Deborah Camp (11 page)

“You’re afraid he’ll what?” Blade asked, looking
up into her face as she stood beside him. The scent of rose water drifted from her skin, and he thought how easy it would be to slip his arm around her waist and press his face between her breasts.

“I’m afraid he’ll become so unhappy that he’ll run away and try to go back to Baltimore,” she confessed, her eyes glittering like sapphires.

“He’ll want to stay close to you,” Blade reassured her.

She moved away to place the pot back on the stove. Instead of sitting down again, she went to the front window and looked out at the moon-splashed land. “Is that your wife’s grave out there?”

“Yes.”

“Would you mind if I planted some flowers around it? Maybe some jonquils or tea roses?”

Her beauty, inside and out, astounded him. He ached to tell her so, but he was afraid he’d sound stupid. He didn’t know how to talk to a woman like her—a woman raised around poetry and social graces.

Elise was as bright as a daffodil and as talkative as a magpie. Her personality bubbled. In a way, she was easy to talk to, he realized, because she wasn’t shy or awkward.

She turned sideways to face him. “Would that be all right with you, Blade?”

He blinked, remembering her question. “Yes. She would have liked that.”

“Good.”

What a smile she had! His heart lifted and he felt himself smile back.

“Thank you, Blade.”

“For what?”

“For agreeing to take me and Penny to see
Adam. I was beginning to think you were going to try to keep us from him.”

“Why would I do that?” He pushed his chair back from the table and stretched out his legs, crossing them at the ankles.

She tapped a finger against her lower lip in thoughtful regard. “Do you like the judge?”

Blade ran a hand down his face to camouflage any grimace that might cross it; then he clasped his hands behind his head. “What you should understand is that Judge Mott is an important person in Crossroads.”

“Why? What’s he done?”

“He knew important people during the War Between the States. He’s got money, too, and land. He leases out a few houses in town.”

“Does he still serve on the bench or is he retired?”

“Retired. He’s a gentleman farmer now.”

“Gentleman farmer. Is there a distinction there?”

Blade grinned. “Gentlemen farmers let others tend their fields while they watch.”

“Oh, I see.” She glided back to the table and began stacking the soiled dishes.

Her hands were small-boned and without scars or wrinkles. Smooth, he thought. They’d feel like lotion on a man’s skin.

“But you didn’t answer my question, Blade. Do you like the judge?”

“I did answer your question,” he corrected her. “You just didn’t listen.” He stood and opened the stove door. While he added a few more sticks of wood to the fire, he sensed her frowning countenance. “What you didn’t hear is that whether or not I like the judge doesn’t matter one whit.” He
straightened slowly to face her. “While we’re at his place, you let me do the talking.”

“Why? What’s wrong with the judge? Is he fearsome?”

“He’s powerful and he’s got an eye for the ladies.” He couldn’t resist chucking her lightly under the chin. “Try not to chatter like a squirrel around him. He might take it wrong and think you’re looking to be unfaithful to your new husband.” He grinned at her shocked expression.

“He doesn’t sound like a gentleman to me!”

Blade plucked his hat off the peg by the door. “I’m going to check on the stock.”

“Blade?”

He turned back to her. Her eyes were wide with worry.

“Adam’s all right, isn’t he? Judge Mott wouldn’t hurt him or anything?”

“You can see for yourself tomorrow.” He closed the door on any other sticky questions she might ask him. He didn’t want to add to her fears and he didn’t want to lie to her. He only hoped that tomorrow’s visit wouldn’t make matters worse—for all of them.

“O
h, my!” Spying Judge Mott’s plantation house, Elise snapped to attention next to Blade on the wagon seat.

“What do you see?” Penny asked, scrambling up behind them and placing a hand on their shoulders to steady herself.

“The house,” Elise said. “Will you look at that place! It’s very grand, isn’t it?” She turned to Blade, who looked fine in a clean white shirt, black vest and black trousers. The sun blinked off his highly polished black boots. “Did he have it built?”

“No, it was already there, but it was damaged some during the war and he fixed it up. Airy Peppers’s cousin was born and raised there.”

“You’re talking about Dixie Shoemaker?”

“That’s right. You remember her from the train station?”

“Yes, and Airy talks about her a lot. So that was her family home? Did they lose it during the war?”

