law. Nothing I could say would change his mind. Shafts and I even offered to help him escape before his trial, but he wouldn’t hear it. Damnedest thing I ever saw.”
“So, no falling in love for you?”
“Nope. Never.”
She began chopping again. Watching, Madison found her so fascinating, he couldn’t have moved if he’d wanted to. “So you think I should look for a wife on the other side of the Mississippi.”
She shrugged, then brought the axe down. “Depends. If you want a woman who can’t drink lemonade because it rubs her skin the wrong way, then look around here.”
“Rubs their skin the wrong way?”
“Paula Wade said she didn’t want a lot of lemonade because sweet drinks disagreed with her skin.”
“You met Paula? When was this?”
“Few weeks back. She and her aunt came around to visit your mother.”
His mother hadn’t said anything about a visit. “What did they want?”
“Paula wanted to apologize to you for something that happened at a party?”
He nodded. “Her birthday party.”
“Your mother said she’d pass the apology on, but Paula said she wanted to do it face-to-face. She left mad.”
He shook his head. “Glad I missed her.”
“She didn’t make a real good first impression. Talked to me like Emancipation had never happened and her daddy was the master.”
Madison knew that both of Paula’s parents were former slaves, but in spite of that, she persisted in looking down her nose at those she considered herself better than. It was yet another reason he didn’t care for the Carters’ niece. “So, should I apologize for my actions of yesterday now, or would you rather just take the axe to me?”
Earlier, Teresa had wanted his head on a platter, but sharing this easy conversation had done much to cool her temper. That and the fact that she could still feel his mouth on hers. “An apology will do.”
“My deepest apologies, then. No idea what came over me. Tired from all the traveling, I suppose.”
“Probably,” Teresa said, again feeling the dream rise but quickly shaking it off. “Just don’t let it happen again.”
“Don’t worry.”
She wasn’t sure she liked his tone. “You hated kissing me that much?”
He studied her for a long moment. “Truthfully, no. Found it rather nice.”
She wasn’t sure how to take his response or the amused glint in his brown eyes, so she looked away.
Madison had decided to answer her question truthfully. The memory of the brief kiss was a pleasing one. Even now he found himself staring at her full, ripe mouth. Recalling her seconds-long surrender was stirring. “Why’d you ask?”
“Just curious.”
In the silence that crept up between them, Teresa’s dream rose again, and in her mind’s eye his lips were slowly burning kisses over the curve of her shoulder. Her head was thrown back, her eyes closed. Moving back into reality, she found him watching her, and her heart began beating like a war drum. Speaking more calmly than she felt, she told him, “I should get back to work.”
“Of course.”
But he didn’t move, and neither did she.
For a moment they took each other in, and the air between them crackled like the onset of a summer storm. Finally, she resumed her chopping. When she next looked up, Madison was gone.
He had gone into the house to talk to his mother.
“Shouldn’t you be at the bank?” she asked.
“Thought I’d stop by and see you on my way.”
She didn’t look as if she believed a word. “Have you seen Teresa?”
“Yes, saw her chopping wood out back.”
“She’s not real happy about that kiss.”
“I apologized.”
“Good. Madison, you are my son and I love you, but I also know how you are with the ladies. Teresa is not here to become another notch on your bedpost. If your intentions are honorable, that’s another thing.”
“Understood,” he replied, not sure how he felt about his mother’s warning. After all, he was a grown man, and Teresa a grown woman.
Molly looked skeptical but didn’t add anything else on the matter. Instead she said, “I’m on my way to the church. Since you’re here, can you drop me there on your way to the bank? I’ll take the streetcar back.”
“I’d love to.”