Patricia Hagan (11 page)

Neil Davis had been standing to one side, shuffling some papers, obviously listening. He moved to block their path. “If you’d like me to, I can get your horse and ride with you to your mother’s, Holly. Or I’ll take you back to your place, if that’s what you want.”

“I’m taking care of her,” Roger countered curtly, “but thank you for your concern, Captain.”

She looked from one to the other. Damn, why did Scott affect her this way? She wanted time alone, to think. The last thing she wanted was the company of another man right now. “Thank you both,” she told them, “but I prefer to walk.” With a polite nod, she left the building before either could think what to say to stop her.

The day was lovely, a warm, gentle breeze blowing in from the south. She winced at the grotesque skeletons of burned trees along the way. Once, their limbs had been lush and green, with magnolia blossoms or the popcorn glory of white dogwood flowers. Now everything was drab, dead, thanks to the Yankees and their siege of Vicksburg. Here and there, piles of rubble lay where great houses had once been.

Devastation and poverty—these were the gifts the war had bestowed upon Mississippi. To those who had survived, the present seemed intolerable; the future, hopeless. The war had destroyed the South’s physical assets and its whole way of life. The entire Confederacy was bitter and exhausted.

Farmers lacked tools, stock, seeds. Plantations fell to carpetbaggers who hovered like vultures. Mills, mines, and factories were shut. Many country roads were impassable. Bridges that had not been burned were in desperate need of repair. Most river steamboats had been captured or destroyed, and the rest were worn out. The few southern railroads left were currently being used by the Federal government.

Passing the burned remains of the old slave market, she recalled her family’s horror of slavery. Not all Southerners had been slavers.

There were some Negro men standing by the remains of the market, and they watched her with angry, hostile eyes. It mattered not that they didn’t know her, didn’t know her hatred of slavery. To them, she was just a white Southerner. That made her responsible for their bondage. She saw their ragged clothing, skinny bodies. They were starving. They had paid a terrible price for freedom.

“They don’t know what to do with themselves, do they, Miss Maxwell?”

Holly whirled around and saw a man leaning against a blackened tree trunk. He was older—in his early fifties, she thought—and he had a lean, craggy face and a bushy, graying beard. He wore the tattered trousers of a Confederate uniform, and a worn dark muslin shirt.

Alarmed, Holly asked, “How do you know me? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before.”

He grinned. “I knew your daddy. Fought with him. A fine man, he was.”

“But how do you know me?”

He shrugged casually. “Oh, everybody knows you, Miss Maxwell. It’s all over town that you shot one of them Night Hawks last night. I watched you going into the post, and I hung around, waitin’ for you to come out.”

He nodded toward the group standing by the slave market. “Saw you starin’ at them niggers,” he drawled. “Sad, ain’t it? They just don’t know what to do with themselves, now they’re free. ‘Course, the government’s promisin’ ’em forty acres and a mule, but some of ’em don’t want to go back to the fields, so they’ll steal and murder to keep from goin’ hungry. That’s why we got to teach ’em their place.”

Holly felt her cheeks growing warm. “We don’t need more trouble. Please leave me alone. I don’t want to talk any more.”

She nodded politely and began walking away, but he fell into step alongside her.

He snorted. “Funny hearin’ you talk like that. Folks are callin’ you the loudest Reb around here.”

“If I’m a Rebel because I only want to be left alone, then I’m a Rebel.”

She picked up her step, but he darted ahead of her, blocking her path, ignoring her angry look. “We’re gonna talk, lady, ’cause me and my men got something
you
need, and you got something
we
need. You’d better listen. Whether you know it or not, you got big troubles.”

Holly was agitated but she refused to show fear. “Will you get out of my way? I can take care of myself. I proved that last night.”

He laughed. “Girlie, you were just lucky last night. Now that the Night Hawks know you got some guts, they’ll be ready next time. And there will be a next time. That’s why you need me and my men. We’ll make sure you can stay on your land.”

She cried, “I don’t need help! Now get out of my way!”

