After The Lies

by Mandessa Selby

Everything in Miss Delacroix’s trunk drew Callie. Her mind was transported back to the night she had seen the Lieutenant bathing in the pond with his scented soap and pale skin. Callie lifted a while lace handkerchief to her nose and inhaled the subtle perfume. She closed her eyes.

  “It’s been a long time since a boy touched my underwear.” Miss

  Delacroix’s voice seemed to float across the room. Callie couldn’t move, mortified at being found with her hands on

  another woman’s underwear.

  “Turn around, little one,” Miss Delacroix ordered.

  Slowly Callie turned and faced the women. She dropped the hankie on the floor and stared at the toes of her boots. She couldn’t believe she’d been so careless and hadn’t heard the other woman’s footsteps.

  A small smile turned Miss Delacroix’s lips up. Callie swallowed. “I’m sorry.”

  “When I was your age, I liked to touch pretty things, too.”

  Miss Delacroix picked up the hankie from the floor. She straightened and studied Callie. “What’s your name?” “Cal, ma’am.”

  Miss Delacroix flipped off Callie’s hat and grasped her chin with strong fingers. She twisted Callie’s face up and down. “Have you begun to shave yet. You’re much too pretty to be a boy. Such long, lovely eyelashes. Some very smart woman in Paris would keep you for her own. She would teach you the ways of the world and you’d never have to work again.”

  Callie pushed away. She had no idea what Miss Delacroix meant. She tried to duck under Miss Delacroix’s arm, but Miss Delacroix didn’t let go. “I don’t understand.”

  “Pretty little boys grow up to be pretty young man and are highly prized, especially if the young man develops certain talents.”

  Callie’s face flamed with embarrassment. She was beginning to understand what Miss Delacroix meant. “No one would want me, ma’am.”

  “I don’t know about that. I know some who would adore you.”

  Callie doubled her efforts to get away. “Ma’am, I don’t think I should be listening to this.”

  Miss Delacroix laughed and Callie succeeded in getting away. She bolted out the door and ran right into her brother. He grunted under the force of her body hitting his and stumbled backward. He grasped Callie’s shoulders and righted her.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  Callie shook her head. She tried to get away. Miss Delacroix was everything Callie would have liked to be. She was smart and men seemed to fall all over her. Callie needed to get away so she could control her raging feelings. She wanted to be like Miss Delacroix so that Luc would like her, too.

  She twisted out of Luc’s grasp and ran across the parade ground to the stables. Deep in a shadowed corner of Liberty’s stall, she curled up on a mound of hay and lay there trying not to cry.

  Old Silas peered into the stall. “You come out of there. I just cleaned this stall and I don’t need your dirty boots in my clean stable. How come you shoot in here like a bullet, little man?”

  Callie just shook her head. She was afraid if she said anything, she’d start to cry.

  “Silence in good. Now you come out. Idle hand make for the devil’s playground. I got lots of work. If you’re sulking over something, you can do while your hands is cleaning harness.”

  Callie allowed him to coax her out and seconds later she was sitting on a stool in the tack room rubbing saddle soap across the leather and then cleaning it with a rag. “Silas, have you ever seen something you wanted bad.”

  “I used to think like that when I was young.”

  “How come you don’t think that way now?” The measured movements of her hands soothed her.

  “Because I’m old now. You can’t go through life without learning a thing or two.”

  Callie wondered what she had to learn about life. “What did you learn?”

  “That wanting something gnaws at your belly more than hunger.”

  “What did you want so badly?”

  “A woman.” His face took on a faraway cast as he dipped into his memories.

  “Was she a slave?”

  “Yes, she was a slave, but not like most of us. What she had to do was even worse. I worked the stables, but she had to ....” his voice trailed away.

  “To what?” Callie asked intrigued.

  Silas seemed to shake himself and the distant look in his eyes disappeared. “She was the Master’s mistress. As beautiful as the sunset. Her name was Lorelei. But she wasn’t for me.”

