Flight of Fancy: Cora's Daughters (53 page)

As it turned out, their timing was perfect - they’d barely made it off of the steamer with their horses when Boaz heard his name being shouted among the cacophony of dock activity.

All three turned to see Broc striding their way, a concerned look on his face to see Boaz there. The worry grew with the look that Boaz gave him, sending his heart to his feet.

Once close, immediately he asked, “What?! M’lass?”

Wasting no time, Boaz explained to him all that he knew and that he must get back and see Della immediately – before anything else.

Broc had intended to stay in Virginia through-out April, however could not stay away from Asiza any longer. He’d awaited Manny who saw to the second delivery of manpower. He and his wife were on their way back to Webster Fields to get their own sowing of the fields underway and had stopped only to check on Rory.

Once they were sure that he was able to handle things there, they’d carried on with their journey home – impressed and secure with leaving their son behind.

Now that things were in full swing, Broc could no longer resist the need within to get back to his wife. Everything was under control at Whelan Meadows. He ate, packed his saddle bag, gear and horse and left before the sun was fully up. At the docks, looking for passage north, he was surprised and shaken to see Boaz there with two of his new men. The news that met him set off a mad beating of his heart he could not calm, not until he set eyes on his wife. Heat, anger, fear and knowledge of how Asiza felt when closed in, trapped – or confined, assailed him. It rushed in upon his mind, closed in tight around his heart, wrenching his gut.

Right away, he began praying. He wanted to kick himself for ever leaving her. Even though Boaz told him they had not taken her away yet, he didn’t care, he knew that they would. He fought back the need to shout in frustration. He had been so hell bent on growing their wealth that it had taken him away the very moment he’d needed to be with Asiza. Pacing, unable to sit still, he tried to reason with himself to calm his anxiety. All that he did in terms of growing their wealth, he did to stabilize a life for them - a life where his financial gain could buy them immunity to be left alone – to never be bothered again.

However, now, what would not leave his mind was the fact that if anything happened to Asiza, nothing he had worked so hard to build would mean a thing, not if he couldn’t have her.

He knew that he was leaping ahead - Boaz said she was still at the boarding house - but that had been almost three days ago. Anything could have happened in that amount of time, and it was that which haunted him.

Once more, because of the Webster’s, they had the convenience and access to the steamer that was taking them back – but that same dangerous spring weather was keeping them at bay. Had he been a normal traveler without that connection, he would have been required to wait until the storm completely abated. In this case, the moment they were given a weather window to head out, they did.

As it was, he wasn’t getting back fast enough – forced to wait, all he could do was pace back and forth, the only way of coping with the travel time.

Watching him, Boaz thought at any moment, he would drop to his knees weeping – by his reddened face, and constant rubbing of his chest and stomach, he looked on the verge of it. Not knowing what was happening at that moment - was getting to him in the worse way.

“She gone be ah’right.” He tried telling him.

Broc had forgotten that Boaz was standing there with him, in the drizzling rain, on the wet deck of the steamer. The other two men were resting in one of the cabins – warm and dry, sleeping until they docked. With his back against the deck wall, Broc rubbed his chest even more, pleading, “Tell me m’lass is safe.”

“Della ain’t gone let no harm come t’yo’Asiza.”

“You see’im, the men that come for’er? The name?”

“Della seen’im – I come t’get you.”

Broc stood nodding, “They…” he stopped to bend at the waist, his hands braced against his bent knees, “…they take m’Seeza from me, I got – I got nothin’ t’live for. Nothin’ – by God, I swear t’ya, I’ah kill ever’ man in that town, they hurt m’Seeza… an’ aye, I’ah be ready to go m’self.”

“Com’on boss, we gone get thu this. I’s gone be ah’right.” Boaz tried to reassure him, but under the circumstances, he couldn’t be sure of what he was saying.

Looking at the way it was getting to him, he had no doubt that every word Broc said was true – anyone who came to know him, knew that he was just
that
kind of man.

Before he went down, he would take those responsible for bringing him down
with
him. Boaz stood praying as well that nothing happened to Asiza. This man had delivered him and others to a new life – if he could help it, no one was going to stand in the way of that. All Broc had to do was ask, and he would do all in his power to deliver. As far as Boaz could see, at that particular moment he knew the key to their continual growth and happiness was
Asiza
.
She
was this man’s beating heart that kept him alive and happy.

‘Della, take care’o’ha – Lord ah’mighty please.’
He prayed.

Chapter Thirty-three

Broc did as he was instructed, the moment they stepped off the steamer they went straight to the boarding house to discover that his wife had in fact been arrested. Boaz and Della had a time calming him down so that he would listen to her. It wasn’t easy talking him out of charging over to the jail house and demanding that the sheriff release her.

“I wan’ m’wife –
out
– of that-…”

“Then you are going to have to calm down and listen to what I’m telling you. You’ve come too far – she’s come too far. I need you to stop feeling and start thinking. She’s not alone, she’s protected.”

Broc slumped into the nearest chair, curling forward - his face fell into his hands, clearly stressed as he fought to bring the riot within under control.

Feeling that she had his attention, Della continued, “Now … I’ve told you this before, I’m going to tell you again – you must
stop
calling her your wife. You can show interest, or a fondness - but nothing more than that. They cannot know that she is your wife – am I being clear?” Della spoke firmly.

Taking a long deep breath and blowing it out, Broc gave a slow nod to agree.

“This is the plan – you are going to vouch for her in that you, as a bounty hunter, upon capturing her, could not believe she did this crime. When you speak with our lawyers, you will convince them that the moment you captured her – you knew that she hadn’t done what they claimed. If you know anything about the mayor or what happened there, that-…”

“I know what to do – I know what to say.” He cut her off.

