“The war may have changed him.”
It might have. The war had changed a great many people, including Alex. He used to hold ideals of fighting for the country’s honor, freedom for the oppressed. Now he wondered if all the blood and effort was worth it. The country was still in one piece, but hatred was greater than ever. Slaves were free, but still oppressed. Might there have been a better way?
People had tried. He had no doubt Mr. Carey had tried. But no one could change a heart except Christ. Alex’d had to learn that the hard way.
The waiter brought their pie. It took Cal half a minute to wolf his down. “So how did the trip go with Miss Carey?”
Alex couldn’t help but smile. He’d never met such an opinionated young lady, but he still didn’t know what her opinion of him was. “Miss Carey is a chatter-box. She told me all about her family plantation. Unfortunately, it had been sold without her knowledge. Which reminds me, the tenant farmers are being menaced by a gang of vandals. You and I are going to have to investigate that as soon as you’re settled.”
“Where would that be? Did you find us a place to board?”
“I did. It happened that Gilbert Carey is renting rooms in his townhouse.”
Cal wiped the crumbs from his lips. “Is Carey that hard-up?”
“No reason for him to be. He just sold a plantation, after all. I’m sure he’s not as wealthy as he once was, but he has a comfortable bank account.” Alex had already investigated Gilbert Carey’s financial situation, finding some questionable dealings, but nothing worth mentioning at the moment.
Cal finished his coffee and rapped the table in front of Alex. “What about Miss Carey? Have you staked her out, or do I have a chance with the lady?”
Alex was used to Cal’s teasing, but that annoyed him. A nerve in his jaw twitched. “I think we should keep Miss Carey at a distance until we know what the father is up to.”
What if Gillian preferred Cal? Nah. More than likely she’d have nothing to do with any union soldiers. She considered all Northerners carpetbaggers.
***
Gillian stepped through the back door and fragrance assailed her, gardenia, rose, and sweet shrub. Her mind flooded with memories of Mama nurturing these gardens. It had been their custom to spend Saturdays and Sundays in town so the family could visit with friends and go to church. Gillian had spent many a fine Saturday afternoon playing out here. They would return to Lynwood after Sunday dinner.
Now Lynwood was gone. Sold to a carpetbagger, and Papa had no explanation.
She meandered along the brick-paved path to the rose garden. Feminine voices drew her.
Two figures in bonnets and calico bent over a glorious yellow rose bush, baskets in hand. That reminded Gillian that the sisters had always asked her to sing The Yellow Rose of Texas when they visited, except she substituted Georgia for Texas.
To keep from startling them, she clasped her hands behind her and slowed her steps as she sang. “She’s the prettiest little rosebud that Georgia ever knew. Her eyes are bright as diamonds, they sparkle like the dew.”
Both heads came up at the same time.
The ladies were petite of statue, both had the same black hair, with a little silver sprinkled in, the same gleaming chocolate eyes. They might have been identical twins except Miss Maybelle’s nose was larger and slightly hooked. Miss Lydee was the younger and fairer of the two. Neither lady had aged as much as Gillian might have thought, considering all they’d been through.
“Look sister, it’s little Miss Gillian, I do declare. All grown up.” Miss Maybelle’s smile left deep creases in her face.
“I know it’s Miss Gillian, sister. I’d know that glorious voice anywhere.”
They deposited their baskets on the ground and each held out an arm. Gillian ran into their embrace. She dropped a kiss on each soft cheek. “I’m so glad to be home and find you looking so well.”
“And you’ve turned into a beauty.” Miss Lydee gushed. “Isn’t she a beauty, sister?”
Miss Maybelle eyed Gillian from under the brim of her bonnet. “We heard that you’d returned but decided to take our supper in our room last night. To give you and your dear father time alone.”
“I worry about him, losing Lynwood and all, but it’s clear he doesn’t want to talk about it yet.”
Miss Lydee touched Gillian’s hand. “My dear, we’ve been praying for dear Gilbert. He’s been so good to us. We’ve been living here since your sainted mother died, and Gilbert opened the house to boarders.”
