“I am so sorry,” Adeline said. “I’ve dreaded telling you.”
“You did the right thing,” Nate muttered, his inner turmoil building and building until it threatened to explode. Not his father and mother! Despite his past differences with them, especially his father, he had always cared for them, always loved them deeply and dutifully. “How?” he said, and had to swallow in order to continue. “How did it happen?”
“Your mother passed on about six months after you left New York.”
Nate rose and gestured angrily. “How can that be? I left New York City over eight years ago!”
“I know,” Adeline said.
“I would have heard of her death by now.”
“From whom?” Adeline responded. “Your father blamed you for her death and refused to allow your name to be mentioned in his hearing. He told your brothers not to contact you or he wouldn’t leave any of them a single cent.” She shook her head. “No one wanted anything to do with you.”
“Dear Lord,” Nate breathed, taking his seat again. He had expected his family to take his departure hard, but not this hard! He never imagined them becoming so bitter they would refuse to have anything to do with him. “How could my father blame me?” he asked.
“I was never given all the details, but evidently he took your leaving as a personal betrayal of his love and trust. He had not spoken to your Uncle Zeke in years and wouldn’t answer any of Zeke’s letters, if you’ll recall, and it enraged him that you would take up with Zeke in defiance of his wishes.”
“I know he had a feud with Zeke over Zeke’s going west, but Zeke was his own brother, after all. I always thought he would change his mind one day and accept Zeke back with open arms.”
“If anything he hated Zeke more after you left.”
“But what does that have to do with my mother?”
“Your leaving broke her heart, plain and simple. She took to taking long walks in the park across the street from your house, and one day she went for a walk in the rain. The next day she had a fever and the chills, and when she got no better your father contacted a doctor,” Adeline detailed. “Your mother, bless her soul, died of pneumonia.”
Nate slumped in his chair. Knowing how his father thought, he could understand how the blame for his mother’s death would fall on his shoulders. If he hadn’t gone away, his mother wouldn’t have been pining for him and wouldn’t have taken walks in the park. She would still be alive. “How did my father die?” he asked in a whisper.
“Like my father he worked himself to death. Now we’re both without parents.”
“And my brothers?”
“Sherm never did amount to much. He always drank to excess, and took up a trade in keeping with his habit. He works at a shabby tavern on the waterfront.”
“My father must have loved that.”
“From my father I learned Sherman was warned to make something of himself or be banished from the family for life.”
Nate closed his eyes, his hunger forgotten, wishing he could sink into himself and disappear. Instead of feeling anger at his father, he felt pity. The man had died practically alone in the world, and for no reason other than stubborn pride. What other explanation was there for his father always reacting in the same way when faced with a family member who didn’t see eye to eye with him? He had long suspected that his father didn’t possess a shred of compassion, and the information imparted by Adeline confirmed it. The man hadn’t known how to forgive others, and as a consequence invariably lashed out at those who inadvertently hurt him the most.
“As for Louis,” Adeline was saying, “he went into the Army. Plans to make a career of it, I hear.”
“Do you have their addresses? I should write them both.”
“I’m sorry, no. But I do have something else, important news that has a bearing on the reason I came in search of you.”
“What is it?” Nate inquired, not really caring. He was devastated, the fiery inner spark that had sustained him during his travails in the wilderness extinguished by the dreadful loss of both of his parents. First Winona, Zach, Shakespeare, and Blue Water Woman. Now his mother and father. What was left him? His guns and knife and tomahawk. That was all. And Adeline’s friendship.
“I’ve sought you out because of the will,” she said. “I know for a fact that your father left over one hundred thousand dollars in the bank, and I have cause to believe he left all of it to you.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Nate snorted and stared at her in incredulous annoyance. “Where did you ever get such harebrained notions? My father wouldn’t give me the time of day, let alone name me as his sole heir.” He smiled at her foolishness “Besides, my father never had one hundred thousand dollars in his whole life. I know for a fact that when I left New York he had about five thousand dollars saved up.”
“But a lot happened after you left,” Adeline said.
“Tell me.”
Before she could answer, Henri emerged from the kitchen. He made three trips in all, bringing out their food, a pitcher of milk, a dish of creamy butter for their toast, and maple syrup for the flapjacks.
Nate poked a fork into his heaping portion of eggs and decided to eat whether he had lost his appetite or not. He needed to regain his full strength so he could bid adieu to the Debussy estate and head for where? Where was he going to go? Back to the mountains? He couldn’t see returning to live in the cabin by the lake. The memories would be too painful to bear.
“Bring us a pot of coffee,” Adeline directed Henri as he began to leave. “And make certain the coffee is hot.”
“Oui, mademoiselle.”
Adeline waited until he was gone, then faced Nate. “Now about your father. He entered into a business partnership with my father and three other men a few months after you rode off. They developed a scheme to purchase run-down properties and then restore them to sell at a considerable profit. My father supplied most of the initial capital while your father and the others did most of the repair work that needed to be done.”
“I gather they did well?”
