Three Books in One: A Covenant of Love, Gate of His Enemies, and Where Honor Dwells

by Gilbert, Morris

  Noah’s eyes glistened as he patted the strong hand of his grandson. “Glad you told me about that, Gid,” he said simply. “I’m proud of you, as I was proud of your father.” He lay there quietly, and then he said, “Whatever comes to this country, Gid, don’t let go of the part of you that’s here at Gracefield. I’ll have your word on that, as an officer and a gentleman.”

  Gideon saw the fire in the old eyes and at once said, “You have it.”

  Noah relaxed, and the two men talked quietly until Charlotte came back with two mint juleps. She handed one to Gid, then helped Noah sit up. After handing him the tall frosty glass, she stepped back, saying, “That’s just about all the ice.”

  Noah sipped the concoction, then smacked his lips. “Gid, git out of here. Go give Clay a run for his money.”

  Gideon finished the drink, then rose to leave. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Grandfather.”

  He left the room, and Noah said, “That’s a good boy.”

  “They both are,” Charlotte agreed. “I guess he’s come to force Melanie to make a choice.”

  Noah was accustomed to her insight and merely nodded. “It’ll be settled one way or another by the time he leaves. Which one will she have?”

  Charlotte walked over and sat down on the bed. She smoothed his silver hair back from his forehead, then smiled at him. “You used to be smarter, Noah, than to try to guess what’s in a woman’s heart. I don’t think Melanie knows herself—but she will have to choose now.”

  The color of Melanie’s gown reflected the royal blue of her eyes, and as she swirled about the dance floor with Clay, she threw her head back and laughed at something he had said. He was the best-looking man at the ball, dressed in fawn trousers and a rust-colored coat. His black hair and olive skin set off his chiseled features, and as he spoke, Melanie could sense the excitement that flowed through him. Aside from his good looks, there was a special quality that drew people to Clay. He seemed charged with some sort of energy, a life that seemed sadly lacking in most men. Though it was true that he often was quick to change direction, just now Melanie could feel her own spirit rising to meet his.

  “I can’t dance every dance with you, Clay,” she protested. “You were absolutely rude to Lyle McIntire!”

  “Let Lyle find his own woman,” Clay said with a grin. “I’ve put the word out that I’ll shoot any man who tries to dance with you tonight.”

  “You are awful!” Melanie exclaimed, but her eyes sparkled with excitement. “Very well, I’ll sit out the next one, and you must ask Ellen to dance.”

  “She’s got enough fellows chasing her.” Clay cast a glance over his shoulder and, noting that Ellen had four of his friends surrounding her, laughed. “Look at them! Chasing after her like a pack of hound dogs with their tongues hanging out.”

  “Clay! Don’t be crude!”

  He was amused at her protest. “Mellie, any girl who wears a dress like Ellen has on wants to attract men.”

  Though she denied his words, secretly Melanie agreed. Ellen had appeared in a formfitting rose-colored dress, the front of which was cut extremely low. When Melanie had attempted to hint that the gown was immodest, Ellen had laughed at her. “It’s what they’re wearing in Europe, Mellie. I’m just introducing the newest styles. You’ll be wearing one just like this at your next ball!”

  Despite his protests, Melanie insisted that Clay dance with her cousin, so as soon as the dance ended, he handed her over to Taylor Dewitt, who saw Melanie to a chair, and went to Ellen. When he asked her to dance, at once she said, “Of course, Clay,” and they waltzed off, leaving Bushrod Aimes staring after them in chagrin.

  “Well, Tug, that is some stuck-up girl,” Bushrod said half angrily. “Nothing but a Rocklin is good enough for her, I guess.”

  Tug Ramsey was wearing a tight collar, which made his round face red as a rising sun—though, to be honest, some of the color was due to the contents of a bottle that he and the other young men sampled from time to time. “If she wasn’t as juicy as a ripe plum,” Tug said with a grin, “I guess we’d leave her alone. Wonder if—” He broke off, saying in a startled voice, “Look, Bushrod! There’s Gid!”