“And didn’t even charge us for two years. We have trouble getting him to take our rent money now.” Miss Maybelle laughed. “Of course, our nest egg won’t last forever, but sister and I still have hopes one of us might find a suitor.”
Gillian giggled under her breath. The sisters had always been on the lookout for a suitor, but as far as Gillian could remember, neither had found one. She admired the sisters for their persistence.
“I love yellow roses.” Gillian took one of the cut roses and gingerly tucked it above her ear, just below where her straw hat rested. “Maudie told me you’re selling them.”
“That’s right,” Maybelle said, “but not these. We’ll be taking these to Rosehill Cemetery to lay a flower on each of the graves of our recently departed soldiers.”
Recently departed was a stretch. The war had been over at least five years.
Miss Lydee leaned forward. “It’s actually our penitence for man-chasing.”
“We sometimes behave unmaidenly in our pursuit.” Miss Maybelle chuckled. “Sister has caught the eye of Mr. Lawton at the flower shop, but she refuses to encourage him until I can find a beau.”
Gillian laid her hand on Miss Lydee’s shoulder. “Oh, but you should encourage Mr. Lawton. He’ll understand that you must provide a home for your sister. But I’ll miss you both if you should move.”
“We won’t be moving anytime soon. We’ll find a beau for sister. It just takes time.” Miss Lydee sent a sidelong glance to Miss Maybelle. “Should we tell Gillian, sister? He is her father…and confession is good for the soul.”
“What about Papa?” Her tone was a bit sharper than she’d intended, but if the sisters could give her some information about Papa’s situation, she wanted to hear it.
Miss Maybelle glanced to her sister before answering. “Two gentlemen came visiting your father Monday, I think it was.”
“No, sister. It was on Tuesday, don’t you remember? It was the day of that thunderstorm.”
“Yes, of course, now I recall. Anyway, we were looking out our window when they arrived, and they were such distinguished looking gentlemen.”
Miss Maybelle looked down at her basket, and Gillian could swear she blushed. Miss Lydee nudged Miss Maybelle. “As we said, we’d been looking for a beau for sister, so it seemed a good idea to go down and be in the hall when the gentlemen came out…to offer some refreshment, you understand.”
“One of the gentlemen was quite handsome, and we understood he was unmarried.” Miss Maybelle’s cheeks deepened to the shade of a ripe plum.
Gillian flapped her hand at a pesky bee buzzing around her head, after the flower, no doubt. “That’s nothing you need to do penitence for. A lady has to make herself…available.”
Miss Maybelle found her tongue. “That’s not what we did wrong. When we got downstairs, the gentlemen were already in your father’s study. We sat in those two chairs outside, you know the ones for visitors to be seated while waiting to be received?” She brushed the bee off her shoulder. “We didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but the door was cracked a bit.” She sent a pleading glance to Miss Lydee.
“We didn’t hear all that was being said, and indeed, didn’t understand any of it. It seemed the gentlemen visitors were speaking of some plan for Gilbert to reclaim Lynwood.”
“Mostly they were talking political gibberish, wanting your father to take the loyalty oath again.”
Reclaim Lynwood? Why would Papa do that after he’d sold it? Julia
told Gillian he’d already spent a great deal of the money he’d gotten from selling the place, and he certainly couldn’t have made much money since moving to town, renting out a few rooms. “I don’t understand.”
Miss Lydee dipped her chin and gave Gillian a sheepish look. “I gathered your papa didn’t think much of their ideas, that he thought it might be illegal.”
“Why would you think that?”
Miss Maybelle broke in. “Because those were Gilbert’s exact words, ‘What you’re suggesting, gentlemen, is illegal.’”
“Then Mr. Handsome said, ‘We have other ways of getting our money.’” Miss Lydee rolled her eyes.
“I’m certain Papa wouldn’t get involved in anything illegal. What did he say after that?”
Miss Maybelle was aghast. “We didn’t wait to hear. The tone of that gentleman was enough for us to know he wouldn’t be a suitable beau, handsome or not.”
