The clatter of feet accompanied by a step-scraping noise sounded on the boardwalk moments before the door burst open and a thin mulatto was pushed inside. He stood trembling, looking from one to another until his eyes rested on Reuben. Ted shut the door before sitting down, leaving the cripple in the middle of the room.
“Sheriff, Ah’d like yu to meet Whipper.” Folding his arms, Jeb raised his chin. “Whipper here will tell yu everything from the minute he met Reuben til he come running round the bend, where mah boys wuz camped out.”
Hadley eyed the mulatto. “How can I be sure you haven’t promised him his freedom if he says what you want?”
“B’cause, Ah cain’t promise him somethin’ he’s already got.”
Reuben, who had been staring at the floor, looked sharply at Whipper whose expression suddenly changed.
“Ah’s a free man, just like yu,” he cackled. “Ah work fer Jeb whenever he needs an inside man!”
Jeb slapped his thigh as his chortle turned into a full-blown belly laugh. “Always gits ‘em, eh Whipper?” At Whipper’s gleeful nod, Jeb pulled out his flask. “Here, yu deserve this.”
Whipper eagerly drank the contents, reveling in the warmth that dulled his aching leg. When reporting to Jeb, he had carefully omitted his part in the barn’s demise, instead inferring the barn caught fire because of Reuben’s carelessness with the lantern.
Though only a hireling, Whipper feared the giant. Due to his need for liquor, he was never far from Jebediah’s bidding, readily accepting whatever whiskey the bounty hunter offered. In his more generous moods, Jeb even provided women for the mulatto’s pleasure. But what he needed most was the steady employment only a man such as Jebediah was willing to give.
Sheriff Hadley looked from Jebediah to Whipper. “It seems you have use for Negroes after all, Mr. Johnson. You gave the impression you thought they weren’t any better than mules.”
“Whipper here is only half Nigra,” Jeb said, dropping a hand on the mulatto’s shoulder. “Ah can overlook the dirty blood in him, cuz that’s the part that gits him places, me and mah boys cain’t. He’s ratted out more Nigra lovers than Ah can count, ain’t ya, Whip?”
Resentment showed in Whipper’s eyes as they traveled over Reuben’s muscular form. “Yassuh! Ain’t no man Whipper cain’t fool!”
For most of his life, Whipper had known only hate. Hate for the master who had cruelly crippled him and then freed him, deeming him too worthless to feed. Reduced to fighting for scraps among mongrels, he had grown to resent even slaves, for at least they were fed and clothed. Finding solace in the sediment of abandoned liquor bottles, Whipper had learned to enjoy dulled senses. By the time he reached manhood, his malice encompassed all humanity and he became easily recruited to betray even those who treated him kindly.
A knock sounded and Sheriff Hadley opened the door. “Miss Bruester!” he said. “What are you doing here?”
Gabriella tapped her cane impatiently. “Well, Jim, are you going to let me in or keep me standing in the cold?” Backing up, the sheriff allowed her to enter, followed closely by Ben.
“Just as I thought.” Gabriella’s gaze fell on Reuben before giving full attention to Jebediah. “I had a notion you were behind this. Amanda told me all about you. What kind of skullduggery are you brewing now?”
“Mebbee Ah should be asking the same thing,” Jeb said. “Only this time, yu won’t be able to hide behind the skirts of that fine niece of yurn’s.” He nodded at Whipper who had retreated toward the stove. “This time, Ah got the ace up mah sleeve.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Emily Bruester sat at her desk, staring at the sealed envelope. Unknown to George or Amanda, the missive had remained unopened for a week as she spent sleepless nights searching for any alternative other than what she knew to be scripted inside. The bold handwriting belonged to none other than Reagan Burnsfield, posted the day after Camilla’s dinner party.
A cold fury swept over Emily as she picked up the envelope and placed it among the mail that just arrived. Taking the tray, she proceeded to enter the downstairs study where George sat reading the paper.
“The post has arrived,” she said, slamming down the tray.
“What’s the matter, dear? With tomorrow’s holiday, I’ll have plenty of time to look over the mail.”
“No, you won’t. Gabriella will spend the entire day and keep you from attending your affairs.”
