The Bride Price by Tracey Jane Jackson

day, having already finished her
novel, so she snuck back to the library for another look and then
made her way to her room.
    Once
inside , Sophie tried her best to concentrate on her pages
swimming before her, but she had miscalculated exactly how much
light a candle actually gave off. Not quite enough to
read—actually, not quite enough to do anything other than avoid
tripping over one’s own feet. After about thirty minutes, she gave
up.
    Blowing out the candle, Sophie climbed into
bed and stared at the ceiling for what seemed like an eternity.
     

CHAPTER NINE
     
    The soldier had been closed away in the south
guestroom for four days and Amelia thought her head would explode
with curiosity. Her mother watched her like a hawk and she hadn’t
had the chance to sneak away.
    Today would be the day. Her mother was going
into town to do some shopping, and Amelia planned to feign a
headache and a cough. She stood by the fire and made certain she
was close enough for the heat to form sweat on her brow, just in
case her mother needed further convincing. She heard the knock at
her door and buried herself further under her quilt. She started to
cough, quite convincingly if she did say so herself, just as the
door opened.
    “Amelia?”
    Cough, cough.
    “Dear? Are you coming to town?”
    Cough, sniffle, cough. “Mama, I don’t feel
well,” Amelia rasped.
    Her mother hemmed quietly and made her way to
the bed. Amelia felt the cool hand on her forehead. “Dear, you’re
burning up.”
    Cough.
    Mrs. Powell sighed. “I don’t think you should
come with me today. I’ll let Della know she needs to tend to you as
well.”
    Sniff.
    “You’ll stay in this bed, Amelia.”
    “Yes, Mama,” she rasped.
    Mrs. Powell stared down at her for several
seconds before turning and walking out the door with a swish.
Amelia waited for as long as she could before throwing the covers
off. She eased out of bed and tiptoed to the window. Her mother’s
carriage was already halfway down the road and would be out the
front gates within minutes. She was safe.
    A knock at the door had her flying back under
the covers just as Della came in with a tray. “You’s mama said
you’s sick, Miss Amelia.”
    Amelia poked her head out from under the
sheet to see the raised eyebrow of a woman not at all convinced she
was telling the truth. Amelia giggled and jumped out of bed. “I
never can fool you, can I, Della?”
    Della set the tray on the bureau. “What you
up to, chil’?”
    “I want to see the soldier and Mama won’t let
me.”
    Della crossed her arms over her thick chest.
“I don’ blame her.”
    “Did you find out anything else? What’s his
name, Della? Where’s his unit?” Amelia pulled off her nightgown.
“Oh, and did the doctor get the bullet out?”
    “Your daddy said he’s a lieutenant ‛cause of
the bars on his jacket, but the man only remembers that his name is
James Emerson.” Della picked up Amelia’s discarded nightgown. “He
don’t know where he from or nothin’ else about his life. He’s
healin’ jus’ fine. He don’t talk much, but he’s polite when he
does.”
    Amelia clapped her hands. “So, he’s a
mystery.”
    “Yes’m.”
    “Please help me dress, Della. I want to see
him.” Amelia started to pull clothing from her drawers and then
paused with a sigh. “He’s so handsome.”
    Della gathered hoops and skirts for Amelia
and turned to face her. Amelia slipped her corset on and Della
pulled the ties. “Now, Miss Amelia, don’t you go doin’ nothin’
reckless. That man’s far too old for you. He’s got a ring on, so’s
he mus’ be married.”
    Amelia wrinkled her nose. “Oh. Well, I don’t
mind, Della. I can still look at him.”
    “Miss Amelia!”
    Amelia giggled. “Perhaps he’d like me to read
to him.”
    Della tied off her corset and helped her with
the rest of her clothing, all the while mumbling warnings that
Amelia had no intention of listening to.
    * * *
    “Wake up, beautiful