Patricia Hagan

by Loves Wine

  He smiled gently. “Then we’ll just have to make certain there isn’t a next time.” He cupped her chin in his hand, forcing her to meet his reassuring gaze. “I’m not only going to offer you a tidy sum for your land, my dear, I’m going to give you back your original investment! You can move into Vicksburg and be with your mother, and I promise you’ll be the belle of every social function. I intend to make a pest of myself, vying for your company.”

  He slipped his hand inside his expensive coat, then smoothly placed her grandmother’s brooch in her lap. “Where did you get this?” she gasped, looking from the brooch to him and back again.

  He smiled, enjoying the moment, and told her about buying it back from the jeweler. “I know it meant a great deal to you. Accept it, please, as a gesture of friendship.”

  “But…” she sputtered, staring at the brooch, shaking her head. “I’m sorry. I can’t accept it. I’d be in your debt, and I could never repay you.”

  “No, my dear, you don’t owe me anything. Consider it evidence of my goodwill and friendship. I’ll be insulted if you don’t accept it. It would hurt me, Holly.”

  She stared at him. If it weren’t for those cold eyes, he would be attractive. Oh, what difference did that make? What was she thinking of? “You want that land, don’t you?” she asked simply. “Or you’d never have gone to the trouble to find out where I got the money to pay the taxes.”

  He glanced away, with a hangdog look on his face as he shook his head and said in a confidential tone, “Not me, Holly. My father. I won’t be held accountable for him. My interest is in lumber and building. I really don’t need your land, but Father fancies himself a land baron. He wants the site of Magnolia Hall so he can build a mansion for himself, and he wants to own all the connecting property, particularly the river frontage. Something about developing a port there for riverboats. When I heard what lengths you went to in order to keep your land, I bought the brooch back.”

  She blinked, confused. “You mean you don’t agree with your father?”

  He shook his head. “No, Holly. If you want the land, then you should have it. It’s yours by right. Believe me, my only concern is for your well-being. If you won’t let me take that piece of land off your hands so you can move to Vicksburg where you’ll be safe, then I have no choice but to accept your decision. But at least take the brooch. Don’t insult my good intentions, please.”

  There was no time to wonder at all this, for at that moment, Scott Colter entered. After glancing from Holly to Roger Bonham, seeing the brooch in her lap, Scott took his seat. He nodded curtly to Roger. “Mrs. Maxwell seemed quite upset when I talked with her a short while ago. She said you were disturbed, too.” There was a hint of mockery in his voice and Roger did not mistake the tone.

  “It was nice of you to go by there, Colonel. I’m afraid the gossips wasted little time in letting her know that her daughter had shot a man. How is he, by the way?”

  Scott looked at Holly as he said, “He isn’t hurt badly. Did you mean to kill him?”

  Holly grinned. “If I had, he’d be dead.”

  “He sticks to his story. He says you meant to kill him,” Scott said quietly.

  Holly shook her head. “I could see him clearly. I aimed off his shoulder, so it would be a flesh wound. And that’s what it was. If he cares to pay me another visit, I’ll be glad to make a truthful man out of him, instead of a liar,” she added. Scott sighed at her unrepentant attitude. “Look, Colonel Colter. I don’t care what Wellman says. I told you the truth. Now may I leave? I’ve other things to be doing besides sitting here being treated like a criminal.”

  Scott went on as though she had not spoken. “It’s easy for people to believe his story because you’re getting a reputation as a hotheaded, rebellious wildcat.”

  “And I imagine he has a reputation as a no-good, lying son of a bitch,” she said smoothly.

  Scott raised an eyebrow. “Maybe I should have used stronger soap.”

  Roger looked from her face to the colonel’s in confusion. “Is there some part of this I don’t know about?” he snapped.

  “Not that it’s any of your business,” Scott said lazily. “Wait outside, please. I’ll speak to Holly alone now.”

  Roger did not like being dismissed. “What do you want me to do, my dear?” he asked. “I’ll stay if you like.”

  “I’ll be leaving soon, too, Roger. This isn’t getting anywhere.” She stood up.