  “What happened?”

  He shook his head. “The war. That bastard took her with him to Vicksburg and she was killed during the siege. He survived though.”

  “How do you know she died?”

  “Because I tended the prisoners at Vicksburg and the bastard told me. I almost slipped a knife into his ribs. I could have, you know.”

  “Why didn’t you?” Callie’s hands stilled at the revelation of Silas’ past.

  “I had me enough killing, little man. Lorelei was dead, what good would it have been to kill the Master? He didn’t have anything to go back to, didn’t have anything left. He was a broken man and that was enough for me.” A look dawned in Silas’ eyes and he glanced knowingly at Callie. “I get it, little man, you got yourself a look at the Lieutenant’s pretty sister and now you got yourself a hankering for her.”

  “No!” Callie jumped to her feet, dropping the harness and staring at him. “No!”

  “Don’t you get yourself all bent out of shape. It’s natural. A man sees a pretty woman and he wants her, even if she is a white woman.”

  Callie shook her head violently. How could Silas even think Callie was hankering after Miss Delacroix? Callie wanted her clothes. All those beautiful, soft, scented things that women wore to be women. Callie wanted to wear those clothes for Luc. She wanted to be a woman for Luc. God, what was she thinking? She’d never owned soft, pretty things. She’d never known a man like Luc Delacroix. Callie didn’t know anything about being a woman. She knew how to hunt and follow sign. She knew how to survive in harsh country. She knew necessary things. But just once in her life, she wanted to be frivolous, pretty and cherished by a Luc.

  She picked up the dropped harness and hung it on its hook. “I promised cook I’d trap some rabbits for the banquet.” She fled again.

  She made her way on foot to a nearby stream and sat on a rock beneath the shade of a cottonwood facing the fort and trying to figure out how she was going to come to terms with her feelings. She couldn’t afford to fall in love with any man, she had her family’s future at stake.

  If she didn’t fulfill the bargains of the enlistment contract, there would be no money and no free land. Her mama was counting on that land.

  The sun disappeared beyond the horizon and the land began to darken into night. Lights came on in the different quarters and the barracks. Someone played a guitar accompanied by an harmonica. She should go back, no one was supposed to be off post at night without special permission. But she couldn’t move.

  Callie sat on her rock, her knees drawn under her chin, her arms wrapped around her legs. Darkness crept outward and still she sat.

  After what seemed like hours, Callie saw a movement heading toward her. She tensed, wondering who would be wandering outside the post after dark. The shadowed figure slipped through the night and Callie’s

  curiosity was piqued. A man passed, not seeing her. When he passed, his face in darkness, Callie slid off the rock and followed. Who would be so bold as to leave the post after dark? And from the stealthy way he moved, she knew he wasn’t supposed to be there.

  The man sidled through the underbrush and crossed the stream. He walked quickly and Callie wished she could see his face. Something about him told her he was up to no good.

  She followed him for several miles along the stream until he paused at a rotted out log. The man kneeled in front of the log and put his hand inside. Callie squinted to see better, but the darkness defeated her.

  And then man was gone, heading back to t
he post. She wished for a better view of him, but he moved quickly and she was interested in what he’d put in the log.

  She crept toward the log and dug deep inside. She felt nothing was in the log, which meant the man had removed something. She patted the entire interior of the log and her fingers found something small and round. She pulled out the object, but couldn’t tell what the object was. She slipped it into her pocket and then headed back toward the post.

  * * *

  Esme opened the top drawer of the bureau and neatly inserted her folded underwear. “Are you sure you have no more space?” she asked her brother.

  Luc sat in a chair across the room, trying not to laugh.

  She rounded on him, hands on her hips, annoyance on her plainly face. “You knew I was coming. You could have made better arrangements.”

  He had toyed with idea of volunteering his unit to a long range patrol to avoid his sister all together, but he suspect Esme would traverse the desert just to find him and scold him for not having enough drawers for her. “I’m sleeping in the parlor for the duration of your stay.” He smiled at her. “Which by the way, is how long?”

