Touching the Sky (15 page)

Malcolm would be hanged if Brandon was correct about him being a murderer. Laura couldn’t suppress a shudder. She feared for her sister—the bruises on Carissa’s arm had likely come from Malcolm’s hands. The very thought filled Laura with such anger that she began to wonder how she would behave the next time she found herself alone with Malcolm.

Carlita entered the room soundlessly. She deposited the breakfast tray on the vanity top and took up the hairbrush. While Laura poured cream into her tea, Carlita began to brush and style her hair.

“You no sleep well last night?”

“I slept, but . . . well . . . you mustn’t say anything.” Laura paused and looked toward the door, then decided to switch to Spanish. “I got up early this morning to give Esther a reading lesson.”

“Ah,” Carlita said, nodding. “I remember when you taught me English,” she replied in her native tongue. “You are a wonderful teacher, Miss Laura.”

“Thank you. I think it’s important that people be able to read and write English. It is very difficult to conduct even the simplest business transaction without a proper command of the language. Reading is especially important, especially for the children. Now that the war is over, we must endeavor to do what we can to educate the former slaves.”

Carlita carefully tucked a pin into Laura’s hair and nodded. Laura nibbled on a piece of toast, then sipped at the steaming tea.

“You must hurry,” Carlita said in English as she finished arranging Laura’s hair. “Your mama says be ready to go by ten. She is anxious to see your sister.”

“She feels Carissa’s absence very keenly. . . . I’m sure Mother worries for her.” Laura didn’t bother to add her suspicions that there was good reason for her to do so.

Carlita smiled. “All mothers worry about their children.”

Laura nodded and gave a quick look in the mirror. Carlita had fashioned Laura’s hair in a simple but fetching manner atop her head. “It’s lovely. Thank you.”

Carlita hurried to the wardrobe and flung open the doors. “It is sunny out today, but not hot. What will you wear?”

“I suppose the blue walking dress,” Laura said, hoping the temperature would remain cool. Her mother would want her dressed properly for their outing, but Laura had no desire to pass out from the heat should the day warm overly much.

By ten minutes before ten, Laura made her way to the front parlor, where she’d expected to find her mother waiting most impatiently. Instead, she was surprised to find her brother-in-law and mother in deep conversation.

“Your brother-in-law brings sad tidings,” Mother declared.

“I’m afraid Carissa is feeling unwell. I have demanded she stay in bed and rest,” Malcolm said as Laura entered the room.

Laura couldn’t help but frown. “Perhaps we should go and tend to her, Mother.”

Malcolm spun on his heel. “There is no need. She was already sleeping by the time I left.”

Laura met his gaze and raised a brow in question. “Surely when she awakens she will need someone to assist her.”

Malcolm shook his head. “I have everything well under control. I just wanted to stop by and let you know that she would be unable to join you today. Now if you’ll excuse me, I must hurry or I’ll be late for my next appointment.”

Laura wanted to ask him about his job, but Malcolm was already halfway to the door. She followed him and when he opened the front door, Laura called out, “What type of sickness is my sister suffering?”

Malcolm stopped just outside the house. He looked at her with an expression that suggested annoyance. “Nothing more than a headache. I’m sure she’ll feel better soon.”

Laura narrowed her gaze. “I suppose she’s been working too hard . . . moving furniture and such.”

Malcolm looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. “Movin’ furniture? Hardly. Carissa wouldn’t have the ability to move those heavy pieces. Now if you’ll excuse me, I must be on my way.”

Laura watched him hurry to where he’d tied off his horse. Malcolm mounted and gave her a brief salute, then kicked the horse harder than needed. He had no way of knowing that by his own admission he had condemned himself. No doubt the bruises Carissa suffered were delivered by his hands. Laura could only pray that Carissa’s headache, if indeed it was a simple headache, wasn’t also brought on by Malcolm’s actions.

M
alcolm rolled a cigarette between his fingers and threw a furtive glance at the man seated directly across from him.

“What were you able to learn, Jed?”

The man glanced over his shoulder toward the open door of Lowe’s home office. “You sure we’re safe here?” He didn’t wait for a reply but continued in a rapid drawl. “I reckon you know about all them fellas who was taken off Mustang Island two days back. The army figures they were up to no good. Fact is, those men were just huntin’ jackrabbits. Well, one of the men is Ralph Masters’ little brother Tommie. Now Ralph wants to bust him and his friends out. Said he was figuring to come see you about it.”

“We haven’t got time to be worryin’ over such trivial matters and we can’t risk being found out. We have a higher callin’ to put our minds to. Tell Masters I said to forget about springin’ Tommie and get back to findin’ a way to get us more guns.”

Jed nodded. “I told him you’d say that. He don’t cotton to his baby brother havin’ to sit in jail, but I told him weren’t no skin off his nose. Them Yankees will let those boys go soon as they make a show at holdin’ ’em.”

“That’s my thought, as well.” Malcolm lit his cigarette. “What about the powder coming up from Mexico?”

The man leaned back and shrugged. “Ain’t right sure. The fellas that was supposed to bring it in fell on hard times with the law in Brownsville.”

