The Moon and the Stars Read online

  “Go now. Run as far and as fast as you can!”

  Chapter One

  Savannah, Georgia—1869

  Rumbling thunder and violent streaks of lightning woke Caroline Duncan from a deep sleep, but her lashes fluttered and closed as she drifted off again, burying her head deeper into the pillow. Even as a child she had loved the sound of thunderstorms. For some reason they always lulled her spirit, perhaps because she was a planter’s daughter.

  Danger stalked her, and she had trained herself to be a light sleeper, attuned to every noise in the old house. A moment later, her eyes snapped open when she heard a different sound. The front door creaked on its hinges, and there was an unmistakable noise of someone moving about downstairs.

  The house belonged to the Lowell family, who had engaged Caroline as governess for their daughter, Vanessa. The family had gone to their country house for the weekend, so whoever was sneaking around downstairs definitely did not belong there.

  After six months of living with the Lowells, Caroline had memorized the different noises the house made. The structure was several generations old, but it had been kept in good repair, although some of the floorboards in the hallway were warped and two of the doors downstairs stuck when someone tried to open them. Whoever had come into the house had the heavy tread of a man. She heard him cross the dining room floor and go into the kitchen.

  It was certain that the man was not familiar with the layout of the rooms, because he was bumbling through each one, searching them extensively before going on to the next.

  Caroline flipped her long hair out of her face and pressed her hand against her heart. She did not know who the intruder was, but she did know that he had come for her. She had been expecting him, or someone just like him, for some time.

  Her fear was every bit as stark and terrifying as it had been that awful day when she had fled from Charleston. After she had arrived in Savannah, it had taken her three weeks to venture far enough from her rented room to find a position. She had been desperately in need of money, and she hadn’t eaten in two days.

  She had been fortunate. Mrs. Lowell had engaged her as her daughter’s governess without a recommendation. Even living in the safety of the Lowell house, every day had been a test of her strength. If she closed her eyes, she could still see the vision of her husband dying in her arms.

  She quietly moved off the bed, her slight body trembling in fear. This time she would not be taken by surprise as she had been the day Michael died: She had devised a plan of escape in the event that she had to leave in a hurry.

  Without pausing to think, she quickly dressed and slipped into her boots, not worrying about hooks and ties. She threw her dark cape over her shoulders and raised the hood to cover her blond hair. Taking a deep, steadying breath, she reached underneath the bed and grabbed the small traveling bag she had packed with the barest necessities.

  Her bedroom had two different ways to exit—one which led to the wide hallway and another that led to the gallery that connected with Vanessa’s bedroom. Her plan was a simple one: She would wait until the intruder had searched Vanessa’s bedroom. Then she would slip into the room and out into the hallway to make her way downstairs while he searched her bedroom.

  The night was as black as pitch except for an occasional jagged streak of lightning that illuminated the room. Caroline knew she had one slight advantage over the intruder, since she could find her way about in the dark and he couldn’t.

  Slowly she opened the door to the gallery and stepped outside, pressing her back against the brick wall, waiting for the intruder to make his way upstairs. Her chances of escaping weren’t very good, but she had to try.

  A sudden flash of lightning and a roll of thunder shook the house and rattled the windows. Rain peppered heavily against the shingled roof, running off the eaves and splashing onto the gallery. And then as suddenly as it had started, the rain stopped. She was relieved, because now she would be able to hear the man’s movements.

  She waited for just the right moment to put her plan in motion.

  When Caroline heard the labored footsteps on the stairs, she froze. If her plan was to succeed, she knew her timing had to be perfect.

  But what if he came out onto the gallery from Vanessa’s room? she thought frantically.

  Brace would stop at nothing to get his greedy hands on her. He wanted the gold, and only Caroline knew where it was. But she would die before giving the secret up to him. Of course, that meant that she couldn’t touch any of the money either, and that left her with only the meager salary she earned from the Lowells.

  Her body shook with fear. He would not let her live—she knew too much about Michael’s death. He was clever, and he would never stop hounding her until one or the other of them was dead. The intruder’s tread was quieter now as he took more care, but the floorboards still groaned beneath his weight. After he had searched Vanessa’s bedroom and gone back into the hall, Caroline quietly slipped into the child’s bedroom.

  She tiptoed across the floor and stepped into the hallway, when near disaster struck: The heel of her boot caught on the edge of the rug, and she almost lost her balance. Bracing herself against the wall, she managed to remain on her feet.

  With her heart pounding in her throat, she slid her body into an alcove, shivering when she heard the intruder walk back in her direction to investigate the noise. She closed her eyes and prayed as he passed so near that she could see the pockmarks on his swarthy face. She dared not even breathe when he stopped right next to her and looked toward the stairs. She could have fainted with relief when he finally retraced his steps in the direction of her bedroom. As he disappeared inside, she quickly started for the stairs, cautiously stepping over the third step from the top, knowing that it would creak if she put any weight on it.

