Rebel

by Beverly Jenkins

  “Barring any problems, another month at the most. Mama and Sable are going to help me pick out the furniture. They know that left up to me, I’d get a bed, a table to eat on, and be done. I’m not one for fancy lamps or settees.”

  “You’ll need a place for guests to sit.”

  “Not one for guests, either.”

  She smiled softly. “Your wife will want to entertain.”

  “Will she?”

  His tone and gaze froze her in mid-breath. She managed to whisper, “I’m sure she will.”

  “Good to know. I’ll keep that in mind.” After a few heart-pounding moments of silence, he asked, “Did you enjoy yourself last night?”

  The memories of their time together rose and filled her with wanting. “I did.”

  “That’s good to know, too.”

  Val’s nipples tightened, and a familiar hum awakened between her thighs. Would he evoke the same reaction in his wife? she wondered. Her eyes strayed to his mouth and memories of its warmth added to her own.

  “Do you think my wife would let me undress her in the gazebo under the stars, and enjoy being pleasured in the tree house?”

  Her eyes closed, heat whispered through her, as she imagined being the recipient of that pleasuring.

  “I’d undress her and tease her small, perfect treasures until they were hard as gems. Think she’d like that, too?”

  She whispered, “Stop this, Drake.”

  He whispered in reply, “Cheri, I’m just getting started, but come. Let’s drive back to Mama’s where you can cool off. It’s pretty warm out today.”

  That he could stand there and look so innocent after verbally reducing her to a bowl of pudding made her want to punch him in the nose even as her smile betrayed her.

  “We really need to find you a cure.”

  “Pirates can’t be cured. Many have tried.”

  “Just lead me back to the buggy.”

  He held out his hand.

  “No. You might be contagious.”

  He laughed. “See, you are learning to banter.”

  She pointed firmly, eyes sparkling.

  He laughed again and started walking.

  She followed, wondering if Sable had any extra clotheslines.

  On the drive back, Drake looked her way. She’d been silent since getting back into the buggy, making him wonder what she might be thinking. Had he been too forward? Had he offended her? Annoyed her? Embarrassed her? He knew he could be overwhelming at times. “You’ve been quiet. Are you angry with me, cheri?”

  “Why would I be?” she asked. There was mischief in her eyes.

  Seeing that, he decided to proceed cautiously. “I thought maybe I’d been too forward back there?”

  “Because you made me remember the way you undressed me and touched me last night? The licks? The kisses? The way you took me in your mouth?”

  Drake hardened like steel.

  “The way I sat on your lap with my legs opened so scandalously while you brought me to pleasure?”

  He almost ran the buggy off the road.

  She gave him a catlike smile. “Why would I be angry, Drake? I told you I enjoy learning new things.”

  Momentarily speechless, he stared.

  She added, “It is warm out today, isn’t it?”

  Looking into those sultry eyes, it took all he had not to drive into the trees and show her explicitly how truly warm it was. “Are you poking the bear, Miss Lacy?” He was both impressed and amused.

  “No, I’m simply answering the bear’s question.”

  “He approves.”

  “Good.”

  “Will you still dine with me later?”

  “I will.”

  Approving of that as well, he drove on.

  He drew the buggy to a halt at the door. “I’ll see you this evening.”

  “You aren’t coming in?”

  “I’m going to trade this buggy for Havana and ride home. I need to help with the house, but I’ll be back for dinner.”

  “Thanks again for the boxcars.”

  “You’re welcome, and thanks for the stimulating ride.”

  She smiled and walked to the door.

  He drove away.

  Chapter Twelve

  By dusk, Drake was done with his work for the day. He was pleased at what he and the men had accomplished. The bricks on the kitchen were done and the flooring was being laid inside the house. Once that was finished, they’d cover the floors with tarps to protect them while the walls were painted.

  He mounted Havana and rode towards his mother’s place to have dinner with Valinda. All afternoon, while hammering more iron for the gazebo he kept thinking back to their surprising conversation. Who knew she could be so playfully seductive? She’d turned him to stone. He never imagined she’d repay him with such boldness and flair and he wondered what other surprises she might have in store. At dinner, he hoped to find out.