“Her family died off during the war. All that she had left was Airy, Airy’s folks, three or four brothers and sisters, all living in the Carolinas. Dixie married an older man and they tried to keep the family place, but he died and Dixie couldn’t do it
by herself. She was behind on taxes, and Judge Mott paid them up and took over the place. Dixie runs the boardinghouse in town now.”

“I don’t suppose she or Airy much likes Judge Mott.”

“Has Airy said something to you about him?”

“No.” Elise pondered his rapping tone. “Why, is there something I should be told about?”

He pulled his “town” hat—black with a red band—down lower on his forehead. “Remember about keeping quiet.”

“Yes, yes.” She yanked at her black gloves. “I’ll mind my tongue, and so will Penny. I swear, you act as if this man is a coyote and we’re a bunch of helpless lambs.”

Judge Mott was sitting in a savanna chair on the edge of a field where men toiled with plows and mules. An umbrella stuck in a stand shaded him from the sun. He wore black from head to foot, and his longish white hair was gathered into a short queue that peeked out from under his hat.

Hearing the wagon, he looked over his shoulder, then returned his attention to the field. Elise could sense his instant, blazing displeasure at having company. She’d seen him clutch the chair arms and his eyes narrow. Beside her, Blade had also tensed, encouraging Elise to closely observe the behavior of the two men. No matter what Blade said—or wouldn’t say—it was obvious he didn’t like the judge one bit.

Blade stopped the wagon near the older man’s folding chair, alighted, then helped Elise and Penny down to the gravel road. He motioned for them to stand back while he approached the silent Judge Mott.

“ ’Morning,” Blade offered, stopping beside the
gleaming cherry-wood chair. “Thought you’d like to meet my new family.”

The judge’s dark eyes lifted up to confront Blade. “I didn’t expect visitors, Lonewolf, so I can’t offer any hospitality. Of course, surprise guests don’t deserve much, to my way of thinking.”

Elise’s spine stiffened. She heard him say something else, his voice dropping to a whisper, and she moved forward in time to catch the last few words.

“… don’t want any interference from them!”

She cleared her throat noisily and reached back to grip Penny’s hand. Both men twisted around to her. The judge finally rose to his feet and touched the brim of his hat. He offered her a mendacious smile.

He was older than Blade, but not as elderly as Elise had first thought. His white hair, she supposed, had been that color for most of his life. It was odd that his eyebrows and mustache had not also turned white, but remained coal black.

She took him to be about fifty years old; a fit fifty, as he sported strong hands, erect posture and a trim physique. His skin was the color of paste, his lips too thin, his eyes set too close. He’d tied a charcoal-colored handkerchief around his neck, and it was spotted with perspiration.

“Mrs. Lonewolf, I take it?”

Not used to that name yet, Elise forgot what she was going to say to him and merely extended a gloved hand, which the judge immediately accepted. Bending at the waist, he pressed his lips to the black satin before letting go.

“Lonewolf, you are a lucky, lucky man,” he said, never taking his eyes off Elise. “First Julia and now her. How do you do it? Why, my mouth simply
waters when I imagine having something so delectable in my life.”

“This is Penny,” Blade said, resting a hand on the child’s head.

Elise released a long, quiet breath as the judge switched his attention to Penny. She wiped her gloved hand on her skirt, giving in to an impulse she couldn’t resist. Feeling soiled and wanting to spare Penny, she pinched a pleat in her sister’s russet pinafore and tugged her backward, then slipped a protective arm around the girl.

“Charmed. If I’d known you were coming, I would have told my cook to bake some fudge for you.”

“We didn’t want you to go to any trouble,” Blade said. “I brought them to see where their brother lives.”

“And to see our brother, of course,” Elise added, gaining glares of irritation from both Blade and Judge Mott.

Penny pressed a forefinger to her lips. “Shhh,” she hissed at Elise. “We told him we’d be quiet,” she whispered.

Mott hooked his thumbs beneath his gray suspenders and ran them up and down as his gaze did the same over Elise’s face and body. “The boy’s not here.”

“Where is he?” Elise asked, refusing to be hushed and wishing she could yell at him to stop inspecting her as if she were on the auction block.

“Harriet took him into town.” The judge leaned toward her and winked. “Harriet’s my missus. She’s not much older than you.”

