Talons of Eagles (22 page)

“Falcon is bringing that Indian girl to supper Saturday night,” Kate told Jamie.

“Do I detect a note of disapproval?” Jamie asked, looking up from the newspaper.

“Oh, no! Jamie! You know better than that. I ought to slap you for even thinking that of me.” Kate removed her reading glasses and gave her husband a very dirty look.

Jamie smiled and tickled her ribs with a blunt finger. She slapped his hand away. “Son marry Cheyenne princess,” Jamie said. “Have heap many papooses.”

“You are disgusting!” Kate said, moving her chair away from his. They were sitting on the front porch enjoying the warmth of early spring in the valley.

“Besides, she's only half-Indian,” Jamie said. “Her father was French. Marie Big Wind.”

“Gentle Breeze!” Kate said with a giggle.

“Well, that's not quite it either, but close. She's a beautiful girl.”

“Yes, she is. And I'm happy for Falcon.”

Spring, 1869. Kate and Jamie were in their late fifties, and their ages were beginning to show, although neither of them looked as old as they were.

“Has anyone heard from James William?” Jamie asked. “That boy sure doesn't like to take pen in hand and write home.”

“Ellen got some letters posted to her this morning. I'm sure one of them was from James. There she is now, coming up the way.”

Down the street, Ellen waved an envelope at her parents.

“She heard from him,” Jamie said. “Kate? How old is Ellen Kathleen?”

“She and Jamie Ian were born in 1827. She'll be forty-three this summer.”

“Forty-three,” Jamie spoke the words softly. “It doesn't seem possible. Kate, we're
old!
”

She moved her chair closer to him and patted him on the arm. “We certainly didn't behave as old folks last night, dear,” she reminded him.

Jamie grunted.

“You can still work younger men into the ground, Jamie. I think we have a few good years left us.”

Ellen Kathleen climbed the steps to the house and sat down in a chair beside her mother.

“Heard from James William, did you, dear?” Kate asked.

“He's got himself a girl, Ma. Sounds serious to me.” She handed her mother the letter.

Kate began silently reading the letter.

“Am I supposed to read your mind?” Jamie asked. “Read it aloud.”

“Hush,” Kate told him, thoroughly engrossed in the letter from Virginia.

“I'll get you a cup of coffee, Pa,” Ellen said.

“That would be nice. Your ma and I are gettin' on in years. Especially your ma.” That got no response from Kate. “It's nice to have someone wait on us from time to time.” He jerked a thumb at Kate. “The old woman here is gettin' down in the back. I'm goin' to have to get her a cane, I reckon.”

Ellen gave her father a very queer look and, with a shake of her head, walked into the house for coffee.

“Old woman, you mind telling me what that damn letter says?” Jamie asked.

“Don't curse in front of the children,” Kate said, not lifting her eyes from the letter.

Jamie looked around for children. “What children?”

“Ellen Kathleen.”

“Ellen!
Hell, woman, she's a
grandmother!”

Kate reread the letter while Jamie sipped his cup of coffee, Ellen reading over her mother's shoulder.

“It sure is nice to be so well-informed,” Jamie groused. “I'll be practically a well of information after this morning.”

“Then go do it,” Kate said, without looking up. “But don't overdo it.”

Jamie blinked. “Do what?”

Kate looked up. “You just said you had to dig a well, didn't you?”

Jamie's tongue started to get sharp until he noticed the twinkle in Kate's eyes and realized she'd been funning him all along. “Very funny,” Jamie said. “Very funny.”

“James has him a girl and he's in love,” Kate told him.

“In heat, more than likely,” Jamie said.

Kate frowned and Ellen Kathleen giggled.

“They want to get married,” Kate added.

“He's too damn young. Besides, he's got his education to finnish.”

“He's nineteen years old, Jamie,” Kate said. “And he's been out there in Virginia two years. We were fourteen, remember?”

“That's different. It was a different time, different circumstances. Tell him he can't get married, Ellen. You and Bill forbid it.”