“Better than they dared hope. New York City, dear Nate, has grown like a weed since your departure. Thousands of immigrants pour into the city every month and there’s not enough good housing to go around. Anyone who owns a building that can be used as a dwelling can sell it at a premium to one of the many landlords who are always in the market.”
“And you think my father made a small fortune?”
Adeline rested her elbows on either side of her plate and smiled smugly. “I know he did. Papa told me himself.”
“Even so, my father would never name me as his heir,” Nate noted, and stuck a forkful of tasty scrambled eggs into his mouth.
“I wouldn’t have thought so either. But then I spoke with Mister Worthington. He was our family attorney since before I was born, and later, at my father’s urging, he became your father’s attorney.”
“So?”
“So after your father died, Worthington began asking around about you. It seems your father appointed him as executor of his will. He showed up on my doorstep and asked whether I knew your whereabouts. When I wanted to know the reason he became evasive. Said he had something for you and you alone and he wouldn’t give me a single clue as to what it might be.”
“It could be anything.”
Adeline started buttering a thick slice of toast. “I thought so too until I plied Mister Worthington with questions. He flat out told me that neither of your brothers stand to inherit a penny.”
“Not even Louis?”
“No.”
Nate chewed thoughtfully. If both of his brothers were indeed disinherited, who was left? A few distant cousins his father had hardly known. “I still can’t believe it,” he said.
“I had my doubts at first, but Worthington assured me your father left you the last thing you would ever expect.”
Could it be? Nate wondered, and shook his head.
“Part of the reason I
went to so much trouble to locate you was to let you know Worthington is looking for you,” Adeline said.
“I’ll have to contact him.”
Adeline lowered her fork and her eyes. “I hope you won’t be cross with me, but I’ve taken the liberty of contacting him and informing him he can reach you here at the estate.”
“Oh?” Nate said. “When did you do this?”
“The day after the trappers brought you to St. Louis.”
Nate picked up a strip of bacon and nibbled on one end. Was there another reason Adeline had gone to such lengths? If so, it eluded him. She certainly didn’t stand to gain a cent from his inheritance, if such it really was, and she didn’t need it in any event. She was far richer than he would ever be. “You keep hinting at another reason you sought me out. What is it?”
She demurely put down her fork and folded her hands in her lap. “I’d rather not say if you don’t mind.”
“Why not?”
“Because it is rather embarrassing for a woman to openly discuss matters of the heart.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“Don’t you?” Adeline asked, her longing gaze boring into him.
Nate sat back, stunned. It had been years since last he had courted her. “I figured you had forgotten all about me,” he said.
“I tried,” Adeline responded. “Oh, how I tried. I was furious with you for deserting me, and for the longest time I couldn’t think about you without throwing things. I would have gladly
paid thugs to beat you to a pulp.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No,” Adeline said, and blushed. “And as time went by I couldn’t stop thinking about you, about the happy times we shared, and how much you meant to me.” She paused. “And how much you still do.”
There it was. Out on the table, so to speak. Nate feigned interest in his food, his mind awhirl.
“I had no idea you were married until I arrived in St. Louis,” Adeline said. “When I heard, I was all set to turn around and go back to New York. But I couldn’t bring myself to leave without seeing you at least once. Jacques told me that every trapper shows up at the shop of the Hawken brothers sooner or later, and he was the one who suggested I leave word there. They kindly told Gordon about me, and he came to the hotel where I was staying at the time.”
Nate ate more bacon.
“Jacques prevailed on me to move here until we heard from you. He said it might be months before you showed up, and convinced me I would be wasting my money by staying at the hotel any longer.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Tell me I haven’t come to St. Louis in vain.”
He glanced at her. “I can’t. Not yet. It’s too soon.”
Adeline smiled sweetly and nodded. “I understand. And thank you for encouraging me. If I was making a fool of myself you would have told me so.”
They ate quietly for the next several minutes.
Nate waged a war with his conscience. On the one hand he was definitely interested in Adeline, and on the other he criticized himself for being a heartless fiend because his darling wife hadn’t been dead a month yet and here he was entertaining thoughts about another woman.
Henri provided a brief respite by bringing out a pot of coffee and two cups and saucers. He poured for each of them, bowed, and left.
“I don’t want to give the false impression I’ve retired from society,” Adeline said in a whisper. “I’ve met several intriguing gentlemen, but none of them have meant as much to me as you.”
“I had no idea,” Nate said, appalled at the torment he must have caused her. For eight years he had convinced himself that she had forgotten all about him, but during all that time she had continued to cherish the memory of their courtship. And now here she was, clearly anxious to renew their relationship, and he didn’t know what he wanted to do.
The rest of the meal passed in awkward silence. Nate ate two portions of everything except the flapjacks. Of those he ate three. By constantly eating he hoped to avoid having to talk, and he noticed Adeline was consuming her meal with equal if not more enthusiasm. As he swallowed the last of his bacon he became aware she was scrutinizing him. “What is it?” he asked.
