Bitter Eden (22 page)

Frank clasped Peter's shoulder. "We all know how you feel about this, but you're really not compromising your principles, Peter. Your first duty is to the family . . . and Rosalind. Can't you look at it that way?"

Peter glanced away from Frank, suppressing a bitter smile at the degree to which his principles had grown in'nobility now that they were to be laid aside and Frank had his own way. "A family call must always be heeded, eh, Frank? The family name preserved Well, all that is settled. Albert has me safe and sound, family calls heard and not a principle bent. Let's say no more about it. Anyone for cards?"

Albert had remained quiet. Now he walked slowly toward Peter. "If you have it in your mind to use your position as yeoman for other than its rightful purpose, Peter, don't."

"You wrong me, Albert What could I have in mind?"

"Perhaps freeing men already arrested."

"Come now, who would have the audacity?"

"I wont bite at your bait tonight, Peter. Just remember what I've said. I take my responsibilities seriously. To you they may seem of little consequence, but to me they are important." He turned to face Frank. He shook his head and smiled as though about to discuss a naughty child, but his eyes were hard and held a warning Frank understood. "He'll never change, Frank. You'll have to keep a steady hand on him. I've got to be off. There's more to be done, and little time."

'Watch yourself, Albert." Peter shook his hand as he left.

He waited a quarter of an hour, plenty of time for Albert to be off the property, before he said, "I'd better check the fields."

'Til come with you," Frank said.

"Don't bother. It's late and I don't mind going alone."

Frank hesitated, wondering as Albert had if Peter would be so brash as to swear loyalty to the yeomanry one minute and betray it the next by riding to the aid of the Swing rioters.

Peter grinned, clapping his hand on his brother's thick shoulder. "There'll be no trouble tonight General Albert's out there with his army."

They both laughed and Frank gave in without a murmur of protest It was late. Anna was waiting. And he was tired.

Peter fussed with a lantern until Frank ponderously mounted the stairs. Then he went out the door, leaving the unlit lantern on the front stoop.

Only Callie saw Peter leave. She was sitting at her window seat looking down into the stable yard. She watched him walk stealthily, distinguishable only as a darker form in the darkness. He entered the stable,

then emerged leading his horse slowly, quietly away from the house until he was lost in the inky black barrier of the woods. She might never have noticed had he not been staying close to the farm of late. Nor would she have been alarmed had she not heard it said so often that it was vitally important that he not be seen with the laborers now.

She sat for several minutes wondering what she should do. Then she heard Frank's heavy tread in the hallway. Instantly fear leaped in her. Perhaps she had misguessed Peter's night errand. She ran from the room, nearly colliding with Frank.

"Frank! What's wrong? Is Uncle James worse?"

Frank looked puzzled. "What made you think that? Having bad dreams?"

T . .. " Callie stammered, confused and not knowing how best to help Peter now that she knew the truth.

Frank watched her, then began to frown* "What made you ask about Pa?"

"Nothing," she blurted too quickly.

"Peter," Frank whispered, his face paling, then suffusing with blood. "The fooll The bloody irresponsible fool! He'll get himself hanged for sure."

Callie grew woodenly quiet, her heart thumping hard against her ribs. Then she asked calmly, "He went with the Swing men tonight?"

"The bloody liar! He just gave his word to stay out of it."

"Peter?"

"Albert swore him in as a yeoman. They're rounding up the scoundrels tonight. Albert has every able-bodied man out for the task. It was damned decent of him to give Peter the chance to align himself on the right side. And this is the thanks my brother gives him! Damn Peter for his deceit. He'll bring ruin to

this family yet! I should have known better than to trust him. He gave in too easily."

"What will you do now?"

"Nothing. Hope the fool gets away safely."

"Shouldn't we . . . you . . ."

Frank scowled, his face set and hard. "No other Be-rean will take part in this. Pa forbids us to side against Peter, and I forbid this family to side against the law. Peter will have to pay the whole price of his arrogance alone."

She forced herself to smile. "He'll be safe. Good night, Frank."

"Good night, Callie, and mind—no waiting."

"Oh, no. Waiting wont help. Good night."

