Patricia Hagan

by Loves Wine

  He reached over to pat her hand. “Nothing would please me more than to have you move here so we could be together more often. After last night,” he grimaced, “I’ll be worried sick about you out there in the swamps by yourself.”

  “I’ll be fine. As for your wanting us to be together more often,” she paused, trying so hard not to offend him, “I don’t want us to court, Roger, and I’m sorry if you’ve gotten the wrong impression.”

  He stiffened, staring straight ahead. “Your mother didn’t feel she was too good for a Yankee. What makes you think you are?”

  Holly gasped, “Roger! That’s not the point!”

  “Yes, it is,” he whipped about to glare at her. “Everyone knows how stubborn you are, not caring that you worry the hell out of everybody by insisting on living in the swamps. Don’t you think the army has better things to do than keep an eye on you? Doesn’t it bother you to cause so much trouble?”

  Holly could not believe this. Always, Roger had been polite, kind. And here he was, railing at her as though he had only hatred for her. He was suddenly a stranger, and suddenly she knew what it was about him that caused her to be so apprehensive. He was a stranger. She never knew when he was being his true self and when he was acting.

  “I offered to buy your land,” he went on in a voice thick with resentment. “You don’t have to sell to my father. I’ll take it off your hands, give you a fair price, and you can move here. Or move to town. Or go to New Orleans. Go anywhere you want to go.”

  “I have to keep that land. I made a promise, and I intend to keep it, no matter what.”

  “Then keep the damn, worthless land,” Roger cried furiously. “Just get off of it. Move. Quit worrying your mother and everybody else. I’ll give you money to live on. So will my father. Just get out, Holly. Stop being such a problem.”

  She bit back tears of humiliation. She dug her heels into her horse’s flanks and rode ahead.

  Roger viciously popped his riding crop over his horse, taking him into a fast gallop. As he flashed past her, he yelled, “Just go your own way, Holly. I’ve no time for a pigheaded woman!”

  She slowed down, watching him race ahead. Why had he reacted so violently? Whatever was the matter with him? Good Lord, he was a complex person—and she surely wanted nothing more to do with him if she could possibly avoid it.

  A cloud passed and the dazzling sun disappeared as she reached the long entrance path to her mother’s home.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Roger Bonham was breathing almost as heavily as his horse as he rode into his father’s new stable. He was furious with himself. Why had he lost control in front of Holly?

  Never, he told himself as he leaped from the horse, had he encountered a woman so damnably stubborn. What was it going to take to get her off that goddamn land? Already he was being forced to slip out there and dig up a little of the gold once in a while, to give to his men. He thanked heaven for the rough terrain. The digging left no scars. His men were impatient. They wanted their full shares so they could be on their way. They were thoroughly discontented with being part of the Night Hawks, and they all wanted out. He had to get Holly out of there fast, at least long enough to make a massive dig and be done with it. Bringing out a million dollars in gold bars a few at a time might take a hundred years.

  He glanced about in the shadows irritably. Where was that worthless Negro? The horse needed a rubdown, and Norman was probably coddling that wench of his. Hell, she’d been scared almost white. Why hadn’t Holly reacted the same way? She hadn’t acted frightened—just mad as hell. Why?

  Something moved in the shadows. “Norman,” he yelled. “Take care of this horse. If you don’t start earning your keep around here, I’ll have my father run your sorry ass off this land.” At least he didn’t have to control himself in his father’s stables, thank heaven.

  Barney Phillips stepped noiselessly out of a stall.

  Roger nodded, unsurprised. “At least you showed up here. You did something like I told you to,” he said bitterly. “You idiots weren’t too effective last night. Holly wasn’t scared away. Just the wench—and she’s not who we’re after, you know,” he reminded him sarcastically.

  Barney picked at his teeth with a chipped fingernail, studying Roger. “Seemed scared at the time, she did. Don’t know what else we could’a done except kill the nigger right in front of her, and you said not to kill nobody.”

