Conjuring Sight (Becky Jo Chronicles Book 1)

by Teresa Rae

  “Then you are blind because you are the most beautiful creature I have ever set my eyes upon.”

  I pull away.

  “Are you sure everything will be safe in our absence” I ask, thinking of little Ida, freaky zombies, and Samuel.

  “Gabe will take care of everything here,” he answers, wrapping my arm around his. “I have looked forward to this evening all week and don’t want anything to spoil it.”

  When we walk outside, I smile to see Henry waiting with the carriage. “Old friend!” he exclaims, waving excitedly at me. He looks smart in a suit.

  “Are you coming with us?” I ask.

  “With Clara and White Cloud,” he says proudly.

  “White Cloud is coming?”

  “We cannot be too careful with so many coyotes about,” White Cloud says while he and Clara join us. I don’t fail to notice that he is holding Clara’s hand.

  “I agree with White Cloud and since Gabe is otherwise engaged, Henry has agreed to escort us this evening,” explains Colonel Blair as he helps me into the carriage and wraps me up in a blanket.

  “Perhaps Henry can sing for us?” I suggest.

  “Do not get him started.” Colonel Blair laughs. “He will never stop.”

  “That’s fine. I’m rather fond of your voice, Henry,” I say loudly through the window.

  Henry laughs happily before breaking into song. He sings the entire way into Virginia City.

  John and Louise’s house is breathtaking, being decorated for the occasion with boughs of green and lit with countless candles. The moment the door opens, we are surrounded by lively music.

  “Colonel Blair, Miss Harris, I’m so glad you could attend our celebration!” Mr. MacKay meets us at the door. “Happy St. Patrick’s Day! Did you hear they decorated the trains with green for the occasion?”

  “I would have loved to have seen that,” I lament having missed it.

  “I’m certain they will do it again next year,” John says.

  It’s too bad I won’t be around to see it. Trains decorated in green would be awesome!

  We are shown into a grand ballroom. An assortment of people are talking, eating, and dancing in their finest clothing – men in sharp suits and women in fine gowns. Everything is decorated in green. Eyes go to Colonel Blair and me as we enter.

  “Miss Harris, would you like to dance?” Mr. MacKay asks, always a gracious host.

  “I’m afraid Miss Harris will not be dancing tonight, John,” Colonel Blair answers for me. “She is still recovering from the mining accident.”

  “Of course, perhaps I could offer the two of you a drink? Maybe some apple cider?”

  “That sounds wonderful,” I answer truthfully.

  “I will have a sazerac cocktail,” says Colonel Blair.

  I give him a dirty look. He laughs blissfully.

  The party is a lot more fun than I had anticipated. I spend the evening with Colonel Blair, Mr. and Mrs. MacKay, and Bishop Whitaker and Julia. White Cloud and Clara whisper sweet-nothings to one another in the corner. It makes me happy to see them happy, even though the other guests seem to be upset the Native Americans are there. I’m glad the two of them don’t seem to notice. I also discover how extremely useful fancy fans are when wearing a corset. The fresh air helps – a lot.

  Colonel Blair goes to speak with Sergeant Marsh, and I watch in appreciation as the young ladies take turns singing with the band.

  “She is too uppity for a girl without a dowry or trousseau!” I hear Harriet’s voice behind me. “Yes, she has a pretty face, but Colonel Blair could do so much better! I honestly do not know what he sees in her. There are half a dozen girls in this room with proper dowries who would jump at the chance to court him.”

  I don’t hear anything else as Colonel Blair returns to me. His huge grin tells me he didn’t hear any of what Harriet said. “Miss Harris, I have spoken with the band director, and the band would be delighted if you would play with them.”

  “Colonel Blair, why do you want to court me?” I ask, thinking of the conversation I overheard.

  “You bring sunshine to my life,” he answers automatically, reminding me of a statement Mama told me countless times. “And it would make me very happy if you were to play the violin for me.”

  “But I do not have any land or a dowry. You could find a girl who could help further your business. I would not feel bad if you did,” I clarify.

