“You’re a very resourceful child, Chantel,” he said, settling back down on the cot.
“I don’t know what that means, me,” she said uncertainly.
“It means that I’m glad God sent me such a smart and strong girl to help me,” he said then closed his eyes.
For three days Jacob rested. Chantel cooked for him and helped him get up and walk around for a while on the third day. Even she realized that, as sick as he had been when she found him, it was amazing that he recovered so quickly.
He talked to her, and she found it easy to converse with him. Surprising even herself, she told him all about her mother, the tragic death of her father, and her evil stepfather. She told him all about her journey, how frightened and lonely she had been. Finally she was able to admit how glad she was that she had found him.
“It was a miracle of God, my dear,” he told her over and over. “A miracle for me and a miracle for you.”
He read the Bible to her, and even though she didn’t understand much of it, it gave her the same warm, secure feeling that she used to have when her mother was alive. Her mere would read to her on the long, velvet nights on the bayou, her voice quiet and soothing, and Chantel felt as if the world was a good place, and her life was rich and would always be happy.
Oddly, in the hours Jacob Steiner read to her, sometimes this same peace would steal over her, an almost forgotten dream. She still thought of the good God as a very great Being, off somewhere up in the sky, who talked to a few lucky people like her mother and Jacob Steiner and Father Billaud. It was a worship of Him, of a sort, and in Chantel’s childlike way, she loved Him. Considering the hardships of the past month, that in itself was a miracle.
The wagon lurched in the deeply rutted road. Chantel and Jacob were tossed from side to side. But now Jacob knew he was strong enough to ride most of a day, with two or perhaps three rests.
The wagon lurched again, sticking a little in the old timeworn tracks. But Rosie was a strong animal, so she pulled the wagon easily.
Jacob commented, “That’s a good horse you have.”
“She’s not fast but ver’ strong.”
Jacob didn’t say anything for a while, thinking on an idea that had been forming over the last couple of days. Finally he turned to her and said, “You’re running away from this evil man, your stepfather.”
“It wouldn’t be good if he finds me.”
Jacob nodded. “You do well to be afraid of men like that. I’ve been praying, and I believe that God wants us to travel together.”
“Together, you and me?”
“Yes, and we’ll help each other.”
“How will we do that?”
“Well, you see, you, Chantel, have a horse. And here I am with a wagon.”
Chantel laughed, something she had been doing more often lately. “They go together, they do.”
“Yes, they do. Let me tell you what I do. I am a peddler. I buy materials and food cheaply, then I go through the country and I stop at houses. I stay in the country mostly, for people there can’t get to stores as often. I sell the goods, and when I run low, I go buy more goods. I have a good business. And I would like for you to be my partner.”
“A partner?”
“Yes, we’ll work together. I’m getting old now. Have you wondered how old?”
“Yes, me, I am fifteen.”
“And I am sixty-one, and I cannot do what I could when I was young. You’re young and strong. You can do the things I can’t do.” He could see that she was considering it, her eyes alight. “Would you like to do that?”
“Yes, I would like to, me. I’ll go with you, Jacob.”
“I’m very pleased.” He smiled as his eyes rested on her. “The Bible says that two are better than one.”
“That is true,” Chantel agreed with a deep sigh. “I’ve been one. I don’t want to be one, me.”
“You and I are partners. We will help each other. The good God will look after us.”
Chantel sat back, relaxed,
Jacob watched her. He could see a peace come over her face. He recognized that much of the hurt and the fear she carried with her was in the process of healing.
God, You must help me to be good to this young woman. Keep that evil man far away from her, and help us that together we can find a way to serve You. I pray this in the name of Jesus. And he whispered, “Amen, and Amen.”
CHAPTER TEN
I guess you know what you’re doing, Morgan, but if I was you, then I’d let Clay simmer down in there for a week or two.”
Morgan Tremayne shrugged and said, “Well, Mac, if I thought it would do Clay any good, I’d do that. But it doesn’t seem to matter if he’s in jail or out. Clay is just Clay.”