  When she reached the bottom step, she paused long enough to listen. The man was no longer being cautious. In his frustration and anger, he was shoving furniture pieces and breaking glass. She wondered what the Lowell family would think when they returned to find her gone and her bedroom in shambles. Unfortunately, she would never be able to tell them what had happened. Brace would certainly question them, and it was best that they knew nothing of where she’d gone.

  She had no destination in mind as she hurried toward the door. She only knew she had to get as far away from Savannah as she possibly could.

  Her whole body shook as she opened the back door. Caroline stepped into darkness so deep and black that it swallowed her in obscurity.

  She glanced up at the light shining from her bedroom window. The man had lit a lamp and was probably going through her personal items, looking for clues to her whereabouts.

  Running out the back gate, she hurried down the street, knowing that if she didn’t escape, she would probably never see another sunrise.

  When the next streak of lightning split the night sky, she studied her surroundings and felt disoriented; nothing looked familiar in the darkness. Wet, cold, and shivering in the raw wind, she lowered her head, completely despondent. It was difficult to think about anything but the man who would soon turn his search for her outside the house. Taking a moment to gather her thoughts and catch her breath, she leaned against a tree trunk and lowered her head onto her arms.

  Caroline was near to collapsing, and she wondered if she had the strength to continue her flight. By now the intruder must have realized that she had escaped, and he would widen his search. With the next streak of lightning she located the familiar landscape of a garden square and realized that she was only a short distance from River Street.

  She prayed as she ran toward the Savannah River that there would be a passenger ship she could board. She hoped that her pursuer would expect her to go to the train station or even to the stage office and direct his search in that direction.

  Caroline fled down the ballast stone street, stopping only once to catch her breath and to rest for a moment beneath an aged oak. When she finally reached the river, there were sev
eral ships in port. She quickly disregarded the three cargo ships and made her way toward a sleek but small schooner, The Spanish Lady. She had no notion what port the ship was sailing to, but when the crew hoisted anchor, she intended to be on board.

  She was exhausted by the time she reached the slanting gangplank and hoped she would have enough strength to make her way up it. The deck was swaying with the rough waves, and she managed to remain upright only by holding on to the railing. She felt her stomach heave and clamped her hand over her mouth—now would not be a good time to become ill.

  She swallowed several times before glancing frantically about, not knowing what to do next. Her gaze finally fell on a man who was giving orders; the others seemed to be deferring to him. He was a fearsome sight with black eyes, a shaggy black beard, and a thundering voice that sent his men scrambling to do his bidding.

  He frowned when he saw her approach. “What are you doing on my ship, ma’am? You’d best go ashore. We’re just now getting under way.”

  The wind had kicked up again and tore the hood from her head, blowing a blond strand of hair across her face. She swallowed a lump in her throat and said in a trembling voice, “Sir, I would like to book passage on your ship.”

  He nodded and jerked his head toward the companionway. “If you got the fare, I got an empty cabin.” He must have sensed her urgency because he smiled cunningly. “Your fare will be two hundred dollars since you came on board at the last minute.”

  She swallowed past her tight throat, hoping the ship wasn’t headed for China or Africa or some other distant country. “What is your destination, sir?”

  He looked at her as if she had lost her mind, and she was sure she must be behaving like a crazed woman. “Why, home port, ma’am. We sail for Galveston, Texas.” He took her money and then turned his attention to the upper rigging, which was whipping and snapping in the wind.

  The amount the captain was asking was unfair, but she had no choice but to pay it. Later she would worry about the rest of her life; right now, all she cared about was getting out of Savannah, Georgia. Even now, her enemy could be hot on her heels. It would not take Brace long to discover that she had sailed away, and on which ship she had sailed.

  A knot formed in her stomach, and she glanced out into the darkness, wondering if she was being watched at that very minute. Her glance fell on the gangplank, which was being drawn in, and she was overcome with relief. She had won this time. But there would be another encounter—of that she was certain.

  She was immediately shown to her cabin by a balding first mate who gruffly told her what time they would be serving food and that if she was late, she would get nothing. When he left and shut the door behind him, she waited until she heard his footsteps fade in the distance before she dropped down on the narrow bunk. Lowering her face in her hands, she felt utter despair.

  Brace’s hired man had almost caught her tonight.

  Why hadn’t she changed her name when she’d applied for the position of governess?

  Feeling utterly alone, she closed her eyes. Tears clung to her lashes and then seeped from her eyes. Where could she go that Brace would not follow? Where could she hide that he could not find her? One thing was certain: Her enemy had a long reach, and he would never give up searching for her.

  It was a week later when The Spanish Lady finally sailed past the Florida Keys. The storm that had dogged them most of the way churned the restless sea, and huge waves slammed against the ship, making it bob and sway like a cork in water.

  Caroline lay on her bunk, seasick and moaning. The ship had put into several ports, but she had not gone ashore at any of them. The ship’s cook had taken a liking to her and gave her fresh fruit to keep in her cabin; that was all she had eaten. But at the moment, the thought of any kind of food only made her feel worse.

  It was full dark and raining when The Spanish Lady finally reached Galveston Bay. She stared at the lights in the distance, feeling so weak and ill she didn’t know if she could make the trek into town. A cold, wet wind drove her forward and soaked her to the skin.