  “I have just arrived and now you seem like you want to be rid of me. How rude you have become.”

  “You’ve never slept in the parlor.” He was delighted to see her, but his bachelor quarters were small and cramped, hardly designed for her and her belongings. He eyed her eight trunks which filled every inch of floor space in the bedroom.

  “I’ve made a new life plan.” Esme sat on the edge of the bed and studied him.

  “What’s that?”

  “I’ve decided to move.”

  Oh God please not to Texas. She’d start some revolution just to break the monotony. “To Texas?”

  Her face contorted into an unattractive grimace. “My goodness, never.”

  “New Orleans?” He knew she’d visited their father, perhaps she longed for their childhood home. New Orleans was far enough away.

  “No.” Esme played with the lace collar of her neck. “I’ve decided on San Francisco. I’ve heard it’s very wild and it’s time I was wild again.”

  “Esme! San Francisco! What’s possessed you?”

  She shrugged. “There’s nothing in Paris anymore. Philippe is dead and you are never returning to Paris. Why should I stay?”

  “Because it’s civilized.” He couldn’t imagine Esme anywhere in the world but Paris. She was made for Paris. She glittered as brightly as the city. He didn’t know if he wanted her on the same continent as him.

  Her lips quirked. “I’m bored. I can’t paint. I can’t breathe. I need something new, something exciting. I have put most of my life in order and I’m going to San Francisco and you should do the same.”

  He’d been to San Francisco and frankly it wasn’t his type of city. He preferred the wilds of Texas. “I have no desire to live in San Francisco.”

  “No.” She slapped his hand. “It’s time you put your life in order.”

  “And, Sister dear, what do you mean by that?” Or did he really want to know.

  She sat back and studied him. “I mean, father.”

  “Why did you see him?” Luc couldn’t help the stiff anger in his voice.

  “He is my father and I love him.”

  He’d known the relationship between Esme and their father had never wavered. Like everyone around her you either accepted Esme on her terms or not at all. She had been that way as a child and she certainly never grew out of it as a woman. But when you are the dutiful son, and transgress, there is no forgiveness. “And his wife and daughters? How did they feel about your visit?”

  She waved a hand in the air. “Lauren will be joining me in San Francisco. Simone is going to London. And Josette will be visiting the Countess Duchand in Paris. The child is lovely, but she needs polish and the Countess will help her shine.”

  “You spoke to our half-sisters?” Luc could only stare at her disbelieving her.

  She rolled her shoulders elegantly. “They love me.”

  “And our father? The subject was still painful for him to mention.

  She drummed her long fingers on the mattress.

  He could tell she was becoming impatient with him, but he didn’t care. “What did he say?”

  The fingers moved faster. “Lucien, I am not a stupid woman. I have always known, even Natalie has always known, that you were his favorite, his pride and joy. A man could not wish for a son more brilliant than you. And this feud between you two has gone on long enough. It’s time for a reconciliation.”

  “As far as father is concerned I betrayed him and his precious cause.”

  “The war is over. He is willing to set all that aside if you will meet him half way.”

  “Really?” Luc gripped the arms of the chair. The war wasn’t over. In a hundred years there would still be hate on both sides. Several months ago the his unit had raided a camp of Southern sympathizers. Texas had become a haven for southerners plotting to restart the hostilities.

  “I don’t care about your petty intrigues. Our father is dying.”

  Luc took a deep breath. He had never stopped loving his father, but in his heart he knew he couldn’t defend an institution that condoned slavery after all the years Luc had lived as a free man in Paris. His father wanted to keep the old ways and seemed to see nothing odd in southern men indulging in their black mistresses and having children with them, while enslaving their mistresses’ parents. Was Esme just lying to gain favor with him. “What’s wrong with him?”

