Read Online A Cry at Midnight by Victoria Chancellor - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Victoria Chancellor
Tags: Romance
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now, I suggest you get to your room. My patience is wearing thin."
"I'll go," she said, tipping her chin up to look into his eyes, "but if you send Melody to me, I'm having her sleep inside my room."
His eyes flared with some emotion Randi couldn't determine, then his lips settled into a thin line. "Do what you must, but remember I'll judge your character by your actions. If you wish to be employed at Black Willow Grove, you'd best keep that in mind."
"I will. But I must also remind you that strength of character is one of the traits you'd want for your daughter."
"What I want for my daughter, Miss Galloway, is my concern. Now get to your room before I have
you
sleeping on the floor."
She opened her mouth to argue, but quickly realized further comments would do no good. "Very well, Mr. Durant. I just wanted to express my opinion."
"I'm well aware of your unseemly preference for expressing yourself, Miss Galloway. Now get to your room. I'll expect you downstairs for breakfast. We have other things to discuss."
She turned and ran up the remaining stairs, glad she didn't trip over the long skirts or catch a step with the ill-fitting shoes. With a last glance at the man behind her, she slipped inside and shut the door.
As soon as she was alone, a single candle lighting the darkness, she slumped against the door. Exhausted, disheartened, and unsure of her future, she wanted to be safely back home. She didn't have an easy life; her family had few material possessions and even fewer plans to change their lives. But they had love. They had each other.
In a month, Jackson Durant and his daughter wouldn't even have that . . . except they'd be forever together in death.
She absolutely couldn't begin to care. Losing another baby would be like having her heart ripped out and stomped all over again.
#
From his second floor verandah, Jackson watched the half moon rise through low clouds hurrying southeast, as though they were glad to have given up their moisture and were now free to play. More rain up north meant a rise in the river level, which no one needed. He was worried, even though his neighbors didn't think much of his concerns. When he'd built the levee to it's current level around the bend of the river for his new cotton field, Thomas Crowder had laughed, calling Jackson a fussy maiden aunt.
He'd endure some ribbing from his peers if his actions meant he'd saved his crop. He wasn't about to underestimate the Mississippi, which was both the giver and taker of life.
Years ago, stories told by many men, from experienced boat captains to stevedores, had impressed him. One old man had been on board the early steamboat New Orleans during the earthquake at New Madrid in 1811, which changed the course of the river and destroyed the town. Another claimed that once the Mississippi had been so wide with floodwater, he'd been unable to see the far bank. Jackson didn't know if all the stories were true, but he'd seen enough of the river to believe most of the tales were at least possible.
Chances were the water level would recede once the snowmelt from up north had passed by, but Jackson had been a cautious man too long to ignore any possibility.
Thankfully, Brewster was just also observant and cautious. The overseer had lived alongside the river for thirty years, had built up new levees and shored up old ones, had watched cotton fields flood and seen livestock swept away. Not this year. Black Willow Grove would be safe behind thick, strong walls of earth. His precautions probably weren't necessary, but just in case, Jackson wanted to be prepared.
He wanted to be prepared when it came to Miss Randi Galloway, too, but he had no idea how to anticipate her questions or her answers. She was as unfathomable as the river and nearly as unpredictable. Her only consistency seemed to be the story of traveling to Black Willow Grove for the purpose of taking Miss Delacey's place as Rose's governess. He didn't for a moment believe that Miss
"I'll go," she said, tipping her chin up to look into his eyes, "but if you send Melody to me, I'm having her sleep inside my room."
His eyes flared with some emotion Randi couldn't determine, then his lips settled into a thin line. "Do what you must, but remember I'll judge your character by your actions. If you wish to be employed at Black Willow Grove, you'd best keep that in mind."
"I will. But I must also remind you that strength of character is one of the traits you'd want for your daughter."
"What I want for my daughter, Miss Galloway, is my concern. Now get to your room before I have
you
sleeping on the floor."
She opened her mouth to argue, but quickly realized further comments would do no good. "Very well, Mr. Durant. I just wanted to express my opinion."
"I'm well aware of your unseemly preference for expressing yourself, Miss Galloway. Now get to your room. I'll expect you downstairs for breakfast. We have other things to discuss."
She turned and ran up the remaining stairs, glad she didn't trip over the long skirts or catch a step with the ill-fitting shoes. With a last glance at the man behind her, she slipped inside and shut the door.
As soon as she was alone, a single candle lighting the darkness, she slumped against the door. Exhausted, disheartened, and unsure of her future, she wanted to be safely back home. She didn't have an easy life; her family had few material possessions and even fewer plans to change their lives. But they had love. They had each other.
In a month, Jackson Durant and his daughter wouldn't even have that . . . except they'd be forever together in death.
She absolutely couldn't begin to care. Losing another baby would be like having her heart ripped out and stomped all over again.
#
From his second floor verandah, Jackson watched the half moon rise through low clouds hurrying southeast, as though they were glad to have given up their moisture and were now free to play. More rain up north meant a rise in the river level, which no one needed. He was worried, even though his neighbors didn't think much of his concerns. When he'd built the levee to it's current level around the bend of the river for his new cotton field, Thomas Crowder had laughed, calling Jackson a fussy maiden aunt.
He'd endure some ribbing from his peers if his actions meant he'd saved his crop. He wasn't about to underestimate the Mississippi, which was both the giver and taker of life.
Years ago, stories told by many men, from experienced boat captains to stevedores, had impressed him. One old man had been on board the early steamboat New Orleans during the earthquake at New Madrid in 1811, which changed the course of the river and destroyed the town. Another claimed that once the Mississippi had been so wide with floodwater, he'd been unable to see the far bank. Jackson didn't know if all the stories were true, but he'd seen enough of the river to believe most of the tales were at least possible.
Chances were the water level would recede once the snowmelt from up north had passed by, but Jackson had been a cautious man too long to ignore any possibility.
Thankfully, Brewster was just also observant and cautious. The overseer had lived alongside the river for thirty years, had built up new levees and shored up old ones, had watched cotton fields flood and seen livestock swept away. Not this year. Black Willow Grove would be safe behind thick, strong walls of earth. His precautions probably weren't necessary, but just in case, Jackson wanted to be prepared.
He wanted to be prepared when it came to Miss Randi Galloway, too, but he had no idea how to anticipate her questions or her answers. She was as unfathomable as the river and nearly as unpredictable. Her only consistency seemed to be the story of traveling to Black Willow Grove for the purpose of taking Miss Delacey's place as Rose's governess. He didn't for a moment believe that Miss
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