“As a matter of fact, yes,” Semmes answered. “They’ve been with Jackson in the Valley, but orders went out late yesterday to Colonel Benton. They’ll be assigned to defend Richmond—and your father and brother will be here next week. They’re being sent ahead of the rest of the regiment to take care of any advance preparations.”
“Oh, Mama will be glad!” Rachel exclaimed.
“Come along,” Semmes said. “It’s time I took you to lunch.” She began to protest, but he laughed at her. “Come now, if you try to get out of it, I’ll denounce you for a Yankee spy!”
They went downtown to the Melton Hotel, and after a fine lunch, they sat there talking for a long time. Semmes was an accomplished conversationalist, and he kept her amused as he related the incidents in Richmond and at the camp. “By the way,” he said, “There’s to be a ball for the Grays on the fifteenth. I’m taking you to it.”
“And I don’t have any say in the matter?”
“Not in the least,” Semmes said firmly. “Buy yourself a pretty new dress, and I’ll bring my pistol along to protect you. It’ll be fun, Rachel, and I’d like you to come with me.”
“All right, Leighton,” Rachel agreed. “I can’t promise the new dress, though.”
“Tell me about your trip to New Orleans—and about the patient.”
Rachel gave him the details of the voyage, then spoke of Vince’s recovery. “He’s doing very well, but it’ll be weeks before he’s able to get around.”
“Did you know Simon Duvall’s been making his boasts about what he intends to do?”
“Yes, I’ve heard about it. But he’s not going to shoot a cripple. That wouldn’t do his reputation any good.”
“With most men, I’d agree. But with a fellow like Duvall, you never can tell,” Semmes said doubtfully. “He’s got a fiery temper, and if he met Vince at all, he might shoot him without thinking of the consequences. If I were you, I’d talk Vince into staying out of town.”
This didn’t please Rachel. “He can’t stay out of Richmond the rest of his life.”
“I guess not, but warn him to be careful. As a matter of fact, I’ll be glad to say a word to Duvall myself. I could do it right now. He’s always at the Harralson House about this time of day.”
Rachel knew this was an offer from Semmes to take up Vince’s quarrel, and she understood that he was offering to do it for her, not because of any affection he had for her brother.
“No, Leighton, but you can take me there. I’ve got something to say to the big bully.”
“Now wait a minute—!” Semmes protested, but despite his earnest argument, he found himself escorting Rachel to the hotel, which was only a block away. “Now just remember to keep your temper, Rachel,” he said as they entered the salon. “There he is over there.”
Rachel saw Duvall sitting at a table with several men, playing cards. She straightened her back and marched up to him. “Mr. Duvall, I understand you’ve been making threats about what you intend to do to my brother.”
Her words cut off all conversation, and Duvall came out of his chair like a scalded cat. He glared at her, saying, “Miss Franklin, you shouldn’t interfere. This is between your brother and myself.”
“Would you shoot an injured man, Duvall?”
“I won’t discuss it with a woman!”
Duvall started to turn but stopped abruptly as Rachel pulled a pistol from her purse and aimed it at him. It was the pistol she’d bought in New Orleans as a gift for Les, a finely designed .36 revolver. It had developed a flaw, and she had taken it to the gunsmith to get it repaired. It was not loaded, but Duvall didn’t know that. His face washed pale, and he said nervously, “Now, now, that’s no way to behave!”
“You think I’ll take lessons in how to behave from a sorry bully like you, Duvall?” Rachel said, keeping the gun steadily trained on him. “You’re not a man anyone would listen to.”
Duvall looked at her, swallowed, then said, “Miss Franklin, this is most unseemly!”
“No, this isn’t unseemly,” Rachel said. “Let me tell you what will be unseemly. If you harm my brother, I’ll shoot you. Not in one of your nice little duels where you have all the advantage. I’ll wait for you in a dark alley, and when you pass by, I’ll shoot you in the back of the head. Now that would be unseemly, don’t you agree?”
