Patricia Hagan (2 page)

Claudia stared at her in wonder. This was no longer her obedient, loving, eighteen-year-old daughter. This was a woman, a bitter, strong, woman…and a stranger.

The sound of wagon wheels churning against dry earth brought Holly’s attention back to the window again. She saw her mother approaching in Grandpa’s old buckboard, the lazy old mule pulling. How happy she looks, Holly reflected resentfully. How happy and pleased with things. Her mother had declared the war over. The wounds should be allowed to heal, she declared. Everyone had to work together and rebuild. And that, Holly thought bitterly, meant cozying up to the damn Yankee carpetbaggers swarming all over Mississippi and the rest of the South like buzzards on a carcass.

The Yankees, her mother said, were no longer enemies. Now they were “sentinels,” trying to restore the glorious union.

Hogwash, Holly told herself as she watched her mother draw the mule to a stop and alight to the ground with a youthful spring. She was a beautiful woman, with limpid hazel eyes and milk-white skin.

Claudia began to call to her as she picked her way carefully up the crumbling steps. “Holly? Where are you, dear? I know you’re in here. Heaven knows, you hang around this depressing place every day. I don’t want to have to look for you.” She poked her head through the archway to the parlor, eyes narrowing as her gaze adjusted to the shadowed light. “There you are. Really, Holly, it just isn’t healthy for you to pine away here. I know it isn’t pleasant at the shack, dear, but—”

“It is
very
pleasant at the shack,” Holly interrupted coldly. “I love it there. It makes me feel close to Grandpa. I come here because I never want to forget what they did to him, to all of us.” She turned away, washed once more with the fury and rage that had become her vital force.

Claudia sighed. “I have good news. Two bits of good news, in fact. First, I think I’ve finally worked it out for us to move to Vicksburg.”

Warily, Holly turned to face her.

Claudia ignored the storminess of her cinnamon eyes and hastened on. “Ben Cunningham came to see me this afternoon. Bless his heart, he’s been through so much, coming home from the war with one leg gone, finding Twyla was dead. He’s tried to pick up the pieces, and he just can’t. Goodness, he’s got those small children to look after, and—”

“What does all of this have to do with us?” Holly asked impatiently. Her mother was very nervous about something.

Claudia walked into the room, pressing her hands tightly against her bosom. “Ben brought me word from his sister, Abby, in Vicksburg. She’s all alone in that big house. You did know she lost her husband toward the end of the war? She says we’re welcome to come and stay with her as long as we want, till we decide what we want to do.”

Holly’s lips tightened. She had no intention of moving and said so. “I know what
I
want to do, Mother, and I intend to do it. I’m going to stay here and rebuild Magnolia Hall. Maybe you can walk away and not look back, but I can’t. I owe it to Papa and Grandpa…and myself.” She turned to the window once more. “I promised Grandpa I’d never give up his land, and I won’t.”

Claudia hurried forward and held Holly by the shoulders. “Believe me, Holly darling, I know how you feel, but we’ve got to go forward. We can’t cling to the past. There’s nothing for us here. How can two helpless women keep this land going? We can’t even pay the taxes, so in a few more days this land won’t even be ours anymore.”

Adamantly, Holly said, “I’ll find a way. There’s the silver we buried, and the jewelry. We can sell it to pay the taxes.” The odd silence that followed caused Holly to turn slowly to her mother, who couldn’t face her. “You sold it, didn’t you?” she whispered. She gestured helplessly to the stylish gray velvet riding dress Claudia was wearing. “I should have known. The way you’ve been dressing lately. Oh, why didn’t I realize? You’ve sold our things, haven’t you?”

Claudia turned away and began to pick absently at the shreds of peach satin that clung to the wall. “I had no choice, Holly. It isn’t just the clothes—though heaven knows, we’ve been in rags. We had no food. I didn’t get much, anyway. The Yankees have money to buy all the silver they want, and the Southerners need food, not silver, on the table. But the jewelry…I can’t part with that. It’s all I have left that your father gave me.”

“What clothes, Mother? And what food? I’ve caught fish, trapped squirrels and rabbits. Last week I shot a deer. We haven’t starved.”