  He frowns. “Miss Harris, I have seen enough death to know that, in the end, the only thing which matters is our loved ones. Land will not make me happy, but you will.”

  “But I’m leaving on the twenty-first,” I remind him.

  He ignores the comment. “Come play the violin for me.” He wraps my arm around his and directs me to where the band is situated. James’s father’s violin is waiting on a chair.

  “Miss Harris, we look forward to hearing your sweet, little song,” the band director greets me like I’m a naïve child. The room quiets, except for Harriet who is whispering nastily to one of her friends.

  Colonel Blair picks up the violin. “Please play for me,” his tone is almost pleading.

  I carefully remove the gloves from my hands and put them on the chair. Colonel Blair places the violin in my hands.

  “What song will you play?” the band director readies his band to accompany me.

  I shake my head, putting the violin under my chin. If Colonel Blair wants me to play then, I will play. But I will play on my own terms. There is only one song on my mind, the song which had infuriated the spirit of Colonel Blair in my time. I will play “Summer” from Vivaldi’s Four Seasons.

  The room is silent as the violin begins to sing. I put in all the passion I feel about the new beginning I am hoping for Colonel Blair, Gabe, Clara, and Henry. The bow flies across the strings, humming out the music of a thunderstorm. Before peace, there is always strife. Then I play out my thoughts of hope and rebirth. There is nothing at that moment but the music and my pleadings to save my friends.

  I am playing the final run when one of the old strings breaks, silencing the violin. I am overcome with emotion. I take several deeps breaths and blink away the moisture in my eyes. The room is completely silent.

  A single figure stands and fervently clasps his hand. There is a proud smile on Colonel Blair’s face as I raise my eyes to his. Slowly, the stunned audience begins clapping with him.

  The band director bows his head to me in deep respect.

  “Miss Harris, it has been a privilege!” he whispers with reverence.

  Colonel Blair makes his way to me. There is an enormous bouquet of red roses in his arms. He takes the violin from my hands.

  “I will have it fixed,” he says.

  I nod as I return my gloves to my hands.

  He places the flowers in my arms.

  We are immediately surrounded by well-wishers. Colonel Blair happily takes it all in. I, however, am distracted by a commotion in the corner.

  “Boy, what are you doing in here?” an old woman demands, violently hitting Henry on the head with a walking cane. “Go outside with the other help!”

  Henry whimpers, trying to shield his head from the hits, but he doesn’t move.

  I push my way across the room, but I am surprised when Colonel Blair gets there first.

  “Henry, go outside,” he orders.

  “Yes, Massa James,” Henry answers subserviently. He wipes blood off his face as he leaves.

  “I apologize, Ma’am,” Colonel Blair says to the woman. “I will speak to him.”

  “Colonel Blair, you cannot reason with those creatures,” she says. “You have to use force to teach them manners!”

  I turn on my heel and sweep from the house, not even pausing to grab my cloak. The real nineteenth century isn’t like Gone with the Wind or any other Hollywood movie. It’s easy to get caught up in the elegant dresses and handsome Colonel Blair. However, I don’t want to live in this world. The use of violence to maintain power over others is
completely unacceptable. What’s worse, I know the problem won’t be fixed, even in my time. I was raised by a black woman and saw how some people treated her, even on her death bed.

  Slavery was an evil institution, an institution of which Colonel Blair is very much a part. He was a colonel in the Confederate army. He fought to retain slavery. How could I even think about going out with someone like that? I have been so focused on my goal to save him that I’ve completely lost my senses!

  “Henry?” I call quietly into the area where the carriages are waiting. Men and boys try to warm themselves in the dark night as their employers dance the night away.

  I follow a whimpering in the dark, finding Henry hiding in the back of the carriage. His eyes open with fear when he sees me reaching for him in the night.

  “Henry, it’s me, Rebecca,” I say soothingly.

  “Old friend?” he whispers with a quivering voice.

  “Yes, we are very old friends, you and I.” I put a gentle hand on his arm. “Are you hurt?”

  “My head,” he says, holding a hand to it. “Hit head.”