  Hugh and five of his men were on their mounts in front of the house when he rode up. By their grimly set faces, Drake knew something was wrong. “What’s happened?”

  “Nothing yet,” Hugh replied. “But you’re going to have trouble tonight.”

  Drake looked from Hugh to his men. “Come inside.”

  The story he was told left him cold. Supremacists were coming to avenge the disappearance of Liam Atwater. Hugh had been tipped off by one of his infiltrators less than an hour ago. “You should probably get your brothers out here to help defend this place.”

  “Everyone’s away. The only one in town is Archer.”

  Hugh blew out a breath. “Okay, then my men and I will stay. I sent a few others to round up as many veterans as they could. Hopefully enough will answer the call and arrive before anything starts. You and the family have stored up a lot of goodwill around here. Let’s hope it pays off.”

  Drake concurred. “Which group?”

  “Defenders of the Cause.”

  Drake was familiar with the name from his work with the Bureau. They were a small, loosely knit band known for terrorizing freedmen traveling on the roads. A few deaths had been attributed to them as well, but none of the men had ever been arrested or charged, as far as he knew. “Coming after me is a big step up for them.”

  Hugh nodded in agreement. “They took on a new leader a month or so ago. Wears a hood to the meetings according to my man inside.”

  “Hiding who he is.”

  “Yes.”

  “What does he ride?” Many men were known by their horses.

  “Nothing distinctive. Different mount each time they meet.”

  “Smart then. Smarter than the illiterate cowards he’s leading.”

  “Much smarter. Has his members convinced that targeting well-known people like you will scare the freedmen enough to make them think twice about registering to vote for the Constitutional election coming up this fall. It will also avenge Atwater.”

  Drake mulled over Hugh’s words. “New members will flock to them in droves if they’re successful. Not a bad strategy. I’d like to know who this new leader is.”

  “If he’s riding with them tonight maybe we’ll find out.”

  Drake had all the information he needed for the moment. “Okay. There are two women here. Let me speak with them, and then you and I can talk about how best to meet this threat.”

  Hugh nodded.

  “Thank you, Hugh.”

  “You’re welcome. Can’t have anything happen to you. Who’d I drink with?”

  “Do me a favor. Send one of your men to the Christophe to let Archer know about this. It might make us one man short, but my brother will want to be here.”

  “Right away.”

  He went to speak with Reba and Valinda. He’d send them to Rai’s house to wait things out with Sable and her children. His brother was still in Lafayette as far as Drake knew, so he prayed the supremacists didn’t strike there as well. And then there was his own home. Drake knew it would be impossible to defend both his mother’s home and hi
s with the limited amount of men available, but the choice of where to make his stand was easy.

  Drake viewed Val’s and Reba’s solemn faces. Reba had her rifle. She could shoot as well as any man and wasn’t afraid to let it be known. “Stick to the woods,” he told them.

  He gave Reba a tight hug and did the same with Valinda. As he held her against his heart, he sent up another prayer that it wouldn’t be the final time.

  She whispered, “Keep yourself safe, Drake.”

  “I’ll do my best.” They kissed, parted, and the two women slipped out the kitchen’s back door and into the night.

  An hour later, the moon rose, and men began arriving to help Drake and Hugh defend the LeVeq home. A large contingent of Drake’s fellow soldiers from the Louisiana Native Guard appeared first, followed by Hugh’s man leading a mounted column of fifteen USCT veterans dressed in their uniforms. In twos and threes came armed freedmen, farmers, and men Drake had never met, one of whom explained his presence by telling Drake, “Miss Sable takes care of our kin. We came to take care of hers.”

  Emotion clogged Drake’s throat.

  By midnight, forty men, mounted and on foot, stood illuminated by torches in front of the house. Looking out at them, his heart swelled. They’d willingly put themselves in danger to aid his family and he’d be grateful for their presence for the rest of his life.

