Excerpt of Dawson's Fall by Roxana Robinson

Excerpt from Chapter 12, when Dawson meets Sarah for the first time.

THE ROAD LED through woods lit by long shafts of slanting light. The green deerflies were small and vicious. The mare switched her tail and tossed her head, and Dawson slapped his cheek, leaving a smear of dark blood. He’d come as soon as he’d gotten the tele gram, but it was an eight- hour trip. He didn’t know if he’d arrive too late. He didn’t how he’d be able to help. He didn’t know who was in the house hold; he didn’t even know who had sent the telegram.

They came out into low rolling fields, ragged and untended. A driveway came in from the left, flanked by tall square brick pillars. Levi pointed his whip.

“Hampton’s,” he said.

The drive ran for nearly a mile in a straight line. On either side were huge old live oaks, meeting overhead in an airy green filigree. At the end stood a row of twelve charred pillars, sooty blackened brick. Only four were whole, the rest were stumps. They would once have been fluted white columns, supporting a pediment. Coming up the driveway, through the green arch of the live oaks, the house would have looked like a Greek temple.

He thought they should be pulled down, all these ruins. They did nothing but remind people what they’d lost.

The drive curved left toward a smaller house, plain white clapboard, with a two- story porch supported by square pillars. Levi pulled up in front.

“We here,” he said.

On the porch stood several rocking chairs. An old red hound lay sprawled on the floor. At Dawson’s approach she gave a brief yodeling bark and struggled to stand. Her old pads slipped on the smooth surface, as she scrabbled for purchase. After several tries she gave up, legs sliding out from under her as she collapsed onto the floor. She raised her nose and gave the hootling bark again.

As Dawson walked up the steps the door opened and a young woman came out. The afternoon light slanted across the verandah, and as she stepped into it her face turned suddenly radiant. She raised her hand to shade her eyes. Her skin was very white. She walked quickly toward him and the thought came to him, This is the woman I’m meant to marry. Though he was already married.

“The fever’s broken.” She smiled at him, intimate and joyful, as though she knew him. “He’s going to live.”

“Thank God,” Dawson said. He took off his hat, and held it down at his side.

“You’re Captain Dawson,” she said. “I’m Sarah Morgan, Jem’s sister.”

“Miss Morgan.” He bowed.

The sun lit up her honey-colored hair, her face. She seemed to give off light.

“Come in,” she said. “He’s waiting for you.”

He stepped inside behind her. When she shut the door they were alone in the long hall. She smiled and turned to lead him. The house was dim and silent, and the air motionless. The slanting sun made bright lozenges on the dark floor. Radiant motes hung in the beams. She walked ahead. Their footsteps were her skirts made a light shushing sound. Her tawny hair was piled thickly on the back of her head, and loose strands curled at the nape.