  “You fool!” Roger wondered for the hundredth time how he could have picked such ignorant people to work for him. Well, there hadn’t been a hell of a lot of time to be choosy. “Of course I don’t want anyone killed. Not unless it’s absolutely necessary. That will bring the law down on us, you moron. God, I wish we could get that gold so you and the rest of the idiots could get out of here.”

  Barney snorted. “You don’t want that any more’n we do, Bonham. Don’t know of one of us that ain’t itchin’ to go home. ’Specially when you expect us to take orders from that shit-brain, Pollock,” he growled. Barney wasn’t too bright, but he knew when he was mad.

  Roger sighed. He didn’t like Talton Pollock a bit better than his men did, but Pollock was the one who’d given him the idea of hiding the gold where it was. No one around Vicksburg knew, of course, that Pollock had been a traitor in the war, selling information to the Union. Roger, anxious to stay out of the fighting, had been only too happy to work for the government. His job had been seeing to it that spies and other undercover people got paid. That was how he’d met Pollock. Later, when he overheard Jarvis talking to that pompous general about allowing the gold to cross his property, he had seen a way at last to make a fortune and stop living off his father.

  He’d realized he needed Pollock’s knowledge of the river and the local terrain, and, sure enough, Pollock had decided where the gold should be hidden. Choosing the Maxwell property, he’d cited easy access from the river, isolation, and the fact that the old man who lived there was often away for a couple of days at a time. Roger would have no problem getting title by paying the taxes, and there wouldn’t be anything the old man could do about it. The plan had been so simple.

  “So what are we gonna do next?” Barney was riled. “How long can we keep ridin’ on her land in the middle of the night without one of us gettin’ killed? Look what happened to Wellman. That little gal knows how to shoot. You can’t tell me she couldn’t ’a killed him if she’d wanted to.”

  “Wait a minute!” Roger cried, rubbing his hand across his forehead. “Where is Wellman? Still hiding out?”

  Barney nodded. Wellman had no intention of leaving till he got his share of the gold. “He said you told him you’d bring his gold out so he could be on his way, and I don’t mind tellin’ you he’s gettin’ real pissed. Says he’s tired of sittin’ on his ass doin’ nothing while you’re draggin’ yours. Truth is,” he added in warning, “I’m gettin’ worried about him. You don’t do somethin’ soon to get him gone, he’s liable to go to the law.

  “The other night me and a couple of the boys went to take him food and liquor, like we do every couple of days, and he said he had a good mind to just go get the gold himself, then turn you in to the law to take the heat off him while he hightails it outta here. He even asked if any of us would be interested in joinin’ him. Now I told you I was with you, Bonham, but I can’t speak for the others. They’re gettin’ restless and you better do somethin’.”

  Roger smiled. The stupid bastard didn’t know he’d just given him a great idea. This time, Holly would be so frightened she’d never return to her land. It meant she would have to get hurt, but she would mend in time. Besides, he smiled to himself, he’d be there to kiss away the hurt.

  “You goin’ crazy?” Barney demanded testily. Roger’s smiles and laughter were always so ugly. “I just get through tellin’ you we got big problems with Wellman, and you start laughin’ like a loonie.”

  Roger dismissed him with a careless wave. “Go tell Wellman I’ve got one more job for him to do, and then hi
s share of the gold will be waiting and he can be on his way. Tell him”—Roger’s manner became deadly—“to slip in here and hide out and wait till he sees his chance. Then I want him to attack Holly, slap her around, hurt her. All the while, I want him threatening to kill her. I want her, damn it,” he said fiercely, “to think she is being killed. I’ll rush in at the last minute and save her. I’ll let him get away, she’ll be properly scared, and I think our problems will be over.”

  Barney’s eyes bulged. He was going to let that girl be hurt? Like everyone else, Barney figured he was getting sweet on her. “You sure you know what you’re doin’? Wellman keeps sayin’ if he ever gets a chance, he’ll fix her good. He’s liable to kill her for real…or make her wish he had, if you know what I mean,” he added ominously.

  Roger’s face tightened in a mask of deadly rage. “You tell that bastard if he rapes her, I’ll cut his balls off myself. Tell him that. He’s to slap her around, hurt her a little, but if I don’t happen to be around at the time, he’s to beat her and leave her. Nothing more. Make sure he understands exactly how far to go.”

