The Surrogate Wife. Barbara Leigh

of the fire for Josh.

      The days were growing short, and Meagan reminded herself of that fact as she got Abbie ready for bed. Once the child was settled, Meagan sat on the dogtrot in the warm summer night and watched the shadows chase the moonlight across the yard.

      A twig snapped somewhere in the distance. Instantly alert, Meagan watched for Josh’s familiar figure to come through the trees.

      The smile on her face froze, and the greeting in her throat was silenced when she realized the figure that emerged from the woods was not Josh Daniels, but an Indian.

      She jumped to her feet and was about to run into the house when a familiar voice called out, “Meagan? Meagan? Is that you?”

      In the next moment she was across the yard, hurling herself into the arms of her younger brother.

      “What in the devil are you doing way out here?” he asked as he tried to embrace her and get a look at her at the same time.

      “Oh, Reilly, how I’ve hoped you’d find me.” The tears ran down her cheeks and she was on the verge of blubbering.

      He jerked the scarf from around his head and wiped her cheeks, then he thrust it in her hand. “Blow your nose and tell me what happened.”

      Meagan did as she was told. “How much do you know?” she asked.

      “I heard that a white woman was found guilty of murder and made a slave of the man whose wife she supposedly killed. I never thought it might be you.” He hesitated and looked through the moonlight into her eyes. “It is you, isn’t it, Meagan?”

      “Yes, it’s me.” She sighed.

      “Tell me—” he ordered “—all of it.”

      “After you left I heard of a possible position with the Somers family. The woman said if I pleased her she would hire me to teach her children and help with the housework. I was carrying some supplies to her kitchen when I heard a scream and a thumping sound. I ran into the parlor and found a lady lying at the foot of the stairs. As I bent over the body to try to help the woman, Ruth Somers started screaming that I’d killed her friend. She said I had pushed her down the stairs. Reilly, I’d never even been upstairs, but it was Ruth Somers’s word against mine and no one believed me.

      “The jury found me guilty, but asked for mercy because there was no evidence, and no motive. Just Ruth’s testimony that I’d pushed Lily Daniels down the stairs.”

      There was a moment of silence, then Reilly urged, “And…”

      “There is no prison for women in the Carolinas, and rather than—” she swallowed once before forcing out the word “—hang me, the judge sentenced me to work for Josh Daniels, the dead woman’s husband.”

      “And…” Reilly prompted.

      “I tried to get away. To find you, somehow. Josh caught me and brought me here. I think he would have let me go had it not been for the threats of the judge.”

      “So you live with him and take his wife’s place, is that it?” The anger built in Reilly’s voice.

      “I take care of Abbie, Josh’s little girl, and I help with the chores and the housework.” She swallowed again, realizing the core of her brother’s concern. “I don’t share Josh’s bed,” she finished weakly.

      “Of your choice, or his?” Reilly persisted. The whole situation regarding his sister was so bizarre he couldn’t believe it had happened.

      “Judge Osborne said that if I did anything more than work for Josh the original sentence would be carried out. I would hang and Josh would be jailed for contempt of court.”

      Meagan watched as her brother’s already swarthy face grew dark with anger. “I’m beginning to understand why the Indians delight in taking the scalps of white men,” he growled. “Where is this bereaved widower now? Why isn’t he here protecting his property?”

      “Josh went hunting. He should be coming back any time now.”

      Reilly’s eyes scanned the shadows. “Get your things, Meagan. Come with me, now.”

      “I can’t leave Abbie here alone. She’s just a little girl.”

      Reilly grabbed his sister’s arms, squeezing them firmly as he gave her a little shake. “Listen to me, Meagan. I’m on my way to a powwow. Old Howling Dog wants the white man out of these mountains. Many of the Indians are joining him. There’s going to be trouble come spring. If you won’t go with me now, be ready to leave when I come back through here or it won’t matter what the judge said. When Old Howling Dog goes on the warpath, no one is going to be spared.”

      “But shouldn’t you tell someone, Reilly? Think of all the people who will be killed.”

      “I can’t tell what I don’t know. The white man doesn’t believe half-breeds. I must have proof. That’s why I’m going. If you can hold your jailer at bay until I get back I’ll take you to my mother’s people. They live at peace with the white man. You would be made welcome there until we can find some way to prove your innocence, or change the judge’s mind.” Reilly touched the hilt of his knife as he made his statement concerning the judge’s mind and Meagan gave a little gasp.

      Reilly had a ruthless streak in him that their father had spent his life trying to eradicate. It seemed the old man hadn’t been successful.

      “You don’t understand,” Meagan told him. “If I leave here they will hunt me down like an animal. They’ll hang me, and most likely you too, if you help me escape.”

      “You don’t understand, sister,” Reilly said with a twinkle in his eye. “I don’t intend to be caught.”

      “But…”

      “No ‘buts,’” he said. “Be ready to leave when I return. There won’t be much time. If for some reason the attacks start before I can reach you, go to the fort. I will find you. I will not allow my sister to live out her life as a white man’s slave.”

      “Reilly, I can’t leave Abbie. She’s not like other children. She needs…”

      She got no further, for Abbie’s sleepy voice called out, “Meagan? Who are you talking to? Is that my papa?” Abbie wandered toward the door. Her bonnet had slipped from her head and hung down her back and her ears stood out like small white saucers on either side of her face.