  “You will sit down,” Scott said so fiercely that she nearly fell back into her chair. “You will leave when I say you can go. Not before.” He shot a look at Roger. “You have been dismissed, Bonham.”

  Roger stood. “I’ll wait outside, Holly. Then I’ll take you to your mother.” He went out, shooting an angry look at Scott before slamming the door behind him.

  When they were alone, Scott informed her he had been to the bank to talk to Mr. Locklear. “He doesn’t know anything about any money being held for you.”

  She stared at him. “So? Does that prove anything except that the Night Hawks told him there’d been trouble and to forget the deal? Now he’s scared to admit the truth.”

  He nodded imperceptibly.

  “Does that mean you believe me?” she asked, exasperated.

  “I do. I’ve told Wellman to get out of town and tell his friends to do the same. I won’t tolerate vigilantes in my territory.”

  “Then I won’t have to worry about them again! Thank God!”

  Candidly, he informed her, “They aren’t going to turn tail and run just because they’ve been warned. They’ll hang around as long as they’re getting paid.”

  “Well, what are you going to do about it? You’re being paid, I believe, to keep peace in this area.”

  Suddenly, his expression changed. “Let me worry about that. You just watch yourself. I won’t tolerate vigilantes, but neither will I put up with citizens taking the law into their own hands. That includes you.” He got up and escorted her to the door. “I’ll have some patrols around your property from time to time. You’d be wise to watch who you’re shooting at. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have other matters to tend to.” He got to his feet and went to the door.

  Holly was baffled by his coolness. She was being abruptly dismissed. She walked to the door slowly, then turned to face him. Standing there, so close, the passionate memories rushed back to her. He touched his tongue to the sensuous fullness of his lower lip, as though tasting a kiss and she felt a tremor move through her. The spark of awareness crackled silently between them.

  “The dress you were wearing the other night was lovely,” he said lightly. “At the party I realized you’re a real beauty when you want to be.”

  Holly felt wholly vulnerable. Mustering confidence, she gave Scott a mock curtsy and smiled. “I thank you, kind sir, and it seems you can be a real gentleman…when you want to be.”

  He reached out and touched her face gently with his fingertips, trailing downward till he was cupping her chin. For an instant, Holly stood frozen, then she shook free and quickly jerked open the door.

  She bumped right into Roger, who gripped her arms to steady her. “Are you all right? You look…upset.” He gave Scott an accusing glare. Scott smoothly closed the door on them.

  Holly shook her head. “I’m fine, Roger. I just want to get out of here.” He guided her to the outer door.

  “They took your horse to the post stables, because they didn’t know whether or not you would be detained. I have my carriage outside. I’ll take you to your mother’s.”

  Neil Davis had been standing to one side, shuffling some papers, obviously listening. He moved to block their path. “If you’d like me to, I can get your horse and ride with you to your mother’s, Holly. Or I’ll take you back to your place, if that’s what you want.”

  “I’m taking care of her,” Roger countered curtly, “but thank you for your concern, Captain.”

  She looked from one to the other. Damn, why did Scott affect her this way? She wa
nted time alone, to think. The last thing she wanted was the company of another man right now. “Thank you both,” she told them, “but I prefer to walk.” With a polite nod, she left the building before either could think what to say to stop her.

  The day was lovely, a warm, gentle breeze blowing in from the south. She winced at the grotesque skeletons of burned trees along the way. Once, their limbs had been lush and green, with magnolia blossoms or the popcorn glory of white dogwood flowers. Now everything was drab, dead, thanks to the Yankees and their siege of Vicksburg. Here and there, piles of rubble lay where great houses had once been.

  Devastation and poverty—these were the gifts the war had bestowed upon Mississippi. To those who had survived, the present seemed intolerable; the future, hopeless. The war had destroyed the South’s physical assets and its whole way of life. The entire Confederacy was bitter and exhausted.

  Farmers lacked tools, stock, seeds. Plantations fell to carpetbaggers who hovered like vultures. Mills, mines, and factories were shut. Many country roads were impassable. Bridges that had not been burned were in desperate need of repair. Most river steamboats had been captured or destroyed, and the rest were worn out. The few southern railroads left were currently being used by the Federal government.