She looked around the room, and contempt dripped from her voice as she said, “I don’t suppose any of you have much pride, if you’re the friend of a creature like this. But if there’s any manhood in any of you, I’d think you’d refuse to listen to this scum when he makes threats against a man who can’t defend himself.”
She put the pistol back in her purse, saying, “From an alley, Duvall, in the back of the head.” Then she turned and walked away.
Semmes gave Duvall a hard look, saying, “I am Miss Franklin’s escort. If you resent anything she’s said, my man will be glad to wait on you, sir!” Then he moved to Rachel and the two of them left the salon.
“Well, that was fun,” Leighton said, and a laugh bubbled up in him. “Rachel, it was wonderful!”
“My father won’t think so, nor my mother. “Then a giggle came from her unexpectedly. “He did look silly, though, didn’t he?”
“He’ll keep his mouth shut,” Semmes said, nodding. “He’s got no choice.” Then he asked curiously, “Would you really shoot him, Rachel?”
“No, but don’t tell him that.”
Duvall turned back to the men at the table, his face ashen.
“Well, a man can’t fight a woman, can he? The hussy!”
“You’d better keep quiet about your problem with Franklin, Duvall,” one of the men said. “It does look bad, threatening a cripple.”
Duvall glanced around the table, saw the agreement in the faces, and quickly said, “Of course. I had no intention of fighting Franklin until he’s well.” But the whole affair had shaken him, and he left the salon shortly afterward. He was fuming inside, and his anger was a black thing that would not be laid to rest easily. As he was walking down the sidewalk, fighting to keep his anger back, someone spoke to him.
“Why, Mr. Duvall, how nice to see you!”
He looked up with a startled expression, nodding then as he said, “Why, good afternoon, Mrs. Rocklin.” He knew Ellen Rocklin only slightly but had admired her for a long time. She was hardly young, he thought, at about forty—but she was one of those women who retained her looks and figure. She was wearing a gray dress with a scarlet cape and looked very attractive. “How have you been?”
“Just fine. I’m on my way to look at some jewelry at Mason’s.” She smiled archly, adding, “You seem like a man who knows what looks good on a woman.”
He said instantly, “Allow me to accompany you, Mrs. Rocklin.”
“Oh, we’re better acquainted than that,” she said, smiling. “Let’s make it Ellen and Simon.”
They moved away, and after they looked at the jewelry, it seemed natural enough to have dinner together. Ellen Rocklin was an enticing woman, and as she listened to Duvall’s version of Rachel’s actions, she put her hand over his on the table, saying sympathetically, “What a dreadful thing, Simon! Her father ought to whip her. He won’t, of course. She knows how to get around him!”
Ellen knew how to get around men, too, and how to get them to do what she wanted. There was a speculative and excited light in her eyes as she spoke to Duvall. She leaned against him, and a startled look appeared in his eyes—and then he smiled. They left the restaurant and moved down the street toward the house where she kept a room. When they arrived, she led him in by a seldom-used side entrance.
CHAPTER 10
DINNER AT LINDWOOD
Dr. Kermit Maxwell was of the old school of medicine, highly suspicious of any of the newfangled innovations coming out of medical schools. His own training had been brief, at least from an academic point of view, but his practical experience was immense. He had been setting broken bones, administering pills, and bringing babie
s into the world in Virginia for almost sixty years. And he looked it, too.
He had stopped by to see Amy Franklin and, at her request, had gone to give her son an examination. Jake had been taking a nap on his bed when the door burst open without the formality of a knock. That, added to a booming voice sounding almost in his ear, gave him a leaping start.
“All right, get out of them clothes and let me look you over, boy!”
Jake was pulled to a sitting position before he was completely awake, and he suddenly found himself being stripped of his shirt by a short, thickset man with a round red face and a pair of sharp blue eyes. Quickly Jake made the connection, for he’d heard Rachel tell Melora that a doctor was coming to see her mother.