“We have our standards,” Miss Lydee added.
It would have been helpful if the ladies had heard the end of that conversation. She’d try to question Papa later, though he’d managed to evade all her questions so far. She patted Miss Lydee’s arm. “You can do better, ladies. Just keep looking.”
“Law.” Miss Maybelle smacked her cheek. “Here we’ve been confessing our sin of eavesdropping and committed another by gossiping. Sister, we’ll have to gather some daises for Widow Jacobs.”
Gillian shook her head. “I don’t consider it gossip. You knew I should know for Papa’s sake, and it was all the truth.”
Miss Lydee nodded her agreement. “It was the truth, but you won’t tell Gilbert about our snooping. He might not consider it in the same light as we do.”
“No, I’ll not divulge a word. And ladies, Julia is giving a dinner party in honor of my homecoming Saturday. I insist you join us.”
“How considerate of Julia. You will favor us with your singing, I hope. You have the voice of an angel.”
“I promise. Now I’ll leave you to your flower gathering, but please take some to the Widow Jacobs for me too. I’d like to go with you another time.”
She left the sisters arguing over the number of flowers they should take. Though she couldn’t reveal her sources, she would find out who those gentlemen were, and what they were trying to get Papa to do. It didn’t sound like they sought help with share-cropping to her.
It sounded more like a threat.
Chapter 6
Alex intended to drive the buggy around to the carriage house, but the sight of Gillian on the front porch stopped him. Might as well take this opportunity to introduce her to Cal. Let them take each other’s measure safely in his presence.
Or maybe he just wanted to see her because it had been almost twenty-four hours since the last time.
He urged the team into the circular drive and pulled up on the reins. Cal retrieved his duffle bag out of the back, and they made their way to the porch and up the wide steps. Gillian kept her blue gaze on them every step of the way.
She sat on a white slatted rocker with one brown slipper peeking from under her pink and white dress. Her hair was swept up in all its golden-red glory. Curls framed her face and wispy tendrils danced in the breeze helped by a paper fan she waved lazily.
Such a beautiful face. Despite the heat, she appeared cool and perfectly at ease.
He couldn’t say the same for himself. His shirt stuck to his back and his hair lay clamped to his forehead. He was sweating like a lathered horse and probably smelled as bad. They should have gone to the back.
“Good afternoon, gentlemen.” Rosy full lips curved slightly.
Alex waited a moment too long. Her tawny brows rose, bringing him to attention. “Miss Carey, allow me to introduce my friend, Lieutenant Cal Duncan. He’s going to be boarding in your lovely home.” He almost laughed when her smile hitched at his stilted introduction.
The brows relaxed as she apprised Cal. “Pleased to have you, Lieutenant. Pull up a rocker and enjoy this breeze.”
Her invitation extended to Alex since there were rockers on either side of her, but he propped against the porch’s column instead. This would afford him a good view of her without getting too close. Cal took the rocker on her left.
The breeze she spoke of barely ruffled the leaves of the gardenia bush hugging the corner of the house. Gillian tilted her head back as she set her rocker in motion. “I feel so much safer with two strong army men in the house.”
“Is there some reason you wouldn’t feel safe?”
She poked her lower lip out before answering. “I confess I was rather unnerved to return to my home and find it wasn’t my home anymore, and then being shot at.”
Alex hadn’t forgotten the incident. He explained their confrontation at Lynwood Plantation to Cal and added, “That part about being shot at unnerved me too.”
Gillian turned to Cal. “The captain was a knight in shining armor. Would you believe he shielded me with his own body?”
“It was nothing more than anyone else would have done in the circumstance.”
Her gaze shifted to him. “Nothing? It was everything. Greater love hath no man than he lay down his life for a friend. To do so for a complete stranger must be greater than love.”
Those blue eyes held him. While his mind told him she was flirting, he couldn’t ignore the depth of sincerity in her eyes. And it made him downright uncomfortable.