“Pa, telling a MacCallister they can't do something is like tossing grease on a fire. You know that.”

Jamie handed her his empty cup. “Get me some more coffee, girl. Your ma and I have to talk.”

“Yes, Pa. I guess when you get feeble it's nice to have a lot of kids around to wait on you.”

“What?” Kate asked.

“He said the both of you were getting on in years. You especially, Ma. He said you were broke down in the back. Said you wanted him to get you a cane.”

“Oh, did he now?”

“Well, now, that's not exactly what I said,” Jamie vocally backed up.

“I think it's time for you and I to have a little chat, Jamie Ian MacCallister,” Kate said, her eyes flashing.

“I think it's time for me to go home!” Ellen said, handing her mother the coffee cup and exiting the scene.

Jamie chuckled. “What else did the letter say, Kate?”

“Yes, I'd best read it to you, since you've reached such an advanced age your eyesight is failing you.”

Jamie had the eyes of an eagle.

Kate laughed at the retreating figure of Ellen. “Our kids still move along smartly when they think you and I are going to fuss, don't they?”

“That they do. Tell me about this girl that James William is in love with.”

“Well, she's from an old Virginia family and is beautiful.”

“What part of Virginia?”

“Around Richmond.”

“Kate, does she have a name?”

“Yes.” Kate opened the letter. “Ah, Page.”

Jamie sat very still for a moment. “Last name, Kate?” he asked softly.

She cut her eyes to him. “What's wrong, Jamie.”

“Last name, Kate?”

“Woodville.”

“Kate, I think we'd better go inside and have us a little talk.”

* * *

“Listen to me, you little fool!” Anne shouted at her daughter. “This boy is not right for you.”

“Why, Mother?” Page returned the shout.

“Because I know, that's why. I'm your mother. I know what is best for you, and James is not the right boy.”

“Name one thing that is wrong with him. I challenge you to name just one thing, Mother.”

“I forbid you to see this boy!” Anne screamed at her daughter.

“Go to hell!” Page said, and started to walk out of the room.

Anne grabbed her by the arm and spun her around. Page broke free and shoved her mother. “Don't manhandle me, Mother! I won't stand for it.”

“Page, for God's sake, listen to me. I—” Anne cut her eyes as her brother entered the room to lean insolently against the arch, that sarcastic smile on his lips. “What the hell do you want, Ross?”

“Why, I just came for a visit, sister. Did I arrive at a bad time?”

Page looked at her mother, then at her uncle. She could never understand why her mother did not get along with her brother. True, Uncle Ross was a fop, but everybody knew that. “You tell her, Uncle Ross,” Page said. “Tell her that James is a nice young man. You've met him. You know.”

“He's a nice young man, Page,” Ross agreed. “But he's not the young man for you.”

“Oohhh!” Page threw her hands into the air.

“Tell her, Anne,” Ross urged. “Tell her. She's got a right to know. She has to know. Tell her.”

“Shut your goddamn mouth!” Anne screamed at her brother.

“Tell me what?” Page asked, looking first at her mother, then at her uncle.

“Nothing, dear. Nothing at all.” Anne faced her brother. “Get out of this house, Ross. Get out, and don't ever come back. Do you understand that?”

“Perfectly. Well, as they say in merry ol' England, ta-ta, all.” Ross walked out of the great mansion.

“Tell me
what?
” Page shouted.

“I have no idea what your uncle was babbling about, Page.” Anne willed herself to calm down. “He'd been drinking. Couldn't you smell the brandy? The fool is going to fall off his horse someday and break his neck.”

Page narrowed her eyes. “What is going on, Mother? And don't lie to me. Something is very wrong. I've known it for years. Mother, I am a grown woman. Papa left me a lot of money and holdings. I am a very rich young grown woman. I can do what I damn well please, and I damn well please to marry James Haywood. With or without your blessings. Now that all that is settled, tell me this . . . secret that you and Uncle Ross share.”

