by Naomi Finley
“No need to explain yourself, Miss Hendricks. I do hope, for your sake and hers, she’ll pull herself together.”
“I do hope so,” I said with a cheerful smile. “Enough about trivial things. Please come and join me on the veranda.” I placed a hand in the curve of his elbow. The warmth of his body so close to mine roiled my stomach.
“Will your uncle be joining us?” He glanced around.
“Of course; it’d only be proper. You don’t mind, do you?” I raised a brow and slowed my steps.
He patted my hand and peered down at me with a smile that’d typically take even my breath away, had I not known the crimes tallying up against him.
“Certainly not,” he said. “You’re a lady of quality, and one must always do what’s right to avoid casting unnecessary shadows on one’s reputation.” Darkness flitted in his eyes, and I wondered if he was thinking of the methods he’d taken to go undiscovered thus far.
On the veranda, I led him to the white linen-draped table spread with various cheeses, breads, and smoked meats. After we were seated, I carried the conversation for what seemed like forever, wondering what was taking Ben so long.
“May I?” I picked up the pitcher of cider in the center of the table.
Silas nodded, his eyes never leaving my face. Not once during our chatting had I caught his eyes lower to my breast, and I questioned Ben’s insistence that I wear a gown that made me feel like a streetwalker.
“Good afternoon.” Ben’s voice squeaked as he stumbled out onto the veranda. As he drew near, I could smell the whiskey on him.
What in heaven’s name was he thinking?
“Mr. Hendricks.” Silas rose to his feet.
“It’s a fine day, isn’t it?” Ben said, grasping Silas’s outstretched hand.
“That it is, sir.”
Ben dropped into a seat next to me and wasted no time getting down to the task at hand. “Willow said you made mention of courting her.” Ben stabbed a piece of smoked pork and dropped it on his own plate without offering any to our guest.
“I-I…why, yes.” A line of confusion creased Silas’s forehead.
“Yet you haven’t come asking?”
“She didn’t seem fond of the idea.” Silas gulped and adjusted himself to sit up taller.
Ben removed his napkin from the table, his hand hitting the pitcher of cider and upending it. I leaped to my feet and grabbed for a napkin and frantically tried to soak up the liquid. I didn’t know if I was more shocked at Ben’s blundering of the plan or the cold penetrating the seven layers of my attire. It took everything in me to still the anger bubbling in my chest. It was unlike him to act like such a fool.
“Willow, darling, please forgive me for my clumsiness. Do go and get that taken care of.” Ben laid a hand on my wrist to stop my wiping of my gown.
I stared at him in bewilderment. Go take care of it? No. We had to continue with the plan we’d confirmed not but a few days ago. The exact plan we’d run over every detail of this morning. Had he gone mad?
“Run along now, dear, before the stain gets worse.” Ben dismissed me with his eyes before directing a drunken smile on Silas.
Ready to chew off my tongue with the rage I struggled to hold back, I excused myself and went inside. I paused in the foyer when I heard Ben say, “Now to take care of matters that sometimes women have no business being a part of. As you may have noticed, my niece is a bit stubborn and lacks the sensibility to think for herself. Women need to be taken in hand sometimes. It’s our duty as men to think for them.”
I moved tight against the wall, out of sight to listen in on their conversation. What was Ben up to? This wasn’t part of the plan.
“Yes, sir,” Silas replied in an even tone. “They do need us menfolk to keep them in line.”
Ben chuckled. “Willow has always been a stubborn child. I fear her father spoiled her, trying to make up for the lack of a mother in her life. He was a difficult man. Always left the girl alone with no real parents to guide her while he ran off on his ships. I hated the man most of the time. He had the whole world at his disposal, yet he chose to leave all this behind to live a life far away.”
I placed a hand to my breast. Tears sprang to my eyes. The hatred in Ben’s slurred words sent a chill through me. Was it so? Did he hate my father?
Silas coughed.
“Don’t think poorly of me. I did love my brother, if one can ever truly love something. I do, however, think he was a complete fool,” Ben said.
