Texas Angel, 2-in-1 (7 page)

He had ceased expecting fire in her eyes, but if only there were a mere spark.

She added, “I have come this far. You don’t think I will leave, do you?”

“I only want—“ He stopped. This was neither the time nor the place to beat a tender subject. How many times had they had this very discussion? She was here at his side. Perhaps it was simply too much to expect more.

“Where is Micah?” she asked, opening another touchy subject. “I thought he would come see the baby after dinner.”

“He . . . there was a bit of a problem at dinner.” Sometimes Benjamin felt so alone. Wasn’t it bad enough that the world was against him at times, did his family have to be also?

“Oh, Benjamin, what happened?”

“The boy has such a rebellious spirit.”

She sighed. “This move has been very difficult for him. Must you be so hard on him?”

“I am trying to bring him up in the wisdom of God.”

“Sometimes he just needs love.”

“I do love him!” Benjamin did not want to think how many times they had had this conversation. The baby stirred as his voice rose. Benjamin stood abruptly. “I best go before the child wakes. I’ll see you in a bit.”

Benjamin left the bedroom. In the front room Mrs. Bancroft was cleaning up after dinner while Reverend Bancroft was seated reading a book—not the Bible, though Benjamin could not make out the title. Still feeling tense from the exchange with his wife, he would have gone outside to be alone, but Micah was still there serving his punishment. He sat in an empty chair. Bancroft glanced up and smiled.

“I don’t mean to disturb you,” Benjamin said.

“Do you wish to talk some more?”

“No. Please continue with your reading.” Benjamin got to his feet. “Perhaps I shall read also.” He took his Bible from his carpetbag, then sat again and opened the covers. But he couldn’t concentrate on the words before him. He felt a deep disquiet inside and knew it had to do with his son.

Rebekah wanted him to be more lenient with the boy. Yet the Word of God clearly instructed, “Spare the rod, spoil the child.” His own upbringing had mirrored such a philosophy, though his father had no concept of the spiritual basis of such. Richard Sinclair had ruled his home with a heavy hand, using the kind of unbending discipline he had learned from his years as an officer in the army. Col. Sinclair’s sons were but soldiers under his command.

Yes, when he was young Benjamin had resented his father for the constant drilling of instruction, for the complete lack of mercy, and especially for the many beatings given when orders were not carried out with due military precision. By comparison, Benjamin was moderate with his own son, but still he could not ignore the teachings of the Scriptures. He sincerely believed that applying spiritual truths would make the difference in disciplined child rearing. If his own son resented him, it was because of the boy’s rebellious nature, not due to any flaw in the handing out of God’s truths.

Yet in this present situation regarding his son, he was forced to admit that Rebekah might be right. It had not been easy for the boy to leave friends and family. And the struggles upon the trail had only magnified his bitterness about the move. Perhaps it would not harm Micah if Benjamin dealt a lighter hand while the boy adjusted. Benjamin set aside his Bible, rose to his feet, and headed outside.

Micah was sitting on the front porch whittling a small tree branch he had no doubt found lying under the oak planted near the house. The sun had set behind that oak, leaving the sky a dusky orange and the grounds in partial shadow. Benjamin saw Micah’s face in dark silhouette, and the boy did not look up in response to his father’s approach.

“Micah.” Benjamin walked around to where he could get a clearer view of the boy.

“Yeah.”

Benjamin bit back a sharp retort at his son’s disrespectful response. He had sought out the boy in order to reason with him calmly and peacefully. Why did the boy always make that so difficult?

“Son, we have been traveling for a very long time.” Benjamin stood awkwardly before the boy. He considered sitting next to him on the step, but Micah had planted himself directly in the middle, thus Benjamin would have had to ask to sit there. He felt that would undermine his authority just when he needed it most. Clearing his throat, he began again. “In deference to the hardships of our journey, I have been amiss in maintaining proper discipline these last several weeks. For that reason, I will not blame you entirely for your crude behavior earlier. In this instance I believe mercy is called for. It is natural for a person, be he man or child, to revert to his sinful nature when there is no discipline to restrain him. But from now on I will not permit further breech of those things you know to be right and proper. We will soon be in our new home, and I will expect you to behave in a way that honors your home and those who live in it. Do you understand?”