  The two of them watched as Gideon, resplendent in dress uniform, came in through the double doors, looked around, and made his way to where Melanie was seated. They saw the astonishment steal over her face as she looked up at Gid. Then she arose and followed him through a pair of French doors that led to the outer court of the governor’s mansion.

  “Ol’ Gid looks dead serious, don’t he now?” Tug remarked. “I expect he means business.”

  “I’d better tell Clay,” Bushrod said. He waited until the dance was over, then, as Clay brought Ellen from the dance floor, moved close to him. “Clay, did you see Gid come in?” he murmured.

  Clay gave him a sharp look. “No. Where is he?”

  Bushrod grinned brashly. “Out in the garden, boy, with Melanie—and you know what that means! Better get yourself into action.”

  Clay gave Aimes a look of irritation but said only, “I can’t go busting out there now. Let’s go have a drink. I’ll head him off pretty soon.”

  But the drink turned out to be two drinks, then three. The pair of them were joined by Taylor Dewitt and Tug Ramsey, and the four of them got into a drinking contest. Dewitt, who could apparently hold any amount of whiskey with no discernible result, tried to caution Clay. “Better lay off this stuff, Clay,” he said. “It’s pretty potent. You don’t want to get drunk.”

  Clay laughed rashly, tilted the bottle, and drank deeply. “I can hold my liquor, Taylor,” he boasted. “You tend to your own business.” He drank again and laughed as he handed the bottle to Bushrod. “Put it down like a man, Aimes!”

  On the other side of the mansion, Melanie was in a state of shock. She had been glad to see Gid, but when she started to tell him what she’d been doing, he had said, “I didn’t come to Richmond to hear about the balls you’ve been to, Mellie.” His words sounded a little harsh, but his eyes were gentle. “I came to ask you to marry me.”

  Melanie smiled. “You’ve done that pretty regularly for the past few months, Gid. In person and by mail.”

  Gid shook his head. The light that filtered through the French doors caught him, framing his solid shape and heightening the glow in his brown eyes. There was, Melanie saw suddenly, a determination in him that was somehow different than ever before.

  “I’m worn out, Mellie,” Gid said simply. “Life is difficult enough at West Point, and since I’ve had you on my mind, I’ve not done a blessed thing right. If something doesn’t happen, I’ll wash out.” Then he took her hands and held them in his. “But that’s not the point, Mellie.”

  Melanie was sobered by his manner. His hands were so large that her own were lost in his grasp, and she exclaimed, “Why, Gid, you’re trembling!”

  He looked down at his hands and laughed shortly. “I didn’t think there was anything in the world that could do that to me, Mellie. Shows you how things are with me.” He took one hand from hers and used it to draw her closer. “You’re so beautiful, Mellie!” he whispered. “But that’s not why I love you. I’d love you even if you lost your beauty.”

  It was a thought that had not occurred to Melanie, and the sudden strangeness of it shocked her. She relied on her good looks, even took them for granted. Sometimes she felt sorry for plain girls, and now the thought came to her, What would happen if I got scarred? And she knew at once the answer: Most men would turn from her.

  “I really believe you would, Gid,” she said softly. “You really would.” In that moment, though she had known Gideon Rocklin all her life, Melanie saw the strength of the man. It made her feel strangely safe as she stood within the circle of his arms.

  “You know me, Mellie,” Gid said. “I don’t change much. Guess I’m not very exciting. But I’ll never stop loving you. Not even if you choose Clay. When we are both old and silver-haired, I’ll love you.”

  His simple words did mo
re to Melanie than any she’d ever heard before. If some other man had spoken them, she could have put them away—but not this man. He was not dashing, true enough, but Melanie realized with a start that what she wanted, more than dashing manners, was a man who would always love her.

  “I—I love you, Gid,” she whispered and stepped closer to him, reaching up to pull his head down. His kiss was sweet but not demanding. She sensed the longing behind the light pressure of his lips and knew that he was holding himself in tight rein, thinking of her. And she now knew that she would trust herself to this strong, solid man for the rest of her life.

