Bouquet for Iris (14 page)

Adam wanted to avoid Poe’s Tavern, but tonight he had no choice. It was his job.

He had not been there since taking Iris—Miss Landon—on that tour up to the citadel of rocks. He didn’t know what it was, but something about her purity and goodness made him want to be a better man. When he looked at the faith shining out of Iris’s brown eyes, he had to wonder if God existed after all. And if He did, maybe the reason for the pain and death of this life was due to man’s sinful nature rather than an uncaring Creator.

“Here you go, boy.” He pulled a cube of sugar out of his pocket, fed it to his horse, and left the animal tied to the hitching post.

He entered the tavern, surprised to find it so crowded. It reminded him of the scene at Pierce’s this morning. When he’d seen Iris foundering in the crowd, his heart had stopped beating. And then he’d scorched her with his words the moment he was sure she was safe. He would give his good leg to erase those angry words from existence.

A place had been made for him at the round table where the seven members of the town council sat. He shook hands with the ones on either side of him and waited for the meeting to begin.

Richard Pierce banged a miniature mallet against the table to get everyone’s attention.

Adam pulled out his pencil, several loose sheets of paper, and the ledger he used for transcribing council minutes. From the sound of things, it was going to be a long night.

“Quiet! Quiet! I now call this meeting of the Daisy town council to order.” Pierce waited for the noise to abate before giving Adam a regal nod. “Read the minutes from the last meeting, Mr. Stuart.”

Adam opened his book and went down the list of items that had been discussed at the previous meeting. When he was done, he looked back at Pierce.

“Are there any objections to the minutes as read?” asked Pierce. The silence in the room was only broken by the tinkle of glass and the scrape of chair legs against the wooden floor of the tavern. “Then let the record reflect that the minutes were adopted without change.” He banged his mallet again. “Now on to new business.”

Someone coughed, and a low murmur began in the room.

Pierce raised the mallet once more and banged it loudly to regain their attention. “For the first order of the day, I think this council should consider a matter that causes me great concern. Now you all know that I’m a fair man.” Someone in the back of the room laughed, but Pierce continued without pause. “I don’t mind the Indians who live over there at Ross’s Landing. I’ve even been known to sell them a few things just to keep the peace. But no matter what my personal thoughts are, I have to speak out about the danger that has sought refuge in our fair town.”

Adam watched the man’s face twist with hatred and distrust. Why had God left such a man as Richard Pierce alive and well, while He took someone brave and honest like Davy Crockett away from them? This world needed more Crocketts and fewer Pierces.

One of the other council members stood up. “This had better not be about Wayha Spencer, Richard, because we’ve tabled that matter.”

“Yeah, leave Spencer out of this.” The voice came from a bearded man in the back of the room. “He’s been here a lot longer than I have. Besides, we’ve got more serious matters to discuss, like what happened in Texas.”

A general chorus of agreement stopped Pierce from continuing his argument. His face reddened, and he slumped back, crossing his arms over his chest.

For the next hour the men in the room suggested ways to support the Texans fighting for freedom from Mexican tyranny. Several men said they were leaving at daylight, while others pledged the support of ammunition and supplies. One of the council members proposed starting a list of men who wished to donate to the cause. His idea won support, and the meeting adjourned.

Adam gave them a sheet of paper and a pencil and then left them to figure out the rest. It wasn’t part of his job to direct charitable efforts. He ambled past the men crowded around the table and sat down on his usual stool.

“Do you have any fresh coffee, Cyrus?”

The bartender nodded and walked away for a moment.

Before he returned, Nathan Pierce entered and took the stool next to him. He turned his back to the bar and faced Adam. “I know Crockett was a friend of yours, Adam. I’m sorry for your loss.”

Adam hunched a shoulder and stared at the steaming mug Cyrus set in front of him.

“Are you going to Texas?”

“I thought about it.” Adam indicated his bad leg. “What good is a limping solider? What about you?”

“No, my uncle needs me at the store.” Nathan’s cheeks darkened with a rush of blood. “And there’s another reason I don’t want to leave right now, a more recent development.”

A ringing sensation filled Adam’s ears, and his hands clenched. Icy fingers of despair wrapped themselves around his heart and squeezed. “Does this development have a name?”
Idiot
, a dark voice taunted him.
Did you think you were good enough for the likes of Iris Landon? Much better for Nathan to claim her. He’ll take good care of her
.

Nathan’s face reddened further. “Yes, but I’m sure it’s not necessary. You must know which lady has caught my eye.”

With a swift motion, Adam took a large gulp of the coffee, feeling the sting of the hot beverage on his throat. “My congratulations. Her heart is as big as the whole outdoors. She’ll never play you false.”

“There’s only one problem.” Nathan leaned closer to confide in Adam. “I’m not sure my uncle will approve of her.”

Adam watched his hands tighten on the polished edge of the bar until his knuckles turned white. The man didn’t deserve a woman like Iris if he was afraid she wasn’t good enough for his pompous windbag of an uncle. “She may be a bit impetuous, but if your uncle is too stupid to recognize her qualities, then he doesn’t deserve your consideration.” Didn’t Nathan Pierce realize how lucky he was?

A small voice whispered to Adam that he could not face this loss without help. And he knew the voice spoke the truth. For a brief instant he wished he had not severed his connection to God, but then he banished the thought and raised his hand to get the bartender’s attention. He needed something stronger than coffee to cope with his pain.

