Morgan grinned. “Your grandfather is welcome to come, too, Miss Fortier.”
“Our wagon is at the camp. You’ll ask for me there. Any of the soldiers will know.”
“I’ll come about five o’clock. That’ll give us plenty of time to get there for the food.”
“All right, Mr. Tremayne.” She was interested in Morgan Tremayne. He didn’t look like Clay, except maybe in their stances and the way they walked. But she had been impressed by the way he had so quickly defended her from Ed Howard’s unwelcome attentions.
Making her way back to the wagon, Chantel found Jacob sitting on a box staring out into space. “Hello, daughter. How were Miss Flora and the children today?”
“Ver’ well. Colonel Stuart came home. He found a woman to help take care of his wife and baby, a live-in. What are you doing, Grandpere? You look funny when I come up, like you’re wondering about something.”
Jacob shook his head and chewed his lower lip. “I can’t figure God out.”
Chantel laughed. “I don’t think anyone can figure God out. If you could figure Him out, He wouldn’t be God. No?”
“No, He would not be,” Jacob agreed, “but it doesn’t stop silly men like me from trying to figure Him out. Anyway, what would you like for supper? What about we go see if the butcher on Front Street has barbecue today?”
“We don’t have to. There’ll be a lot of barbecue at the celebration, I think.”
“What celebration?”
“The celebration at the fairgrounds tonight. I met Clay Tremayne’s brother. Morgan is his name. He asked me to come, and I told him I would only come with him if I could bring you. Will you come, Grandpere? Because I won’t go if you won’t. And there will be fireworks,” Chantel said, her eyes sparkling. She had never seen fireworks until they had come to Richmond.
“Fireworks,” Jacob considered, “and barbecue. Of course I will come.”
“Good. So, Grandpere, what is it you are worried about? About the great God?”
Jacob frowned. “You know, Chantel, in the Bible there are so many cases of men, and women, too, that God told exactly what to do. You take Moses, when he saw that burning bush. God said, ‘Moses, you go to Egypt. You’re going to deliver My people.’ No question about it. Moses argued a little bit, but he knew what God wanted.”
“You still worried about what we’re going to do?”
“Well, I’m too old to fight. I’m no good with mechanical things. I couldn’t work in a factory; I’m too old for that even. But you know, Chantel, I’m still certain that God has brought us here. You and me.”
Chantel said sturdily, “Then we wait. That Scripture you read to me from the book of Revelation last night … it was what God said to one of the churches there. He said, ‘I have set before you an open door and no man can close it.’ When God opens a door, we will go through it. Yes?”
“You have turned into a very smart and sensible young woman,” Jacob said. “Yes, indeed, we will wait, and a door will open. I’m so glad you’re with me, daughter. You’re such a blessing to me.”
“Thank you, Grandpere,” Chantel said, a little embarrassed, as she always was with any expression of affection. But she knew, deep in her heart, that she loved Jacob Steiner as much as any granddaughter ever loved her grandfather.
“Hello, Clay,” Morgan said, coming up to pat Lightning’s nose.
Clay looked up from his grooming. “Well, hello, Morgan. What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to come and talk to you. I’ve been worried about you, Clay.”
Clay put down the currying brush and gave Lightning one last rub. “I’ve got some coffee over here.”
The two men went over to the stove inside the stables. Clay picked up a battered coffeepot, found two mugs, and filled both of them up. “So what is it that’s worrying you now, Morgan?”
“Clay, you know I don’t like to interfere in your personal life, right?”
Clay simply nodded in response.
With some hesitation, Morgan finally said, “I just met Miss Chantel Fortier.”
“Did you? And what did you think?”
“Well, she looks strange in that men’s garb, but she seems like a lady anyway, and a nice one.”
“So how did you meet Chantel?”
Morgan told him about the run-in he’d had with the two Howard brothers. “I didn’t even see Charles until he knocked me down with his cane. I think they might’ve commenced with a beating, but Sheriff Butler showed up just in time.”
Clay grimaced. “I guess I’ll have the Howard brothers on my back for the rest of my life. Sorry, Morgan.”
Morgan shrugged. “I didn’t do it for you, Clay. I did it for Chantel. And by the way, I asked her to go to the celebration with me tonight.”