But this man looked more like one of the loafers who sat outside City Hall and chewed tobacco than a physician. Still, he more or less acted as though he knew what he was doing. He started at the top of Jake’s head, checked the gash, which was almost healed; touched the burns, which were forming pink new skin; then grabbed Jake’s head and held it still while he peered into his eyes.
“Eyes bother you much?”
“Not so much now. I still wear the dark glasses in bright sunshine.”
“Keep on doing it,” Maxwell commanded. “Open your mouth.” He peered down Jake’s throat, then said, “Looks all right. Your mother says you still talk kind of husky.”
“That’s right, I do.”
Maxwell sucked a tooth, thought about it, then shrugged. “Well, you may talk like that the rest of your life. Maybe damaged your vocal cords. But then, you don’t sing in no church choirs, anyway.”
Jake liked the old man. “But I might want to start, Doc.”
“Not likely!” Maxwell had been doctoring the Franklins off and on for years, so he knew quite a bit about the oldest son. His practice was mostly with the hill people, so his visits were sporadic. Still, he had heard of Vince’s life, so he knew the sort of man he was dealing with, even though he hadn’t treated Vince personally for many years. “Whiskey voice—that’s what it sounds like to me,” he snapped. “You still on the bottle?”
Jake was amused. “No. I’m waiting for my doctor to tell me it’s all right to start.”
“You’ve already drunk enough to do a man for a lifetime.” But Maxwell knew that his admonition would have little effect. “Let me see that arm and leg.” After checking the limbs, he shrugged. “The devil looks out for his own, I guess. Leave the bandages off the arm, keep a light one on the leg, and don’t do too much walking for a couple of weeks.”
“Thanks, Dr. Maxwell. How’s my mother?”
“Not as well as I’d like.” Maxwell frowned and sucked on his tooth again, then added, “That was a bad break. As bad as I’ve ever seen. Don’t tell your mother, but she may be lame for the rest of her life.”
“Surely there must be something to do!”
“No, there’s not!” Maxwell snapped with irritation. Removing a square of tobacco from his pocket, he bit off a large plug and tucked it into his jaw. “There’s not a lot any of us doctors can do, which I reckon you know. People look at us like we’re some kind of miracle workers, but mostly it’s just common sense. You could send your mother to the finest hospital in New York, and they’d fool with her and charge you all the money you could rake up. But I’m telling you, boy, if God don’t heal that break, the finest doctor in the world won’t be able to do it!” He whirled and propelled himself to the door, a short, scrappy man with a busy schedule.
Jake put his shirt on, then picked out a pair of lightweight shoes made of the softest leather that could be found. He got them onto his feet, then reached out for his crutches. He had started using them four days earlier, and it had been difficult. His right hand was weak, making him drop the right crutch often so that he had to stoop awkwardly on his good leg to retrieve it, or else call for help. Still, the exercise seemed to have helped, for now he managed to hold on to the crutch with little difficulty. Swinging his right foot, he moved across the room, passed through the door, then turned and made his way to a small room that once had been a study but now had been converted to a bedroom for the mistress of Lindwood. It saved the servants and the two women the climb up to the second floor. Les had done a good job of making the room handy, moving a good bed into it, along with a few pieces of furniture.
Jake knocked on the door, waited until he heard a voice say, “Come in,” then opened the door and entered.
“Why, come and sit down, Vince,” Amy said quickly. She had been reading a magazine in bed, but put it down and waited until Jake was seated, then asked, “Did the doctor think you’re making progress?”
“Yes. Got a clean bill of health.” Jake sat there, not as uncomfortable as he had been the first time or two he’d visited. There was nothing frightening about Amy Franklin. On the contrary, she was one of the most gracious women Jake had ever met. Though the knowledge of his secret made him somewhat nervous, he had grown to like the older woman, and several times he had come to her room and sat beside her. She had sensed, he knew, that he didn’t want to talk about himself, and she carefully refrained from asking anything personal. But she did talk about her family and about the things of her world—which was a great help to Jake, who soaked up the information.