Mac Rogers, the jailer in charge of the Richmond jail, scratched his face. His fingernails rasped across his unshaven cheek. “How many times is this you’ve bailed him out?”
“Too many.”
“Why don’t you quit doing it then?” Rogers asked. “It’s just throwing money down the drain.”
“He’s my brother, Mac. Family, you know. You’re just stuck with them.”
“Well, it’s your money, Morgan. I’ll fetch him for you.” He took the twenty dollars that Morgan handed him, jammed it into his pocket, and went through the back door leading to the cells.
Left alone in the office, Morgan stood with his feet planted firmly, staring into space. He waited without moving until the door opened again and his brother, Clay Tremayne, came in. As always, Morgan couldn’t keep himself from comparing himself to his brother and feeling he came up lacking in many ways.
Morgan was six feet tall, but he was not a large man. He was slim and lithe, with smooth muscles. He took after his mother, with dark auburn hair and dark blue eyes. His face was finely modeled, with a thin nose and wide mouth.
Clay Tremayne was as tall as Morgan but was more strongly built. His hair was dark brown, almost black, and he had brown eyes with thick curly eyelashes. His face was more masculine than Morgan’s fine features, with a strong jaw and high cheekbones. He was a fine-looking man, well-built and athletic. There was a rashness and devilment in his smile that seemed typical of everything that Clay Tremayne was.
“I knew you’d be here to rescue me sooner or later,” Clay said with that familiar smile on his handsome face.
“Why do you have to make such a fool of yourself, Clay?” Morgan asked.
“Because everything I’m not supposed to do is what I like to do.”
“Don’t you ever feel bad about the way you’re treating your family?”
“Once in a while”—Clay shrugged—“my conscience hurts me a little bit. Maybe I’ll straighten up one of these days.”
“Clay, you’ve been getting into these scrapes ever since we were kids. You’re not happy; you know you’re not. You need to let God into your life.”
Clay stared at Morgan and the smile disappeared as if an unpleasant thought had come to him. “Why don’t you give up on me, Morgan? God has.”
“That’s not true.”
“It is true, and I don’t blame Him. I tried God, but it never worked out.”
“No, you’ve never tried God. You’ve done what you wanted to your whole life, and most of those things are not good.”
“I know,” Clay retorted shortly. “But they sure can be fun. In any case, I appreciate you bailing me out, Morgan. You’re a good fellow.”
They went outside. Morgan’s horse was hitched there, and just down the street—perhaps luckily for Clay—was the Planter’s Hotel, where Clay kept a permanent apartment. Morgan mounted up then said, “Clay, I’ve got to warn you about something.”
“What is it this time?”
“Stay away from Belle Howard. And stop your gambling.”
“Why should I stay away from Belle? She’s one of the best-looking women I’ve ever seen. And as for the gambling, I win more than I lose.”
“Well, I guess maybe your gambling is your business, but
with Belle you’re playing with fire. Don’t you realize the Howard family is as proud as Lucifer?’
“I’m not running around with Belle’s family, just her.”
Morgan’s eyes narrowed, and then his lips grew tight. “Clay, you know her brothers are fire-eaters. They almost killed Shelby Stevens. He wasn’t doing much more than looking at her.”
“Ah, those fellows have an overdeveloped sense of honor.” Suddenly Clay grinned. “Belle doesn’t, though.”
Morgan grimaced. “Why is it, Clay, that you always want what you can’t have? There are plenty of loose women for you to chase after, but Belle Howard is a different story. She’s from a respected family, she’s supposed to be a lady, and if you mess with her, it can get you killed.”
“Not if they don’t catch me,” he said, grinning.
That same night Clay went to the Silver Slipper with only five dollars in his pocket. He boosted it up to fifty playing blackjack. He didn’t like blackjack all that much, so he soon found a poker game. For over two hours he played, losing some but winning more.
His chief opponent at the table was Lester Goodnight. Clay told him carelessly as he shuffled, “You need to find another hobby besides poker, Les.”