“And she agreed?” Clay said with surprise.
“Yes, she did. Why are you so shocked? Some people think I’m the brother with the looks in the family,” Morgan said, punching his shoulder.
“Not at you, you handsome devil,” Clay said, grinning. “At her. I didn’t think Chantel was much for letting men escort her around.”
“Well, she did say she wouldn’t come unless her grandfather did,” Morgan admitted. “So I kinda doubt she’s smitten with me.”
Clay shook his head. “I kinda doubt she’s smitten with men much at all. And maybe especially Tremayne men.”
Morgan gave him a sharp look. “Is there some reason for that, Clay? Something I should know about?”
“No, Morgan,” Clay said with a hint of sadness. “It’s over and forgotten.”
Morgan showed up at exactly five o’clock, and Chantel introduced him to Jacob.
“I’m glad to know you, young man,” Jacob said and put out his hand. “It’s nice to meet Clay’s family.”
Morgan shook his hand. “I’m happy to know you, sir.”
Jacob looked mischievous as he said, “Thank you for inviting me to go with you two young people. I wouldn’t go, but Chantel promised me that there would be barbecue.”
“Oh yes, sir, I’m sure there will. There always is at a Southern feast,” Morgan said. “Lots of eating and drinking and making merry.”
“And fireworks, yes,” Chantel said happily.
Traveling through the growing throngs of people in wagons and on horses, Chantel, Morgan, and Jacob soon arrived at the fairgrounds. As Morgan escorted her toward the attractions, Chantel quickly became aware of people staring at her, as they always did. It was beginning to make her uncomfortable, and she began to think that perhaps her breeches and men’s shirts were reflecting on her much more scandalously than simple skirts and blouses might. After all, her hunting and fishing days in the bayou were long gone—as were the days when breeches could hide her figure.
But soon she forgot her worries. There were lanterns strung all along the fairgrounds, and many torches on long poles stuck into the ground. And indeed the fireworks were splendid. The cadets from the Virginia Military Institute, who were there training the volunteer companies as they formed, fired off their cannons. The artillery show made a delightful rolling roar, with spectacular flames spitting from the cannon mouths.
Also, there were not one, but three barbecues—a steer, a pig, and a goat. Jacob gleefully ate some of all three, along with tastes of many of the side dishes supplied by the merchants of Richmond. “If only they could find a way to put this potato salad in a can,” he mourned. “I could sell hundreds of cans of this.”
A band played marching music, and patriotic songs were sung, and there were speeches from various politicians. President Jefferson Davis was there, and Chantel was fascinated by him. He was the most dignified man she had ever seen. His face was hawklike, his cheeks sunken in, and one of his eyes seemed to have a film over it. He was not an inspiring speaker, but people listened respectfully and cheered loudly when he finished.
Finally the speeches were over, and the band started playing dance music. Morgan asked her to dance.
�
�No, thank you,” she said firmly. “I don’t dance.”
“But why not?” he asked.
“I never learned those fancy dances, me. All I know is a zydeco.”
“What’s a zydeco?”
“A Cajun dance.”
“Well, we don’t have to dance. We can listen to the music.”
Jacob said, “Now that I’ve eaten, I think I’m going to go on back to the wagon and get a good night’s sleep. You’ll bring my granddaughter home, Mr. Tremayne?”
“Yes, sir, I will. I will see she gets home safely.”
As soon as Jacob left, Morgan said, “He seems like a fine man. Strange, isn’t it? I mean, your grandfather being a Jew and a Christian.”
“Ma grandpere, he is wonderful,” Chantel said softly. “I don’t care if he is Jewish and Christian.”
A group of cavalrymen walked by, splendid in their new Hussar jackets and cavalry sabers. All of them wore brogues, with their pants tucked into their socks, except for one—Clay Tremayne. He grinned when he caught sight of them and came over. “Hello, Morgan, Chantel,” he said. “You’re staring at my boots.” Clay had new cavalry boots, thigh-high, polished to a sheen.
“Trust you to turn out like a dandy, even in uniform,” Morgan said.
“I think they look nice, me,” Chantel said. “General Stuart wears these boots.”