“That cannot be allowed!” Iris tried to calm her voice, but it was the outside of enough. Lance Sherer had to be mistaken. “What does Mr. Pierce hope to accomplish by filing suit against Mr. Spencer?”

“I guess he wants to make sure Wayha goes west with the other Cherokee.” Lance sighed. “And his position as mayor may lend him credence in a court of law.”

Iris stood up and paced the floor. She glanced at Mr. Spencer, who sat at his desk saying nothing. Didn’t he realize how serious the matter was? He could lose everything.

She turned to Lance. “But I thought you said the council and even some of the townspeople defended Mr. Spencer last night.”

Lance nodded. “But it was what he said after the meeting that concerns me. He swore he would have Wayha’s land no matter what. He said he was going to sue Wayha. If he files his complaint, it will be heard in the Superior Court of Law and Equity in Knoxville, not by a local judge who knows the real situation.”

Mr. Spencer raised his head, and Iris could see the pain in his eyes. “Perhaps I should consider leaving after all.”

“Don’t even think about such a thing.” Iris walked to the window and looked out. “You’ve built a wonderful life here, and no man has the right to take it from you.” She turned to face him. “Didn’t the Cherokee people own all of this land at one time?”

“No.” Mr. Spencer shook his head. “We did not own the land. It is the bounty of God. The Cherokee people have always lived here freely. It is only since the white man came that we have come to accept the idea of owning land.”

“But this land does belong to you legally, doesn’t it?” Iris asked.

A nod answered her question. Mr. Spencer looked at Lance. “You have my deed as proof.”

Iris’s feeling of relief died a quick death when she saw the expression on Lance’s face. “What’s wrong?”

“There’s a problem with the deed.”

Mr. Spencer’s face turned as white as parchment. “What do you mean? There is nothing wrong with that deed. It was properly executed and signed.”

“The problem is not with the deed. It’s with the location of the deed.” Lance’s cheeks were ruddy with embarrassment.

“You have lost my deed?”

Lance shook his head. “I did not lose the deed. I … It was stolen from my house.”

Iris gasped. “You were robbed? Is Camie okay? The children?”

His cheeks grew even darker. “I don’t know when it happened. Someone broke into my office. He must have known the deed was there. We heard nothing. I’m not even sure when it happened, but he broke into my safe and rifled through all the papers.”

“Who could have done such a thing?”

“I don’t know.” Lance turned to Mr. Spencer. “I will make this right. I remember reading that your land was given to you by the state of North Carolina as recompense for your service during the Revolution. I plan to draft a letter to the land grant office in Washington, asking for their help.”

Iris had never considered how old Mr. Spencer was. But after hearing this news, he suddenly looked old enough to have fought with her grandfather in the Revolutionary War. This man deserved protection from greedy men like Mayor Pierce, and she would do everything in her power to make certain he was treated fairly. “Until you hear from Washington, we need to make sure Mr. Spencer’s rights are protected. He will need to be defended by someone who is familiar with the court system.”

Lance drummed his fingers on the arm of the settee as he considered their options. “It needs to be a man who is sympathetic to the Indians.”

All three of them sat in silence for a few minutes.

Iris wished she could ask her pa for advice, but he wasn’t here. Besides, she was an adult. She could come up with solutions on her own.

“There’s only one man I know of who fits the bill.” Lance tugged his collar. “Adam Stuart.”

Iris frowned. “We can’t ask him for help.”

“Why not?” Mr. Spencer asked. “Adam is smart, and he’ll know how to approach the case. He’s our best chance.”

Iris sat next to Lance in the wagon as they made their way to town and Adam Stuart’s office. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“I know, but who else could we ask? Besides, Mr. Spencer trusts him.”

“So does Pastor Miller.” Iris wished she trusted Adam. At first she had taken him to be a libertine because of his behavior on the night she’d arrived in town. But he’d disproved that assessment when he’d taken her to the top of Lookout Mountain. He’d been the perfect gentleman, even though she had swooned in his arms. And she couldn’t fault his concern for the Cherokee. If only he could shake off the cloud of bitterness surrounding him, she was sure he’d be an outstanding citizen and the perfect advocate for Mr. Spencer.

“Lance, who do you think could have taken the deed?”

His face tightened. “I have no idea. Few people knew it was there. You, Camie, Wayha …”

He left off the last name, but she heard it in her mind. Adam. Again she questioned whether or not they should turn to him for help. Yet who else was there? Adam knew more about Indian rights than any other man around. She prayed for God’s guidance and felt peace settle around her like a cloak.

Adam Stuart was an intriguing man—full of contradictions. No one else had ever had the power to rouse her anger so quickly. She considered his rescue yesterday. She had to admit she had been frightened when she was separated from Camie and unable to make her way out of the crowd. But after he got her outside, his attitude had been inexcusable. And he had run off before she could express her thanks or much else. Today would be different. Now that she’d had time to fully recover her equilibrium, she would not let him annoy her again.

Lance pulled up on the reins and climbed down from the wagon. Normally Iris would have scrambled down without any help, but several curious people were watching so she waited until he tied the horses to a post and came around to assist her in disembarking. She felt the gazes of the townspeople on them as she followed Lance to the door.