Dorothy Garlock (28 page)

The other man dismounted, left his horse in the care of the servant, and came forward with his hat beneath his arm. He was almost too pretty to be a man, with his pink cheeks, merry blue eyes, and light brown hair that curled to his shoulders. He stood hesitantly, a slight smile on his face.

“Hartley Van Buren, Mr. Merrick. I always think it wise to stay out of family squabbles,” he said with a chuckle.

“Smart of you,” Jeff said dryly, and took the hand he offered.

“We would appreciate your hospitality for a short while. The magistrate at Saint Charles was good enough to provide us with a map of likely locations for our landing sites, which should expedite matters greatly.”

Jeff’s eyes went to his brother. “I’ll stand for no abuse of Callie or the boys.”

“Boys?” Jason’s face wore a puzzled look.

“Yes,
boys.
Callie was pregnant when you left her. She had your son with only Henry to help her while Jute went through a blizzard to get the Cornicks.” Anger surfaced again and Jeff’s voice was thick with it.

“I swear I didn’t know, Jefferson.”

“Would it have mattered if you had?”

“I honestly don’t know,” Jason said slowly.

The brothers looked into each other’s eyes for a long while, and when Jeff spoke his voice was low and menacing. “You leave Callie alone.”

“What do you mean leave her alone? She’s my wife.” Jason attempted a cocky grin, but it faded in the face of the thundercloud look that spread across Jeff’s face.

“You know what I mean. Stay out of her bed.”

Jason threw back his head and laughed. “So that’s the way the wind blows. You’ve been diddling with—”

“Don’t say it!” Jeff’s hand snaked out and grabbed the front of his brother’s coat. “You say one rotten thing about that woman and I’ll beat you to a bloody pulp! She’s worth ten of you!”

“All right, all right.” Jason was trying to straighten his ascot and bring order to his clothing. He looked beyond Jeff and a smile came on his handsome face. “Well, look who we have here. Hello . . . again.”

Jeff turned to see Maggie coming toward them. He looked back at his brother and found his eyes riveted hungrily on the small figure with the hauntingly beautiful face.

Maggie went straight to Jeff and took hold of his hand. She looked like a tiny, perfectly formed doll. She was wearing leather breeches and moccasins. Her loose shirt was tied around her small waist and did nothing to disguise her soft breast. Soft, tumbled, black curls framed her face and cascaded down her back.

Jason was looking at her in awed silence, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

Maggie looked up at Jeff. “Is he your brother? He don’t act like you.”

“We had the same mother, but a different upbringing. I suppose that accounts for the difference.”

She nodded, agreeing to what he said, and went to the wolf-dog, patted his head, then walked around the black servant, looking him over. Jason and Hartley didn’t take their eyes off the girl. It was as if they couldn’t believe what they were seeing.

“Who is she?” Jason asked. “We’ve had several glimpses of her since we left Saint Charles. But when we tried to get near her she disappeared like a mist.”

“Her name is Maggie and she belongs to the homesteaders you just passed,” Jeff said with a frown. He didn’t like the lustful look on either man’s face.

Maggie came back to him. “C’n I ride with you, Jeff?”

“Of course. Are you going to my place or to the Cornicks’?”

“To Biedy. She makes me pie.”

“Won’t you introduce me, brother?” Jason said with bright, interested eyes on Maggie.

“And me,” Hartley added.

“No, I won’t,” Jeff said bluntly. “Maggie isn’t for the likes of either of you.” He mounted his horse and reached for her hand to pull her up behind him. He motioned for Jute to lead out and he turned the horse toward the end of the caravan; Henry followed.

Jason accepted the help of the servant when he mounted his horse. His steady gaze was focused on Henry, clearly intending to intimidate.

“You’ve done all right for yourself, Henry. That’s a fine horse you’re riding. Can you shoot that musket?”

“Yassa,” Henry said evenly.

Jason edged his horse in between Jeff’s and Henry’s. “That’s good. You never know when you’ll have to use it.”

“Yassa. Dat what Mista Jeff say.” He looked squarely at his former master without a trace of submissiveness on his black face.

“I was in New Orleans when I heard you were headed back to your farm, Jefferson. Did old Tom cut the strings and let you go?” Jason’s eyes strayed continually to the girl riding behind his brother.

Jeff gave him a sharp look. “What made you think I had any ties with Tom Jefferson?”