“Yeah—I mean, yes, sir. At least I understand most of it.”

“What is it you don’t understand?”

“That part about home. My home is in Boston, with my grand-parents and my cousins and my friends. Texas will never be my home.”

“It will come to be. Wait and see.”

“No! It won’t!” Micah looked up, his eyes burning.

“Don’t talk back to me!” Benjamin replied with as much fire, then regretted the rebuke. This was not how he had planned this discussion to progress. More softly he added, “Give it time, boy.”

Micah shook his head.

“Mrs. Bancroft saved your pie,” Benjamin offered. “You may go in and finish it if you wish.”

Micah said nothing more but rose, sheathed his knife, laid aside the branch, and strode into the house.

Benjamin walked several paces away from the house to a place behind the oak where he was somewhat shielded from view. He dropped to his knees in the dirt and clasped his hands together.

“Almighty God, I come before you a contrite and needy man. Each minute since I have left Boston I have seen more and more my need for you. I am nothing without your grace and mercy. I am weak and vulnerable without your covering. Only in you can I be the authority my family and my church desperately need. Only in you can I bear the burden of responsibility that rests upon me. My flesh would have me be as those who have shirked their duties as men, like my brother, Haden. My flesh longs after the so-called freedom of worldly ways. Subdue my flesh, O God! Bring it into submission to your righteousness.

“And now, God, I lift up my family. Thank you for the blessing of a new child and for sending her healthy and whole. Thank you for preserving my wife’s health through her birthing. Dear God, Rebekah’s delicate condition has made these recent changes much more difficult for her. Help her to put her faith in you, and give her the strength to submit to her husband as a godly wife should. Only then will she find true fulfillment. Let her be a shining example of godly virtue to our daughters, who will one day have to submit to husbands of their own.

“And Micah . . . Almighty God, break his rebellious nature, bring his sinful heart into submission to both his heavenly and his earthly fathers. He is nearly at the age of accountability. Let him not be lost to sin and perdition. I have striven to set an example of righteousness for him, but for some reason he has blinded himself to it. Open his eyes, God. Make him see clearly the path to holiness. . . .”

An hour and a half later, Benjamin rose from his knees. The sun had set long ago, but he had hardly noticed the gathering darkness, so absorbed was he in his petitions to the Most High God. He had spent longer than his usual hour in his evening prayers. Not only had he prayed for his immediate family, but he had also lifted up his family in Boston, lingering longer than usual over Haden. He prayed for the new land to which he was bound and decided that in the future, especially as more new needs arose, he might have to extend his prayer time to two hours. This was such a needy land. Nevertheless, he was regaining confidence that he was truly God’s chosen vessel to minister in this place and to these wayward people.

When he returned to the house, only a small candle burned on a table for his benefit. No doubt Rebekah had informed their hosts of his prayer routine, and they had left him to himself. He was saddened that there were loud snores coming from Bancroft’s room. Apparently the man had finished his evening prayers long ago, if he had offered them at all. Benjamin tried not to judge the minister, but with so much need in this frontier land, it seemed an unwise thing to forego prayer.

CHAPTER

9

E
LISE WAS TAKEN TO A
hotel in the French Quarter in New Orleans. For the middle of the afternoon, it was quite dim inside, made even more so by the dark mahogany paneling and the black-and-red flocked wallpaper on the walls. Heavy red velvet drapes kept out light as well, and the ornate lamps were turned down low. A cloying odor of cheap perfume mingled with whiskey hung in the stuffy air.

Elise wondered what work she would do here. She supposed she could learn to clean if she must. But before she could worry too much about this, Carter took her upstairs. Here she glimpsed several women in the corridor who were young, and by their skin color she guessed they were quadroons, or octoroons, like herself. They were dressed in fancy clothes that seemed quite inappropriate for the afternoon, and some wore only wrappers in bright colors. Something about them indicated they were not hotel guests, but they did not appear to be servants, either. Two other women and one man, all three very dark-skinned and obviously servants, were sweeping and dusting in the corridor.