He grabbed her and pushed her up against a nearby tree. “I ain’t messin’ around. I hear things, and you can believe me when I say the word’s out them Night Hawks are gonna get you. I don’t mean you no harm, I swear it. Me and my men want to make a deal. You got a good place to hide out in them woods, and you know the swamps. You help us out by lettin’ us meet there, where we won’t be spied on, and if times get bad and one of us has to run from the law, you can hide us in the swamps. In return, we’ll see to it you’re protected from the Night Hawks.”

“What are you and your men up to?”

He jerked his head back toward the slave market. “Like
I said. They’re gonna cause trouble. They’re uppity, and smart-alecky, and they gloat because we lost the war. We gotta keep ’em in line. Yankees ain’t gonna protect Southern whites, you know. Me and my men are bandin’ together to look after ourselves and our families. We ain’t takin’ no guff off niggers—or Yankees.”

Holly nodded. “You’re going to become vigilantes, just like the Night Hawks. But you’ll be on the side of the South while they’re on the side of the North. The war will continue.”

He grinned. “You got it. Help us. Remember, you need us,” he added.

She shook her head slowly, sadly. “You’re only going to cause more problems for yourself and everyone. This isn’t the answer. I don’t know what the answer is, but there has to be a way that won’t cause any more grief.”

“You ain’t got a better solution, have you?” he bellowed. “Tell you one thing,” he jabbed at the air, “if we Southerners don’t stick together, we’re gonna be grovelin’ in the dirt, eatin’ worms to keep from starvin’!”

Holly could feel enough pity to dissipate her anger. Sincerely, she told him, “I wish I could help you, but I can’t. I don’t want more trouble, I just want to be left alone. I’m afraid I’m not a crusader.”

She turned away, and this time he didn’t try to stop her. “You’ll change your mind,” he called after her. “They ain’t gonna leave you alone. And you’ll come crawlin’ to us for help. You’ll see. We all got to stick together, else they’ll trample us into the ground.”

She quickened her pace, lifting her skirt above her ankles, relieved when his voice faded away. She nearly ran when she got within sight of Abby’s home.

Chapter Nine

Claudia had been keeping an anxious vigil, and she threw her arms around Holly. “Oh, thank God! I was afraid something like this was going to happen.” She stepped back to study her. “Ever since I heard, I’ve been a nervous wreck. What
did
happen? I want to hear everything.”

Holly had dreaded this moment. “Whatever you heard, believe me, it wasn’t that bad. I just had some prowlers, and I wounded one of them. It’s over, so let’s forget it and have a nice visit.”

Claudia knew by that set look on her daughter’s face that she was in one of her stubborn moods. Nothing would make her talk until she was ready. Forcing herself not to press the point, she motioned Holly to follow her upstairs. “Come along, then. I’ve got something to show you, something you’re going to love.”

Holly dutifully tagged behind her mother. Entering her room, she was stunned to see the creation her mother gently lifted from the bed.

The dress was made of delicate spun silk, the bodice a soft shade of lavender. The neckline was cut quite low, with tiny satin ribbons to serve as straps that would drape gently off the shoulders. A sash of darkest purple hugged the waist, while the skirt began its cascading drop in the same shade, blending to softer and softer hues of lavender to the hem. Small, crocheted rosebuds dotted the layers of netting overlaying the skirt, each rosebud framed in delicate dark green leaves.

Holly’s reaction made Claudia very happy. “It was made especially for you in New Orleans by a real French designer from Paris. With your hair and eyes and these colors, you’ll look like a fairy princess.” She clapped her hands in childish delight.

Abby came in just then and cried, “I know just how to style your hair, too. High rolls of curls swept up off your neck to show off the jewels Claudia borrowed for you.”

At that, Holly knew something was going on. “All right, you two, what’s the secret? Where on earth did you borrow jewels?”

Claudia busied herself arranging the dress on the bed. Without looking up she began, “It was Jarvis’s idea—about the jewels. When he saw the dress, he remembered he had an exquisite sapphire necklace with matching earrings in Mr. Garrington’s safe at the jewelry store. He said they’d be stunning with the dress.”

Holly folded her arms across her bosom and nodded thoughtfully. “And the dress? Who paid for it? And what’s the occasion?”