Jason laughed. “Don’t be stupid, Jefferson. Why else would Mother name you after him? Papa was sure you were old Tom’s bastard. That’s why he hated you so much.”

Jeff’s face turned a dull red. His anger was almost choking him. Jason knew how to place his barbs.

“Your mouth will get you killed, Jason.”

Jason laughed again. “Maybe. But not by you, brother Jeff. You’re too righteous to kill your own brother. It’s common knowledge that old Tom fathered bastards all over Virginia. Our ma—”

“Shut up!” Jeff pulled up on the reins and his horse stopped. His brother’s horse moved on ahead and Jeff fell in behind, cursing himself for a fool for allowing his brother to antagonize him to the point where he lost his patience.

At the path leading to the Cornicks’, Jeff stopped and Maggie skipped off the horse. Without a word or a backward glance, she took off, running lightly toward the house, her dark hair streaming behind her.

Jason stopped his horse to watch her. “That’s some little bit of tail,” he said when Jeff moved up beside him. “She’d set New Orleans spinning on its ear!”

“Don’t get any foolish notions about Maggie,” Jeff said sharply. “You just might find a knife in your belly.”

“Like that, is it?”

“Jason, you’re a fool—a hopeless, stupid fool!”

“Maybe. But I’m not buried in the backwoods like you are, brother.”

It was noon when the party reached Berrywood. Jute was waiting beside the railed gate and closed it when they passed through. The black servant slid from the mule and hurried to help Hartley, holding the mount by the bridle while the man dismounted. Jute took the reins of Jeff’s horse, but made no attempt to assist Jason. The black servant ignored the two freedmen as if he were their superior, and Henry and Jute went about the chore of unsaddling their own mounts and Jeff’s as if the other three were not there.

There was no one in the yard waiting to welcome the visitors. Jeff silently led the group toward the house.

“This is a lovely setting for a home, Merrick,” Hartley said, his shorter legs working hard to keep pace with Jeff’s long stride. “I can see this place in a few years; sweeping lawns, circular drives, a large carriage house set over there.” He waved his arm as he talked.

Jeff scarcely heard him. He had registered the fact that Will was nowhere in sight. Now Annie Lash stepped out from the dogtrot and stood waiting. She had never looked more beautiful, or more sedately composed, and Jeff’s chest tightened with love for her. She wore one of her better everyday dresses and had a light blue apron tied about her waist. Her hair, shining in the sunlight, was coiled atop her head. It was the calm, confident look on her face that caused Jeff to feel a surge of pride. He went to her, and with his large body shielding her from the eyes of the other men, dropped a light kiss on her forehead. When he turned he had his arm around her.

“This is my fiancée, Miss Jester.” His face wore that terribly sober look Annie Lash had seen on the trail coming from Saint Charles. “Hartley Van Buren and my half brother, Jason Pickett.”

Annie Lash nodded to each man. Jason swept his hat from his head and smoothed his thick, blond hair. His face was a wreath of smiles.

“You’re full of surprises, brother. What a beauty!”

Hartley bowed after he realized she was not offering her hand. “May I congratulate you, Merrick? You have a lovely lady.” His friendly eyes rested on Annie Lash. “We’ll try to be of little bother, Miss Jester. I have my manservant who will assist you. He’ll be at your disposal at all times.”

“That’s kind of you, but unnecessary. We’re used to doing for ourselves here at Berrywood.”

Jason Pickett was not at all what Annie Lash expected a brother of Jeff’s to be. He was a very handsome, well-dressed, polished gentleman of the upper classes. There was nothing in his attitude that even suggested he felt any hesitation about returning here, or any remorse that he had left his wife and child to face possible death in the winter wilderness. He smiled charmingly, his twinkling eyes going from her to his brother.

“You sly fox, you! Why didn’t you tell me I was going to meet my future sister? You always had all the luck, Jefferson. Where did you find this beautiful lady?”

“He found me on the Bank in Saint Louis, Mr. Pickett. Your brother has an addiction for taking care of those weaker than himself.” Annie Lash carefully kept the sarcasm from her voice.

If Jason felt the barb he didn’t let on by as much as a flicker of an eyelash. He laughed easily.

“And what a pleasant task he has, ma’am.” His eyes moved beyond her, searching. “Is my wife inside?” He went to go around Annie Lash, but she moved abruptly and blocked the way so he had to follow as she led the way to the kitchen.