  Barney nodded. Yeah, he’d tell Wellman, all right, and hope he could impress on him just how Roger Bonham looked when he said it.

  “You want him to come now?” Barney asked.

  “As soon as he can get here. If Wellman is making the dangerous threats you say he is, then I want him paid and out of here.”

  “You’ll have his share of the gold waiting when he’s done? You want me to tell him that?”

  Roger nodded. “Tell him he’ll get everything that’s coming to him,” he said quietly.

  Barney disappeared into the shadows and Roger left the stable a moment later.

  Everything seemed to be going his way now. It was a shame Holly had to be hurt. She was beautiful and intelligent—qualities he would demand in a wife. He would surely require a wife in order to achieve social command. Who knew? He might even run for governor. With all his gold and a captivating wife like Holly, there would be no stopping him.

  He frowned. He’d never be able to tolerate that high spirit of hers, though. A woman was supposed to be subservient to a man, obeying him without question. But there were ways of taming her, enjoyable ways. Once he gave her what a woman like her needed, she would be his slave. Oh, it might take a beating or two now and then, or tying her to the bed to teach her a few minor punishments he’d learned in that brothel in New Orleans he’d liked so much, but she’d come around. He’d break that wild spirit of hers, oh, yes, he would.

  Jarvis admitted Holly to the house, stiff but cordial, saying he hoped they’d forget the unpleasantness of the morning. Holly murmured the proper responses, wondering whether she could ever be easy with Jarvis.

  He gave her a tour of the downstairs rooms of the house, though she’d seen most of it when it was being put together. The furnishings were installed now, and she was impressed by the fragile formality. Dresden figurines decorated marble-topped tables, and Meissen vases were filled with fresh gardenia blossoms. The paneling was a shade of cream which Jarvis explained was popular in France just then. Her mother had chosen the lilac draperies, silk rather than velvet, because velvet, she felt, made a room oppressive.

  Claudia joined them, radiant in a morning dress of orange and green taffeta that rustled with her every movement. Giving Holly a tight hug, she declared that the most wonderful weekend of her life was complete. “Because you’re here, my darling,” she beamed. “We’ll forget last night, and if I have my way, you’ll never go back to that dreadful place. Come along now, I’m going to show you your room. I decorated it myself, so I insist you fall in love with it!”

  Holly glared at Jarvis, and he became defensive. “I didn’t have to tell her about last night,” he said. “Sally told her everything. She knew the whole story before I even got back here.”

  To her mother, she said, “I didn’t want anything to spoil this weekend for you.”

  Claudia’s radiant smile vanished. “The only thing that will spoil my happiness is for you and Jarvis to continue to wrangle with each other. I knew there was going to be more trouble. I wasn’t surprised, I’m just thankful no one was hurt. Now we can just forget this for now?”

  So, Holly realized as she glanced from one to the other, their love was putting her on the outside. So be it. Claudia’s happiness came first. She would get through the wedding, then stay out of their lives.

  Jarvis said he had work to do in his study and left them. Claudia led the way upstairs. Reaching the upper gallery, they turned to the right, then stepped inside Holly’s room. It was a marvel.

  Sunlight poured through the beveled glass of the long, narrow windows, which were framed by pale blue satin draperies. A carved-stone fireplace ran the width of one wall. The ceiling was covered in ornate plasterwork, a pattern of huge magnolia blossoms.

  Slowly turning around and around, Holly gazed upward, marveling at the crystal chandelier. Hundreds of tiny, delicate prisms caught the sunlight and shot it downward to dance merrily on the deep burgundy carpet.

  The furniture was all dark, rich mahogany. The bed was four-postered and high, with a tiny stepping stool beside it. The bright yellow spread was crocheted in a lacy pattern, and the canopy above matched, even to the tiny green leaves and dark golden roses.

  On each side of the bed was a small table covered with a crocheted doily to match the spread and canopy. On one table was an oil lamp, the base and globe rounded and covered in hand-painted dogwood blossoms. On the other table was a porcelain pitcher and bowl, also painted with dogwoods.