  Passing the burned remains of the old slave market, she recalled her family’s horror of slavery. Not all Southerners had been slavers.

  There were some Negro men standing by the remains of the market, and they watched her with angry, hostile eyes. It mattered not that they didn’t know her, didn’t know her hatred of slavery. To them, she was just a white Southerner. That made her responsible for their bondage. She saw their ragged clothing, skinny bodies. They were starving. They had paid a terrible price for freedom.

  “They don’t know what to do with themselves, do they, Miss Maxwell?”

  Holly whirled around and saw a man leaning against a blackened tree trunk. He was older—in his early fifties, she thought—and he had a lean, craggy face and a bushy, graying beard. He wore the tattered trousers of a Confederate uniform, and a worn dark muslin shirt.

  Alarmed, Holly asked, “How do you know me? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before.”

  He grinned. “I knew your daddy. Fought with him. A fine man, he was.”

  “But how do you know me?”

  He shrugged casually. “Oh, everybody knows you, Miss Maxwell. It’s all over town that you shot one of them Night Hawks last night. I watched you going into the post, and I hung around, waitin’ for you to come out.”

  He nodded toward the group standing by the slave market. “Saw you starin’ at them niggers,” he drawled. “Sad, ain’t it? They just don’t know what to do with themselves, now they’re free. ‘Course, the government’s promisin’ ’em forty acres and a mule, but some of ’em don’t want to go back to the fields, so they’ll steal and murder to keep from goin’ hungry. That’s why we got to teach ’em their place.”

  Holly felt her cheeks growing warm. “We don’t need more trouble. Please leave me alone. I don’t want to talk any more.”

  She nodded politely and began walking away, but he fell into step alongside her.

  He snorted. “Funny hearin’ you talk like that. Folks are callin’ you the loudest Reb around here.”

  “If I’m a Rebel because I only want to be left alone, then I’m a Rebel.”

  She picked up her step, but he darted ahead of her, blocking her path, ignoring her angry look. “We’re gonna talk, lady, ’cause me and my men got something you need, and you got something we need. You’d better listen. Whether you know it or not, you got big troubles.”

  Holly was agitated but she refused to show fear. “Will you get out of my way? I can take care of myself. I proved that last night.”

  He laughed. “Girlie, you were just lucky last night. Now that the Night Hawks know you got some guts, they’ll be ready next time. And there will be a next time. That’s why you need me and my men. We’ll make sure you can stay on your land.”

  She cried, “I don’t need help! Now get out of my way!”

  He grabbed her and pushed her up against a nearby tree. “I ain’t messin’ around. I hear things, and you can believe me when I say the word’s out them Night Hawks are gonna get you. I don’t mean you no harm, I swear it. Me and my men want to make a deal. You got a good place to hide out in them woods, and you know the swamps. You help us out by lettin’ us meet there, where we won’t be spied on, and if times get bad and one of us has to run from the law, you can hide us in the swamps. In return, we’ll see to it you’re protected from the Night Hawks.”

  “What are you and your men up to?”

  He jerked his head back toward the slave market. “Like I said. They’re gonna cause trouble. They’re uppity, and smart-alecky, and they gloat because we lost the war. We gotta keep ’em in line. Yankees ain’t gonna protect Southern whites, you know. Me and my men are bandin’ together to look after ourselves and our families. We ain’t takin’ no guff off niggers—or Yankees.”

  Holly nodded. “You’re going to become vigilantes, just like the Night Hawks. But you’ll be on the side of the South while they’re on the side of the North. The war will continue.”

  He grinned. “You got it. Help us. Remember, you need us,” he added.

  She shook her head slowly, sadly. “You’re only going to cause more problems for yourself and everyone. This isn’t the answer. I don’t know what the answer is, but there has to be a way that won’t cause any more grief.”