To Callie, sitting in the rocking chair with Abe in her lap and Amos standing beside her, it seemed as if the world had stopped and she was waiting to fall off it. She had tried to prepare Amos for meeting his father. The child had listened, round-eyed and solemn, while she tried to convince him he had nothing to fear from this man ever again. They had Jefferson and Will, she explained, who would take care of them. Amos had been unusually quiet and Callie’s heart went out to him, wondering how much a small child can remember and understand. Thank God, Will had been persuaded to go to his own homestead and she didn’t have to worry about him confronting Jason at this time.

She focused her eyes on Annie Lash when she came through the door. She had been like a rock to cling to. Her calm steadiness and her unshakable conviction that Jefferson could handle his wayward brother had helped her prepare herself for this meeting she had dreaded for so long.

When she looked at the man behind Annie Lash she was surprised to find his bold, amber eyes locked on her with smiling intensity. It was like being caught naked in a public place. Her face must have reflected the revulsion she felt because the smile left his face as he came toward her.

Until now, Amos had stood quietly, holding to the arm of the rocking chair. Now he moved around behind it.

“Hello, Callie. Jefferson tells me I have another son.” A smile flashed rakishly across his handsome face.

Callie didn’t answer and once more she found him scrutinizing her with a thoroughness that made her again feel undressed. His gaze moved unabashedly over her softly rounded breasts and then along the length of her. She knew he was doing it deliberately to unnerve her and she decided to refuse to let him.

“Me and
my
children are no longer your affair, Jason. We want nothing to do with you and want nothing from you.” She was pleased that her voice was so steady, even though she felt as if she were about to crumble into a million pieces.

Jason’s face flushed and he kept it turned away from the silent audience that stood just inside the kitchen door.

“We’ll discuss that later. Now I want to see my boy.” He moved around to the side of the chair, and Amos scooted to the other side.

“Leave him be!” Callie said sharply. She held Abe to her with one arm and circled Amos with the other. “Keep your hands off him!”

Jason’s face flushed hotly, but he persisted. He squatted down on his heels. Amos cowered against the chair, his small face set rebelliously.

“Don’t you remember your papa, boy? I’ve brought you a whistle all the way from New Orleans. Wouldn’t you like to see it?” He held out his hand and smiled with his mouth, but not his eyes.

Amos refused to look at him. His green eyes found his uncle’s face and stayed there. When he felt the hand take his arm and try to pull him forward, all the hate his little heart held for this man exploded, and he flew at him, striking him in the face with his fist before racing past him to the safety of the bedroom door, where he stood and let all his feelings flow out of him.

“I hate you, you mean old puke! You hurt me a—and ma! I wish you’d died an’ put in a hole! Go away! You’re a poot! Will’s gonna show me how to be a man! Ol’ poot . . . ol’ turd . . . ol’ pissant, and ol’ . . . shit!” With tears streaming down his freckled face, the child stood defiantly and shouted all the forbidden words he could think of to express his hatred.

Callie jumped to her feet. The look of anguish on her son’s face was almost more than she could bear. She went to him, not to reprimand him, but to comfort. Jason brushed past her, anger making his face livid.

“That’s enough!” he shouted.

Amos darted into the bedroom and slammed the door. Callie heard the stout bar Will had put there only this morning fall into place, and felt a measure of relief.

Jason pounded on the door. “What you need is a good strapping! You’re growing up to be a backwoods dolt like your ma’s folks. I won’t have it! Do you hear? You’re a Pickett, by God, and you’ll act like one!”

Callie turned on him like a spitting cat. “Leave him alone, Jason Pickett! What’s so proud about being a Pickett? The only one I know, besides my boys, is nothin’ but a low-down, lazy, shit-eatin’ buzzard that never did a day’s work in his life! I ain’t proud my boys have got to carry the name! It’s a shame they’ll have to live with it, but they don’t have to put up with your meanness! Get out!”

Jason’s face swelled with anger. The veins stood out on his forehead and his fists clenched and lifted as if he were going to strike Callie. Jeff moved quickly to her side and shoved him away from her.

Abe began to cry. This was a new sound coming from his mother and it frightened him. Annie Lash came and took him from Callie’s arms, walked to the far end of the room, held him against her shoulder, and crooned to him. Her quiet voice reassured him. He stopped crying and lay against her, sucking his thumb.