  A dressing table sat against one wall, a fluffy skirt of white net overlaying satin of the same shade of blue as the draperies. An oval mirror in a gold frame hung above, and on the table lay an ornate silver-handled brush, a mirror, and a comb, all decorated with a scrolled “M,” for Maxwell.

  Claudia picked up the mirror and smiled at the initial. “Jarvis is so thoughtful. If you would only give him a chance, the two of you could be such good friends, and…” Her voice trailed off wistfully, and Holly wished she were not perpetually hurting her mother.

  There was a huge wardrobe covering nearly half of another wall, and when Holly opened the double doors, she was stunned by the dazzling array of ball gowns, day dresses, and riding costumes. Rows and rows of leather and satin slippers of all colors lined the bottom of the wardrobe.

  Shaking her head in wonder, she moved on to the dressing room. What was she to say to all this? No thank you, I don’t want it? How could she say no without seeming churlish and ungrateful?

  Beyond the dressing room, in the bathroom, was a tub of porcelain, a tapestry dressing screen, and even a chamber pot disguised as a chair. Every comfort had been provided.

  Another door led to a glassed-in terrace overlooking the gardens, the grounds, and the lush forest and fields beyond.

  Helplessly, she turned to her mother. “I’ve never seen anything so lovely. I’m…very grateful.”

  Claudia kissed her and smiled, tears shining. “You have a home here now, and nothing would make me happier than to find when I return from my honeymoon that you’re living here.”

  “Where is Sally?” Holly quickly inquired. “I’d like to see her.”

  Claudia assured her Sally was fine. “Jarvis had the old barn converted into rooms for the servants who don’t live here, and there are rooms above the new stable, too. I told her to rest in her room all day. There’s going to be so much to do this weekend.”

  “I’d like to see her.” Holly turned, anxious to leave this room that offered so much but asked so much of her.

  The rest of the day passed quickly. The dressmaker arrived for the final fittings for both Holly and her mother. The florist called, needing to consult with Claudia. The orchestra leader stopped in to go over the musical selections for the last time. So many plans! Holly felt uncomfortably out of place.

  She chose a modest beige lace dress from her wardrobe for dinner and brushed her hair to hang
loosely past her shoulders. Jarvis had said that cocktails would be served in the parlor, and when she entered the room she was unhappily surprised to find Roger there, standing by the liquor cabinet. The last thing she wanted was another confrontation.

  “Holly, how delightful.” He smiled in greeting. “What can I fix you? Wine? Brandy? Champagne? How was your day? Busy, I suppose.”

  What was going on? He acted as though they hadn’t parted in anger. “Wine, thank you.” She forced a smile. “White wine.”

  Clinking glasses in a brief toast to the weekend’s happiness, they eyed each other and he apologetically began, “I’m sorry about this morning, Holly. Believe me, the last thing I want is for us to be enemies, the last thing. Whether you like me or not, we can at least be cordial, don’t you agree?” Without giving her a chance to say anything, he rushed on, “I wasn’t myself this morning. To be honest, I was quite upset because of what happened to you last night, and I guess that’s why I was so, uh, so unruly. You’re beautiful, and I’d love for us to become close, but I had no right to make assumptions about that. Can you forgive me?”

  Holly nodded. Anything was better than animosity, but she couldn’t let him think this meant he could get close to her. “The house is so lovely,” she said, determined to focus his attention away from her. “Jarvis has done a wonderful job.”

  He laughed, a distinctly hollow sound. Why did he have to be that way? Wasn’t it hard enough for her? “His dream house. Here’s to Jarvis!” He lifted his glass.

  “Why didn’t he build his dream house for your mother?” she bluntly asked.

  Roger frowned.

  “He and my mother didn’t bring out the best in each other. If she hadn’t died, they’d have grown old and miserable together. No need to lament over that now. Too many pleasant subjects to talk about.” He downed his drink and poured another. “Tell me, have you seen your Negro friend? Has she recovered?”