Della stood, looking at the top of his head of auburn waves, “Good, and before the judge, you must be cool – matter of fact. Your testimony will be based on you simply wishing to do the right thing, nothing more.”

Again he nodded, “I have to see her-…”

Della had been waiting for that, she’d hoped he wouldn’t ask, “Broc, no – not until-…”

“I – have – t’see’er!” He growled, his sparkling green eyes filled with moisture rolled up to glare at her.

“Broc, you can’t – it could jeopardize how the judge sees her case.” She whispered.

The look that radiated from his burning face was filled with stubborn aggression – she thought he might explode on her at any moment. She gulped - Boaz moved to her side, “We can’t mess this up boss,” Boaz tried to ease him.

Della had been on the verge of telling him that Asiza was with child, thinking that hearing that would help to keep him in line, but now she wasn’t so sure. The office went quiet with the three holding their tongues to let the tension dissipate. Moments went by when Broc finally sat back looking from Della to Boaz and back again.

“Who is protectin’ m’wife.” He refused to refer to her as anyone else. Della sank into a chair across from him, afraid that he refused to see the seriousness of the matter. He knew by the look in her eyes, what she was thinking. “I will’nah deny her – not b‘fore you, when ya’know who she is. When the time comes, I’ll do m’part. Fer’now, who guards m’wife?”

Sighing and then responding to his question, “Dan and Alan, during the day - Christian and Sean at night.”

“Does the sheriff know them?” he asked. He had an intense look about him, as if plotting.

“I’m not sure if he’s paid them any attention or not.”

“Is he there, the sheriff, in the night?”

“I don’t think so, only his deputy.”

Broc sat silent, thinking a moment more, “I’ah see m’wife in the night, at the switch – I’ll-…”

“You can’t Broc-…”

“…-go in place of Sean or Christian, I care no’which.”

“You can’t…” She kept stating, hoping to get thru to him.

“I’ah see – m’wife! No one – no one’ah stop me – d’hear?” His Irish brogue became strong when his strong emotions were stirred – while he’d been trying to control his anger, it was starting to show itself.

“Are you hearing anything I’m saying to you? Do you know what’s at risk?”

Impatient, he snapped, “I’m part Irish, no’ part idiot!”

“Della…” Boaz gently grasped her arm, not wishing her to argue with him.

“I’m not implying anything of the sort! I know that you’re no idiot - my fear is that your emotions will push you to something that could risk her chances. I love her, she’s my friend – not just a boarder here. Don’t you understand, you risk her freedom!
You
are already free!”

Broc stood and paced away from them to the window to look out, his eyes filled so that a tear dropped. Hearing her words, brought him back to recognizing that Della was not his enemy, nor Asiza’s – he hated seeing their difference, but how could he deny it? He, while Irish, French and part Indian – was the descendant of an Irish slave, and yet, at the present, they were slaves no more. She was right, they were now free. However, having made the choice that he had for his life mate, his freedom had come at a cost he was unable to meet.

He gazed out wondering if it were possible to make her understand, “Forgive me lass – aye, I hear yo’words. You say I am free?” He shook his head in denial, “No, I can’nah b’free – unless
she
is free.” He turned from the window to look at the couple before him, “You an’ Boaz, will go on an’ know joy –
freedom
. An’ we – shud I fail - will be nothin’ more than a sad memory. Sh’may be yer’friend, aye an’ mayhaps yu’ll weep at her loss… but me, I will die – d’ya’ hear –
die
. S’I’m no’free… no’yet.”

Once more they stood, Della peering into his eyes – it was plain to see, that he would see her, with, or without her aid.

She gave up, “She… she is with child. Your – first, son or daughter. You need to know that.”

Burning heat spread over Broc’s face and body as if he’d been set on fire. The beat of his heart became so strong it was as if he could hear it within the room, surely they could as well.

A child –
his
child - knowing that, hearing that – brought on an even more all-consuming feeling that gripped him totally.

“You will neva’know – how much Asiza is a part o’me. What we’ve done as one. I’ah no’have her alone. I’ah see m’wife. An’ with yer help, we will see her out of this. An’ God help the man who has causes m’lass one moment o’fret’o’fear. God’ help him, ‘cause he’ah know the why that he’shud o’let her be… he’ah know.”     

Standing there, seeing him, listening to him, Della came to realize that this truly was a dangerous man. She imagined - one capable of anything. Knowing what she did about Asiza, she understood why they were one hell of a combination – and why it would be dangerous to mess with either of them. Her eyes went to look into Boaz’s, and without a word they both knew her insight surrounding them was spot on. 

That night, he replaced Sean. He dirtied himself up, arriving extra scruffy in appearance, one that made people look away instead of focusing on him. With his head down under a hat, he used an accent so thick of a brogue the deputy couldn’t be bothered with trying to understand it - in fact, he dismissed him. He had come to enjoy his night replacements and now anticipated their arrival which freed him to visit the saloon or
other
places in the night. After all, she, the Negro prisoner was locked in – no way out, he could care less about the men who sat in guard over her.

The moment the deputy eagerly left them – Christian turned to Broc with a nod of his head. He walked into the front office where he could sit comfortably and nod off. The deputy wouldn’t be back until right before sun up, and an hour later, the sheriff would be in.

Broc stood in the semi-dark opposite her cell, and hanging high against the wall down from where he stood – was a lantern that cast long dark shadows, glowing low and golden. He was just out of the illumination where the very edges of it touched the outer rim of him outlining one side to show that a man indeed stood there.