Free Fields of Fire by Carol Caldwell Page B

Satisfied, he motioned to her to move further along until they reached the end of the row.
    She stared for a moment at the straw-covered ground. There was no evidence of the tragedy. She stared up at the empty space on the end where an oak cask obviously had rested, and said, “Of course, I didn’t actually see what happened—no one did—but from what I understand, this is where one of the casks slipped and landed on James. It broke his neck.” She folded her arms across her chest, her mouth now set in a grim line.
    “Here, hold this.” He handed her the lantern, and carefully climbed his way to the top row of barrels, testing his footing on each cask before he allowed his full weight to come down.
    At the top, where the cask had broken loose, he ran his hands along what remained of the wood bracket support, and then felt in and around the barrels. Apparently dissatisfied, he made his way back down to a point where he could jump the rest of the way. He kneeled down near the bottom cask and raked the straw with his fingers.
    “What are you looking for?” she finally asked. He stood up and extended the palm of his hand. “This.”
    “What is that?” From his palm she picked up what looked like a three-inch stick, and inspected it.
    “It’s a wooden peg used to hold in place the cross support bracket which keeps the end barrels from rolling should they move during unloading.”
    She twirled the peg between her thumb and fingers. “And ...?”
    He tugged at the brackets along the front of the lower casks. “This explains how the cask moved.”
    “You’re saying—this plug accidentally popped out causing the support to become loose. When the cask moved, it easily broke through the wood.”
    “Aye, but it wasn’t an accident,” he stated, taking the peg from her.
    “You think someone intentionally removed the peg?” She shook her head sideways refusing to believe the suggestion. The men liked and respected James.
    “Exactly. These pegs don’t work themselves loose. Someone had to pop it out far enough so when the barrel was pushed ...”
    “Pushed?” she interrupted. “You think someone pushed the cask on him as well? Nay. I can’t believe that.”
    She massaged her temples in an attempt to alleviate the sudden pounding.
    “There’s no way this cask moved by itself, Jalene. One hard shove and it could easily break through the support.” He undid the first few buttons of his uniform and tucked the peg into a pocket. “Whoever did this went to a lot of trouble to work the peg loose. The cask must have been pushed.”
    Her stomach turned and her heartbeat quickened at his implication. “Who? Why?”
    “I might ask you the same. Who would want James dead and why? Someone must have been afraid of something he might say or do—someone who had something to hide, or smuggle perhaps.” He raised a questioning eyebrow at her.
    Dumbfounded, she digested the idea. It made more sense. Hadn’t she herself questioned how such an accident could have happened?
    “Then this proves James is innocent,” she said hopefully.
    He lightly placed his hand on her back to guide her towards the door. “I know you’d like to believe that, but it’s not necessarily the case.”
    “Damn you.” She stopped and stamped her foot, unsure which burned her more, his touch or his words. “Why are you always so quick to think the worst?”
    “I’ve seen this all before. Half the time the woman is behind the man, encouraging the crime.”
    “So after all this, you still think the worst of my brother, and consider me suspect.” Remembering Wil’s accusations concerning James’s smuggling, she prayed her own doubts didn’t show on her face.
    “Your latest actions haven’t led me to believe otherwise.” He touched her elbow in an attempt to guide her again, but she moved away. “I win you your freedom from that hell hole of a prison cell only to have you shoot at me and flee at the first opportunity, and you stand