Promise Me Forever

by Janelle Taylor

  “Guns and bullets are fascinating?” he teased the woman whose eyes were now that amber shade that might indicate honesty. But for all he knew, it could be only an effect of lighting.

  “Yes, how they’re made and how they work. Isn’t it the same with your ship? You want to know how every inch of her works.”

  Dan smiled. “That’s right, Rachel, and I do.”

  “I’m certain that’s so. You seem like a man who needs to know everything that’s going on around him, especially if it involves you.”

  “Do you and Phillip think he’s being cheated? Is that why he wanted to handle my contract himself?” He complimented himself for being astute and alert enough to throw in his last question to supplement his cover.

  Rachel hoped her ruse with Dan would make her questions and curiosity about George and Harry sound logical. “Perhaps. Both businesses were earning nice profits until mid ‘73, at which time Phillip was told things had slacked off. They said orders were lower, and material prices and salaries for skilled workers were higher. After the war ended and things settled down, surplus arms and ammunition were sold off. With the fighting over, not as many weapons were needed. Big companies like Remington and Winchester gobbled up the foreign markets. But Phillip figured that most southerners would replace weapons confiscated from them after the war—for protection and hunting.” She sipped at her coffee before continuing. “I’ll be able to tell if more supplies are being purchased than make the amounts of the sales listed that he’s paid for. I plan to check items ordered against items made against items sent out or in inventory against recorded sales and profits. Any discrepancy should stand out. For example, if large amounts of supplies are ordered to make cartridges, but only a few sales are recorded and the inventory is low, that would point out an inconsistency—that unrecorded goods were going out. Phillip doesn’t believe that sales have dropped off or as much as they’re telling him. He thinks secret deals are being made. That would be easy for his partners to accomplish since he isn’t around much to see what’s going on.”

  If he didn’t know better, her fabrication would sound convincing. “Phillip certainly did himself a good turn when he captured you. I see why he didn’t hesitate to leave you in charge or to send you here on this clever mission. Do his partners know how enlightened you are?”

  “No, not yet.” She liked the way Dan seemed impressed by her wits and skills. True, she did know all those things, and would continue to pretend that was her task. “And I won’t behave as if I am. I want them relaxed enough to make slips. One last caution, Dan. If your deal with Phillip isn’t recorded in those books, don’t mention to either George or Harry that it was a previous arrangement. Perhaps his secrecy is a kind of test. We’ll tell them we came to place your order, then see if they already know about it. If they don’t, since you need your arms in a hurry and Phillip isn’t here to tell us how to handle it, we’ll put it through the books. Is that all right?”

  “I’ll go along with you. Problems with either or both companies could affect my order. I came a long way to carry out my business, so I don’t want it to be a waste of time and energy or a loss of a nice profit.”

  “Profit is what concerns Phillip, too. If the companies aren’t making hefty ones, he wants to rid himself of those drains on his finances. He’s checking out replacement investments now, so he’s serious about this.”

  Dan set down his cup and asked, “What kind of investments?”

  “I don’t know. He said it will be a surprise.” She didn’t care for the foul taste of this deception, but it couldn’t be helped. She liked Dan and wished she could solicit his assistance, but she couldn’t risk trusting him.

  Dan didn’t point out the hole in her fake tale, but she must have caught that oversight, because she came up with a valid explanation.

  “Phillip didn’t want to arrive and demand to study the books himself because he was afraid, if things were accurate, that it would create ill will. That would tell his partners he had suspicions of them. It probably wasn’t wise, but he’s always accepted their word and reports without question or intrusion. Since they’re out of town and he lets them run the firms, he stayed out of the accounting end. Phillip was actually a silent partner or more like a shareholder. I’ve been trying to get him more involved; that’s why he wants me to get the facts for him. If I’m smart and lucky, I’ll find a clue in the records to help him make his decisions.”