  Stumbling down the gangplank, she was jostled by other passengers who were in a hurry to reach their destination; she envied them because they were probably going home to be welcomed by someone who loved them. There would be no welcome for her, no one she could turn to for help. She had only twenty-two dollars to her name, and that wouldn’t take her very far.

  Weak and weary, she trudged through the mud, always keeping her eyes on the lights of Galveston in the distance. It was dark and cold, and fear dogged her steps as she kept glancing behind her. Once she heard footsteps, and she shrank into the shadow of a warehouse, only to recognize members of the ship’s crew with duffel bags thrown over their shoulders, making their way home.

  Caroline knew that she could not remain in this town for very long. If she knew Brace Duncan, he had already sent someone to look into every kind of transportation that had left Savannah the night she had disappeared. His man would search every town where The Spanish Lady had docked, and it wouldn’t take him long to discover that she had come ashore at Galveston.

  The rain intensified, making it difficult for her to see more than a few feet ahead of her. For the last few weeks it had done nothing but rain; she was beginning to wish she lived in a desert. Her cloak was damp and slapped painfully at her ankles as she toiled along.

  Her mood lightened a bit when she saw the Overland Stage sign swinging in the wind. She climbed the wooden steps and turned the doorknob, and her heart sank. It was locked; the office was closed for the night.

  She slumped down on the wooden bench where a slight overhang offered her some protection against the rain. She was determined to be on the first stage that headed west in the morning, and she would go as far as her money would take her.

  Darkness closed in around her, and she dropped her head into her hands, too weary to hold it upright. After a time, she realized it would be foolhardy to sit in the rain calling attention to herself.

  Exhausted, she took in her surroundings—there was a small hotel across the street and another down the way. She decided to spend some of her money for a room, a hot cup of tea, and a bath.

  A few hours later, when night took a turn toward morning, she awoke and dressed, wading in ankle-deep water to cross the street to the stage office.

  A man was just unlocking the door when she rushed up the steps. Following him inside, she waited for him to go behind the counter before she placed her money on the well-worn surface. “Can you tell me how far west this amount of money will take me?”

  The agent was a grandfatherly-looking gentleman with long white hair and an equally white mustache. His brown gaze rested speculatively on her for a moment, taking in her pale face and muddy shoes. He saw the widow’s broach that fastened her tattered cape, and his gaze softened.

  “You are very young to lose your husband and to be traveling alone in this country.”

  Caroline had bought the broach when she had applied for the position with the Lowells, hoping that people would respect her right to mourn her husband and not pay too much attention to her. As for the stage agent, she didn’t want to engage his interest, so she quickly said, “I need a ticket on the next westbound stage.”

  “Just how far do you want to go?” he asked kindly.

  “Just as far as the money will take me.”

  He was silent for a moment and then nodded, taking only ten dollars of her money and shoving the rest back at her. “This will take you as far as San Sebastian, Texas. The stage will be arriving within the hour, and it’ll be pulling out by mid-morning. On this run you will only have to change stages twice. Each time the folks at the way station will give you a full meal.”

  Her hands were shaking as she scooped up the remaining money and stuffed it into her reticule. “You didn’t take enough out for my fare,” she stated in a quiet voice, knowing she must swallow her pride and depend on his kindness.

  “It’s enough.”


  After hiding and running for so long, she was deeply touched by his act of compassion. “Thank you. You are a true gentleman,” was all she could manage to say past the tightness in her throat.

  The warmth of his smile matched the warmth in his eyes. “Have you no one to go to for help?”

  She drew back, frightened, not wanting him to remember her for any reason. “I’ll just go outside and wait until the stage arrives.”

  “Wait,” he called out to her, scribbling something on a piece of paper and sliding it across the counter toward her. “You seem to be in some kind of trouble.”

  She panicked. “No. I’m not in trouble.”

  He knew better—he could clearly see that she was terrified. “I have a niece who owns the boardinghouse in San Sebastian; that’s why I suggested the town. Go to see Nelly when you get there, and she’ll help you.”

  Caroline glanced down at her muddy boots. “No one can help me.” She turned her head toward the sound of the arriving stage. “And please,” she said in desperation, “I beg of you, tell no one you saw me.”

  He nodded. “I keep my own business and ask others to do the same. Don’t be afraid that anyone will find you through me.”

  Caroline looked deep into his honest brown eyes and took the folded paper he held out to her. She had a sense that she could trust him. “I will not forget your kindness.”

  “Seek out my niece,” he said, glancing at the stage driver who had just entered and deposited a leather satchel on the counter. “This here is the stage you’ll take to San Sebastian.” He glanced at the driver. “It’ll be all right with you if she boards now, won’t it?”

  “Yeah. I don’t mind if she does,” the man said, paying little attention to her.

  Words failed her. The stranger’s generosity was still on her mind when the stage pulled out an hour later.

  Two other passengers had boarded in Galveston, so she pulled the hood of her cloak low across her forehead and pretended to be asleep.