Dorothy Garlock (29 page)

“What did you expect, Jason?” Jeff stood beside Callie, his hand on her shoulder.

“I didn’t expect her to turn my son against me,” he replied angrily.

“You always put the blame on someone else,” Jeff said dryly. “Leave the boy alone or you’ll answer to me.”

“Are you threatening me? Amos is my son, not yours. He’s a Pickett. I know
he’s
a Pickett. I’m not so sure about the other one,” he said with a sneer.

Jeff crossed his arms and rocked back on his heels, trying to hold on to his temper. “You’re making it impossible for me to allow you to stay here, Jason. You and Mr. Van Buren can ask the Cornicks to put you up for a few days. I doubt if they will, but you can ask.”

Hartley Van Buren, who had been lounging beside the door, moved suddenly.

“Jason’s been excited about seeing his son again, Merrick. I’m sure you can understand his disappointment. As soon as he’s had time to think about it, he’ll appreciate the boy’s feelings.” Hartley put a hand on Jason’s shoulder. “My sympathy is with him. It’s hard for a man to lose a son.” The friendly eyes that looked so saddened when they looked at Jason now looked determined and sincere when they met Jeff’s. “We’ll not be any trouble to you, Merrick. We’d appreciate your hospitality for a few days.”

Jeff was silent for a moment, then said, “You can use the room across the dogtrot for a few days, then I want you gone from here.” His eyes locked with those of Annie Lash as he led the way to the door.

“We’ll be nooning shortly, Jefferson,” she said quietly, then followed them to the door and watched as they entered Jeff’s room. She had already prepared the room and, at Jeff’s request, moved his personal effects to her room. It had been a pleasurable task. She had hung his clothes beside hers and lined his boots and moccasins up alongside the wall, caring not a whit for propriety, feeling she was his wife every bit as much as if the preacher or the magistrate had said the words.

Callie stood beside the closed bedroom door, tears streaming down her face. Annie Lash went to her quickly. One arm held the baby; she put the other about Callie and hugged her.

“Wasn’t it awful? Oh, my poor baby! He hasn’t forgotten a thing, Annie Lash. Did you see his eyes? If he’d a been a man he’d have killed him!”

“Yes, it was awful, but somehow we’ll make Amos understand that we love him, and we’ll keep him safe. Now, go wash your face so he won’t see you’ve been crying. I’ll take care of things in here and you keep the boys in the bedroom. We’ve got several pieces of sugar candy put away. I think this is the time for Amos to have them. Oh, I’m glad Will insisted on putting that bar across the door. Not that I think Jason will do anything,” she hastened to say, “but it must be a comfort to Amos to know he can lock himself in.”

Callie reached up and kissed Annie Lash on the cheek. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. I’m so glad you came here.” She sniffed and wiped her eyes on her apron.

“I’m glad, too. I found a wonderful man and a whole new family to care for. Now see if you can get Amos to open the door.”

Jason sulked at the table during the noon meal. He left it up to Hartley to carry on the conversation, which he did with enthusiasm.

“I figure that in another year there’ll be ten thousand families crossing the Mississippi each year to take up homesteads along the Missouri. I plan for my boats to be the means of getting those people upriver, and in order to do that I must have supply stations.” Hartley’s eyes darted now and then to Jason, but he sat with his eyes downcast. “I’d appreciate your help, Merrick. I’d not only appreciate it, but will be glad to pay for it. I’m told you and Will Murdock know this part of the country better than anyone.”

“We know the country, but we’ve got our summer work laid out for us. We’ll not be able to help you.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, but I understand. Jason and I will do some scouting tomorrow. Perhaps you’ll take a look at our map and point out the most likely locations.”

The meal passed slowly, but it passed, and Annie Lash drew a sigh of relief when Jason and Hartley left the kitchen. Jeff lingered to ask about Callie.

“She’ll be all right. Have you seen Will?”

“His horse is gone. I expect he’s going to stay over at his place. I’ll send Jute or Henry over to tell him things are all right here.”

Annie Lash laid her head on his shoulder. “I feel so sorry for them. Callie loves Will. He loves her and the boys. I wish there was something we could do for them.”