Mr. Carter took Elise to an office where he told her to wait, then he himself exited without even so much as a farewell. She took a seat on a silk brocade chair.

Elise had always wanted to come to New Orleans, because this was where her parents were from. She had seen little of it when she rode through in the closed carriage. Perhaps she would have a chance, on a day off perhaps, to see a bit of the picturesque town. But for now her thoughts focused on where she was at this moment and upon her new life that lay ahead. Carter had said nothing to her on the journey from South Carolina, treating her like mere baggage.

“Hannah,” she murmured to the child in her arms, “maybe it won’t be so bad. This place is a lot nicer than the slave quarters at the Hearne place.”

After about five minutes a man entered the office. He was thick and muscular and over six feet tall, without much of a neck to support his large head. His muttonchop whiskers made his round face seem even broader, but his small, narrow-set eyes balanced the effect. He wasn’t entirely unhandsome, but his eyes were cold and his thin lips were taut, detracting from the pleasant qualities. When he spoke his voice held neither warmth nor tone, but was flat. His manner of speech pegged him as a man of low quality trying to mold himself to a higher level of society.

“I am Maurice Thomson, your new master.”

“Sir.” She nodded but did not rise.

His chilly eyes roved over her in a long, intense scrutiny. She felt oddly violated by his look, and a chill ran down her back.

“You are as beautiful as your mother,” he said, opening a gilded box on the desk and removing a cigar.

“You knew her?” She couldn’t help the eager entreaty in her tone.

“Oh yes, I knew her. I owned her, as you must know.”

“And now you think you own me—”

“I
do
own you.” His lip twisted in a superior sneer. “Surely you don’t plan on being difficult about this. The law is on my side. You have no recourse.”

“But why?” Even now Elise could not quell her natural tendency to question her destiny. “Is a little financial loss so important that you would ruin two lives for it?”

“I simply do not like to lose.” He casually took a lighter stick from a container near the hearth and lit the tip from the fire. This he applied to the end of his cigar, puffing heartily as he did so. “Your father’s first mistake was in stealing your mother away from me twenty years ago. His second mistake was engaging me in a game of cards a month ago. He can’t be blamed for that entirely though. I have changed much in twenty years, and he simply did not recognize me. Actually, word had circulated several years ago that I had died, so he felt himself quite safe in returning to his old haunts. Losing your mother was a rather personal blow to me. Nevertheless, I feel I am now vindicated and recompensed. I have little doubt you shall bring in twice the revenues she did even in her prime.”

“What do you mean?”

The chill of his eyes flared momentarily in a kind of evil relish. Elise shivered again.

He reached out a hand and ran a thick finger along the line of her jaw. “So innocent, so pure. Even though you are not technically a virgin, I think at first you shall appeal as such. But I will see for myself soon enough.”

She f linched away from his touch. Hannah stirred and whimpered.

“The baby is a difficulty I hadn’t counted on.” He grimaced at the child. “Until she is old enough to earn her keep, she shall be an encumbrance, but I suppose we shall simply have to make the best of it for now.”

“I assure you Hannah will not get in the way of my work.” The haughty defiance in her eyes was that of a southern lady, not a slave.

“I hope I don’t have to break entirely that little bit of fire you display. It, too, can have an appeal.” His lips smiled as his eyes bore like ice into her. “I would like you to get situated immediately. Please wait here until someone comes to fetch you.”

After he departed, Elise waited about ten minutes before someone else came in. This time it was a quadroon woman several years older than Elise’s nineteen years. The woman was attractive, despite rotting teeth and a scar under her right eye. Her skin was the color of chocolate mixed with a liberal amount of cream.

“My name is Mae.” Her voice was husky with a foreign accent, probably French. “You are to come with me.”

“I’m Elise Hea—” Elise started to say her married name but decided against it. Daphne Hearne said she should start a new life. This would be her first step in that direction.