“Chantel to my rescue again,” Clay said. “Are you having a good time, Chantel?”
“Oh yes, I love fireworks. And Grandpere ate so much barbecue and potato salad it made him sleepy.”
“For such a small man, he sure can put away the food,” Clay said. “It’s a good thing you’re such a fine cook, Chantel. Morgan, I’ve been thinking. Since Mother and Father are here in town, don’t you think they’d like to meet Chantel and Mr. Steiner?”
“I think that’s a very good idea, Clay,” Morgan agreed. He turned to Chantel. “Clay’s told the family—finally—about what happened with the Howards and how you and Mr. Steiner saved his life. How about having supper with our family tomorrow night?”
“I was asking her, Morgan,” Clay objected.
“What difference does it make?” Morgan argued. “Either one of us—”
“Never mind, you,” Chantel said, amused. “If ma grandpere will come, I will come.”
“He’ll come,” Clay said firmly. “I’ll tell him that we’re having supper at Wickham’s.”
Clay had not told the whole story to his family until they had come to Richmond, as almost all of the prominent citizens of Virginia had, to find out about the organization and plans for the coming war. Although he had not mentioned names—out of consideration for Belle—of course his parents had already heard of the scandal. Clay had told them of how sorry he was that he had behaved so badly and had even excused the Howard brothers. “You know, once I thought about it, I’d probably do the same thing if some lousy dog had treated the Bluebells that way.”
Clay took after his father—muscular, with thick brown hair and intense brown eyes. Morgan took after his mother—slim and tall, with auburn hair and dark blue eyes. And then, of course, were the Tremaynes’ surprises—late-in-life twins, Belinda and Brenda, now seven years old. They were like foundlings, with strawberry-blond hair, angelic little heart-shaped faces, and big, round sky-blue eyes. There was such a difference in the ages between the twins and the brothers that usually Clay and Morgan just called them the Bluebells.
Clay had reserved a small private dining room at Wickham’s, and the Tremaynes, Chantel, and Jacob Steiner all settled in.
“I recommend the fresh oysters,” Morgan announced.
Clay looked pained, while Chantel made a horrible face. “I don’t like raw oysters, me. They’re cold. Food should be hot and drink should be cold.”
“Very well, then, no oysters,” Caleb Tremayne said. “Clay tells us you are such a good cook, Miss Fortier, that even Wickham’s can’t outdo your meals. Does anything sound good to you?”
“Everyone calls me Chantel, me,” she said rather shyly. “I like steak, Mr. Tremayne.”
“As do I,” Jacob said. “One grows weary of preserved meat. As peddlers, so often that is all we have.”
They all settled on steaks, even Belinda and Brenda. As they were eating the first remove, lettuce and tomato with mayonnaise, they kept glancing out of the corner of their eyes at Chantel. Clay had warned them about Chantel’s masculine clothing, and his mother had impressed upon them how rude it would be to mention it.
Still, Chantel could see the little girls’ wide-eyed amazement, and she asked kindly, “Have you ever seen a girl wear men’s breeches?”
“Oh no, Chantel,” Belinda answered.
“Mother said we were not to say anything. It would not be polite,” Brenda said.
“But you didn’t say anything, did you? I did. You see, back in Louisiana I live in the swamp, me. I go fishing there for fish and for turtles and alligators, and a dress is no good for fishing.”
“Alligators?” Belinda and Belle repeated in unison. They did this often.
“Did you ever catch one?” Belinda asked.
“Oh, all the time. Once I got one on as tall as you. Big enough to bite my head off.”
“How did you catch him?”
“Well, ma pere did most of it,” Chantel admitted. “But I helped ma mere cook him, me. He was good eating, that fat alligator.”
Caleb and Bethany Tremayne looked vastly amused, and Bethany said, “I’ve never had alligator. I doubt anyone in Virginia would know how to cook one.”
Chantel ducked her head. “No, I don’t fish and hunt much now, me. But these breeches, I wear them since I was a little girl. It’s all I have.”
Clay watched her with some surprise. He had not been aware that Chantel had become embarrassed about her clothing until now.