“He seemed to do all right for himself,” Silas replied.
“More than one man should attain, don’t you agree?”
This had to be a ploy to trick Silas. Yes. That was it. But why not inform me of the change of plans? Between the wall and the drape, I peeked out at the pair on the veranda.
“I suppose so.” Silas had leaned back in his chair and was assessing Ben.
“There’s no denying Willow’s his daughter. Greed runs deep in her veins.” Bitterness lined Ben’s words.
“I wouldn’t have thought that of her.” Silas sounded guarded.
Does he suspect something is off? I hope you know what you’re doing.
“Why do you suppose she hasn’t allowed me to take over this place and run it? With the little help you have at your place, surely you can understand the hardship of running a plantation of this measure. I tried to play the loving, doting uncle, but I grow tired of waiting for her to relinquish her control and I’ve come to believe she never will. Likely afraid I’d take her money.”
“I’ve reason to believe she may not be far off.” Silas’s eyes narrowed.
Ben dipped back his head, and his sinister laugh unnerved me. “That’s where you’re wrong. Sure, I’d take a percentage of my brother’s estate, but then I’d set sail to England. Found myself a woman over there, and I’d rather be tossing in the hay with a bar wench than being stuck here in this country, playing father to my brother’s orphan.”
Silas’s shoulders relaxed as Ben tugged at the fishing line he’d baited. That conniving trickster! I’d been replaced as the bait and Ben had conjured up a scheme far cleverer. A grin parted my lips.
“That’s where you come in,” Ben was saying when I returned my focus to the men.
“Me?” Silas leaned forward, intrigued.
“Yes. You don’t suppose I demanded Willow apologize for her ill manners in town and had her dress up like a prized Negro temptress fit for a master’s bed for nothing, did you?”
“I apologize, but I’m confused—”
“I know my niece has turned your head. And I can see why; she’s a beauty like her ma. Since Jones and I visited you at your place, I got to thinking, maybe you and I could strike a deal.”
“What sort of deal?” Silas said.
“You marry the girl and all of this will become yours. It’s a winning solution for both of us. I’m relieved of my burden of her and can go off to my lady—with one condition, of course.”
“And what’s that?”
“You set me up with some of the money to take care of my living expenses—money that greedy bastard should’ve left me to start with—and I’ll gladly hand over my niece and all of this.”
“How do you figure you’ll get her to agree to marry me?”
A snort came from Ben. “Oh, you underestimate me, my friend. Why, I’ve got a few secrets on the girl.”
“What secrets?” Silas’s voice elevated, his interest piqued.
Ben’s laugh echoed, dark and cunning. “That I can’t tell you, for if I did, I’d hold no blackmail over the girl, which would then even the playing field between you and I. You can’t expect me to show you all my cards, can you, Mr. Anderson?”
“I suppose not.” Silas repetitively twisted the utensil beside his plate as he studied Ben.
“Tillie!”
Ben’s bellow made me jump, and my head struck the wall. I bit down on my lip to stifle a cry.
“Where’s that damn nigger?” Ben raged.
<
br /> Tillie hurried by me with a tray of brandy and snifters, her eyes never lifting, but I saw her take a sideways glance at the hem of my gown. She moved on without a word.
“Here I am, Masa,” Tillie said, disappearing outside.
“Fill my glass and then go and hurry my niece along. We’ve got plans to make. Maybe with that loud-mouth Northern girl off on her wedding journey, we can seal the deal before her return. What do you say, Mr. Anderson?”
“I-I’m not opposed to the idea.”
“You’d better be more assured of yourself than that. I can’t have no yellow-bellied coward messing up my plans.”
Silas’s mouth twisted in irritation. “You go too far with your insult, Mr. Hendricks.”
“Forgive me; I didn’t mean to offend, but if we’re to be partners I need to make sure you have some grit to you.”
“I assure you I possess more grit than maybe even you can handle.”
Ben chuckled and leaned forward to slap him on the back. “Good. Now to figure out how we’ll present the plan to my niece.”