Callie slipped inside her bedroom and closed the door softly. Soundlessly she dressed; then, carrying her boots, she slipped barefooted down the stairs.

She had been on a horse no more than a dozen times in her life and Natalie hadn't been the best of teachers. But what Natalie lacked in pedagogic talents, necessity provided. From the moment she had seen Peter lead his horse across the darkened stable yard, a cold lump of knowing fear had been growing in her chest. As she had seen him do, she led her horse across the yard until she reached the woods. Taking a deep breath and saying a quick prayer that she had the cinch tight, she placed her foot in the stirrup. As always the horse moved and Callie hopped awkwardly, trying to get purchase with which to mount. Somehow she did, and sat unsteadily astride the man's saddle.

Before her loomed the blackened woods with its endless twisting, interconnecting paths. Peter could have taken any one of them, heading in any direction. Overwhelmed with sudden despair, she knew she'd never find him in the woods. For several minutes she

sat undecided, clinging to the reins. The horse, restive and aware of the uncertainty of its rider, tossed its head, sidling until Callie's leg was pressed uncomfortably against a tree trunk.

All her attention on the horse now, Callie poked fu-tilely at the beast. From a distance she heard noises. Horses. The crashing of brush. Mens voices. The crack of gunfire. Trembling, she leaned low against the horse's neck. "Come on, Gent, live up to your name, please," she whispered. The accompanying kick she gave him was gentle, but Gent raised his big head, listening as Callie was to the sounds coming nearer.

Her heart pounding in fright, Callie erred in giving Gent a mighty kick at the same time the crossing horsemen thundered past. With a great toss of his head Gent bolted forward, plunging off the path and through the low brush toward the other horses. Having lost the small control she had, Callie clung to the animal's mane, her knees pressed tightly to the saddle, her arms and fingers aching with the effort to stay seated. She didn't dare to lift her head.

Around her men shouted wildly. "Halt!" "Flank them!" Horses snorted; some crashed through the brush. The yeoman and the Swing men shoved at each other wielding great sticks like cudgels. Others slashed at their adversaries with spades and shovels, matching their crude implements against swords and muskets.

Amid the straining grunts of men fighting in the pitch-dark forest, Callie pressed harder against Gent's neck. He lunged forward as he was hit on the rump, only to slam into another horse. An enraged cry came from the rider. He brought his crop down hard on Gent's flank. "Hah!" Again the crop came down as he lashed at the seemingly riderless horse. Gent took off

in an erratic twisting canter, brushing past trees with Callie plastered to his back holding back cries of pain and fright. Not until the sounds were fading behind them did Callie even attempt to gain control of the horse.

Finally she let out the cramped, hurting sobs she'd been holding back. Albert's men were everywhere. They were rounding up the laborers. Had Peter been one of those shouting, cursing, battling men whose ragged ranks she'd just passed through? She didn't even know how to control her horse. How could she help? Why had she ever come out tonight? What could she do?

Dry sobs caught at her chest and stomach with each breath. She was terrified. And alone. And she didn't know how to help Peter. The sounds of the fight grew more distant. Without seeing, or even understanding how she knew, Callie was sure the Swing men had lost. They were being taken to the village.

She shuddered. It was over. Her fear of the horse forgotten, she sat straight in the saddle, her hands firmer on the reins. She looked around her, her e^es fixing in the direction of the farm. Almost roughly she pulled Gent up short She wouldn't give up. With a firm tug on the reins she turned the horse to the road leading to Seven Oaks. She'd risk no more encounters along the woods path.

She would find Peter in the open. She should have realized from the beginning that all she could do was wait in the village to see if the yeomen brought him in as a prisoner. She jogged along the narrow row of cottages, coming as near to the town square as she dared.

She waited in the shadows there for nearly two hours. Groups of men came in, some passing right by her. Loud triumphant voices cut through the night as other, quiet, beaten men were herded toward the

square. Callie tensed as each new group came, her ears alert, her eyes straining to recognize one face among the many. Tired and frightened, her neck and back aching from tension, she nearly cried out as she saw one man with hair lighter than the others. He wore no hat Peter seldom did, even in the worst weather. She bit her lip, racked with fear and indecision. She wasn't sure. It was dark. Was it Peter?