“I can’t get over how handsome you are, Far more so than I remember.”
“And you’re every bit as beautiful,” Nate said, and instantly regretted it. He had no right to be flattering another woman with Winona so recently laid to rest. Impulsively, he stood and wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve. “I think I’ll lay down and take a nap. All this food has made me drowsy.”
“Want me to walk you to your room?” Adeline offered.
“No, I can find the way. You stay and finish your coffee.”
“All right. But I’ll be by to see you later.”
He whirled and hurried off feeling thoroughly confused and greatly despondent. He owed it to Winona not to take up with another woman so soon, especially Adeline. Winona had always been afraid she would lose him to her. Now here he was proving her right in a sense, and it deeply disturbed him.
Immersed in self-reproach, he retraced his steps to his bedroom, entered, and closed the door. Someone, perhaps the maid, had opened the curtains so he could gaze out over the marvelous garden. He stepped to the window to let the warm sunlight bathe his face and happened to spot a man off to the west.
It was Yancy.
Suddenly he realized he had neglected to press Adeline about the beating of the poor black. Presented with this golden opportunity, he quickly unlatched the window, bent at the waist, and eased over the sill. A cool breeze, laden with moisture as if blowing off of a river or a lake, tingled his skin. He hitched both pistols to make sure they were loose and ready for action, then hastened to intercept the foreman.
As yet Yancy, who was heading to the southwest with his back to the house, had no idea anyone was chasing him. He exhibited the firm, unhurried tread characteristic of a heavy, powerful man who feared nothing or no one.
“Hold on there!” Nate called out, walking as rapidly as he dared. He didn’t want to push too hard for fear of bringing on a relapse.
The foreman halted and turned. His stony features betrayed no surprise as he waited for Nate to get closer. “How may I help you, sir?” he asked.
“Do you know who I am?”
“Yes, sir. Nathaniel King, Monsieur Debussy’s house guest.”
“I would like a minute of your time,” Nate said. He halted and deliberately rested both hands on his flintlocks.
“How might I assist you?”
Nate was taken aback by the foreman’s polite manner. He’d expected to encounter an uncouth ruffian; instead, here was a proper gentleman. Just like the cook. Were all of the people who worked for Debussy cut from the same cloth? “I need to question you about an incident I witnessed last night,” he declared.
“Are you referring to the black man we apprehended while trying to steal a horse?”
“He was a horse thief?”
Yancy nodded. “We caught him in the act of taking one of our best stallions from the stable. He ran and I sent the dogs after him. They’re trained to keep a man down but not to kill him.”
“I saw him beaten by two men.”
“They had to prevent him from fleeing. Both work for Monsieur Debussy, sir, and they were simply carrying out orders.”
“What happened to the horse thief?”
“The usual. This morning he received thirty lashes and was escorted to the south gate,” Yancy said, and gestured to the north where the stables were located. “This sort of thing happens all too often, sir. Everyone in the territory knows Monsieur Debussy raises fine horseflesh, and the temptation is more than many cutthroats can resist.”
Nate saw a dozen superb horses in a pasture to the northwest. “I didn’t know,” he said.
“Will that be all, sir?”
“Yes. Certainly.”
Yancy smiled and resumed walking to the southwest. H
e never bothered to look back, and soon went around the corner of a barn.
Feeling decidedly sheepish, Nate turned and made for his room. There was a hedge on his right, and as he took his first step he heard a distinct rustling from the other side. Glancing around, he spied a vague figure running deeper into the hedge rows. Perhaps it had been the secretive gardener, he mused, and didn’t stop.
For the first time he could fully appreciate the length and breadth of the estate. Tilled fields and green pastures stretched for as far as the eye could see in all directions. There were scores of hands in the fields, all black workers, which was typical of many large estates in the southern part of the country.
The house was incredible, a mansion of monumental proportions complete with a portico.
There was no way of determining the number of rooms from outside, but if the number of windows was any indication then there were upwards of two dozen. Ancient trees dotted the fertile lawns hemming the house on three sides. On the fourth side the garden boasted more flowers and exotic plants than a jungle.
He paused to survey the estate, and heard someone at the window clear her throat.
“Must we tie you down to insure you get your rest?”
“I needed some air,” Nate responded, going over.
Adeline moved back so he could climb inside. Then she closed the window and the curtains. “There. Now you won’t have any problem taking that nap.”
“You’re worse than a mother hen,” Nate joked, and sat down on the bed.
“What with everything else we discussed at breakfast I forgot to tell you about the black man,” Adeline said.
“There’s no need. I just had a talk with Yancy.”
“So he explained?”
“Yes.”
“Good,” Adeline said, moving up to him. She leaned down and gave him a warm kiss on the cheek.
“What was that for?” Nate asked.
“Because I care. Now get your rest.”
Nate reclined on his back as she left the room. He touched his fingers to the spot she had kissed, perturbed because he had permitted it. What would Winona say? He reminded himself that
Hawken Fury (Giant Wilderness Book One) Page 17