  “I’ll marry you, Gid, if you want me,” she whispered, drawing back from him so that she could see his face.

  His eyes burned suddenly, and his lips grew firm as he took a deep breath. Then he laughed and caught her close. “Great guns!” he exclaimed. “I thought I’d lost you!”

  They were both trembling, and for the next few minutes they simply walked around the garden, oblivious to everything except each other and the decision they had just made. Finally Melanie laughed nervously, saying, “I feel married already, Gid!”

  “Well, you’re not,” he said practically, then kissed her.

  “Let’s go make the announcement!” Melanie said, taking his hand.

  “No! That’s not the way, Mellie!” Gid pulled her back, then said soberly, “We’ve got to think of Clay.”

  Melanie flushed and dropped her head. When she lifted it to look at him, she tried to smile. “You see what a selfish girl you’re getting? Yes, we must think of Clay. But I must tell my parents now.”

  “Good! After that, you must take Clay someplace where it’s quiet.” Gid shook his head, adding, “It’s going to be hard for him, Mellie.”

  “Oh, Gid, why did I ever lead you two on in such a senseless way?”

  “That’s past praying for, Mellie,” he said gently. “The thing now is to make it as easy for him as possible. What I’d like to do is say nothing to anyone—except your parents, I suppose. Tell Clay you won’t marry him, and don’t even mention me. After he gets used to the idea, I can come courting again.”

  “Oh, Gid, that’ll take forever!”

  “But it’s the best way, Mellie. Will you do it?”

  Melanie nodded, then reached up and kissed him. “You’re good, Gideon. Much better than I am!”

  “That’s true.” He nodded with a twinkle of humor in his eye. “But you’re young, and I can bring you up to my standards quickly enough. Now go and tell your parents.”

  Gideon’s plan was good—but it never happened. Melanie found her father, and he was pleased enough with her choice. “He’s a good, solid man, Mellie,” James Benton affirmed. “He’ll be a general one of these days. You’ll see!”

  Melanie kissed him, then went upstairs seeking her mother. In her excitement, she forgot to tell her father to keep the engagement a secret, and as soon as she was out of sight, Benton went to the governor, telling him the good news. The governor, anxious to please Benton, called for silence, then proposed a toast to the engagement of the couple.

  Clay himself got the news when he came into the ballroom with his friends. His face was flushed and his speech was slightly slurred by the liquor. He was stopped by a friend who said, “Well, you gave it all you had, Clay. Too bad you got beat.”

  Clay stared at the man, a tall fellow named Christopher Potter. “What—you talking about, Chris?” he asked.

  “Why, about Melanie’s engagement to Gideon,” Potter said; then he saw that Clay’s face had turned white. “Oh, good Lord, Clay!” he apologized. “I thought you knew about it!”

  Clay Rocklin stood there feeling the anger as it rose in him. He looked across the room for Melanie but did not see her. He did see Gid, however, and at that moment if he had had a gun, he would have shot his cousin through the heart.

  Gideon saw Clay and started across the room. But as he drew near, Clay gave him one bitter glance of violent anger, then turned on his heel and stormed out.

  “That was bad,” Taylor Dewitt said to Bushrod. “We better go with him.” The two of them left at once, and for the rest of the night they trailed along with Clay as he made his way through the lowest dives and brothels of Richmond. When he was completely unconscious, Dewitt and Aimes took him to a hotel room and put him to bed.

  Looking down on him, Dewitt said, “I’ve seen Clay when he was mad, Bushrod. But this is different.”

  “He’s crazy, Dewitt,” Bushrod agreed. “Maybe he’ll feel better about it when he wakes up.”

  Taylor Dewitt shook his head, a doubtful cast to his lean face. “I hope so—but Clay was mighty set on that girl. If only it could have been any other man! You know how he’s always been jealous of Gid.”

  “I guess if it were any other man, Clay would call him out.

  But he can’t fight a duel with a member of his own family!”

  “I don’t know, Bushrod … just no telling what Clay will do. He’s got a mighty wild streak.” He suddenly struck his hands together and swore. “I wish Gid would take that girl and elope! Be better for everyone!”