“Well, skirts and blouses are easy to make,” Bethany said lightly. “Clay tells me that, along with cooking, you are an excellent seamstress, Chantel. You know, there is a dressmaker here in Richmond that has nice working clothes for sale at a very reasonable price. If you required alterations, we could make them together, for I love to sew.”
“No, I—that would cost so much money, wouldn’t it?” Chantel asked.
“Not too much for my granddaughter,” Jacob said firmly. “Mrs. Tremayne, if you would be so kind as to tell us about this dressmaker, I will certainly see to it that Chantel gets some clothes.”
“I would like to visit her myself,” Bethany said. “I’m going to order new dresses for me and the girls, in Confederate gray with gold trim. It’s going to be all the rage now, you know. I would be happy if Chantel would accompany us.”
“That would be nice,” Chantel said awkwardly. “Thank you, Mrs. Tremayne.”
Chantel was fascinated by Clay’s family. Instinctively she had realized that Clay, in spite of his rakishness, was a quality Southern gentleman. But she had never met any of the Virginia aristocracy, the old moneyed families. She had a feeling that perhaps the Tremaynes gave her and Jacob a much better reception than others of their class would. But then she recalled how kind and uncritical Jeb and Flora Stuart had been, and they were of very good family, too, Clay had told her. She wondered that people so far above her station would be so kind to her.
Caleb turned to Jacob and said, “Clay’s told us about how you two saved his life. I’d like to hear your story, Mr. Steiner.”
Jacob smiled. “Let me tell you, sir. I became a Christian many years ago. Very hard for a Jewish man. The synagogues will not have you because you are not holding up the traditions of Judaism, and some Christians are suspicious of you. But I did the best I could to study the Bible and find out how to follow the Lord Jesus.”
“I think that’s very admirable, sir,” Caleb said. “How did you meet Miss Fortier? Chantel, I mean,” he added with a courtly bow in her direction.
“Almost the same way your son met her. I grew sick. I was all alone. I could hardly move. As a matter of fact, I
was dying, and this young woman”—he turned to her and smiled beatifically—“she nursed me back to health. And she decided to stay with me. We were coming here, to Richmond, and on the way we found your son badly hurt, and it was Chantel who nursed him back to health. She makes a fine nurse.”
Chantel thoroughly enjoyed the meal and visiting with Clay’s family. She hated to see the evening coming to an end. Before leaving, she and Bethany confirmed plans to visit the dressmaker’s the very next day.
Clay and Morgan walked Chantel and Jacob out to the carriage they had hired to bring their guests to the restaurant. Jacob began questioning Morgan about the best warehouses in Richmond for foodstuffs.
Clay took the opportunity to lead Chantel a few feet away for a bit of privacy. “My family is very grateful to you.”
Chantel replied earnestly, “You have a good family, Clay. You are a lucky man, you.”
“I am, though I sure don’t deserve it.”
Chantel sighed. “I’m jealous. All I have is Grandpere.” She looked toward Jacob with love in her eyes. “He’s wonderful, but it’s good to have a big family.”
“Well, I think my family would take you in a moment. They’ve asked me a thousand questions about you, and I can tell even the Bluebells love you. They pester you with questions, but that shows they like you.”
“I like them, too.”
Clay sighed. “I’ve been a bad son, Chantel. Very bad.”
Chantel stared at him. “Why have you been a bad son, Clay? Nobody makes you do these bad things.” As Clay lifted his eyes, Chantel saw they were filled with misery.
“I don’t know. Everybody seems to know where they are going except me. I was raised in a Christian family, as you can see. They make it seem so easy to live for God and do what is right.”
“That’s what Grandpere always says, that it is easy.”
Clay looked at her. “What about you, Chantel? Are you a Christian?”
“Well, no. I’m not like Grandpere or your family,” she said with some difficulty. “The good God doesn’t talk to me. I don’t understand Him.”
“Not as easy as they make it out to be, is it?” Clay said wryly. “In any case, it’s been a good visit. Maybe you and Jacob could go back to the valley with my parents. He’s told me how much you like the Shenandoah Valley. You know, Chantel, the war is going to be here, in Virginia, especially around Richmond since it’s the capital. You and Jacob would do better to be out of it.”
The Sword Page 18
