Bouquet for Iris (15 page)

Lance knocked, but no one answered. “I hope he’s here.” He tried the doorknob. “It’s not locked.”

Lance pushed the door open and waited for Iris to precede him.

“Hello,” she called out. “Is anyone here?”

The office was dusty and dingy. Not at all what she had pictured for an attorney. Of course, this attorney probably worried very little about things like simple housekeeping chores.

A thump and a groan from the far side of the room answered her query. “Who’s there?”

Lance shut the door behind them. “It’s Iris Landon and Lance Sherer. We’re here to hire your services.”

A series of thumps and bumps sounded, and then a hand came up from the far side of Mr. Stuart’s desk and rested atop it, followed by a second hand. They pressed against the surface of the desk. Then Iris saw a head of light brown hair that made her think of coffee with cream, followed by the pale, haggard face of Adam Stuart, attorney at law. He bore more resemblance to the scarecrow Grandpa Taylor used in his cornfield than a professional lawyer. His coat was missing, and his hair looked like it could use a thorough brushing to remove tangles, twigs, and dust. His shirt was unbuttoned and hung slightly open, exposing an indecent amount of his chest.

“This is ridiculous.” Iris could feel her cheeks burning as she turned to Lance. The peace she’d felt earlier melted away. “There must be someone else who can help.”

“Why don’t you step out to the wagon for a moment, Iris. I’ll see that he gets cleaned up.”

Iris couldn’t look toward Adam again. She held her chin up to mask her embarrassment on behalf of the pitiable man and swept out of the office.

The sun moved slowly toward the west as she waited. They were making a terrible mistake. Mr. Spencer would be better served if they sent for someone from Nashville or even Knoxville. Surely there were competent attorneys who could also manage to stay sober.

Finally Lance came out to collect her. “He’s better now.” He let her in and went back to Adam’s living area behind theoffice.

The scent of coffee was strong in the room. Iris hoped it would have a salutary effect on the man they’d come to see. The man who might very well be Wayha Spencer’s only hope.

Adam’s head throbbed, and his mouth felt like it had been stuffed with cotton. He wanted to slink back to his bedroom and sleep for a few days until the embarrassment wore off, but he forced himself to walk back into the office and face her. How could he have fallen asleep on the floor behind his desk? And why did Iris have to pick that particular day to visit his office?

Nathan Pierce would never have found himself in a similar situation. Which was why Nathan Pierce deserved her, and he did not.

Adam peered at the vision as Iris moved farther into the office. Did she have to be so beautiful? She was as tall as a statue and twice as lovely. A statue, however, could never capture the warmth and caring that shone from her eyes.

He dropped his gaze. It must be the alcohol still swimming around in his head that was making him so crazy. He had to get her out of here. “I can’t help you.”

He heard her shock in the swift intake of her breath. “You don’t even know what I need from you.”

He pasted a smile on his face. He’d had ample opportunity to mask his true feelings. “Lance explained about Spencer’s trouble with the law. Some men would say I should not aid a slave owner.”

“Let’s address one problem at a time, Mr. Stuart.” Her voice was strained, and he could see desperation in her eyes.

Her pain tempted him to change his mind, but Adam refused to be drawn into a battle that had already been lost. “I told Wayha weeks ago to clear out, and he wouldn’t listen.”

“So that’s it.” She huffed. “You won’t even try to help us?”

Adam shook his head.

“I had planned to tell you that I was sorry for thinking you were no more than a bitter man who wanted to live in the past. It is not my right to judge you, but as a Christian I can deplore your actions and decry your cowardice.”

How dare she pass judgment on him? Hadn’t she said it was not her right? “I suppose it was a coward who rescued you from certain harm yesterday, too?”

That stopped her.

“You’re right, of course. You did protect me, and I owe you my thanks.”

“What? No more denunciations?” He stepped from behind his desk and walked toward her. She didn’t shrink back like most women would have done. She squared her shoulders and glared at him through those disdainful brown eyes. He wanted to shake some sense into her. She should go back home to Nashville before she found herself on the wrong end of a lynch mob for defending an Indian. This country of his was not going to see reason when it came to the Cherokee, and the sooner everyone agreed, the better it would be.

“No, although you sorely try my patience.” She took a deep breath. “I will not let anger control my words or my actions.”

Adam couldn’t have been more surprised if she had produced a pail of water and dashed him with it. How could she decide to not get angry? And yet he could see the calmness that entered her eyes. If he reached out for it, he could have almost caught the ire that rolled away from her, leaving her serene and peaceful.

“How did you do that?”

She looked confused by his question. “Do what?”

“How did you get rid of it? It’s not like you tamped it down. I could sense it leaving you as though it were an uninvited guest.”

“I get my strength from the Lord.” She smiled at him, the sweetness plain to see. “‘Cease from anger, and forsake wrath: fret not thyself in any wise to do evil.’”

“I know the verse.” Although it had been a long time since Adam had read his Bible, he was familiar enough with David’s psalms to recognize the words. “That chapter promises that evildoers will be cut down as easily as grass, yet evil still flourishes.”

“That’s because of the devil’s wickedness here in the world of men. It will not always be so.” She leaned toward him.

Adam was the one who backed up a pace when he caught a whiff of her perfume. It was too heady a mixture for his poor head. “Then we may as well give up and get along until God decides to come back and straighten us out. He doesn’t seem to be in much of a hurry.”

“Don’t you see, that’s because of you and me. It’s up to us to spread the Gospel. God is long-suffering and wants everyone to be saved. I believe it’s the reason He is allowing the white man to overrun this land.”

“Because He likes white men better than Indians?”