Claudia whispered hoarsely, “We both need clothes, Holly, so we can return to a decent life. I ordered gowns made for us both. They’re being made at the dressmaker’s, and that’s the other good news I have for you. We must move to Vicksburg at once.” Her voice rose with renewed confidence. “Jarvis Bonham has finally invited us to one of his fancy parties. I was in Vicksburg today at the dressmaker’s, and then I had tea at the hotel with Ben’s sister. He was there—Jarvis, that is—and we talked.” She reached for Holly’s stiff hands, ignoring her daughter’s cringing reaction, the marble coldness of her skin. “Jarvis is such a wonderful man, Holly,” she gushed. “He’s doing so much to help build things up again. Why, already he’s got a large lumber mill going. He’s providing jobs for so many people. I know you’ll like him, if you’ll just meet him and give him a chance.”

Holly was struggling to restrain her temper. This was, after all, her mother, and she loved and respected her. No matter that she was weak, and, yes, selfish. No matter that Claudia was the daughter of a dirt-poor sharecropper and had used her beauty to marry into one of the richest and most prominent families in all of Mississippi. Maybe she had married her father for his money and social position, but she had loved him later and made him happy, Holly knew that. She bit her tongue to keep from saying anything she shouldn’t say.

“How is it you know Mr. Bonham so well?” she asked.

Claudia averted her gaze, then forced a nervous smile. “I…I do go into town a good bit, dear. You know how I hate that wretched shack. I have tea with old friends, and…and…they tell me things. I’m told Mr. Bonham is becoming the social leader of Vicksburg.”

“How did you meet him?”

Claudia’s answer was quick, almost defensive. “I went to a tea one afternoon and he was there. I liked him. He’s quite charming.”

Instinctively, Holly knew it was more than that. It had been two years since Papa’s death. It was only natural that her mother would be thinking about her future, the company of men. “He’s a widower?”

Claudia nodded. “A fever. Some years ago.”

“Children?”

“A son. Several years older than you.” She stared at Holly, desperate for some morsel of understanding, and cried, “Oh, Holly darling, please understand. I’ve been so lonely. It’s been a terrible time. I don’t want to wither away out here in squalor and poverty. Don’t condemn me.”

Holly saw a glimmer of tears in her mother’s eyes and felt a true sympathy for her misery. “I don’t condemn you, Mother. I want you to be happy. It’s just that I can’t forget as easily as you can. Or forgive. I won’t interfere with your life if you show me the same respect.”

Claudia brightened. “Oh, I will,” she said, “but if you’d just come to the party, Holly, and give yourself a chance to meet new people, you’d make me so happy. I’m having a gorgeous gown made for you. Green satin. It will be so lovely with your hair.”

Holly shook her head. She did not want to go.

Claudia persisted. “Jarvis is having the party to welcome the new officer assigned to command the Reconstruction army. It can be sort of a debut for you into Vicksburg society. Please?”

Holly hated the desperation in her mother’s eyes. “I have no interest in meeting men, particularly Yankees. I’ve heard of Jarvis Bonham. He’s a carpetbagger. He came to Mississippi like a vulture after carrion, taking advantage of the starving. You do what you feel is right for you, Mother, and give me the same privilege, please.”

Claudia shook her head fiercely. “I won’t let you have that opinion of Jarvis. It isn’t fair. He didn’t come here to get wealthy. He’s wealthy already from his many businesses. He wants to be my friend…our friend. He’s brought money
to
the South, not taken it out.” She paused, pushed a strand of hair back from her face, and gathered a little more nerve. “Very well. Perhaps it’s best I tell you now. Jarvis is buying Magnolia Hall for the taxes owed on it—taxes we can’t pay. He’s going to rebuild it, create a house even more magnificent than the original. He understands how much it means to me to know I won’t be losing my home to a stranger. Why, he’s even agreed to pay me a small sum so I won’t feel that I’ve lost everything.”

Holly saw the hope in her mother’s eyes and knew Claudia was begging for understanding, but she couldn’t stand any more. “Mother, you can’t let him take our home. He’s nothing but a dirty, greedy carpetbagger!”

“I have no choice. What else can I do? You should be grateful to Jarvis. He doesn’t have to give me anything. All he has to do is pay the taxes and he can take over the title to this property. There is
nothing
I can do about it.”