  But the pair knew that would never happen, and for a long time they sat up trying to think of a way to help their friend. But when the dawn came and Clay awoke, they saw the raw look of anger in his eyes. They both knew that there was not a single thing on earth they could do for Clay Rocklin.

  CHAPTER 5

  MELORA

  I don’t suppose you ever thought of deer hunting as a ministry, did you, Brother Irons!”

  “I never try to figure out how God might want to work.”

  Rev. Jeremiah Irons looked over his cup of steaming coffee toward Susanna Rocklin. The two of them were sitting in Gracefield’s kitchen, which was, for once, unoccupied. It was so early that it was still dark outside. A chill September wind had numbed the preacher’s nose and stiffened his hands on the ride from the parsonage to Gracefield, and he had found Susanna waiting for him with hot coffee. Now as the two of them sat at the table waiting for Clay to come down, he thought about the past two months.

  He had spent a great deal of his time at Gracefield, coming almost daily not only to visit Noah, who was usually confined to his bed, but to encourage Charlotte and Susanna. They were both pillars in his church, and both were in the valley of the shadow—Charlotte because she faced the loss of her beloved, and Susanna because of Clay’s behavior. There was little he could do in a practical way for Noah and Charlotte, though his very presence there cheered both of them. But he had acted on Susanna’s request to make himself available to Clay. This was, to say the least, difficult, for Clay had gone sour since Melanie had accepted Gideon.

  Every attempt that Irons made to help Clay in a spiritual way was rebuffed. Clay did his work on the plantation sullenly, staying away from the family and leaving for Richmond to drink and carouse as soon as his work was done. Reports of his wild behavior came to Thomas and Susanna, and it was this that prompted Susanna to call upon her pastor for help. “He’ll never come to church, Brother Jerry,” she had said in desperation, and it was then that Jeremiah had been struck with the idea of getting next to Clay in another way.

  “Maybe not,” he’d answered Susanna, “so let’s try something else.” His plan was to get Clay to hunt with him, for both of them were avid hunters. Susanna had agreed at once, and the plan had worked to some extent. Clay had curtly refused the first invitation, suspicious of the preacher, but the second time he had gone duck hunting with Irons. It had been a strange hunt, Irons reported later to Susanna. “He had a wall built around himself a mile high, expecting me to preach at him.” The minister had smiled at her. “When I didn’t say a word about how he’s been behaving, and I didn’t mention the Bible—I think it sort of disappointed him. He was loaded for bear, Susanna. Just ready to bawl me out and stalk off. When he saw I wasn’t ‘on duty,’ so to speak, he relaxed and we had a good time.”

  Now Irons sipped his coffee and looked at Susanna. “Clay
’s running from God, but Jesus Christ is on his trail.”

  Susanna had circles under her eyes, and there was a droop to her shoulders. The double difficulty of taking over most of Charlotte’s work while the older woman cared for Noah and bearing the burden of Clay’s behavior had worn her thin. But when she smiled and said, “I’m glad you’ve found a way to get close to him, Pastor,” there was a light of hope in her fine eyes. “I thank God for sending us a pastor like you, Brother Jerry!”

  Irons flushed at the praise and started to protest, but at that moment Clay came in, his eyes bleary and a tremble in his hands. He stopped and stared at them, his eyes defiant. “I told you not to fix breakfast, Mother,” he said crossly. “I don’t want anything to eat.”

  Irons said quickly, “Well, I do, Clay. If you don’t want anything, you can sit down and listen to me eat.” He spoke lightly and began at once to eat the scrambled eggs and fried ham that Susanna set before him. As Irons had guessed, once Clay had made himself obnoxious—and when he saw that nobody was going to argue with him—he sat down and ate.

  Susanna stood beside her son, saying, “Clay, you look like you’ve got a fever.”

  “I’m all right,” he said shortly. “Just a cold.”

  When the two men were finished, Irons said, “Unless you know of a better spot, I thought we’d go over to Branson’s Ridge. Buford Yancy got a big buck over there yesterday morning. He said there were plenty more he could have taken.”