“Come on, Miss Willow, we need to git you outta dat dress,” Tillie whispered, and I pulled away from the wall and followed her upstairs, where I demanded to be informed of when I’d been eliminated from the plan.
“YOU HAVE A LOT OF explaining to do,” I said as we walked back inside the house after Silas’s departure.
Laugh lines creased the corners of his eyes. “I guessed as much.”
Once settled on the settee in the library, I unloaded the questions I had bombarded Tillie with, but she’d refused to answer on strict orders from Ben.
“Why the change of plans?” I glanced from him to Tillie, who stood waiting by the end of the sofa, after Ben had requested she follow us when we’d passed her in the corridor.
“A man like Silas, who has planned out every move so thoroughly, was unlikely to fall for a dramatic change in your behavior. Most are aware of the fiery and stubborn Willow Hendricks, and if you were to suddenly become a devoted woman looking to please a man that would seem suspicious.”
“Yet your change in behavior doesn’t?”
“It was a chance I had to take. I put a stake in the past rumors of the townsfolk that I’d run off with your mother to prove I may be a man with no moral integrity. A man with no honor, who’d steal his own brother’s wife, would be capable of stealing his niece’s inheritance.”
“But why leave me on the outside of your ambitious plan?”
“Bowden suggested—”
“Bowden? Why, of course! What did he have to do with this?”
“He was behind the blindsiding of you.”
“Was he now!” I fumed.
“And I have to agree with him, it worked better than even I expected.”
“Bravo; you pulled it off swimmingly.” I clapped my hands. “You’ve truly missed your calling in life, Uncle. You should be playing on Broadway and selling out theaters around the world.”
Ben laughed at my sarcasm. “Don’t get your nose bent out of joint over something that was a success. You were yourself and, when you did catch on, you played your part brilliantly. I knew I could count on your smarts to pull through once you grasped what was going on. But your shock, along with the flames shooting out of your eyes, is what sold the whole plan.”
I released a deep breath before a smile tugged at my lips. “Your performance was outstanding.”
He grinned and half bowed in his seat. “Why, thank you.”
“What is next? Or am I on the outs with this part of the plan, too?”
“Quite the opposite, in fact. It’s your time to shine, as you will be front and center,” he said.
“Meaning?”
“That you, my dear, will be joining me and my new partner in a carriage ride tomorrow. Where I’ll suggest an arranged marriage between you and Mr. Anderson. Early morning, Jones will ride out and get the constable and gather the posse. While we are enjoying a pleasant afternoon and have Silas away from his place, Bowden, Mr. Sterling, and his men will take care of Caesar and Collins while Tillie searches the place.”
My gaze swung to Tillie. “No. I don’t want her involved. We’ve risked her life once already.”
“She’s the one who has spent the most amount of time around the homestead, and our best chance of finding all the nooks and crannies in the place.”
“But—”
“She’s safer now than when you sent her in alone,” he reminded me. “And she’s agreed that she wants to help.”
“Is that so, Tillie?” I asked.
“Yes, Missus,” she said in her quiet manner. “Mr. Anderson can’t be going around killing folkses and thievin’. A bad man lak him can’t be good for dis plantation, and de good et’s doing for de folkses here. He’s a danger to evvyone of us and after what he did to Gray…” Her voice broke, and her hands curled at her sides.
“You’re right that he needs to pay for Gray. The lynch mob will see he’s held accountable for his actions,” I said.
A colored man’s death would be on the short list of the posse’s concerns. The only repercussion Silas would pay for Gray’s murder was a fine for damaging another’s property. But what would secure a rope around his neck would be us proving he was responsible for the death of Mrs. Jenson, and the robberies.
We’d considered rounding up the neighboring planters and menfolk from town and cornering Silas. But the bloodbath that was sure to happen wouldn’t give us the answers we sought. Was he the man who’d been following my father, and if so, was his goal to marry me to obtain all my family owned? Or had he contrived a scheme that went much deeper?
Tillie
MR. ARMSTRONG HAULED ME UP behind him on his mount late the next morn. With my legs sprawled wide over the creature’s hindquarters, I looked at my hands, not sure where to put them.