Anne shook her head. “There is no secret, dear. You're imagining things.... All right, Page. All right. Let's don't you and I quarrel anymore. Page, what do you know of this young man's family?”

“Mother! His grandfather is Colonel MacCallister! The famous war hero. The MacCallisters practically settled Colorado all by themselves. They own hundreds of miles of it. They have cattle ranches and sheep ranches and towns and mining and . . . God, who knows what else? James is a little rough around the edges, but he's a gentleman through and through. I simply cannot understand what you have against him.”

Anne was thinking fast. She knew only too well how impulsive the young could be. She had to say this right, and do it right the first time. “I have nothing against the young man, Page. Nothing at all. James William is a fine young man. But from what you've told me he comes from a very large family, and you must remember what Doctor Benson told you.”

Anne had bribed, and used a bit of blackmail, to force a local doctor—who was quite fond of young Negro girls—to impress upon Page that she must never have children; the labor would kill her.

“I know what Doctor Benson said, and I know what three other doctors in Charlottesville told me. There is nothing wrong with me, Mother. All three have told me I can have as many babies as I like. To repeat what one told me: 'Miss Woodville, you are built for having babies.' ”

Anne sat down in the closest chair and grabbed up a fan and started pumping. She felt flushed.

“What's the matter with you, Mother?” Page asked. “Are you ill?”

“I . . . ah . . . no! No. I'm fine. I just felt flushed, that's all. Page . . . ah . . . don't have children, Page. For your own sake, don't. I won't mention it again. But don't have children.”

“Why, Mother? Why? Just tell me why I should not have children.”

“Because . . . well, this is difficult for me to express. Page, darling, idiocy runs, ah, well,
dark
in our family.”

“Idiocy, Mother?”

“Yes. We have some real monsters confined to asylums around the country. Or I should say
had.
They're all dead. But one.” Anne's mind was humming now; she had the beat and wasn't about to stop singing the song.

“But, Mother. I am perfectly normal!”

“Your brother isn't.” Anne kept piling one lie on top of another.

“My brother?”

“Yes. You have a brother. He's confined to an institution in New York State. He receives the very best of care; you know I would not stint on that. But there is no cure. He's a monster. Page, darling, you must never repeat any of what I just told you. That's what your Uncle Ross was trying to get me to tell you. Oh ... I'm so ashamed, Page.” She put her face in her hands and wept, a great actress playing a role.

Page came over and knelt down beside her mother, taking her hands into her own. “I never suspected, Mother. I swear I didn't. I thought you were just trying to run my life. I apologize for thinking harshly of you.”

“Swear to me you won't have children, Page!” Anne lifted her tear-stained face to her daughter. “You've got to swear you won't. It's for your sake and the happiness of you and James William.”

“Mother! You mean . . . we have your blessings?”

“Swear it, Page, and I'll give you the finest wedding Virginia has ever seen.”

“Oh, I swear it, Mother. On the family Bible, I do swear it!”

That family Bible is full of lies, dear. I know. I put them there. “Then you and James William have my blessings. Page, you must never let on to your uncle that you know. Remember, it's common knowledge that he does have a loose tongue.”

“Yes. I know that, Mother. It will be our secret. But . . .” The young woman frowned.

“James?”

“Yes.”

“You . . . trust this young man, Page?”

“Yes, Mother. With all my heart.”

“Is he strong enough to stand the truth?”

“I think so. Yes. Certainly.”

“Then . . .” She sighed, once again thinking fast. “Let me tell him, Page. Let me soften the blow for you young people. I can scatter a few rose petals on the path before I tell him the bitter truth.”

“Mother, you are the greatest mother in all the world. Would you do that for me.”

“Darling Page, I would do
anything
for you. Just anything at all.” Anything at all to keep you from birthing some goddamn nappy-headed pickaninny and ruining everything for me, everything that I schemed and fought for, you spoiled, pampered, hard-headed rotten little bitch!