  Dan thought he should reason with her. “If they’re taking orders on the sly or not recording the full profits, that wouldn’t show in the books, would it?” he asked. “Surely they would conceal such devious actions. Why would they act nervous or suspicious if they know nothing can be found or traced?”

  “Isn’t it human nature for a man who has something to hide to worry he’s made an error someplace that someone might catch?” she asked. “Something overlooked, like a freight wagon rented when no order is listed to be hauled to the wharf or depot that day? No matter how clever a criminal is, doesn’t he usually make at least one tiny slip that eventually gets him exposed and caught?” She observed him closely.

  “In most cases that’s true.” Dan decided not to press her further and make her skittish. He worried about how easily and thoroughly she lied and how fast she caught and covered her mistakes—except for that recurring use of referring to Phillip in the past tense. He needed for her to make slips, big ones! Dan cautioned himself to keep a keen eye and clear head. Move slow and careful, but let her think you’re bewitched by her. Maybe she’ll try to use you to save her, then you can snare her.

  “Are you ready?” Rachel asked when his cup was empty.

  “Let’s go entrap our first villain.”

  Rachel witnessed his roguish grin and the devilish glint in his dark blue eyes. “You like confronting challenges and dangers, don’t you?”

  His smile broadened and made deep creases near his mouth and eyes. “Yep, I do. They keep one alive and alert. Entertained, too.”

  She observed his expression and listened carefully to his tone. “You’re not like Phillip in that area. He likes things calm and safe and simple, as I do. He doesn’t want his life to be complicated or to change drastically. Nor do I.”

  “He’s still reserved and mellow? Still prefers smooth sailing? I thought moving, new ventures, and marriage would have changed him.”

  For a while, Rachel needed to have pleasant thoughts about the man who had rescued her from a terrible situation and who had shared eight peaceful and safe months with her. “He hasn’t changed since I’ve known him. He’s sensitive, caring, and even-tempered. He enjoys life and having a good time, but he’s soft-spoken and quiet. He’s a kind and special man.”

  Dan watched her gaze into empty space as if calling Phillip’s image to mind and remembering the good times with him. He was unprepared for her remarks. If one didn’t know about her, one would think that was real affection and respect in her now limpid gaze and softened voice. She was clearly so talented in deceit that he couldn’t detect bitterness, resentment, or hatred for his brother in spite of what she had done and why she was here. He was angry, but made certain his feelings were cloaked. “Phillip was always that way. Fair and honest, but restrained. He never liked trouble or problems, and he was almost generous to a fault. Growing up, he was shy, a mite withdrawn and self-protective. But I rid him of some of that and got him into a few mischievous deeds.”

  In view of her perilous dilemma and how little she knew about Phillip’s life before she entered it, she realized how secretive he had been. He had never discussed his past, claiming he liked to live in the present. She thought she had known him and his work; it was obvious now she hadn’t. There was another side, another personality, to him that he had guarded and hidden. She had witnessed only the good and tender side of her husband, but there was also a dark and unknown one that had made an illegal deal with dangerous men. “I wonder why Phillip was like that,” she murmured, partly for her own curiosity and part
ly to coax needed revelations about him.

  Dan figured that if he kept talking about Phillip, she would, too; and he’d learn more about his brother since their separation. Dan wanted to discover how and why Phillip had changed over the years, as his brother would never have done what Rachel hinted at that night when she searched their home. Yet Phillip must have gotten himself into a bad situation: his letter, her remarks, and this trip were leading to a perilous road Dan knew he must travel if he wanted truth and justice. No doubt she was testing him to see if he knew enough about Phillip to be who he claimed.

  “His father. Stephen McCandless,” Dan replied, “was a tough man in business and at home. You could say I was a mite reckless and spirited when I was growing up, so McCandless thought I was a bad influence on his son. He raked me over several times for taking Phillip off the straight and narrow, but I didn’t want Phillip to be like his old man. I’ll admit I went too far sometimes to give him spunk, but it was because I loved him. At times he was too gentle and tender-hearted for his own good. Phillip toughened up some after he went to work for his father and started dealing with other men. Gave him mettle and a new perspective.” Dan saw how attentive and interested she was. “I don’t mean to imply he was a weakling; he just didn’t care for ill feelings and disruptions or embarrassments. He wanted everyone to get along and be happy. He would have made a good diplomat; he preferred peace and love. He never liked to see anyone or anything harmed. He took up for me plenty of times when I was mischievous or stubborn.”