Iris shook her head. “Because we are bringing His message with us. At least some of us are.”

He ignored what might have been a jab at him and attempted to ignore the inner jab that he knew came from Someone else. “So how does that fit with greedy land grabbers? And what about Davy Crockett and the others who died at the Alamo? How does that fit into God’s plan?”

Adam was shocked to see unshed tears in Iris’s expressive eyes. Was she sad for Crockett? Spencer? Him? He didn’t have the nerve to ask.

Lance came back into the room bearing a dented coffeepot and several mugs, one of which was so cracked Adam doubted it would hold liquid. He was embarrassed all over again for Iris to see the conditions in which he lived.

He looked around at the dust and dishevelment surrounding them. It had been so long since he’d cared about the niceties of life. Lately he’d been more interested in getting through each day. Perhaps it was time for him to rejoin the living.

He could almost hear the call to arms. It was the same call that had filled him once before with the need to defend Indian rights. Suddenly he was tired of all the pretense. It was time to stop hiding from the future. Hope filled his chest and made his heart beat faster. He straightened his shoulders and smoothed the wrinkled material of his suit coat. Adam had almost forgotten how exhilarating it could be to strive for fairness and justice.

This case against Wayha Spencer was nothing but a trumped-up accusation. Who knew? He might even enjoy routing the pompous mayor in the courtroom. “Tell me about the deed.”

The past week had been tense as Iris waited for Adam to report on the progress of Mr. Spencer’s case. This afternoon she was determined to distract the girls by teaching them a new game. She surveyed the pattern she’d drawn on the dusty ground with some satisfaction. Her ma had taught her the game of scotch-hoppers when she was a young girl. The layout she had drawn was fairly small to accommodate June’s and Anna’s shorter legs.

She handed a rock to each girl. “Now, what you do is toss your rock into the first square right here.” She dropped her own rock to show them and waited while each girl followed her action before gathering up her skirts. “The object is to hop into each square except the one that holds our rocks, but the trick is to use only one leg.”

Iris demonstrated by hopping up through the ladder of squares she’d drawn in the grassless area behind the Spencer home. “When you get to the round space here, you can rest on both feet for a moment before returning to the start.”

The girls clamored for a chance to try their luck, so Iris sent June first and then Anna. When each girl had returned, she had them pick up their rocks and toss them into the second square.

The sound of someone clearing his throat nearby made Iris spin around and drop her skirts with a gasp as she recognized Nathan Pierce’s broad shoulders and handsome face.

“Oh my!” Iris wondered if she would survive the embarrassment of knowing he’d seen her acting like a hoyden with her skirts around her knees. She lifted her chin in defiance. What did she care? She was doing her job, after all. “I thought it would be a good idea to give the children something energetic to do this afternoon.”

He smiled and nodded. “I understand.”

“Were you looking for Mr. Spencer?” she asked.

“No, I wanted to talk to you about a matter that causes me some concern.” He glanced toward the girls, who were noisily arguing over whether June’s foot had landed inside one of the squares. “Is there somewhere we can go?”

Iris clapped her hands. “Girls, please go to the kitchen and ask Cook if she can prepare some refreshment for our guest.” She raised a hand at their protests. “If you don’t go now, we won’t be able to finish our game before it gets dark.”

The girls looked at each other, and she could almost see the thoughts churning through their active minds before they ran back to the house, calling out to the cook.

Nathan’s sigh of relief reminded her of his aversion to children, and she wondered if it was because he had no siblings. She couldn’t imagine growing up without her own sister and brother. A wave of homesickness hit her as she thought of them.

“Thank you so much, Miss Landon.” Nathan stepped close and took her hand in his own. “I thought it prudent to come and warn you.”

Iris forgot about home as she concentrated on the man in front of her. “Whatever is the matter?”

“Everyone in town is talking about the amount of time you’ve been spending with Adam Stuart.”

She pulled her hand free. He’d come to warn her about gossip? She shook her head. He must know that his uncle had brought a suit against her employer. Did he expect her to do nothing? “Yes, I have hired Mr. Stuart to defend against your uncle’s complaint that Mr. Spencer and his family should be removed from their land.”

“I know, and I hope you will understand when I say I do not support my uncle’s actions. But I don’t think it’s necessary for you to hire someone to defend the Spencers. I cannot believe any judge would rule against them.”

“That might be true if his deed had not been stolen from Lance’s home.”

Nathan frowned at her. “When did this occur?”

“No one knows, but it must have been taken by someone who intended to harm Mr. Spencer since it’s the only document missing.”

Nathan spun around and paced toward a stand of trees, obviously considering the information she had given him. She thought of the night he and his uncle had come to dinner at the Sherers’ home. Could Mayor Pierce be the culprit? He was the most obvious suspect to her because he was so determined to have the Spencers removed. She watched as Nathan turned around and retraced his steps to stand next to her.

“I know you must blame my uncle, but I cannot believe he would stoop to thievery.” His earnest face beseeched her to agree. “He’s an honorable man.”

Sympathy filled her. Nathan was being more reasonable than she would have been in his place. And perhaps his uncle was innocent. At this point it didn’t much matter what had happened to the deed. They simply had to find other evidence to prove Wayha’s claim was legitimate.

Nathan took her hand in his. “You will not want to hear this, but there is a more likely candidate. The very man you hired. He has been quite vocal in his opinion that the Spencers should give up and move west before it’s too late.”

Iris blew out a disgusted breath. “Adam Stuart would never do such a thing.”

“I believe you are right. He would not do anything dishonorable … as long as he was sober.” He squeezed her hand. “The night he came to the Sherers’ home, he was anything but.”

She shook her head. “I won’t believe it.”