  “I’m sorry.” I carefully climb into the carriage. I rip a piece of cloth off my bottom petticoat and carefully wrap it around his head. It’s very dark, but I can see well enough to know he has a nasty bump on his head but a very small cut.

  “Head wounds bleed the most,” Colonel Blair’s voice startles me. I ignore him as he puts the fur cloak over my shoulders.

  “Sorry, Massa James,” Henry apologizes.

  “You have no need to apologize,” I interject. “That woman was completely out of line!”

  “No, Henry does need to apologize,” James says sternly. “He disobeyed me. I gave him specific instructions to stay with the carriage at all times this evening, and he did not do what I asked.”

  “Da music,” Henry says.

  “I know you wanted to listen to the music, but you are lucky it was old Mrs. Smith instead of one of the ushers who discovered you.”

  “And why should he have to follow your every whim?” I demand angrily. “He wasn’t hurting anyone!”

  “I know, but he put himself at terrible risk. Being hit with a little, old woman’s walking stick is a very small punishment compared to being flogged. I did not tell him to stay with the carriage for my sake, but for his.”

  “I don’t care! It’s wrong!” I step from the carriage and begin walking. I can’t stay there one more second. The two extremes of this time period deeply bother me.

  “Miss Harris,” Colonel Blair follows me. He easily catches up to me and bars my way. “Would you listen to me?”

  “Frankly, I don’t want to hear anything you have to say! You shouldn’t be ordering Henry about like you own him!”

  “I do not order him about like I own him –I order him about like he works for me. Furthermore, I would never have given Gabe any of the orders I gave Henry tonight, but Gabe and Henry are two different men. Gabe avoids trouble, but Henry is too simple. I must order him about like he is a young child, for his own good. I told you not to spoil him. He has become too comfortable, and this is very dangerous. No one thinks twice about shooting a black man, even in the west.”

  “I can’t do this!” I shake my head, walking around him. “I can’t pretend to be something I’m not! I believe in equality, and I will never be comfortable having even paid servants waiting on me! You should go back to the party and find a girl who is comfortable with your lifestyle. You have your choice of ladies. Don’t worry about me, I can find my way back.”

  He grabs my arm. “Miss Harris, you are being hypocritical! You are undoubtedly a lady who has been given every advantage. Only a household of servants could have accomplished that.”

  “For your information, my sister only has a housekeeper, and she is not only paid well, she is also white!”

  “So, it’s acceptable to have a white servant, but not a black one?” He raises an eyebrow.

  “Marina treats her well, and she needs the money!” I object.

  “I guarantee you, my workers also need the money. Perhaps you have not noticed, but many of my servants are too old or too young to work elsewhere. They were brought to Nevada to escape the violence in the south.”

  I just can’t let it go.

  “Colonel Blair, how exactly did it feel to have Henry as your property?” I snarl.

  The arrow has hit its mark. Colonel Blair’s face fills with sadness in the moonlight.

  “Gabe did not tell me he had told you,” he says in a hushed voice.

  “He didn’t have to. I can put two and two together,” I reply, pulling my arm away. “I’m glad you’re nice to your workers, but I’ll be truthful; it bothers me that your fortune was made on the backs of slaves, and it bothers me even more that you fought to preserve slavery. Perhaps we could have made it work in another time and place, but this is all we have. We just are not right for each …”

  Before I finish my sentence, I am thrown over his shoulder like a sack of flour.

  “Henry, we are going home,” Colonel Blair orders as he walks to the carriage carrying me.

  “Colonel Blair, put me down, right now!” I demand.

  “Rebecca, I’m afraid I cannot do that. I’m taking you home to convince you that we are perfectly suited for each other.”

  “I’m going to scream if you don’t put me down,” I snap.

  He just laughs. “Feel free, but it will just make Henry’s head ache.”

  I give up struggling when I realize I’ll wear myself out before he’ll ever release me. I angrily whack him with my roses.

  Clara and White Cloud meet at us at the carriage. They both give me a strange look, as though they’re trying to figure me out, but they say nothing as we get into the carriage.