Now he asked, “What did he say about you?”
Amy smiled at him with a light in her eye. “He didn’t tell me what he told you. Maxwell is a blunt old fellow, but he’s got some tact. What he wanted to say was that he was afraid I’d be a cripple for the rest of my life. He didn’t come out with it, of course, but he’s an easy man to read. That is what he told you, isn’t it?”
Jake blinked and began to fumble for words, but she cut him off. “Never mind. It was an unfair question. He’s wrong, anyway.”
“I hope so,” Jake said quickly. “You hate being tied down, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do. I’ve always been happy working.” A thought came to her, leaving a sudden expression of interest on her face. “It might be that the Lord wanted me to be still and listen.” She thought about that, then smiled slightly. “Yes, that could be it. You know, I’ve spent more time listening to God since I fell through that porch than I have in the last ten years!”
Jake laughed, saying, “Well, that’s a pretty rough way of getting your attention. There must have been an easier way.”
“No, I don’t think there was. We’re all about the same, I think. When things are going well, we forget to listen to God. But when the bottom falls out of our world, we start looking up for help. That’s the way you were when you were a boy, Vince.”
“Calling on God?”
“No, I mean when you were young. You were the most independent little boy I ever saw!” The memory softened her lips, making her look maternal. “But even when you were five years old, you didn’t want any help. No, sir, not you! You’d yank your hand out of mine and go off on your own. When you’d start falling, you’d go down and scrape your knees. And then you’d start holding up your hands and crying out for me.”
“I don’t remember that.”
“No, you were just a baby.” A sadness came to her, and she said softly, “I guess that was about the last time you reached out and asked me for anything. It grieved me, for I loved you very much.”
Jake felt his face grow warm for some reason. He had never known much of a mother’s love—none, really—and now he wanted to curse Vince for turning away from this woman. “Well, Dr. Maxwell said it would have to be God who healed you.”
“Yes, he’s right about that. But even if I do limp, this time has been good for me. For one thing,” she said, giving him a sweet smile that reminded him of Rachel, “if I hadn’t been here, we wouldn’t have had these talks, would we?”
“I—guess not.”
She saw his embarrassment, then said, “Your father and Grant will be here for dinner tonight. They got back to Richmond yesterday from the Valley. Rachel went to town and found out that both of them have been ass
igned to the regiment’s advance team.”
“Well, that’s fine,” Jake said quickly. He suddenly felt a surge of panic, for meeting Brad Franklin had been something he’d thought about with apprehension. “Glad I’m on my feet for the big occasion.”
“It’ll just be family tonight.” Amy smiled. “I’m looking forward to it. It’s the longest time your father and I have ever been separated since we’ve been married.”
Jake got to his feet awkwardly, got his crutches in place, then smiled. “Well, he’ll come home to a beautiful wife,” he said and was sorry at once. Vince would never have said a thing like that! was the thought that went off like an alarm bell.
Amy Franklin was indeed looking at him with an amazed expression. He halfway expected her to denounce him, but she suddenly smiled, then laughed. “If I’d known that having a burning building fall on you would have made such an improvement, I’d have set fire to the house a long time ago!”
Jake felt a surge of relief. “Well, it did call my attention to a few things, I guess. So if you act up, I can lead you to a rotten porch, and if I don’t behave, you can push me into a fire.”
After he left her room, Amy sat there thinking of the scene. She was still thinking of it when Rachel came in to bring her fresh water. Rachel looked at her mother’s pensive face. “Did Vince upset you, Mama?” she asked quickly.
Amy smiled at her. “No, dear, he didn’t. He actually said something quite nice.”
“Vince?” Rachel said, raising her eyebrows in doubt. “Don’t let him fool you, Mama. He may seem more human lately, but it’s just because he’s sick. Oh, he’s being nice enough, but when he’s well, we’ll have the same old Vince.”
There was a bitter tone in her voice, and Amy said, “You can’t let that sort of bitterness stay in you, Rachel. You’ve been taught better.”
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