Jeff kissed her softly on the lips. “Things have a way of working out. Jason may decide he wants another woman and divorce Callie. It’s happened before.”

“She’s afraid he’ll come to her room. Will put a bar on the door, but she’s still afraid. It must be terrible for her. I wasn’t even that afraid when I was on the Bank.”

“Tell her not to worry about Jason forcing himself on her. I’ll be close by. I’ll not leave the homestead while they’re here.”

“I love you,” she whispered against his neck.

“And I love you.” He kissed her gently on the lips and went out the door.

When she finished the cleanup, Annie Lash took the wet towels and went out through the dogtrot to hang them on the line. Hartley’s black servant sat on his heels, leaning against the back of the house. Annie Lash was startled when she saw him.

“What are you doing here?” she asked sharply.

The man got to his feet and bobbed his head several times. “Ah waitin’ fer mastah.”

“What’s your name?”

“Antone. Mastah doan like Ebitt, so me Antone now.”

“You mean he changed your name from Ebitt to Antone? How could he do that?”

“I slave, missy. Mastah say name is Antone.”

Annie Lash caught a glimpse of something in the man’s eyes that she didn’t understand. Was it resentment? He still wore the silly smile on his face as if he was a dog waiting to be petted. She didn’t like the thought of it and turned to go back in the house, then paused and turned back.

“Have you eaten anything?”

“No, missy. Not dis day.”

“For goodness sake! That’s ridiculous,” she said and went back through the door to the kitchen.

She returned minutes later with several large pieces of cornbread, slices of meat, and a cup.

“Here.” She held out the food and set the cup on the step. “You can get water from the creek yonder.”

“Yas’m, missy, yas’m.” He bobbed his head up and down. “Ah stay here. Mastah say Antone stay here. Mastah—”

She gave him a puzzled look then, “Well, I never. I need a bucket of water,” she said sharply. “Take the bucket. I’ll tell him I sent you for water.” She went to the kitchen. If that’s not the limit! she fumed. The man can’t even leave to get a drink of water!

She carried the half full bucket of water to the yard, dipped the cup into it, and handed it to Antone. She threw the rest of the water on the fern she had planted along the north side of the house.

“Antone,” she said loudly, “go to the creek and fetch me a bucket of water.”

“Yas’m, missy.” A broad smile split the man’s face in half, and in spite of her irritation at Hartley Van Buren, she smiled back.

Five minutes later, she heard Hartley call Antone. She waited to see if the black man answered, and when he didn’t, hurried to the door. The scowl on Hartley’s face quickly turned to a smile when he saw her.

“I’m looking for Antone. I told him to wait outside the door.”

“I sent him to fetch a bucket of water. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all, ma’am. You’re welcome to use his services in any way you see fit. In fact, Antone is an excellent cook. My friends say his fish chowder is the best in New Orleans.”

Annie Lash inclined her head. Hartley was smiling at her in open admiration. He was younger than Jeff, but something about him made her think he was older than Jason. Although he was extremely nice to look at, almost pretty, he had a hardness about him that she didn’t like.

“That’s kind of you,” she murmured. “But we’ll not need his help in the kitchen.”

“Well, keep it in mind. I’d like to treat you to his chowder while we’re here.” Antone came around the corner. He paused and his eyes sought Hartley’s face. “Take the water inside for Miss Jester, Antone, then come to my room. Step lively, I can’t wait to get these boots off.”

Later, Annie Lash was to think the slave had a frightened look on his face, as if he expected some sort of punishment for not being available when Hartley called to him.

*  *  *

Jason sat on a rock overlooking the river. After breakfast he and Antone had ridden out with Hartley to look over the locations Jefferson had pointed out on the map. He tried to work up some enthusiasm for this business venture that Hartley was so sure would restore both their fortunes, but it was hard to do when he was hot and tired. He couldn’t understand why Hartley didn’t hire someone to do this so they could have stayed in Natchez or New Orleans and overseen the restoration of the boats they were going to buy.

