House Divided (145 page)

He began to long to see her again. When at last Darrell rode away, Tony bade him good-by almost gratefully, standing on the high veranda to watch him out of sight. He turned back to 'Phemy with a deep gladness in him.

“Tell Sapphira he's gone,” he said.

'Phemy shook her head. “He ain' gone twell he's plumb good and gone,” she corrected. Tony laughed at her fears; but she would not be easy till Darrell had put Martinston behind him. So Tony yielded and
let the long day pass, and ate a solitary dinner; and not till well after the early December dark did he see Sapphira. She came to join him for supper by the fire, and he had forgotten how beautiful she was. He bade 'Phemy bring the best of the Madeira, and 'Phemy went to the cellar to fetch it, and Tony said:

“I've been lonesome for you, Sapphira.

“It's been long for me.”

He nodded, wondering as he so often did at her beauty, her steady eyes, her rich and warming tones. By God, there was no handsomer woman anywhere. But in that moment of his full content, he saw her eyes suddenly go wide with terror. She rose shrinkingly to her feet, looking past him toward the open door; and before he could turn, from behind him, as though his own thoughts of a moment ago found words, came Darrell's voice.

“By God, I never saw a finer wench!”

Tony turned slowly in his chair, and Sapphira with a quick movement came behind him, putting him between her and Darrell, and Darrell grinned. “Frightened?” he protested. “Don't be frightened, gal.”

He came into the room, booted and muddy from the road, and approached the fire to warm himself; and Sapphira, waiting for her chance, thought she saw it. She tried to dart past him to the open door, but he was too quick. His hand caught her wrist; he swung her whirling into the hard circle of his arms, clipping her close, pinning with one hand her elbows in a lock behind her and with the other forcing her chin up and turning her face this way and that in deliberate inspection. In his hard grasp, terror left her helpless. Darrell laughed and slapped her lightly on the cheek with his open hand. Then with his clenched fist he struck her sharply in the mouth, and Tony saw the thin trickle of blood from cut lips. Darrell laughed again; and he let her go with a parting slap as one slaps a horse's rump to speed it to the pasture. She fled, and he called after her: “I'll send for you.”

Then he came to sit facing Tony, and Tony felt anger in him like strangling fingers at his throat. “I thought you'd gone,” he muttered.

Darrell nodded cheerfully. “Of course you did. I meant you should, so you'd think it safe to bring your pretty out of hiding.” He chuckled.
“I'd heard rumors about her, knew she was here somewhere. Enid tells me even Uncle Trav fancied her, when she was still a child. When you didn't produce her, I thought Enid must be mistaken." His tone was mocking. ”I couldn't believe you'd wish to treat me so inhospitably; but I thought it worth while to make sure, as you see.” He shouted 'Phemy's name; and while he waited for her to appear he added: ”You suggested I spend Christmas here, Uncle Tony. Well, I accept. We'll celebrate together.“ 'Phemy appeared in the door; and he said: ” 'Phemy, tell Peg-leg he'll find my horse at the corner by the big road.”

She turned away without speaking, and Darrell drawled: “Yes, Uncle Tony, she'll make my Christmas a merry one.”

Tony, remembering how Sapphira had sought to shelter herself behind him, felt old and ashamed by this truculent and deadly youth. He had always been afraid of Darrell. But for that secret fear, he would have shot this young scoundrel long ago, on that day when the Martinston men came to ask him to lead them away to war and Darrell jeered at him, or on that other day when he knew Darrell had betrayed little Miss Mary Meynell.

Now Sapphira would turn to Darrell. Tony had no doubt of that. Niggers were all alike. If Darrell wanted her, she would quickly yield. For that matter, she could not help herself; she was a chattel, permitted no decisions.

So here in this boy facing him now Tony saw the end of all his orderly and well-contented life. Darrell's return was black disaster. These thoughts came not in sequence but in an illumined flash of understanding. “What made you come back?” he asked hoarsely.

Darrell grinned derisively. “Frog in your throat, Uncle Tony? You don't sound glad to see me!” And he said: “Perhaps I came back to protect you. I met Ed Blandy on the road, on his way home. When he comes for his accounting you'll want me by your side.” He extended his legs toward the fire, inspected his muddy boots, shouted for 'Phemy, bade her pull off his boots and bring him supper.

