Broddock-Black 05 - Force of Nature

by Susan Johnson

  Slumped in the depths of a leather chair, he contemplated the amber liquid in his glass as though some relevant answer stirred in the Irish whiskey he drank because it reminded him of his mother.

  No answers were forthcoming, of course, only chaotic, discordant questions, oppressive reminders of shortcomings and misdeeds, and the ugly memory of what he’d just done to Jo Attenborough because he couldn’t help himself.

  Chapter 30

  Hazard wasn’t surprised when Jo returned alone. She’d wanted to leave Flynn’s, she said. And whether he believed her didn’t matter right now because she was insistent the decision had been hers.

  Perhaps he’d left his men behind because he’d had a premonition, or perhaps he understood how delicate and baffling the aftermath of evil could be.

  Blaze was furious, not believing Jo’s explanation for a minute after seeing her. “She’s grossly unhappy. It’s so obvious, I don’t know how you can be so unruffled. She’s hurting terribly.”

  He didn’t argue with Blaze. What they felt personally didn’t matter when it came to Jo’s happiness. “Let’s make her as comfortable as we can,” he suggested. “Give her time to get over the horror of what she’s endured. We’ll deal with Flynn later.”

  “I should hope you’ll deal with him! The man is as unfeeling as the despicable men at the Empire ranch! I won’t have him in the house again! I mean it, Jon, don’t look at me like that—I’m absolutely adamant!”

  “I doubt he’ll be in Helena anytime soon.”

  “Whenever he should come, if you must see him, do so somewhere else. Jo is desperately unhappy and he is completely to blame—the disreputable cur.” She made a small moue of discontent. “Which brings to mind our son’s intemperate amusements. These amorous diversions can leave a great deal of unpleasantness in their wake—as you see. We should talk to him and remind him of the consequences of his flirtations.”

  “I’ll talk to him,” Hazard promised, although the women in hot pursuit of their son were intent on satisfying their desires. And unpleasantness was more likely to occur if Trey didn’t accommodate them than if he did. But he was more than willing to make a case for a degree more discretion in his son’s conduct.

  ❧

  That same day, Flynn called McFee into his study.

  He hadn’t slept, he was unshaven, and while not intoxicated, he’d obviously been drinking.

  McFee kept his counsel, but he knew why Flynn looked the way he did and if he had been in a position to give advice, he would have told him to go after Hazard’s daughter and bring her back. Instead, he said, “Looks like you could use some sleep, boss.”

  Flynn grunted in reply, ran his hands through his hair and then looked up at McFee from the chair near the window where he’d spent his time of late. “Do you feel like looking after things for me for a while?”

  Good, McFee thought, he's going after hen “Reckon I could.” “I’m going up into the mountains.”

  Shit. “For how long?”

  Flynn shrugged. “I don’t know. The Empire is finished, at least until those in England make up their minds what to do. I don’t expect any trouble from anyone else. You should be able to manage. You probably can do a better job than I.”

  McFee had been at the ranch from the start; he didn’t argue the point of his competence, but he did take issue with Flynn’s decision. “Bein’ alone ain’t all that good, I’m thinkin’.

  Why don’t you go south for a while and kick up your heels instead—a young fellow like you needs entertainment.”

  Flynn half smiled. “Thanks for the advice, but I’m not in the mood to be entertained. I’ll be up on Blackduck if you need me.”

  McFee knew that meant he could come for him only if the most adverse circumstances arose, although Flynn was right, the coming months should be ones of relative calm. “When you leavin’?”

  Flynn heaved himself up from the chair. “In about fifteen minutes.”

  “Don’t stay too long, boss. You’ll git moody.”

  Flynn’s smile took effort. “Too late for that, but maybe some fresh mountain air will clear my head.”

  He rode away a short time later, his saddlebags packed with a change of clothes, some books, paper and brushes and ink, and enough food to supplement his hunting and fishing.

  “He’s as ornery as they come,” Mrs. Beckworth muttered, standing beside McFee on the front porch. “You’d think he’d have more sense than to let her go when he wants her somethin’ fierce.”