  “You ain’t got a better solution, have you?” he bellowed. “Tell you one thing,” he jabbed at the air, “if we Southerners don’t stick together, we’re gonna be grovelin’ in the dirt, eatin’ worms to keep from starvin’!”

  Holly could feel enough pity to dissipate her anger. Sincerely, she told him, “I wish I could help you, but I can’t. I don’t want more trouble, I just want to be left alone. I’m afraid I’m not a crusader.”

  She turned away, and this time he didn’t try to stop her. “You’ll change your mind,” he called after her. “They ain’t gonna leave you alone. And you’ll come crawlin’ to us for help. You’ll see. We all got to stick together, else they’ll trample us into the ground.”

  She quickened her pace, lifting her skirt above her ankles, relieved when his voice faded away. She nearly ran when she got within sight of Abby’s home.

  Chapter Nine

  Claudia had been keeping an anxious vigil, and she threw her arms around Holly. “Oh, thank God! I was afraid something like this was going to happen.” She stepped back to study her. “Ever since I heard, I’ve been a nervous wreck. What did happen? I want to hear everything.”

  Holly had dreaded this moment. “Whatever you heard, believe me, it wasn’t that bad. I just had some prowlers, and I wounded one of them. It’s over, so let’s forget it and have a nice visit.”

  Claudia knew by that set look on her daughter’s face that she was in one of her stubborn moods. Nothing would make her talk until she was ready. Forcing herself not to press the point, she motioned Holly to follow her upstairs. “Come along, then. I’ve got something to show you, something you’re going to love.”

  Holly dutifully tagged behind her mother. Entering her room, she was stunned to see the creation her mother gently lifted from the bed.

  The dress was made of delicate spun silk, the bodice a soft shade of lavender. The neckline was cut quite low, with tiny satin ribbons to serve as straps that would drape gently off the shoulders. A sash of darkest purple hugged the waist, while the skirt began its cascading drop in the same shade, blending to softer and softer hues of lavender to the hem. Small, crocheted rosebuds dotted the layers of netting overlaying the skirt, each rosebud framed in delicate dark green leaves.

  Holly’s reaction made Claudia very happy. “It was made especially for you in New Orleans by a real French designer from Paris. With your hair and eyes and these colors, you’ll look like a fairy princess.” She clapped her hands
in childish delight.

  Abby came in just then and cried, “I know just how to style your hair, too. High rolls of curls swept up off your neck to show off the jewels Claudia borrowed for you.”

  At that, Holly knew something was going on. “All right, you two, what’s the secret? Where on earth did you borrow jewels?”

  Claudia busied herself arranging the dress on the bed. Without looking up she began, “It was Jarvis’s idea—about the jewels. When he saw the dress, he remembered he had an exquisite sapphire necklace with matching earrings in Mr. Garrington’s safe at the jewelry store. He said they’d be stunning with the dress.”

  Holly folded her arms across her bosom and nodded thoughtfully. “And the dress? Who paid for it? And what’s the occasion?”

  Claudia and Abby looked at each other and broke into giggles. They threw their arms around each other, and Abby cried, “You might as well tell her, Claudia. You can’t keep it a secret. That isn’t fair.”

  Claudia stepped back and shook her head. “Not now.” To Holly, she apologized, “I’m sorry, dear, but I can’t tell you anything now. There’s a very special party tonight. Jarvis and I were planning to surprise you by going to see you today and insisting you come back to town with us so you could attend. That’s the reason for the dress and the jewels.”

  Holly’s spirits fell. It didn’t take much imagination to figure out that Jarvis Bonham had asked her mother to marry him. But she would let her mother play her little game if that made her happy. She did not have to fake a yawn as she said, “I didn’t get much sleep last night. If I’m expected to go to a party tonight, I’d better get a nap.”

  Claudia agreed, and she and Abby left the room, whispering together.

  Holly fell asleep immediately and it seemed only a few minutes before Abby shook her awake, but it was actually two hours later.

  “I brought you some hot tea.” Abby placed a small tray on the dressing table. Her eyes twinkled. She was enjoying the mystery. “Mr. Bonham’s having the party in the Allison house, where he’s staying till his new home is completed.”