Malcolm lowered his cigarette and blew out a thick puff of smoke. “We don’t have time for this kind of nonsense. Where is the wagon?”

“I was told it’s in a barn on the other side of the border. I’m guessin’ it’s probably with the Sanchez family.”

“We haven’t got time for guesswork. Ride down there tonight and bring that wagon back. Take Bill and Sam with you if you can’t manage it alone. Just do what you need to do and get back here with that gunpowder.”

Jed got to his feet. “There’s one more thing.”

Malcolm eyed him a moment, then took a long drag on the cigarette. “Go on,” he finally said.

“Well, word’s come that the Yankees are plannin’ to move the colored troops out of here by the first part of November.”

“They’ve been rumoring such things for months.”

“But this time we got more proof,” Jed replied. “Sam’s wife works at the Ironclad House, as you’ll recall. She says it’s come down all official-like. The Yankees are trying to make the folks in Corpus feel better, I guess.”

Malcolm considered this news for a moment. “The Yankees don’t care how we feel. They imposed black soldiers on us as a means of humiliation. I doubt Sherman or Grant care a lick about our feelings.” He grew silent for a moment and reflected on their plans. “We’ll just have to work harder and faster. We can’t hope to restart the fightin’ unless we make a good show of killin’ most of the colored forces. Once the Yankees see how determined we are, then they’ll skedaddle in fear.”

“You reckon they’ll let Texas go back to bein’ its own country?” Jed asked.

Malcolm shrugged. “If they need persuadin’, I’m sure we can do that.” Just then he heard the front door open and jumped to his feet.

Carissa had gone out shopping earlier and wasn’t due back until much later. Malcolm put a finger to his lips and Jed nodded.

“Malcolm?” Carissa called. “Malcolm, are you home?”

She entered the office and stopped short at the sight of Jed Lanz.

“What are you doing here?” Malcolm demanded.

“I might ask you the same thing. I saw your horse out front.” Her expression immediately turned worried. “You didn’t lose your job, did you?”

Malcolm glared. “Jed, I think we’re done for the day. Go on and see to those things we talked about.”

Jed nodded and gave a slight bow in Carissa’s direction. “Ma’am.”

Malcolm barely allowed for the front door to slam before turning to his wife. “You said you’d be gone most of the day. I don’t appreciate you lying to me.”

“I wasn’t lying,” she stated. “I wasn’t feeling well, so I finished my shopping early.”

Malcolm glanced at the clock. It was nearly two. He still needed to ride out to meet with a couple of the men at the shack outside of town. He got to his feet and began to stuff papers into a satchel.

“Why are you home?” Carissa asked in an innocent manner.

Malcolm paused. “My business is just that. My business.”

She shrugged. “I just wondered, that’s all. I would have come home sooner and fixed you some lunch . . . had I known you were here.” She smiled sweetly.

She was really quite a beauty, Malcolm thought to himself. If there were more time, he might very well like to linger here with her. They were, after all, newlyweds.

“You didn’t lose your job, did you?” Carissa asked again. There was a disapproving tone to her voice that irritated Malcolm more than he could explain.

He fixed her with a cold, hard stare. “What did I just say about my business being my own?”

Carissa narrowed her eyes. He could see that her stubborn determination was about to rear its ugly head. He held up his index finger. “Before you think to sass me, remember what happened the last time.”

He could see the words had their desired effect. Carissa seemed to shrink before his very eyes. Malcolm glanced at the clock again and went back to shoving papers into the satchel. “I did not lose my job. We were well ahead on orders and they closed the mill early.”

Carissa accepted the lie as easily as she had accepted his others. “I see. Well, I certainly hope they won’t dock you in pay. After all, good work should be rewarded.”

“I’m sure that’s what they meant to do by giving us time off,” Malcolm said, barely keeping his temper in check. “So if I were you, I wouldn’t worry my pretty little head about whether there will be a smaller paycheck. Haven’t I provided well for you?”

He hadn’t, but it didn’t hurt to suggest that he had. Even if her parents had purchased the house and most of its furnishings, Malcolm put food on the table. She couldn’t fault him for that.

“I suppose you have.”

Her simple statement irked Malcolm, but he didn’t have time to deal with her. “I won’t be back until late. Maybe you should take that time to practice cooking and knitting.”

“That reminds me of two things,” Carissa said quickly. “One is that I wondered when we might hire some help. Nothing too fancy—maybe a cook and a housekeeper.”

“You’re the cook and housekeeper,” he said, losing his patience. “That’s what God intended you to do, along with pleasing me. And what would please me just now is for you to stop complainin’ about hired help.”

“Well then, I wonder if we might set plans into motion for our first dinner party.”

He looked at her and shook his head. “A minute ago you were worried about whether the mill was going to dock my pay, and now you want to spend money to hire servants and throw an elaborate party?”

“Not elaborate. Just something simple. It’s expected, and if you want to stay in the good graces of society . . . well . . . it’s just one of those things that must be done.”