  “He’s still tender-hearted and protective,” Rachel remarked. “His gentleness and understanding were two of the things that drew me to him. He would go to almost any length to keep from hurting someone he loves.”

  “That’s Phillip McCandless all right.”

  “Was his father cold and mean?”

  Dan quelled the bitter memories that question evoked. “Not to Phillip or to his wife. Phillip was born with the old man’s image, was his pride and joy. Fortunately, he didn’t inherit his father’s worst traits.”

  “You obviously didn’t like Mr. McCandless.”

  Dan was ready to get off this painful subject. “I never got to know him that well. We didn’t get along or see eye to eye. He was afraid I’d corrupt or mislead his… son, maybe pull him off to sea with me.” Dan caught himself before using the accurate word favorite son. Watch it, old boy.

  That last comment astonished Rachel. “Was Phillip ever tempted to become a sailor or ship captain?”

  “No. He didn’t like water or ships. He got seasick.” Dan didn’t tell her his brother had been scared of the deep ocean and of drowning ever since a near-fatal mishap when they were young boys.

  “Maybe he was afraid of them,” Rachel surmised. “There was a storm when we took our short trip to New Orleans, and he almost panicked. He checked the weather several times before our return home and was nervous during the entire trip. But he didn’t like to expose his fears to anyone. If he was afraid of anyone or anything, he always tried to conceal it. I suppose he thought it would make him appear weak to admit them.”

  After that childhood mishap and Dan’s alleged loss at sea, he could understand Phillip’s fears and hatred of the ocean. “No man wants to expose his flaws to others, Rachel. We all have some, but we like to hide them, keep them under control, not allow them to rule our lives.”

  Both wondered why Phillip had changed and how he had gotten into his dangerous predicament, but neither could broach that subject.

  The dining room had quieted down with the departure of most customers. Their waiter arrived and asked if they wanted more coffee. Rachel and Dan told him they were finished and leaving, but both hated to end the informative conversation.

  They hired one of the drivers of the three phaetons that were lined up outside the Planter’s Hotel to take Augusta visitors to their destinations. Dan assisted her into the carriage and sat beside her. Rachel gave the driver the address, then settled herself into the comfortable seat.

  “Did I tell you how lovely and refreshing you look this morning?” Dan asked. “If not, it was an oversight.”

  Rachel smiled and thanked him. The dark-haired beauty opened her parasol and held it over her head to protect her eyes from the sun’s glare. She was attired in a ladylike ivy promenade outfit that nonetheless flattered her figure. Her hat of tightly woven straw with its sprigs of flowers and an ivy ribbon band had a curved brim that Phillip had said called attention to her face. A fabric drawstring purse rested in her lap. Her husband had helped her select this outfit down to the last detail, and she loved it.

  The phaeton headed up Broad with the click-click of hooves striking the pavement and with a dipping bounce as the wheels made contact where the stones were put together. The street was busy with freight wagons, carriages, mounted riders, and a horse-drawn trolley that was making its way along the tracks on the other side of the street. They passed various businesses, a few warehouses that ran the depth of the block, and the west-end town market. Behind it was Citizen’s Fire Company # 8, with men working on equipment in preparation for an emergency. To assist the firemen, there were water pumps and fireplugs at intervals in the long street.