Cal must have felt his discomfort too and wanted to grind it in. He laughed. “And I didn’t know there was anything greater than love.”
Alex looked down at the floor and spied the newspaper lying beside the vacant rocker. He picked it up and flicked it open. “Were you reading the newspaper, Miss Carey?”
“Yes, Alex, I was reading the distressing news.” She glanced from him to Cal. “May we drop the formalities. Please call me Gillian. We’re going to live like family, are we not?”
“What did you find distressing? The latest styles in millinery?”
She tilted forward in the rocker like she wanted to throttle him. “No, Alexander the Great.” Her tone held a pout, but she softened it with a smile. Maybe that’s why he liked her. She could be annoying and playful, all at the same time. “I refer to the bickering in the statehouse. They intend to require our duly elected representatives to retake the loyalty oath. That calls into question my father’s honor. Whatever you think of southern men, you must admit they have honor.”
“We’d never call your father’s honor into question, Miss Gillian.” Cal’s tone indicated he was lapping up her female prattle.
“I know you would not, but there are those who do. Do either of you know why some men like Papa must retake the oath?”
Since her stare bored into Alex, he answered. “I believe it’s required of all ex-Confederates, but those decisions were made by the legislature, and they don’t share their reasons with us.”
“No ma’am,” Cal added. “We’re not involved in politics.”
She gave the rocker another nudge. “I must disagree, Lieutenant. We’re all involved in politics—those who take action, or those who are acted upon. We Southerners are in the latter category. At the moment.” She doubtless sent that last to Alex as a challenge.
Gillian nodded to the vacant rocker. “Have a seat, Alex. I won’t bite.”
For one eerie second he thought she could read his mind, that she knew he was investigating her father. He shifted positions, propping on the other hip. “I’m all right. I feel the breeze out here.”
Cal ran a finger under his collar. “Sure is hot today.”
Gillian fanned him vigorously for a few seconds, then turned the fan on Alex, moving it in long, slow motions. “I’m not used to the heat yet. England is chilly in comparison. Yet I remember as a child the heat didn’t bother me at all. I used to play outside all day with the sun blazing down. It didn’t even bother me when I picked cotton.”
A chuckle came from Cal’s corner. “You picked cotton, Miss Gillian? The plantation owner’
s daughter.”
She fanned herself for several moments before answering, and Alex liked the way those curling tendrils blew across her forehead. “I didn’t have to, but I helped my friend, Junie Kennebrew.” She sent a glance to Alex from under her lashes. “Junie is the daughter of that tenant farmer we spoke to. Junie and I were the best of friends.”
She sighed and looked past Alex. “Junie went out west as a mail-order bride a few years ago.” A shudder ran through her. “I could never go to somewhere I’d never been to marry a stranger, but Junie didn’t think she’d ever find a mate here.”
Her fan stilled. “I’ll just have to join the O’Grady sisters in their never-ending search for a beau right here.”
Her laughter invited a response. “I doubt you’ll have any trouble finding a beau,” Cal said.
“Tell us about picking cotton. How is it done?” Not that Alex didn’t believe her. He just wanted to steer her away from the subject of beaus.
“I was a child, you understand, and not much help at all, I’m sure. There were sheets spread out at the end of the rows. Junie and I had small flour sacks strapped across our shoulders and went down the row and back down another. We’d dump the cotton we’d picked on the sheets. When enough had been picked—I don’t know how many bales—the sheet was gathered by the four corners, tied, then taken by the men to the wagons to haul to market.”
She poked that ruddy, lower lip out in the provocative way she had. “Dear Junie. I’d not thought of her since coming back. I’ll have to visit the Kennebrews and ask if they’ve heard how she’s doing.”
Alex straightened, every muscle tense. “I don’t think it would be a good idea for you to go out there.”
“Why not?”
She didn’t know all the danger involved, but she knew enough. “It was one of those farms that’s been attacked by those roving outlaws, remember? If you must go, I could escort you.”
The Captain's Challenge (The Wolf Deceivers Series Book 3) Page 6