  “He’s gonna go up in that cave o’ his and live like a monk.” McFee sighed. “Never could figger out what he did up there.”

  “It’s like the Absarokee vision quests, I reckon. Some men have to talk to somethin’ bigger than them. My ma used to always say, make up your own mind, girl, and don’t take no guff from no one.”

  McFee smiled because Mrs. Beckworth was living proof of that personal philosophy. But then spirited independence was a common trait on the frontier. “I reckon I found my way out West for those same reasons,” he said.

  “Hell, half the territory did and the other half just ain’t admittin’ it.”

  McFee nodded his head in Flynn’s direction, the horse and rider still visible in the distance. “How long do you reckon he’s gonna stay up there?”

  “He’s missin’ her somethin’ terrible from the way he were drinkin’. He ain’t a drinkin’ man. So I’m guessin’ two, three weeks and he’s gonna be gettin’ right anxious.”

  “Maybe just for any woman.”

  Mrs. Beckworth shook her head emphatically. “Oh, no, Mr. McFee, just any woman ain’t gonna do a’tall for that one. He’s head over heels and he don’t even know it.”

  McFee smiled with genuine relief. “Well, that’s right comfortin’ to hear from the woman who been takin’ care of him since he were a wee one.”

  “Mark my words, McFee. Three weeks on the outside and we’ll be seein’ that sweet boy agin’.”

  Chapter 31

  For the next fortnight, the Braddock-Blacks did all they could to distract and amuse Jo. They entertained often— dinner parties, dances, musicales and literary soirees. The guest list always included several eligible bachelors interested in their daughter. And wearing the requisite gloves that conveniently covered the marks on her wrists, Jo did her best to be interested in turn.

  She smiled until her face ached, danced until her feet hurt, conversed with so many men who were out to flatter her that she was tempted to believe that she was indeed the most beautiful woman in the world. And she ate and overate, Blaze’s notion of solace having to do with food. But she couldn’t fault her new family for their concern and she did her best to be pleasant at each and every entertainment that was launched.

  Not a whisper of gossip had surfaced apropos of Jo’s sojourn in the Sun River country, testament to Hazard’s immense power. He’d made it clear to everyone involved in the Empire hostilities that Jo’s captivity was not to be discussed.

  It was enormous comfort to Jo not to have the added burden of public censure, for she was struggling daily with the effects. It surprised her: that inability to forget or efface those disastrous hours. She would have thought reason and logic could nicely set aside that horror and securely lock it away. But she discovered treacherous memory would slip by her defenses at the most inopportune moments and she’d find herself shivering in fear.

  Each time Hazard saw his daughter so stricken, he rued the day he’d let that blond Englishman escape with his life. And one evening when Jo had abruptly excused herself from a dance and gone to her room, he and Trey discussed a remedy that would correct that error in judgment.

  Two men were sent to England the next morning, their mission known only to Hazard and Trey.

  ❧

  But no amount of entertainment could assuage Jo’s troubled spirits and one morning at breakfast she announced that she was returning to Florence.

  “Not permanently, I hope,” Blaze said, anxiously, setting down
her coffee cup.

  Jo smiled. “No, I just need a brief respite to gather my wits and restore my humor.”

  Even her smiles were wan, Hazard reflected, his concern creasing his forehead. “Would you like company? We could all go if you like.” He worried she would sink into an all-consuming melancholy if she was alone in Florence. Lucy wouldn’t be going, he knew for a fact. She and Ed Finnegan were inseparable and Ed was talking divorce, rumor had it.

  “If you don’t think me ungrateful, I’d like to go alone. Not for long,” Jo added at Hazard’s troubled expression.

  “Plan on coming back for the holidays if not sooner,” Hazard suggested. “You might enjoy our snowy Christmas.”

  “I’d like that. I will.”

  With that he had to be content. She was of age, independent and so unhappy, he couldn’t begrudge her the move. “Have you told your mother?”