“And a bottle of wine,” he directed. “To celebrate my return.”

Tony himself had sent 'Phemy to the cellar a while ago. It was the old Madeira she brought now; and Darrell insisted Tony share it. “Come, come, don't offend me by declining, Uncle Tony.”

There was no talk in Tony; but Darrell's light tongue ran. He ate and drank and rose at last and stretched himself and yawned in Tony's face. “You're dull company, Uncle. I must seek better. So—good night and pleasant dreams to you.” He stepped out into the hall, shouted: “'Phemy! 'Phemy!”

Tony heard her quiet answer. “Yes, Marse Darrell.”

“Send that wench to my room.” They were in the hall, not far from where Tony sat; their voices plain.

“She done gone,” said 'Phemy.

Tony heard the quick slap of a blow and Darrell's dry tone. “I said, send her to my room.” Then, as though certain of obedience, Darrell went up the stairs.

Tony came softly to his feet. If Sapphira had fled, Darrell might be thwarted still. He crossed to his desk and took his pistol from the drawer and thrust it under his vest and into his trousers; but when he turned, 'Phemy was at his shoulder with extended hand, whispering: “Gimme dat, please, suh!” He stared at her, not understanding; and she said: “Ain' no call to go git youse‘f kilt! He ain' gwine tetch Sapphira! Gimme dat pistol, please suh!”

He had a moment's leaping certainty that she meant to kill Darrell. Well, let her! He gave her the weapon.

But she replaced it in his desk, softly closed the drawer. “Leave it be,” she warned him, her whisper soft and still, and so was gone.

Tony closed his door. In the room above his he heard Darrell singing softly, moving to and fro. Leave this night in 'Phemy's strong hands; yes, and the future too! He undressed and hurried into bed. Whatever Darrell's rage and bafflement, the young man would try no violence on an old man in a night shirt! Yet with the firelight the only illumination in the room, Tony lay trembling and afraid.

He heard Darrell come down the stairs and go toward the kitchen; heard his angry shouting there and his questing to and fro. 'Phemy as well as Sapphira must have found some hiding place; and Tony grinned, relishing Darrell's disappointment. In darkness there was nothing the young man could do. After a while Darrell went upstairs again. He would be in a fine rage tomorrow; but tomorrow was tomorrow. Time to meet it when it came.

In the morning Tony, for precaution, kept his bed. Darrell found him there, opening the door with no ceremony, looking at him across the room with narrowed, flickering eyes. “Indisposed, Uncle Tony?” he drawled.

“I've not yet fully recovered from my wound.”

Darrell showed his teeth. “That is clear. Your niggers here are out of hand. I'll bring them to time. I'll send for Mr. Pudrick and his hounds.” Tony said nothing. This was 'Phemy's problem now. Darrell watched him for a moment, then turned away. Tony slipped out of bed and crossed to the window, hiding behind the curtains to see Darrell go.

He saw not only Darrell but 'Phemy. 'Phemy was coming up from the quarter; Darrell put himself in her path, slapping his riding crop against his thigh. She came steadily on as though to pass him, and he struck her in the face with the heavy thong. She stopped and stood still, not flinching, and he struck her again. But not again. Tony thought it possible her steadiness daunted even Darrell. The young man said something, and she came on and went into the kitchen. Darrell watched her as though in doubt, then returned toward the house again. Tony crept back to bed, to sanctuary.

After a time he heard Darrell in the dining room; and a little later he heard the thud of a horse's feet at the front steps and then the quicker beats as Darrell rode away. He was still in bed when 'Phemy came to him with breakfast. There were dark welts on her brown cheek.

“He's gone to Martinston,” he said, “to send for dogs. You must send Sapphira away.”

“He ain' gwine lay eyes on her.”

“He'll kill you, 'Phemy.”

“You res' you‘se'f, Marse Tony.”

“He'll be back.”

“I'll know de minute he comes on de place ag'in.”

Tony trusted her intent but not her powers. Bed was the safest place for him. But before the morning was far spent, 'Phemy came to say that Ed Blandy, with his son behind him on the mule and with Alex Spain for company, was riding along the main road toward Chimneys.

Well, Ed must be faced. Tony, hurrying into his clothes, thought he feared Ed less and Darrell more. Ed at least was an honest and a decent man.