  She glanced away. “The doctor says it’s his heart. Of course, it didn’t help that they were practically living in squalor.” A tear rolled down her cheek and she quickly wiped it away.

  Luc was jolted by shock. He knew she was telling the truth. His sister cried only in the most dire circumstance and hated herself for being weak. “What do you mean?”

  “Father lost everything in the war. They have no money, no plantation.

  Nothing. All that is left is the house in New Orleans, and even Natalie tried to barter that away the same way she tried to barter her daughter.”

  “You helped, I know you did.” Luc was proud of his sister. She saw things clearly, while his thoughts were muddied with feelings of anger.

  “Of course.”

  “Then you must arrange for some of my money to be sent.”

  She waved her hand. “Whose money do you think I used?”

  He grinned at her. “How generous of you.”

  “You gave me complete control of our fortune. I have amassed more money than you and I will ever use, so why shouldn’t we be generous. After all, our father did arrange for us to have a very generous settlement. It wasn’t his fault it was so much more than we could ever use. Now it’s

  time for you to thank him in person. I spoke with Monty ....” “How do you get away with calling General Hammond Monty?”

  She laughed. “One afternoon at Antoine’s I let him look down my dress. He’s been very grateful ever since.”

  He had to ask. “Have you slept with him?”

  “Although he enjoys looking at me, I fear his need is more centered on my financial attractiveness than my physical beauty.”

  Luc stared at her in amazement. “When did you become so mercenary?”

  “When you left me alone in Paris to play soldier. And now you can make it up with me by visiting our father. I’ve arranged with Monty for you to take a short a leave of absence. He didn’t want you to go, but I convinced him it was matter of life and death. I told him some of the truth, and that you needed to make your peace with our father, or you would never be able to live with yourself. Monty is understanding and I know he needs you here, but our father needs you, too.”

  “I have a job to do.” Luc wasn’t certain he wanted to visit his father. His father had disinherited him, had cut off all communication. What did Luc owe this man besides paternity?

  “Please, Lucien.” She grasped his hands. “I’m asking for one visit a
nd three small words.”

  “What three small words?”

  “I forgive you. Go to New Orleans, say I love you, and then return to your duties. You will only be gone a few weeks and the next supply train isn’t due for several months. Monty has decided to stay on here while you are gone. He hopes his presence will deter the spy. And I will help him. Is visiting our father so little to ask? It need not be so taxing on your pride?”

  “I’m not concerned with my pride.”

  Her lips pursed. “Then how long must you cling to your animosity?”

  He didn’t want to talk about his father anymore. “You’re going to help catch a spy?”

  “I will let you change the subject brother dear. And yes it will amuse me to strike a blow for justice.”

  “I see.” Nobody was sneakier than Esme. If skullduggery were to be found, Esme would sniff it out like a hunting dog. Luc almost pitied the spy.

  “Will you go?”

  He’d faced death on the battlefield, seen men he’d called friends die in his arms, and survived a near fatal saber wound, but his sister terrified him. If he didn’t go, she would keep at him like the dripping of a pump.

  She would never let up and he would be subjected to a reign of silk-clad terror. That was how she worked. She would chip away at his resistance until he was worn down to nothing. He might as well give in now, but he couldn’t he did have some pride after all. He needed to work a little bit. “I will think about it.” He stood and started to leave.

  She grabbed his hand. “No. Now that I’ve finished with my business, let us gossip.”

  “Esme, there is little to gossip about in Texas and I’m no longer interested in what is happening in Paris.”

  “But there is gossip in Texas, my dear brother.” Her lips tilted up. “Very interesting gossip. Involving you.”

  A stab of fear went through him. What did Esme know and how did she know it. “What?”

  She laid down on her side, propping herself on an elbow. “Let us start with your little boy, Cal. He’s darling. And he’s a girl. Did you know?”

  Luc leaned against the door jamb. He shouldn’t have been surprised, but he was. Esme was hard to fool over the most difficult things, one small disguise wouldn’t distract her.