Claudia and Abby looked at each other and broke into giggles. They threw their arms around each other, and Abby cried, “You might as well tell her, Claudia. You can’t keep it a secret. That isn’t fair.”

Claudia stepped back and shook her head. “Not now.” To Holly, she apologized, “I’m sorry, dear, but I can’t tell you anything now. There’s a very special party tonight. Jarvis and I were planning to surprise you by going to see you today and insisting you come back to town with us so you could attend. That’s the reason for the dress and the jewels.”

Holly’s spirits fell. It didn’t take much imagination to figure out that Jarvis Bonham had asked her mother to marry him. But she would let her mother play her little game if that made her happy. She did not have to fake a yawn as she said, “I didn’t get much sleep last night. If I’m expected to go to a party tonight, I’d better get a nap.”

Claudia agreed, and she and Abby left the room, whispering together.

Holly fell asleep immediately and it seemed only a few minutes before Abby shook her awake, but it was actually two hours later.

“I brought you some hot tea.” Abby placed a small tray on the dressing table. Her eyes twinkled. She was enjoying the mystery. “Mr. Bonham’s having the party in the Allison house, where he’s staying till his new home is completed.”

Holly said bitterly, “You mean the new house he’s building around the shell of Magnolia Hall.”

“Now, dear,” Abby soothed her, “you must look at it like this. Magnolia Hall is just a crumbling shell of something that was once magnificent. Be glad that it will rise from the ashes. I’ve seen Jarvis’s sketches, and the mansion he’s building will be beautiful. Wouldn’t you like to see a tribute to that fine land? Believe me, dear, it’s much better than memories.”

Abby talked on, incessantly singing Jarvis Bonham’s praises, while Holly had a bath and washed her hair. She tried not to be rude about Jarvis. Abby meant well. She turned her thoughts to other things—Scott Colter being foremost in her mind. Dear Lord, why couldn’t she just forget him? Why did he have to come back into her mind all the time, sneaking like a thief. Those mysterious, brooding eyes held her in thrall. He had seduced her. A
Yankee
had seduced her. But she did care for him, and she wouldn’t lie to herself about it.

Yet there had to be a way to remove him from her heart and her blood. The only way to do that, she told herself, was to fill her life with hard work, leaving no time for dreaming…

An hour later Holly stared at her reflection in wonder. Abby beamed, proudly basking in her success. Holly’s auburn-gold hair was layered in cascades of curls, entwined with dark purple ribbons. Soft wisps draped dramatically around her slender throat and hung softly to her smooth white shoulders. “You are so beautiful, child. So very beautiful,” Abby said.

Holly grinned in disbelief. Where was the ragamuffin? Who was this sophisticated creature? She was positively warmed by the vision, and anxious to get to know this dazzling new being that was herself.

A light supper of fruit and cheese was all any of the ladies wanted. Soon it was time to dress, and Holly stood before the mirror once more. In the delicately shaded dress of lavender silk with its yards and yards of net overlay, her hair a cinnamon crown of glory, she was stunned by herself all over again. The glittering sapphires at her throat and dangling from her ears set it all off to perfection.

Claudia appeared in the doorway and exclaimed, “I can’t believe I gave birth to a child so beautiful!”

Holly smiled at her. “Why should that come as a shock, Mother? You’re a beauty.”

In truth, Claudia had never been lovelier. Her gown was cream satin, the skirt one long, flowing sheath to the floor. Simple, but elegant. The diamond and emerald choker at her throat was her only adornment.

Rushing across the room to embrace Holly, Claudia pronounced, “We’re both beautiful tonight, and we’re both going to be very, very happy. You’ll see, dear. The sad times are behind us.”

Claudia was so proud, so happy. They made their way down the stairs, Abby chattering excitedly. Holly was surprised to see both Roger and Jarvis in the foyer. She might have known Roger would be her escort. Her mother would have engineered it. He was resplendent in a coat of scarlet velvet, accented by a white ruffled shirt, black cravat, and black trousers. He gave her a sweeping bow before coming toward her to stand at the bottom of the stairs, waiting. He wore white gloves, which he removed, and held out his hands to her.