“I’m a good poker player, but somehow when you play I never win.” He sat up straight on his chair. He was a thin man with stubborn features and a ready temper. “Nobody wins as much as you do on luck alone.”
Clay’s eyes narrowed and darkened to a smoldering black. “You want to explain what you mean by that, Goodnight?”
Goodnight had lost a great deal of money. He leaned forward, and as he did, the gun at his side was clearly visible. “I’m saying a man that wins like you do isn’t a straight player.”
Kyle Tolliver had been in the game, and now he leaned forward and said, “Clay, let’s get out of here.” He was Clay’s best friend, and he saw that Goodnight had been drinking and was known to pull a gun on other men.
Clay turned and grinned at Kyle. “My family must pay you a fee to follow me around and make sure I do the right thing.”
“Let’s go. You’ve won enough.”
“He ain’t leaving until he gives me a chance to win back my money,” Goodnight muttered.
Clay considered him, his gaze still fiery, but then he suddenly appeared utterly bored. “How about tomorrow night, then? I’m tired. I didn’t get much rest in that jail, Les.”
“All right, you be here tomorrow or I’ll come looking for you.”
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Clay said casually, rising and straightening his cuffs, flicking off an imaginary speck. “You don’t know what kind of mood you might find me in. I’m in a pretty good mood tonight, or I might have taken offense at some of those fool things you said, Les. I’ll be right here tomorrow night. You just be here and bring your money.”
Kyle and Clay left the Silver Slipper and headed back toward the hotel. Kyle grumbled, “You could’ve been shot back there. What’s even worse, I could have been shot back there.”
“Oh, Goodnight ain’t gonna do that. He’s just sore from losing. He needs to learn how to lose gracefully, don’t you think?’
“I think I don’t want to go through any more duels over your dumb honor again,” Kyle retorted. “Poor old Manny Clarkson bled like a slaughtered pig.”
“Squealed like one, too. Aw, c’mon, I never meant to kill him. You know that, Kyle,” Clay said good-humoredly. “He’s just like Lester Goodnight. Needed a lesson in manners.”
“Right, just like I said. I don’t want you to feel like you have to teach some manners to Lester Goodnight, even if you do just shoot him in the shoulder. Maybe going to the Silver Slipper tomorrow night isn’t such a good idea.”
“You sound like Morgan. He gave me a sermon this morning about gambling. And about leaving Belle Howard alone.”
“Morgan has sense. You should listen to him.”
“I do listen to him. I’ve always listened to him. It’s just that I don’t necessarily do all that stuff he says.”
Kyle insisted, “Morgan’s a good man, a smart man, Clay, and you know it. He’s a man to listen to.”
“All he did was tell me to leave Belle Howard alone.”
“That’s good advice. Those brothers of hers will kill you if they catch you fooling with her.”
“Aw, everyone’s getting their knickers in a twist over Belle Howard. Truth to tell, Kyle, I’ve no plans to see her. I haven’t called on her.”
“Then why are you worrying Morgan and me so much by talking about her all the time?” Kyle demanded.
Clay shrugged. “Sorry, buddy. It’s just too much fun.”
Belle Howard and her sister Virginia had come into town from the family plantation outside Richmond. They were doing some shopping and made plans to attend a production of Hamlet, which was to be performed by a traveling group of actors at the Drury Theater.
The two women were in their hotel room, and Belle was trying to pick out a dress to wear. She finally chose a pink satin with white satin braiding trimming the many ruffles, held it up to herself, and turned to her sister. “What about this one, Virginia?”
Virginia was sitting down by a side table that held a silver tea set, reading a book. She looked up to answer her sister. “It looks very well, but it’s cut too low in the front.”
Belle Howard smiled and came over and patted her sister on the shoulder. “We’re here to have fun, remember?” Belle said. “I know, Virginia, why don’t you wear my pearls tonight? They would look so well with your new dress. And my pearl comb, too.”