  “I thought I would today. She’s so busy she won’t be without things to do while I’m gone.” A vast understatement, Jo realized even as she spoke. “I’m afraid she’s become a fixture in Helena. I feel as though I should apologize.”

  “Nonsense. We’re all adults,” Blaze replied, smiling. “Your mother can be very charming.” There was no point in denigrating Lucy’s love of society when so many other women shared her passion, and Ed Finnegan had monopolized her time so effectively of late, Lucy hadn’t been an issue in their household. “Why don’t we make a quick trip to Lucinda’s and buy you some new things before you leave.”

  “Thank you, but I’m taking only one valise.” Jo smiled. “You see, I’ll be back in no time with nothing to wear.”

  “Good,” Hazard said, warmly. “I like the sound of that. I’ll have Sheldon wire some funds to Florence.”

  “That won’t be necessary. You’ve been more than generous. I’m flush, Papa.”

  Hazard smiled, pleased when she called him Papa, her cheerful slang an optimistic note. “Tell her, darling,” he remarked, turning to his wife. “Tell her there isn’t a lady alive who can’t use a bit more pin money.”

  “Listen to your father, dear,” Blaze murmured. “And if you don’t want to spend your pin money frivolously, you might think of a pretty little villa in the hills. We saw the most darling little country house. Tell her where it was, Jon, so she can look at it.”

  “It’s south of Fiesole. I’ll have Sheldon attend to it for you.” “Papa, no, for heaven’s sake!”

  “It won’t hurt for him to see if it’s available.”

  “Papa!” she chided, frowning. “That’s outrageous!”

  “We’ll make arrangements for you at the Grand Hotel then.” But Hazard was already planning to make the present owners an offer that would induce them to sell. He remembered the house and it was splendid.

  ❧

  Jo was shocked to see her mother dressed when she called on her shortly before one.

  “I just have a minute, dear, before my afternoon ride,” Lucy declared, straightening her bonnet in the mirror. “So don’t sit down.”

  Her mother’s tone of voice implied she went for a ride every afternoon, the concept sufficiently unsettling to the patterns of a lifetime that Jo’s eyes widened in surprise.

  “What is it dear?” Lucy inquired with perfectly arched brows. “Don’t you like my new gown?”

  “No, it’s very pretty.”

  “Well, then—out with it.” Lucy glanced at the clock.

  “Ah, that is, I came by to tell you I’m leaving Helena.” Lucy pursed her lips and studied her daughter for a critical moment. “It’s that awful man, Ito, isn’t it? Didn’t I tell you not to become involved with such a disreputable man. And now he’s gone and you’re wretched. I won’t say I told you so, but you know very well I did.”

  Lucy knew nothing of Jo’s captivity, only that she’d gone north to spend time with Flynn.

  “I’m not wretched, Mother. I just miss Florence. I’ll be back for the holidays.”

  Lucy rested her palms on her parasol handle and smiled faintly. “One has to be sensible about men, darling. Haven’t I always said that?”

  “Mother, have you conveniently forgotten the vain and egotistical Cosimo who was the least sensible choice of a man on the face of the earth?”

  Lucy waved one hand in a dismissive gesture. “He was the merest bagatelle. I needed someone to pass the time.”

  Jo’s gaze narrowed. “For fifteen years?”

  Lucy sniffed. “Must you be so caviling? He was convenient.”

  “I heard Ed Finnegan is rumored to be divorcing his wife. Will he become your sensible selection?”

  Lucy smiled. “Very much so, darling. He owns the bank, half the buildings downtown, a dozen ranches and I don’t know how many mines. It makes one quite giddy just thinking about such lovely, lovely, sensible assets. And if he has one little foible like his obsession with punctuality,” she added, glancing at the clock again. “I’m sure once we’re married, I can temper that ridiculous trifle.”

  “If you’re sure he’s what you want, Mother, punctuality aside,” Jo added with a smile, “then I’m pleased for you. I wish you all the best,” she said with genuine fondness.