An ebony-skinned man approached, hat in hand, his face shiny with sweat.

“Mistah Judge?”

“Yes, what is it, Hamm?”

“You want I should wash the buggy now, Mistah Judge?”

“Didn’t I say I wanted it washed this morning? Go and do it and don’t bother me. I’m speaking to these people.”

“Yes, suh.” The man hurried away.

“They’re like children,” the judge complained. “Can’t do anything without asking a hundred questions.” He rubbed a finger over his thin mustache. “Take my new ward; why, he doesn’t know anything about farming. I never saw a male child so dense in all my born days.” He seemed to enjoy Elise’s look of outrage. “I was telling Harriet only this morning that the boy was dumber than any woman on God’s green earth. He doesn’t know a hoe from a whore, that one.”

Elise opened her mouth to give the judge a tongue-lashing, but Blade’s even tone cut her off.

“What’s going on in town?”

“Not a thing that I know of,” the judge said, dancing around Blade’s real inquiry.

“You said the boy was in town,” Blade expounded with a droll quirk of his lips.

“That's right. Harriet’s having him fitted for some clothing. He didn’t have any proper work pants or shirts. Needs a hat, too.” Mott propped a hand on the back of the savanna chair and addressed Elise. “We work for our supper around these parts, Mrs. Lonewolf. Your brother will learn valuable lessons with me.” He sighed heavily. “I only wish he knew something about farm work. I don’t have the time or the patience to teach him every little…” He stopped and his gaze shifted to Blade. “Maybe you can help me out there, Lonewolf.”

Blade stood with his hands shoved in his pockets, his stance casual, but Elise sensed his alertness, as if he were ready to defend or defeat.

“You seem to have taken an interest in the boy, so I’ll bring him around early tomorrow and leave him with you. You can teach him how to plow. I told him to watch my workers, but he hasn’t caught on.”

Elise could tell that Blade was on the verge of declining. A frown pinched the skin between his eyes and he pursed his mouth as if he’d tasted something sour. She knew he was forming a polite refusal, so she jumped in ahead of him.

“Please do, Judge Mott.” Elise ignored Blade’s thunderous glare. “Blade will be happy to teach him, and I’ll be happy to see my brother again.”

“Now, now, Mrs. Lonewolf, let’s get something straight. I’m expecting the boy to learn how to work, so I don’t want you coddling him. He’s had too much of that already. That's why he’s not worth spit.”

“I beg your pardon, sir!” Elise guided Penny behind her, shielding her from the argument she was about to commence. “My brother is—”

“Bring him around after breakfast,” Blade interrupted, angling his body so that he partially blocked Elise from the judge’s view. “I’ll do what I can.”

“That’s what I like to hear. I scratch your back, you scratch mine.” Mott chuckled, then sat in the savanna chair under the umbrella. “I’ll tell Rusty y’all came by.”

“Who is Rusty?” Elise asked.

“That's what I named him.”

Elise’s mouth dropped open. “N-named him! He has a name, sir. Adam Jamison St. John.”

“He’ll go by Rusty around here,” the judge said, his tone ringing with finality. “Elmer!” he yelled across the field. “Straighten up your row or I’ll box your ears!” He grabbed up a paper fan and created a sultry breeze in front of his face. “Damn darkies,” he muttered. “Gotta watch them every minute.”

Blade’s fingers bit into Elise’s elbow and he forced her to turn around, then herded her and Penny to the wagon.

“Rusty, indeed,” Elise huffed as Blade pushed her up into the wagon. She fluffed her skirts, her anger building as she directed a scathing glance at the back of the judge’s head. “And he called his workers darkies as if they are slaves! Someone should inform him that
the war is over and the Rebels lost
!” She said the last more loudly, and even though the judge didn’t turn around, she knew by the way he stopped fanning for a moment that he had heard her.

Blade swung up beside her, grabbed the reins and jerked the team into a tight circle. He issued a shrill whistle to urge the mules forward.

“I suppose you’re irritated with me,” Elise said, reaching for the parasol at her feet.

“Irritated, hell! I’m so mad I ought to paint my face for war!” He swung around to her, muscles working in his jawline and a vein throbbing in his left temple. “What did I ask you to do? I asked one damned thing of you, and you promised me you’d do it. What? Tell me!”