Belle Howard was two years younger than her sister Virginia. She knew she had a spectacular figure that men often desired. Her sister was a thin woman with mousy brown hair and brown eyes that often reflected dissatisfaction with Belle. In truth, Belle knew Virginia was jealous of her, which was natural enough. She couldn’t possibly voice a complaint such as Belle had been given all the good looks and she’d been given none. Virginia was in fact smarter than Belle, but of course this didn’t matter to the men who were only interested in Belle’s beautiful features and buxom figure.
Belle patted Virginia again and said, “We’ll have a good time tonight. Don’t worry.” She turned to the mirror, held up the dress again, and studied herself. She liked what she saw in the mirror, which was a woman with rich dark hair and velvety blue eyes that were shadowed by thick lashes. Her complexion was perfect, and her features were bold. She had a mouth that seemed to be made for kissing. She was full-figured; her waist was not as small as she would have liked, but tied into a strong corset she had an hourglass figure. Belle sighed as she glanced back at her sister. She was well aware of Virginia’s resentment, but there was nothing she could do about it.
A knock on the door sounded. Virginia rose and said, “I’ll get it.” She opened the door and found Amy Cousins waiting. “Come in, Amy.”
Amy and Virginia were the same age and the best of friends. Amy was pretty enough but didn’t possess Belle’s startling beauty.
“I’m glad you were able to come,” Virginia said, obviously pleased. “Are you looking forward to going to the theater?”
“Hamlet is such a gloomy play,” Amy answered. “I don’t know why we want to sit through it and see everyone die.”
“Oh, don’t be so grouchy,” Belle said. “It’ll be fun. You’re looking so nice, Amy.”
“Thank you, Belle. Are you wearing that pink? You’ll look gorgeous in it, as you always do.” She turned back to Virginia. “Anyway, Virginia, I want to ask you to stay the night with me, at our house.”
“That’s very nice of you, Amy, but as you see, Belle and I have this wonderful room.”
“My cousin, Vincent Young, is visiting us,” Amy said eagerly. “You know how fond he is of you.”
Virginia paused. Belle knew her sister liked Vincent Young. He was twenty and rather bookish, studying to be a lawyer, but Belle had heard Virginia say that in the times they had met at parties and b
alls and dinners they had done very well together.
“I think Vincent is in love with you,” Amy prodded her. “If you stay the night, you can spend some time with him.”
“Papa would never agree to have Vince as a son-in-law,” Belle said carelessly.
“Yes, he would. His family is doing well in their business. Vincent will be a successful lawyer one day. He is respectable enough to suit Father,” Virginia retorted.
“I heard Vince tell my mama that he’d be a good match for you,” Amy said.
“Did you really?”
“Yes, I did, but you’ve got to put your foot forward because he’s shy. Won’t you come stay with me? And then, of course, we would all go to the theater together.”
Belle smiled, for she saw the interest that her sister had shown. “I think you should go, Virginia. I like Vince, and I think he is interested in you.”
“Do you really think so, Belle?”
“I do.”
“You come, too, Belle,” Amy urged her. “You know we have lots of room.”
“No, you two go along. I’ll be all right.” Secretly Belle was pleased, for she knew that as long as her sister was around her fun would be severely curtailed.
“If you think it’s all right, Belle,” Virginia said.
“I’ll be just fine, and you two will have such fun. Now run along. I’ll see you at the play.”
Belle made her way to the theater, just down and across the main street of Richmond. It was scandalous, her going alone, but she knew that she was such a favorite of her father’s that even if word got to him, nothing would be done about it.
She had been to the Drury Theater several times before, and she saw people of Richmond society whom she knew. She took her seat, which would be next to the Cousins family, but then changed her mind. I’ll have to stay away from Vince. I never told Virginia, but he was interested in me at one time. He may be Virginia’s last chance to get married.
She got up and moved to a seat well toward the back of the theater. The play began, and she watched intently. Truthfully, however, she found Shakespeare hard to follow, so her mind roamed elsewhere. It was a very long play, too, and when it was over, she saw Virginia, escorted by Vincent Young, leaving the theater with the Cousins family.
The Sword Page 11