When the men rode up to the house Tony went out to greet them. His heart was pounding; for if Ed knew he had refused to sell provisions to Mrs. Blandy, this moment might be the end of him. He saw with some relief that though Alex had as usual a musket across his saddle and a heavy pistol in his saddle holster, Ed was unarmed. Tony said as steadily as possible: “Good morning, gentlemen.”

Alex Spain lifted his hand; Ed said: “Morning, Captain Currain.”

“Come in and warm yourselves,” Tony invited. “It's a cold day.”

Ed said: “Why, I just came to speak to you, Captain. Here will do.”

Tony understood that Ed would be ill at ease in the drawing room. “Into my office then,” he insisted. “There'll be a fire there.” They alighted and secured their animals to the hitching rail, and Ed's son watched Tony with sullen eyes. Tony walked with them around the corner of the veranda to that pleasant room on the ground level, with its plastered walls and fine old timbers, where the plantation ledgers were kept. As they came in, 'Phemy set a fire going. The lightwood sticks and logs caught quickly, made a bright blaze.

“Now gentlemen, be comfortable,” Tony said courteously. When they were seated, Ed turning his hat in his hand, his son standing stiff beside him, Alex Spain with his musket across his knee, Tony said: “If I'd known you were home, Mr. Blandy, I would have come to you.”

Ed's lips were white with grief and pain. “Captain Currain, my boy here wants to tell you something,” he said; and to his son: “Go on, Eddie.” The boy licked his lips, and he looked pleadingly at his father; but Ed did not relent. “Go on, son,” he repeated.

So the youngster, head high, obeyed. “I'm shore sorry I shot you, please sir, Captain Currain,” he said; and then tears burst in his eyes and he flung himself into his father's arms, sobbing bitterly.

Tony said in reassuring gentleness: “I didn't blame you, son, feeling the way you did.”

Ed Blandy asked: “Are you all right now, Captain?”

“Yes,” Tony told him. “Yes, I'm all right now.”

Ed said: “I'm sorry my wife set out to steal from you.” His arm encircled
his son. “I told Eddie if you'd knowed we-uns was hungry you'd have helped us get along.”

Tony felt a deep spring of relief; for clearly Mrs. Blandy had never written Ed the truth. This understanding gave him courage. Alex Spain, though with some sardonic amusement in his eyes, said: “Captain Currain's been a good neighbor to some of us, to be sure.” He added: “But I wouldn't look for you to set a spring gun, Captain.”

Tony remembered Darrell. Here might be strong allies against that bold young man. “I didn't,” he said. “My nephew set that trap gun in the smoke house. I didn't know it was there.”

Ed Blandy said in honest relief: “I might have knowed that. Not but what you had a right to, if you wanted. But it didn't look to me you would.” The boy's sobs had ceased; he lifted his stained face from his father's shoulder to look at Tony with the searching gaze of youth. Tony was glad he need not lie.

“Someone had tried to get into the smoke house a few nights before,” he said. “I told Peg-leg to fix it so they couldn't, that was all. Darrell put the gun there, not telling me.”

Alex Spain shifted his position; he spoke carefully: “Please sir, Captain Currain, Mrs. Shadd laid Mrs. Blandy out. When she came to wash her, there was a slug in her that had come from the side, and scraped across her front; but that wouldn't have killed her. What killed her was another bullet in her back, right between the shoulder blades. That didn't come from no set-gun.”

Tony had not known about the other bullet; the information spurred his memory. That night when Mrs. Blandy died, he had been awakened by the muffled sound when the set-gun was discharged; and an instant later he heard Darrell's window open and heard Darrell fire two shots. So Darrell had killed her when she might have lived! Tony saw Alex and Ed waiting for him to speak, and his pulse began to pound. He himself, at the moment of Darrell's shots, had been still in bed; but no one knew that. If he now made the case as black as possible against Darrell, there was none to challenge his testimony.

“Why yes,” he said carefully. “Darrell shot her. His room's above mine. I heard the gun go off, and I ran to my window and I heard Darrell in the room over mine running to his window. There was enough starlight so we could see her, stumbling and crawling along,
trying to get away. He shot her and she went down.” He knew these men. This would finish Darrell!

After a moment's grave silence, Alex Spain rose deliberately to his feet; but Ed Blandy said quickly: “Hold on, Alex. He didn't know it was a woman.”