George winced at the unquiet way Emily departed. He lifted a few pieces to scan their marks of origin and smiled when found Reagan’s letter. Ripping open the envelope he read swiftly and then more slowly read the letter again.
Ever since the night of the elections, Amanda had become the target of crude and malicious gossip. It now appeared Reagan was trying to remedy the situation with a formal request for Amanda’s hand.
George gazed at the ceiling, wondering if this was the only avenue left. A proper marriage despite the controversy would put an end to the talk. George bit his lip as he fretted if this was the right thing to do. The last thing he wanted was to bind his daughter to a man she may never love. Yet, if it turned out well, Amanda could regain the respect and honor she deserved.
Wills entered, carrying a tray. “Your coffee, sir.”
“Thank you, Wills. Would you please send for Amanda and Mrs. Bruester? We’ve something to discuss. Afterward, I’ll have a letter to be delivered to the Burnsfield home.”
“Very good, sir,” he said before leaving.
George drew up three chairs and waited until the women came and took seats. He then sat beside them, taking Amanda’s hand. “The reason I’ve called you is because I received a letter from Reagan Burnsfield. He’s asking for your hand in marriage. It seems that everything your mother and I have done to stop the stories have failed. Reagan too, realizes the tales have only gotten worse and wishes to correct his part in the scandal with this proposal.” As the color rose in Amanda’s cheeks, he spoke gently. “Under the circumstances, I believe it’s something to consider. But, I need to know if you’ve any feelings for the man. I mean, before any of this occurred, would you have considered him for a husband?”
“Wait! There are other possibilities,” Emily blurted. “There’s Leroy Spelding to consider. I know he’s interested in Amanda. Why, you should’ve seen him at her coming out ball…”
“I don’t think so, mother,” Amanda said. “If he were, I’m sure that changed at Camilla’s party.”
“You don’t know that,” Emily said. “He’s probably waiting til this blows over to extend an invitation.”
George held up his hand. “I’m afraid not. Ezra informed me only this week, his son’s been invited to the Muelder’s for the Festival of Thanks. He let me know, rather loudly I might add, that he believes Leroy and Camilla to be a good match.”
Emily looked taken aback, but recovered quickly. “Why does it have to be Reagan? You only have to look at Derrick to know the man desires Amanda! Surely his family has as much prestige as Reagan’s.”
Amanda’s stomach lurched as she realized to protect Gabriella, she couldn’t refuse Reagan. Ever since he first offered to marry her, Amanda wondered if he had spoken rashly. With this formal request, she assumed his sense of duty was stronger than his desire to love her. But either way, once he became her husband, he’d be obligated to keep her secret.
“Mother, it’s all right,” she began.
“I believe Derrick to be a better match,” Emily insisted. “We could contact his family and invite them here.” George took his wife’s arm, but she only yanked it from his grasp. “Why not? What’s wrong with Derrick?”
“Nothing that I know of,” he said. “Except that he left two days ago on personal business and said he wouldn’t be back for some weeks.”
Emily gasped. “Why didn’t you tell me? We could’ve spoken forthrightly to him!”
“Because, I only received Reagan’s letter today. Had I known even two days ago, we could’ve discussed this with h
im. Now it’s too late. Derrick didn’t leave an address where he could be reached and I need to give Reagan an answer. He’s requested a wedding before Christmas due to work obligations. It’s not in Amanda’s best interest to turn Reagan down only to discover no other offers would be forthcoming.”
“Oh no!” Emily said, covering her face. “What’ve I done?”
“Please, don’t blame yourself,” Amanda said, laying a hand on Emily’s shoulder. “You weren’t the one who acted foolishly. Besides, I knew someday I’d marry.”
Emily felt defeated, realizing that waiting to hand over Reagan’s letter had ruined her lifelong ambition. Her voice shook as she wiped her eyes. “Your father asked if you’ve considered Reagan-for-a-a-husband. I guess we’ll now need to know.”
All her life, Amanda had envisioned her marriage as a time of joy and happiness, not one that would be coldly calculated. Yet, to protect Gabriella, she didn’t hesitate. “I accept his proposal,” she said.