She began to smooth her dress, torn by branches and filthy with dirt and bits of twigs and burrs. Then she thought better. She took a stick and added a fresh scratch to the others on her face. She rubbed dirt into her forehead and on the shoulders and front of her coat. Satisfied that she looked sufficiently disheveled to have fallen from a horse, she wandered up to the town square.

"Can you tell me where I'll find Mr. Albert Foxe?" she asked one of the yeomen. "He is a friend of my family's . . . I've had an accident . . . please."

Callie carefully avoided looking at the line of men being shoved into some kind of order on the far side of the square. If he were not with them, she would lose heart when she saw Albert, not to mention the trouble she'd be in. If he were there, she would be frightened witless. She followed the man, keeping her eyes down.

The streets were filled with men milling about, and yeomen shouting orders, obscenities, and threats at the laborers. There was a carnival air in the night, the same sadistic glee attendant at a bear baiting. She was taken to a building and told to wait in the entry.

"Callie?" Albert didn't try to hide his surprise as he walked out of one of the rooms toward her. "What in mercy's name are you doing here? Does anyone know you are out? Who is with you? What's happened?"

"Peter . . . Peter knows, but that is alt" she whis-

pered, cowering from the sight and sound of the activity around her.

"Here, here, come inside with me where we can talk." He led her into the room he had just left. "You'll have to excuse the clutter. We've been at this day and night," he said, indicating the makeshift cots and pallets. "Now, what's all this? Here! You're hurt. Let me clean your face and see to that scratch."

"I'm all right. I scratched it when I fell. In the confusion Peter and I got separated. I mean we were out for a ride, and then all these people were everywhere and I got lost. I can't find him. Do you know where he is?"

Albert tugged at his mustache. "What made you come here? Why should I know of Peter's whereabouts?"

Callie sat speechless for a moment, her mouth working but no thought coming to fill it with words. "I didn't know who else to ask," she said finally, then looked up at him imploringly. "Do you know where he is?"

"I might. You got separated, you say? Where?"

"I fell off my horse. I don't ride very well. Peter was helping me when it happened."

"What happened?"

"Horsemen! All around us and the next thing I knew I was all alone and I couldn't find Peter. You said you know where he is. Will you take me to him?"

He watched her carefully. She was embarrassed and uncomfortable. "He's been arrested, Callie. I suppose you didn't know that"

A great shudder ran through her making it difficult to speak. "Oh, no! No, I didn't know, but it's a mistake! Surely you can see that. Could he please take me home now, Albert? I am very tired. Aunt Meg will be so angry."

J

"I should think so. It is nearly two in the morning. Do you and Peter often go for midnight rides?"

Callie stared at him dry-mouthed. "Just this once," she said softly. "Will you take me to Peter now, please?"

"Perhaps. But there is one thing, Callie. You understand that Peter was arrested in the midst of a band of Swing men? Since you claim he was with you and not where we found him, you will be willing to testify in court to that effect, will you not?"

"Testify?"

"Yes. Of course, my men will have to tell the opposite story from yours so it will involve a risk on your part The judges will have to see that someone is lying. A man cannot be in two places at one time doing two different things. But if your story is the true one, you have nothing to fear. Are you still willing to challenge the word of my men, Callie? Bear false witness?"

Callie's face was as white as the wall behind her. She trembled so, her head shook like that of an old woman. But her eyes, so filled with purpose, looked steadily at Albert "I'll testify."

Sighing, Albert shook his head. "Shall we go see if Peter recalls having lost you this evening? Perhaps if he is as smart as he is lucky you may be able to get him out of this mess after all. That is if he doesn't make you a liar with the first words out of his mouth."

She walked by Albert's side as they crossed the square, afraid to utter another word. When they were within a few feet of the group of prisoners, Callie spotted Peter. She bolted free of Albert and ran to him. "Oh! After we got lost, I thought I'd never find you again. All those people yelling and running aboutl I was so frightened of the horses," she cried, clinging to the front of his coat His arms closed around her.