  “Henry, how is your head feeling?” Colonel Blair asks along the way.

  “Better, Massa James,” Henry answers while driving the carriage up the lane to the Blair Mansion.

  I want to retort with a nasty comment, but a gunshot sounds in the night.

  “They are back!” White Cloud says, drawing a gun.

  Colonel Blair also draws a weapon as the carriage stops.

  “Do not shoot!” Gabe’s voice sounds. “It is just me!”

  “Were there more coyotes?” White Cloud asks as Gabe opens the carriage door.

  “We just disposed of the last of them,” Gabe replies. “No one was hurt.”

  “That’s good.” I immediately jump out and head to Rose’s cabin, still angry with Colonel Blair.

  “Oh, no you do not!” He throws me over his shoulder a second time. He enters the Mansion.

  Gabe follows us into the foyer.

  “Has Samuel made an appearance?” Colonel Blair asks.

  Gabe shakes his head. “No, just the coyotes, but I have had the men patrolling around the cabins just in case. Is there a reason you are home early and carrying Miss Harris?”

  “Miss Harris disapproves of my fortune.”

  “I disapprove of slavery and slave owners!” I yell.

  “She is a delightful little thing, is she not?” Colonel Blair chuckles wearily.

  “Miss Harris, yes the Blair family made money with their plantation, but the vast majority of the family fortune comes from the mines,” Gabe says.

  “Are you defending slavery?” I question.

  He shakes his head. “I’m defending James. Just as Rose was born a slave, he was born a slave owner. The condition we are born into does not define us. It is our actions which define us. John showed there was a better way to make money when he came west and invested in Comstock Lode.”

  “How can you defend either of them when they both fought for the Confederacy?”

  Gabe turns to his friend. “James, why did you go to war?”

  “The Union invaded the South, destroying cities and crops as they went. I disagree with slavery, but the South was my home, and I could not sit by and watch it be destroyed without a fight. Do you still object to my military s
ervice?”

  “Of course I object to you being a former Confederate soldier,” I tell him the truth. “I object to you living your life on the backs of others, and I object to you blatantly ignoring the suffering around you. I find you an overindulged man who is used to getting his way.”

  He thinks for a moment before breaking out into loud laughter.

  “You are the rarest jewel!” he proclaims loudly while trying to change the subject. “You are the only woman I know who objects to wealth!”

  “It is not the wealth but the way the wealth was acquired! Your family ran a plantation. When it was sold, your father used blood money to purchase your mines. Even now, you take advantage of your workers,” I snarl, angry at him for laughing at me.

  He stops laughing. “I cannot help that I was born to a plantation owner. Like you, I did not choose my parents. Moreover, my people are some of the best paid workers in Virginia City.”

  “Perhaps, but I still do not understand how you could possibly have fought for the Confederacy,” I growl.

  “Miss Harris, Henry and I also fought for the Confederacy, and we do not support slavery,” Gabe interjects. “In the heat of battle, we drew weapons to protect James.”

  Colonel Blair adds, “Everyone had their own reason for fighting. As I said before, I joined the Confederacy because the Union invaded the South. General Butler and 15,000 Federal troops occupied New Orleans. The Union troops ransacked the city and took away our basic liberties. Aunt Mary had her silver stolen and her home destroyed. What kind of solider destroys an old woman’s home? I joined up to defend my city and state.”

  This was an aspect of the war I hadn’t thought about. Slavery is an absolute wrong, but fighting for the Confederacy didn’t necessarily mean the soldier endorsed it. My modern mind saw the Civil War in black and white. I was naïve to not see the various shades of gray. It’s easy to sit on a pedestal of self-righteousness when I have the advantage of a hundred and forty years. The issue of slavery probably wasn’t foremost in either Northerners’ or Southerners’ minds as they watched their homes burn or received letters informing them of their sons’ deaths. We all live our lives based on our experiences.

  Regardless, I ask what has been on my mind for a very long time, “What about slavery? How could you fight against freeing slaves?”