Malcolm frowned. He’d never known much about society. Having been raised solely by his father, Malcolm had avoided such matters. It was only by happenstance that he had found himself marrying Carissa Marquardt from one of Corpus Christi’s finer families. The money and connections her family afforded him were too great to pass by. Why her parents had ever agreed to allow them to court and eventually marry was beyond him. He supposed it had to do with the fact that Carissa was a spoiled brat. Even now she was pouting.

“If we do not host a dinner to show everyone how happy we are,” Carissa continued, “people will talk.”

“Let them,” he said, closing the latches on the satchel. “Our happiness is none of their business.”

Carissa shook her head. “I realize you aren’t from . . . the city, but in society this is the way things are done. To breech that etiquette will bring unwanted attention. If we avoid socializing for much longer, the pastor will feel it necessary to pay us a visit.”

Malcolm scowled. “I won’t be dictated to by your social circles.” But in truth, he needed those irritating people in order to move about freely and gain information. He softened his expression. “But if you want a dinner party, then I will allow for it.”

She smiled and rushed into his arms. “Thank you. I’ll be very careful with the expenses. Perhaps Mother would even help me.”

He kissed her hard, then put her away from him. “I need to go. I have things to tend to.”

“But when will you return?”

“Carissa, we’ve gone over this before. I’m a man of business. You are my wife. You have no right to challenge my authority.” He narrowed his eyes. “Now stop pestering me or . . .” He let the words trail off. She knew good and well that his temper could get the best of him.

She hugged her arms to her breasts. “You’ve changed. You aren’t the same man who courted me.”

He laughed in a harsh manner and pushed past her. “I’ve always been this man, Carissa. You just never bothered to notice. You were too busy batting your eyes and playing upon my manly nature.” Pausing at the door, Malcolm turned and met his wife’s disappointed expression.

“The sooner you come to understand, the better. I’m a man of opportunity. Now that the war is over, there are a great many opportunities that demand my attention. Stay out of my business, or suffer the consequences.”

Laura picked at her dinner and noticed that her mother and father were equally lost in thought. The house wasn’t the same without the vivacious Carissa to entertain them with her stories of whom she’d seen that day and what they were doing.

Pushing back the half-eaten meal, Laura sighed. “What news is there from town, Father?”

Her father looked up in surprise. “News? I could not say. I’ve been busy working to push through those plans for the dredging of the harbor channels.”

It was a boring topic, but Laura thought it better than nothing at all. “And have the plans been approved?”

“No,” her father replied. “There are still arguments about the best places to dig and the cost to do so. I continue to remind everyone from the mayor to the businessmen of this fair city that the sooner we have a more adequate shipping lane, the more money and commerce we can move in Corpus.”

“Seems reasonable,” Laura said.

“You would like to imagine it so,” her father said in disgust, “but it is far from the truth. As a Southern state, we are being punished, despite there being a fair number of Union supporters here who remained loyal.”

Laura at last found interest in his comments. “Punished in what way?”

“Funding and leadership, primarily. Texas wouldn’t have even joined the Union had it not been due to a desperate need for money and protection. The former more than the latter as far as most Texan men are concerned.

“Now the government in Washington wants to force its authority on each of the rebellious states to drive home a point of subjugation. We haven’t even been formally allowed to rejoin the Union. God alone knows when sound judgment will prevail in Washington.”

“Goodness, Stanley, must we talk of such things?” Mother said, motioning for the maid to clear the table.

“Well, it seems we must,” he replied. “The days to come are going to be grim if people do not learn to put aside their anger. It’s not just a matter of Union and Confederate; it’s arguments over Protestant and Catholic, black and white, Mexican and Indian. Not to mention that there is a push to populate this state with those who would just as soon return to the days of the Texas Republic. If we don’t find a way to unite in our efforts and stand together as an American state, I fear we may well find ourselves fighting yet another war.”

“Oh, surely not,” Mother said. “So much destruction has already been done. So many of our gallant lads have died or suffered horrible wounds.” She shuddered. “I simply cannot speak on this subject anymore.” She started to rise and Laura’s father went quickly to assist her. “I will bid you both good evening. I believe I will retire early to my rooms. I feel a headache coming on.”

“Good night, Mother,” Laura said.

Father kissed Mother on her cheek and whispered something Laura couldn’t hear. She hoped her father would sit again so that she might speak to him about her brother-in-law. She wanted to see if he might share any of her concerns.

Settling back in his chair, Father peered down at his empty coffee cup.

“I can pour you another cup,” Laura said, getting to her feet. “I was hoping you might spend a few more minutes in my company. I must admit that I miss the long talks we used to have during the war. You always made me feel so safe. . . .” She retrieved the silver pot. “So safe and at peace. I knew that while the world had gone mad outside our walls, inside things remained much the same.”

Laura poured the coffee and returned the pot to the sideboard. “You have always had a gentle spirit, Father. I love that about you. You care about the people around you, no matter the color of their skin or the view of their politics. I suppose that’s why I’ve always enjoyed our talks. You’ve helped me to think and evaluate the world in a way that so many of my friends could not.”

“You’ve a quick mind, Laura. It’s not often appreciated in a woman, but I find it quite valuable.”