George nodded, much relieved. “That settles it. We’ll announce your engagement the day after Thanksgiving. And with your permission, Amanda, we’ll invite Reagan to dinner. I’ll send a note at once.”
Later, in her chambers, Amanda sat at her vanity preparing to receive their guest. It remained a mystery to her why Reagan was willing to go to such lengths to protect her and Gabriella. And although she preferred him to the other choices, she felt ill prepared to marry a man she barely knew.
A knock at the door preceded Gertrude’s entrance. “Yer guest has arrived,” she said, placing clean linens in a drawer. “And a right fine specimen he is.”
Amanda frowned in the mirror. “Does everyone have an opinion? What would you know of the gentlemen callers I’ve had?”
“I’ve had my eye on that one since the night of your ball,” Gertrude said, picking up a brush and running it through Amanda’s hair. “He’s a sight better’n that Mr. Banning.”
“I suppose,” Amanda said. “However, Mother was rather hopeful about Derrick.”
“Harrumph. All the more reason to not like the gent,” Gertrude said, forming an elegant twist before fastening pins in Amanda’s hair. “Ain’t no man worth his salt that your momma ever liked. Excepting, Mr. Bruester, of course.”
“Now Gertie, what’ve I said about that briar-like tongue of yours?”
“Nobody’s here but me and yu, little missy. Since when haven’t I spoken my mind?”
“Never, I guess,” Amanda said, sighing. She turned her head to inspect Gertrude’s handiwork. “It looks wonderful.”
Gertrude touched Amanda’s shoulder. “Pay no mind to what others are saying,” she said. “I got a good feeling about this gent.”
“It’s all right, really. I believe this to be the best choice for all concerned.”
As Amanda rose, Gertrude removed a silk poplin gown from the wardrobe and laid it on the bed. “Yer papa’s in the study with yer soon-to-be. As soon as they’re done talking, dinner will be served.”
“Thank you Gertie. Mother and I will wait in the parlor. You may go,” she said, brushing aside the maids hands. “I can fasten the buttons myself.”
After Gertrude left, Amanda put on the gown, rhapsodically described by her dressmaker as Ashes of Roses. She looked in the mirror as she fastened her favorite brooch. Don’t kid yourself, she thought. Reagan is only marrying you out of obligation. He can’t possibly love you. Amanda raised her chin. What had to be done would be done. Steeling her nerves, she gathered her skirts and descended the stairs.
In the study, George poured two drinks from a sideboard. “I keep sherry for times I need to think clearly,” he said, handing a glass to Reagan. “I spoke with Amanda after receiving your letter and she’s consented to be betrothed. Yet, due to the delicate nature of the situation, I must know if this had been your intent all along. I wouldn’t want Amanda’s heart broken by a rash decision.”
“If it’d put your mind at ease, I’ve considered marriage to Amanda since the night of her ball,” Reagan said. “And though I lament the circumstances surrounding my proposal, I certainly don’t regret the offer.”
“I see,” George said. “That was my concern. Since you never had a chance to formally court Amanda, besides that one night--I couldn’t determine your sincerity.” He then offered his hand. “Well, it looks as if we’re going to have a wedding.”
After finishing their drinks, Reagan touched his pocket. “I brought a gift for Amanda. May I present it this evening?”
“Of course. No need for ceremony here.”
“I’ve one formality I’d like to discuss,” Reagan said. “As I must soon leave for camp, I wanted to make arrangements for Amanda’s dowry before the first of the year.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem,” George said, holding open a box of cigars. After taking one for himself, he lit both cigars. “Since Amanda’s birth, I’ve set aside funds for her security. Also, her grandparents established accounts that are exclusively hers. Should you decide to build a home, there’ll be more than enough funds to do so.”
“I’ll look into that soon,” Reagan said. “Right now, getting the new mill up and running is taking all my attention.”
“How is that coming along?”
“A few bumps in the road, but thanks to the business loan you provided, come spring we’ll be back on track.”
“That’s good to hear,” George said. “You say you’re returning to camp? Isn’t that unusual this time of year?”
“What’s odd is my returning home at all. If not for the elections, I’d still be in New York.”