Holly trembled with her rage. “He’s not taking Grandpa’s place! It’s mine! Grandpa left it to me. I promised him I’d never give it up, and I won’t. Maybe I can’t do anything about this place, but I’ll fight with everything I’ve got to keep what’s rightfully mine.”

Claudia stiffened. “Can you pay the taxes, Holly? Jarvis says he’s willing to take that parcel as well, so he’ll have the entire estate.”

“He’ll be damned to hell, and so will I, before I let that happen.”

With burning, defiant glares, they turned away from each other. Finally, Holly was able to speak calmly. “There is no point in our discussing this any further. I’m not moving to Vicksburg, and I will find a way to pay the taxes on
my
land. I’m staying.”

She started away, but Claudia caught her arm and spun her around. Never had Holly seen her mother so angry.

“How do you propose to do that?” Claudia demanded furiously, but her daughter refused to say. She shook loose of Claudia and kept on going, outside, across the lawn, through the woods. Damn the Yankees, and damn Jarvis Bonham and his money.

Chapter Two

Holly took a deep breath and entered the office
of the Vicksburg tax collector.

Early morning light struggled through windowpanes dusted with red clay from the street beyond. There was no furniture in the small office, only a long wooden counter the length of one wall. A tall, balding man stood behind it searching through leather-bound volumes of tax records, the pages grimy and yellowed.

Holly took her place in line, ignoring the stares of the others waiting. She knew she looked strange. She was wearing an old pair of Grandpa’s trousers, tied at the waist with a length of frayed rope. She had rolled them several times at her ankles to keep from tripping. The shirt had belonged to Grandpa, too. Her hair was twisted into a single braid. She supposed she did look a sight, but what did a young lady wear to town when she had to ride a mule? She felt like posing that question to the rudely staring man in front of her.

At last, she took her place in front of the counter and found herself staring into the disapproving eyes of the tax clerk.

“Yes?” He spoke crisply, eyes narrowed, as though accusing her of being somewhere she had no right to be.

Well, here goes, Holly thought. “My name is Holly Maxwell. I want to know the amount of taxes due on my land.”

Raising an eyebrow, he exchanged an amused glance with another official who had just come in. “Well, now, Miss Maxwell,” he looked down at her once again. “You’re going to have to give me more information than your name.”

Holly bit back an angry response. “The land may still be listed in my grandfather’s name—Daniel J. Maxwell. He died and left the property to me. It’s adjacent to my father’s land—Wesley Maxwell’s land.”

The clerk’s eyebrows shot up at once. “You’re Wesley’s girl? Daniel’s granddaughter? Well, now.” He mellowed, reaching for one of the worn volumes. “Knew you when you was knee-high to a billy goat, girl. Sure didn’t recognize you, though. Let’s see now. Maxwell. Yep.” He nodded. “The deed is still in your grandpa’s name. No trouble to get that changed, though. Just bring me his will, showing you’re the rightful heir.” Then suddenly he leaned over the counter to whisper, “Listen to me, honey. I hate to tell you this, but the taxes on that land haven’t been paid since before the war. Adding on the interest, the amount comes to quite a lot. Almost two hundred dollars. You don’t have that kind of money, I know. Lots of folks with land more valuable than this are losing it right and left, and—”

“I am well aware of how the carpetbaggers are taking advantage of people’s misfortunes, sir,” Holly interrupted. “I will get the money to pay the taxes.”

She turned to go, and the clerk called after her, “Today’s Tuesday. The tax sale is going to be Friday on the courthouse steps. So if you don’t have that money in here by midnight Thursday, it’ll be sold. You’d be smart to not waste your time worrying about it, ’cause I hear Mr. Jarvis Bonham is going to buy all your daddy’s land. Your grandpa’s, too, I reckon.”

Holly turned around slowly, withering him with an icy glare. “You can tell Jarvis Bonham it will snow in hell before he or any damned carpetbagger takes my land.”

She hurried out, slamming the door. Swiftly, she made her way to Garrington’s jewelry store. The place was empty. At the sound of the bell above the door, a squat little man hurried out from behind velvet curtains. His anticipation quickly dissipated as his eyes swept over Holly in her ragged clothes. “I’m not giving handouts,” he informed her with a repugnant wriggle of his long nose. “But if you’re really hungry you can go around back and my wife might find something for you.”