  “And I shall scrutinize the eligible bachelors while you’re away and have a wonderful list drawn up for you on your return. You’re beautiful, a bit too educated, but never you mind,” Lucy said with another small wave. “Your father is wealthy and prominent and I daresay, your mother will soon be as well. You will be quite a lovely catch, darling. What do you think about having your wedding in the cathedral? White roses, I think, masses of them and a Worth gown, dear”—she frowned—“we almost should order it before you leave.” Taking a small breath, she waggled her fingers as though having resolved her dilemma. “I’ll simply order one for you myself, I know what you look best in ... and of course, we must have vast quantities of caviar and French champagne for the wedding banquet and I suppose some of that beef that everyone eats out here and Ed consumes out of all proportion to what most would consider a salubrious diet.” Lucy was temperate in her selection of food, still maintaining her eighteen-year-old weight. “I forgot about an orchestra!” she exclaimed. “Oh, my goodness, I’m going to have to talk to Ed about that; he’s the chairman of the symphony trust. Oh, sweetheart, isn’t this exciting! You’re going to have the wedding of the century!”

  Jo chuckled softly. “And all I need is a bridegroom.”

  “Pshaw, darling, that’s the least of our worries. The men will be clambering over each other in an effort to gain your attention when you return. Oh, dear, it’s almost one and I have to run, my pet. You know how Ed is about his schedule and he’s taking me to see his latest mine.” She primped for a moment before the mirror, tucking a curl or two into her bonnet, adjusting the bow under her chin. “Now send me a note when you reach Florence.” With a little wave, she briskly moved away and blowing Jo a kiss, opened the door and left.

  Jo stood on the veranda of the Plantation House a short time later, surveying the familiar bustle of downtown with a touch of nostalgia. She was going to miss this frontier town after all, when only a few brief months ago, she’d arrived unwillingly, vowing to leave on the next train. Now she’d be leaving with sadness.

  But she desperately needed to put some distance between herself and Flynn Ito. She had to be far enough away so that wanting him was no longer an option. So when she woke at night longing for his touch, his smile, the warmth of his body beside her, an ocean and a continent would separate her from her folly.

  Florence would be peaceful. She had friends there. She had work if she wished because Father Alessandro had enough projects that needed completing to last her a lifetime. She enjoyed the intellectual discussions and arguments in the cafes; she’d missed the museums, the beauty of the city, perhaps more now than ever, the sense of safety an ancient city like Florence offered.

  Shutting her eyes, she imagined the colorful Duomo bathed in sunlight and smiled.

  How nice it would be to see
it again.

  Chapter 32

  Like the legendary Miyamoto Musashi of Japan who had renounced the world in 1643 and had lived in a cave for the last years of his life, Flynn had climbed Blackduck Mountain to reflect on the road he’d been traveling and come to a better understanding of his life. Or if he was brutally honest with himself, to try to forget Jo.

  He meditated and looked within himself, he painted in the Sumi-e Zen style of painting, using brush and ink in bold, confident strokes that reflected the philosophy of seizing the moment in life. He fished or hunted for what food he needed, but ate like an ascetic, the urgencies of a normal existence beyond him. He read and studied Musashi’s discourses, reaffirming those principles he’d learned so long ago: From one thing know ten thousand things. The Middle Way, or the Way of no extremes, is the better way. What is sought is harmony among all things. It is the warrior’s way to follow the paths of both the sword and the pen. And in the end, there are some who believe that even if you master the way of Heiho (the way of the warrior) it will be of no use.

  When one has been led astray or filled with false conceptions, and cannot resolve these problems, this is ^—emptiness or illusion or true meaning.

  He was here to discover the difference or the sameness.

  Whether one or all were correct.

  And in those days on the mountain, Flynn lived in his sequestered, monkish world, pondering his prejudices and distorted points of view, struggling to find an honest heart and a straightforward spirit.

  He asked himself what he wanted, what happiness meant to him?

  He asked himself whether he was obliged to carry on his father and mother’s dream, whether he could or even wished to?