  At McKinne, they turned left. Houses mingled with businesses. Dogs chased each other and barked. Birds sang in trees that were in or near blooming: dainty dogwoods dressed in ivory gowns, radiant peaches adorned in pink, majestic magnolias eager to open their large shell-shaped flowers, and lovely redbuds with tiny clusters of crimson petals. Some yards were aglow with color: sunny daffodils, flaming red, palepink, and snowy-white azaleas, rose-hued quince blossoms, and sprawling yellowbell bushes. Grass was as green and supple as spring leaves; so were countless wild onions and pesky weeds. It was a glorious day and tranquil setting.

  Rachel studied Dan while he looked the other way. His dark-gray jacket hugged his broad shoulders and a single button fastening at the tapered waist exposed his narrow torso. His striped trousers did not fail to hint at the long and lean legs beneath them. He didn’t look discomforted at all by the standing collar of his shirt or the cravat tied neatly at his neck. He was a man who took pride in his appearance.

  To her relief, he had seemed to accept her devious explanation this morning. Unless she was wrong, he had looked and sounded as if he had known Phillip too well and had too deep an affection for him to have been lying about their mutual past. Surely Dan would despise and mistrust her when he learned she had beguiled him. But it couldn’t be helped, she excused herself. Too much was at stake—her life and freedom. She tried to calm her apprehensions, but it was hard with her next challenge looming ahead.

  Dan sensed her attention to him. Phillip’s widow had looked at the sights, smiled, and chatted as if relaxed; but she wasn’t, and he knew why.

  They halted at the corner of Mill and Ellis streets. The Augusta Canal was in sight, as were tall buildings with towering chimneys atop them.

  “Is this it?” the driver asked when neither person moved nor spoke.

  Rachel glanced at the structure with a large sign reading AUGUSTA AMMUNITION COMPANY and said, “Yes, thank you.”

  Dan got out and extended his hand to Rachel, who lowered her parasol and grasped it. He felt her tremors as she exited the carriage, and he was glad she was nervous, as it made her vulnerable to his plans.

  After the phaeton left, Rachel’s gaze met his with anticipation.

  Dan looked over the building with a two-story center section, a small one-story connection on the left, and a large wing to the right. Constructed of wood painted gray with blue trim, it had many tall windows and one chimney. On the two front doors were signs with red lettering that read: ABSOLUTELY NO SMOKING INSIDE. “Let’s begin our work,” he suggested.

  Rachel knocked on the office door. No one responded. She tried the door; it was unlocked. “Let’s go inside,” she said.

  George’s office was neat and clean and uncluttered. In the front right corner stood a tall rack with a hat and doubl
e-breasted jacket. In the left corner was a easel holding a board with a display of the company’s cartridges.

  Rachel walked to George’s large oak desk. On its surface were yesterday’s newspaper, a lamp, a box of cigars and a clipper, an inkwell with pen on a carved base—a gift from Phillip last Christmas—and two letters. Rachel lifted the mail and read the names, but did not recognize them. The trash can beside it was empty. No company books or papers were in sight for her to sneak a peek. It was a good thing, as the part-owner opened a side door to the adjoining building and entered his office.

  George Leathers’ eyes widened in surprise. “Rachel McCandless, how nice to see you.” He came forward, held out his hand, and smiled.

  Rachel accepted the polite and friendly gesture and replied, “Nice to see you again, George. This is my cousin and dear friend, Captain Daniel Slade from Charleston.” As she introduced Dan, she noticed no unusual reaction in Phillip’s partner, who was clad in a brown vest and pants and a white shirt with sleeves rolled up a few turns.

  George Leathers stepped closer to his second guest, extended his hand, smiled again, and said, “Pleasure to meet you, Captain Slade.”

  “Dan, please, and it’s good to meet you, sir. Cousin Rachel has spoken highly of you.”

  As they talked, Rachel observed the older man. His hair was almost all gray and the matching mustache almost concealed a thin upper lip from view, but it was neat and made George look distinguished. He had heavy brows over long and narrow brown eyes, but not the kind that gave one a feeling of deceit. His nose was large, but suited the squarish face whose angles were broken only by drooping pockets of ageweakened flesh on either side of his chin, as George was of medium height and weight, though not stocky.