  The men took up positions in front and back of the house, in the trees lining the road, and on the roof. Everyone was set when five more riders appeared. Leading them were Archer and Raimond. Drake had never been so happy to see them.

  Archer dismounted while Rai stayed in the saddle.

  “I just got back and was at the Christophe when Hugh’s man came,” Rai said. “I need to see to Sable and my children. We’ll talk after this is over.” He rode off, trailed by the three men.

  Archer said gravely, “Thanks for sending word.”

  Drake nodded. He and his defenders settled in to wait.

  It didn’t take long. Supremacists often began their nightly assaults by chaotically blowing horns to rouse the victim from sleep and into terror. Drake, hearing the horns, smiled coldly. He didn’t know how many men were on the way, but they were more accustomed to riding down on defenseless families. They’d not be expecting forty-plus armed men, many of whom were battle-tested.

  Moments later, ten men, faces hidden beneath old yam sacks, rode into view carrying torches and blowing their horns. Over the cacophony, a voice, amplified by a speaking trumpet, called out, “Drake LeVeq. Prepare to meet your maker.”

  Descendants of pirate Dominic LeVeq did not give quarter when facing murderers. They didn’t negotiate, attempt to placate, or turn the other cheek. When the Defenders of the Cause spurred their horses towards his mother’s front porch, Drake yelled, “Fire!”

  In the silent aftermath, the sacks were removed from the faces of the dead men lying in the muddy road so they could be identified. Torchlight revealed that nine of the ten were known locals, including Ennis Meachem, son of Liam Atwater’s overseer, Boyd. The tenth man wasn’t from Louisiana, but Drake recognized him instantly—First Lieutenant Josiah Merritt.

  But it wasn’t a total victory. The rising wind carried the acrid smell of smoke and kerosene. Drake stilled and looked west. The sky was dull red. Although he was too far away to see the flames, he knew what it meant. Tamping down his emotions, he turned his attention to thanking the men before they rode away. He’d grieve his loss later.

  The bodies of the dead were placed in the back of a wagon. Hugh would drive them into town. Drake didn’t know how the authorities would respond but there’d been soldiers of both races among his defenders. If he needed them to testify on his behalf, they would.

  Before Hugh and his men took their leave, he and Drake shared a strong brotherly hug. “Thank you again,” Drake said sincerely. He’d be grieving more loss were it not for the big Tennessean’s help.

  “You’re welcome. I’ll ride over tomorrow and we can talk about rebuilding.”

  “Okay.”

  As Hugh and his Heroes of America drove away, Drake looked over at Archer, who said solemnly, “Sorry about your place.”

  “I knew it might happen. Better my place than here. Mama left the house in my care. Can you imagine how mad she’d be if I let it be burned down by a bunch of sack-wearing cochons?”

  Archer snorted. “Let’s see if she has any cognac.”

  Drake took one last somber look west and followed Archer inside.

  At first light, he and Archer rode out to assess the damage. There wasn’t much left of the house he’d built with such devotion and care. The outer walls were a scorched jagged shell and he could see clear through what used to be the front parlor to the trees behind the house. The porch columns, the newly laid floors, the windows, the roof. All gone. He was thankful none of his workers lived on site so there’d been no loss of life. They reined their mounts around to the back. The wood on the kitchen was gone, leaving the blackened bricks intact. His work shed was a total loss, however. He dismounted and toed at the piles of still smoldering ash, unearthing a few of his tools: a pair of tongs, the partially melted head of his hammer. He glanced up into Archer’s grave face.

  “You’ll rebuild,” his brother said.

  And he would.

  Hearing horses, he turned to see a mounted Raimond accompanied by a wagon driven by Sable. With her were Little Reba and Valinda. They got out and offered hugs and condolences.

  Holding him tight, Val said, “So glad you’re okay.”

  He looked down into her concerned face and admitted that having her near reduced some of his sadness.

  Rai said, “Hugh’s man told me a bit on the ride from Archer’s. Fill me in on the rest.”