“Mr. Armstrong, I don’t care for horses much. Et be all right ef I put my arms ’round you?”
“I don’t plan on coming back for you if you fall off. So I reckon you’d better hang on,” he said in a strained voice.
There had been a time when I’d have considered him disgusted by a colored girl hanging onto him, but lately I’d noticed a difference in the man. His eyes used to go over the heads of the slaves who attended to the Hendrickses’ household, like we were the furniture filling up the place. Lately his feet had taken long pauses, like he was studying us, as though we’re the artifacts and pretty artwork that gives the big house so much intrigue to the guests that visit. If I dared look into his eyes, I’d guess I might find a whole lot of puzzlement.
Recently, Mr. Armstrong’s conversations with Masa Hendricks and Miss Willow have his mind catching and wandering away until they have to bring him back. I’d always liked to hear the man talk when he came to visit; he had a nice sound to his voice. Miss Willow said it was because he’s from that wild place they call Texas. A place where cowboys and ranchers with hundreds of cattle roam the fields and outnumber the slaves.
“Ride out.” Mr. Sterling’s call made me jump and come back to what was going on around me.
Mary Grace was standing on the front veranda of the big house when I’d come out. While the constable had been with his two men and their horses out back at the water trough, I’d overheard Mr. Armstrong promise her that he’d get justice for Gray. The deadly tone in her reply lifted my eyes. Darkness clouded Mary Grace’s face, a look that seemed to be shadowing all the white folks around the plantation. The look yanked my heart to my knees.
“Hang on.” Mr. Armstrong clicked his tongue. He spurred his horse, and it broke into a gallop and fell into line behind the constable’s gang as we cut across the field toward Mr. Anderson’s plantation.
All his thieving and murdering ways had caught up to Mr. Anderson. Masa Hendricks and Miss Willow had left an hour ago to lure the fox from his den. I’d bet if someone could outsmart a fox, it’d be Miss Willow. After the visit with Mr. Anderson on the veranda, you’d think her uncle be her real pa
ppy, with how he pulled a fast one over Mr. Anderson. Over these last months, I’d begun to wonder if maybe the chattering of folks may be true about the dead Masa Hendricks’s wife and his brother. Not that it mattered much, because I liked Masa Hendricks real well.
The horse eased to a walk as we moved from the open fields and into the woods. Mr. Armstrong lifted his arm to protect us both from the lash of the branches. I buried my face into the back of his shirt and clung tight to his waist to keep from tumbling off as the horse leaped over fallen trees. Mr. Armstrong’s muscles were taut and firm under my fingers, and the scent of his freshly laundered shirt centered my tumbling mind on the safety of home.
My heart thumped against my bony chest. Only the Lord was going to keep us from ending up as fish food at the bottom of the river or in a dark hole somewhere with nothing but our drawers on. Surely the thieving man would leave us those, wouldn’t he?
A shudder scurried through me from my tight-fitting shoes right up to the itch under my head rag, and I started talking to the Lord.
Lard, don’t let anything happen to us. Please keep our clothes on, and my brain focused on the important task at hand. Amen. Oh…and Lard, please watch out for Miss Willow and Masa Hendricks. Amen again.
All too soon, Mr. Sterling raised a hand in the air, and the men reined their horses to a stop. I knew it was time, and all I wanted to do was jump down and bolt for home. But the only thing doing any jumping was my nerves.
When Masa Hendricks told me about the plan, my knees took to knocking like when I saw Miss Whitney coming. That girl scared me right out of my drawers. Most days, that’d be all right with me. I never had to wear the dreadful things until I moved to the big house. Days in Carolina got hot, and there’s nothing like a gentle cooling breeze to air things up under all those layers Miss Willow makes me wear now. The sweat runs down my legs and drops to the ground, leaving a trail behind me like I’ve gone and peed myself.
Mr. Armstrong dismounted and reached up and with one arm whipped me to the ground like I weighed nothing. The solid ground felt good under my feet, but it didn’t stop my innards from trying to come up my throat.