“And, we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” George said, smiling. “Only the future will determine if any of us have made wise decisions.” He tamped his cigar. “Let’s go find the women and get better acquainted, shall we?”
As the men entered the parlor, Emily barely glanced from her needlework. “Good evening, ladies,” George said. “As you can see, our guest has arrived.”
Reagan took Amanda’s fingers, his gaze sweeping her with more than mere admiration. “Good evening, Amanda.” He then extended his hand to Emily. “Madam Bruester. How good of you to receive me.”
“Won’t you have a seat?” Emily managed a grimacing smile. “This is all rather sudden and we have much to discuss.”
Later that night, long after others were asleep, Emily wondered at Reagan’s unshakable composure despite her lack of enthusiasm throughout dinner. Nothing, it seemed, could sway his decision on having a December wedding even after she offered reasons to extend the engagement. It wasn’t until every subtle objection had been countered that Emily finally admitted defeat. Reagan would be Amanda’s husband.
At George’s insistence, the couple finally had a few moments’ privacy in the parlor. That was when Reagan gifted Amanda with a magnificent diamond and ruby ring.
Emily’s last thought before falling sleep, was that she very much hated Reagan Burnsfield.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
“Please, Miss Bruester, have a seat,” the sheriff said, bringing near his chair. Pulling aside her skirts and despite the ache in her back, Gabriella sat with a straight spine. Ben remained standing, his scowl a warning that all but Jeb took seriously.
Sheriff Hadley resumed his place while pulling a pencil from behind his ear. “This is what we have so far,” he said, tapping his notebook. “As a fact, Miss Bruester made a donation of clothes and supplies, which she gave to Reuben to dispense among his people.” He looked toward Gabriella as she loosened the ties of her bonnet. “Is that correct, ma’am?”
“It is, most assuredly. Reuben’s been a trusted friend for many years.”
“Sorry for all the trouble, Miss Bruester,” Reuben said. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
“It’s all right. I’m confident this’ll be cleared up. It’s shameful you were even entangled in this mess.” She glared at Jebediah. “It’s obvious the man has no soul, and would do anything, including lying, to obtain what he wa
nts.”
“Ah ain’t the one doing the lying,” Jeb said. As Ben stepped forward, he snorted derisively. “If yu’s fixin’ to tangle with old Jeb, yu’d fer sher, git the little end of the horn!”
“There’ll be none of that,” Hadley warned. “I’m just about tired enough to call this off until we’ve all had a good night’s sleep.”
“Oh hell. Just git on with it,” Jeb said. “Ah want to git some sleep, too.”
“Reuben stated he was returning the wagon to Miss Bruester’s residence when the fire broke out,” the sheriff said. “And this is where the accounts no longer agree.” He tapped the air with his pencil. “Now, Mr. Johnson claims Reuben transported a runaway to Miss Bruester’s for the purpose of aiding said person in an escape.” The sheriff looked at Jebediah. “Is that correct?”
“Damn straight!” Jeb growled. “Ah got mah witness.” He jerked his thumb in Whipper’s direction. “Which should be good ‘nuff fer the judge!”
Gabriella looked from Reuben to Whipper, trying to piece together the truth. “It seems to me,” she offered, “that it’s come down to one man’s word against another. And as much as I hate calling someone a liar, I trust Reuben over anyone who’s a man hunter.” She allowed her eyes to settle on the sheriff in innocent repose. “Don’t you agree, Jim?”
“It seems ma’am, it’s more than that.” Lifting a bundle from the desk, he shook out the material, revealing a man’s woolen coat. “Could this be one of the garments you purchased today and gave to Reuben?”
Gabriella could feel the confidence draining from her face. Free from rips or patches, the coat was obviously new. As the sheriff held it for her inspection, a faint odor wafted upward.
Gabriella pretended to examine the material. “Well, I-I suppose it’s-possible-but I fear all men’s coats look the same to me,” she finished weakly. “Why?”
“Deputy Welch obtained it from the fire brigade who found it just inside your barn. This is the coat Whipper claims Reuben gave him just before he was brought to your home. It looks too small to fit either Reuben or Ben, the two men we know were there.”
Threads of Betrayal Page 18