  Drake relayed the story beginning with Hugh meeting him when he arrived home and ended with finding Lt. Merritt among the dead supremacists.

  “Do you think he was the mysterious new leader?” Rai asked when he finished.

  “I don’t know for sure, but my guess is, yes.”

  Rai’s jaw tightened. “I’ll do some asking around. General Pershing needs to be told and he’s not going to be pleased hearing Merritt was involved. I’ll also talk to Roudanez about putting the incident in his newspaper. People should know the truth.”

  Drake agreed. If anyone could get the proper people on his side, it was Raimond.

  After a few more minutes of discussion, Rai left them to head to the Quarter.

  “I need to get back to the Christophe,” Archer said.

  Drake understood. “I’m going to wait for Sol and the workers and start cleaning up.”

  Sable spoke next. “Val and Reba, I can drop you at Julianna’s on my way home.”

  Drake wanted Val to stay with him, but knew she’d be having lunch with Cole. He assumed she’d get Archer to take her and bring her back. The way her eyes met his gave him the sense that she wanted to stay as well, but he knew she wouldn’t stand up her friends. She said quietly, “Drake, I’ll see you later?”

  He nodded.

  Ready to depart, Archer said, “Take care, brother. Let me know if you need anything.”

  “Same here,” Sable said.

  “I will.”

  Valinda held his eyes until Sable turned the wagon around and headed back to the road.

  When his workers showed up to begin their day, they gaped at the destruction. He relayed last night’s episode. After they recovered from the shock, they began helping him with the cleanup. What remained of the walls had to be torn down and the surviving planks of flooring pulled up. Once that was accomplished, he’d bring in draft horses and plow under the soot and ash, add topsoil, and level the site for the planned reconstruction. It was going to be backbreaking work, and it wouldn’t be accomplished overnight.

  True to his word, Hugh showed up as well. Upon seeing the damage, he said, “They did you pretty good.”

  “I know,” Drake replied solemnly.

  Seeing a ri
der approach, Drake went still. It was Boyd Meachem. When he neared, he glared down from the back of his horse. “You killed my boy!”

  Drake was not in the mood. “Maybe he should’ve stayed home last night.”

  Boyd looked around at what was left of Drake’s home. “Men who did this should get a parade.”

  “Go home, Boyd.”

  He chuckled. “Hope they get your mother’s place, next time.”

  Furious, Drake dragged Boyd off his horse and held him up as he growled in his face. “Hope you aren’t buried with Ennis next time!” He tossed him away and the wide-eyed Boyd landed on his butt in the ash and mud.

  Shaken, he stumbled to his feet. “In the old days, you’da been hung for what you just did!”

  “Get off my land.”

  With as much dignity as he could, Boyd climbed back into his saddle. “I won’t forget this, LeVeq.”

  “Daniel Downs’s wife and son won’t forget, either,” Drake countered.

  Reining his horse around, he rode away.

  As they watched him, Hugh asked, “When will this end?”

  Drake replied angrily, “Probably never, because men like Boyd won’t let go of the past.”

  After returning from lunch with Cole and Lenny, Val sat out in the gazebo, her mind filled with the happenings of the last day and a half. First there’d been their arrival, followed by the gift of the two boxcars from Drake, and her decision to remain in New Orleans, which meant telling Cole at lunch that he’d be traveling west without her. It saddened her knowing he’d be so far away, but as Drake reminded her, she could always train out and visit. She was certain he’d miss her presence in his life as well, but her decision had been met with his blessing because they’d always wanted only the best for each other.

  Breaking their engagement would necessitate a letter home to her parents, and her father would not be pleased by the news. He’d not see her staying in New Orleans as an opportunity to make her own way in the world because he didn’t believe her capable. She was a woman after all, and women needed husbands to guide not only their lives, but their thinking. Val didn’t need anyone to guide her thinking, proven during her schooldays when she’d spent almost as much time in Mrs. Brown’s office being scolded as she had in the classroom. Yet still, he’d want her to defer to his better judgement and do as she was told.