Hartley had somehow got the idea they could get help from Jefferson. He himself had thought it possible, but after he saw the look on his brother’s face when he met him on the trail, he had known he had gone a mite far in pulling out and leaving Callie. But, goddamnit, he couldn’t have stood the boredom of that primitive place or the nagging of that backwoods slut or the bawling of that kid a day longer! What the hell! He knew she’d be all right. Unsinkable, like a river tug, she was. Her kind always got by. Besides, the money he’d gotten from selling Henry and Jute to Jefferson was burning a hole in his pocket. He’d had a high old time in New Orleans for a while. He smiled, remembering. He’d spent his evenings gambling, visiting the brothels, or attending gay masquerade balls until his money had petered out.

Jason looked off down the river. Hartley had gone down beyond the point. He never made a move without that black bastard with him. Jason had to grin. Hartley didn’t like women as much as he did. He’d take them if they were offered, but he didn’t go out of his way to pursue them. His passion was money, comfort, and clothes, in that order. He kept a servant with him at all times to wait on him hand and foot and he knew how to keep him in line, too. He seldom laid a hand on the man, but when he did, he punished him severely.

Jason refused to think of yesterday’s embarrassment. He had thought Callie would be over her sulks by now. And that damn kid acting the way he did! He wouldn’t have cared a bit if Hartley hadn’t been witness to the whole thing. Oh, hell! The sooner we get this business over with, the sooner we’ll be gone from here, and the better it’ll be.

He stood, flexed his shoulders, and looked back toward the woods. At first he didn’t see her. She stood beside a large tree, her slim, small body blending with the background of thick brush. Her white face was framed with that gorgeous hair, and even from this distance he could see her red mouth. This was undoubtedly the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen! There was a tantalizing aloofness about her that fired his blood to the boiling point. Godamighty! With her on his arm every rich young swain in New Orleans would be clamoring for his company. If he had had any luck at all with the cards he’d not have to tramp through this godforsaken wilderness to help Hartley set up his stupid keelboat business.

Jason stood perfectly still. He knew that if he made one sudden move she would be away like a frightened doe. So he smiled and said casually, “Hello, Maggie.”

He waited almost breathlessly, holding the smile on his face. She stood for several minutes, her hand on the tree trunk, her beautiful, clear green eyes on him. Finally, she moved and came toward him.

“Why’d the other man leave ya here?”

Jason had to force himself to look away from her. “He went downriver to look for possible landing sites. I’m waiting for him to come back.”

She walked around him, looking at him from every angle. He wondered if she could hear the pounding of his heart. She touched the material of his shirt, holding it between her thumb and forefinger.

“This is purty. Why don’t ya wear buckskins like Jeff ’n Will?”

“Gentlemen from New Orleans don’t dress in buckskins. They wear fine silk shirts. The ladies wear silk, too. Their dresses are made from silk much finer than this.”

“What do they wear under ’em?”

Jason’s eyes devoured her, drinking in her beauty, but he kept his voice impersonal and his hands at his side.

“They wear silk underneath, too. Sit down and I’ll tell you about it, and about the beautiful silk undergarments I’ve seen in the shops that come all the way from China and the South Seas.”

“They wear China underdrawers?” She had such a puzzled look on her beautiful face that Jason had to bite his lips to keep from bursting out with laughter.

“Silk underdrawers from a country called China.” Oh, God! Excitement made his heart knock against his rib cage. She’d be worth a king’s ransom in New Orleans.

She moved away from him and leaned against a boulder.

“Why’d ya go off’n leave yore woman?”

Goddamnit! She was difficult to talk to. Did everyone in the country know he’d run out on his wife? He kept his irritation from showing in his face and even managed to look a little sad. “My father was dying and I had to go to New Orleans to be with him. Then I came down with the fever myself and couldn’t get back until now.”

“Ya don’t look poorly.”

“I’m not now, but I was.” He took the scarf from around his neck and held it out to her. “Would you like to have this? It would serve to tie back your hair.”

She took it from his hand and held it to her cheek. “It’s soft.”

“Would you like me to put it on your hair?”

“No,” she said and twisted the scarf around her hand.

She was as small as a China doll and perfect in every way. Jason could visualize her in a beautiful blue gown with a voluptuous skirt that emphasized her tiny waist. He would bring her hair up to the top of her head and tie it with a ribbon. With her innocence and ethereal beauty she’d be worth anything he had to do to get her. He would take her to New Orleans and make a fortune.