Winds of the Storm (22 page)

The landlady, who'd introduced herself earlier as Bitsy, asked, “This do for you?”

A satisfied Zahra nodded and paid her for one night's stay. “How do I get a cab to the train depot in the morning?” she asked Bitsy.

“I can send my grandson over to get Old Man Poole to come take you, or if you don't mind a wagon, my brother Tommy is going to the depot tomorrow to ship some livestock. You can catch a ride over with him.”

“Who's more reliable?”

The bulldog face smiled. “Tommy. Old Man Poole don't get up 'til noon.”

“Then Tommy has a passenger. I'll pay him, of course.”

“That's fine. Anything else?”

“Not that I can think of.”

“See you in the morning, then.”

She closed the door, and Zahra released a sigh of relief. She'd made it.

The ride back was far less dramatic, thanks to Tommy and his livestock. The livestock turned
out to be pigs, and Zahra arrived at the Baton Rouge station seated up front holding a small sow and two piglets on her lap. She thanked Tommy, paid him, and went to buy her ticket.

As Zahra made her way through the small depot, the passengers on the platform gave her wide berth. At first Zahra attributed it to her attire, but when she reminded herself that Madame Domino was no more and that she was presently attired as primly as a deacon's daughter, she figured out what all the sour faces around her were about. She smelled like pigs! Instead of being alarmed, she found the situation amusing. It also worked to her advantage. Her pungent clothing and shiny, paint-free face gave credence to her role as a country girl traveling to the big city of New Orleans for the first time. Moreover, because none of the other passengers wished to ride the ninety-mile journey anywhere near her, Zahra had her row of seats, and the ones directly in front and in back, all to herself. Smiling, she looked out the window and settled in for the ride.

The train arrived in New Orleans right on time at a little past three in the afternoon. Remembering her role, she got off the train and peered around, as if not knowing where to go or what to do.

The White conductor who'd been kind to her during the journey in spite of her smell stopped and said, “Do you need some help, miss?”

Raising the pitch of her voice, as she'd been doing since stepping off the train in Baton Rouge
yesterday, she said, “I'm not sure. I'm supposed to be meeting a friend of my mama's, but I don't know what she looks like.”

“What's her name?”

“Mrs. Le Veq Vincent.”

He looked impressed. “They're a very prominent family. Come on with me, maybe she's waiting on the other end of the platform.”

Carpetbag in hand, and wearing what had to be the ugliest pale blue jacket and skirt she'd ever had the misfortune of wearing, Zahra let the conductor lead the way. They didn't have to go far.

“I believe that is Mrs. Le Veq Vincent there. I've seen her on the train many times.”

Zahra saw Juliana and Archer standing by the depot. Zahra fed her eyes on the tall, handsome Archer, then, remembering herself, asked the conductor, “You sure that's her?”

“Positive.” He raised his hand to catch Juliana's attention; she was pretending not to know what Zahra looked like. The conductor escorted Zahra over and said to the Le Veqs, “Mrs. Vincent, this young woman said you were to meet her here at the platform?”

Juliana smiled. “Are you Zahra Crane?”

Zahra nodded. “Yes, ma'am.”

Juliana hugged her and said, “Of course you are. Welcome to New Orleans. You look just like your mother, Hanna. This is my son, Archer.” Then she drew away, and her nose wrinkled.

Archer asked, “What on earth is that smell?”

“Pigs,” Zahra said brightly. “I had to ride to the
depot with my landlady's brother and his pigs. I had a cute little sow and her piglets on my lap the whole way.”

The smiling conductor departed, and Zahra kept up a running conversation all the way to the buggy.

Archer was amazed at Zahra's transformation. Everything about her was different: her voice, mannerisms, the way she walked in that country ugly blue suit she was wearing. There was nothing about her that even suggested she'd been Madame Domino.

Once they were safely inside Archer's barouche, Zahra turned to them and asked in her signature black velvet voice, “So, what have I missed?”

He shook his head. She wasn't a butterfly; she was a chameleon.

 

The first thing Zahra was instructed to do upon entering Juliana's house was to bathe. Juliana waved her elegantly manicured hand in front of her nose to shoo away the stench and said, “Archer, show her up to Sable's room. I'll have Little Reba heat some water. Lord, Zahra, you smell.”

Zahra smiled and stood there, matching grins with Archer, who said, “Mama's right, you know.”

“Too smelly for a kiss?” she asked.

“Maybe.”

Cocking her head, she put her hands on her hips.

He laughed. Coming closer, he eased her into the welcoming circle of his arms and kissed the top of her head. “I missed you, Madam Smelly.”

“Missed you, too.”

“Where'd you get that awful suit?”

“Wilma. It was the only traveling costume she had.”

“I need to take you shopping and get you a proper wardrobe now that you're Mother's companion.”

They pulled back and gazed at each other for a long moment, then he kissed her slowly and thoroughly. “Welcome back,” he murmured.

Just as the kiss began to deepen, they heard “Ahem!”

Zahra jumped from embarrassment, and Archer gave his mother a pleading look, to which she responded by saying easily, “Take her up to the room and come right back so you can carry the water when it's ready. You all can
talk
after dinner this evening.”

Pouting like a six-year-old, Archer took the silently chuckling Zahra by the hand and led her up the staircase.

The room was as beautiful as she'd expected. It was done in ivory and gold, of all colors, and in a way that was as subtle as it was elegant. “The colors make me feel right at home.”

At first Archer was confused, and then he understood. “These were the same colors of the Club, aren't they? Never thought about that before. This started out as Rai's room, then Sable had it for awhile. Now, it's yours.”

The layout, with the French doors and big can
opy bed, reminded her of her room at Domino's, and once again she thought how difficult going back to her shack would be after being surrounded by all this luxury. She placed her carpetbag on the seat of the dressing table and took a seat beside it. “I'm tired,” she said, yawning.

“How was the journey?”

“Uneventful except for Tommy's pigs and a human pig named Etienne Barber.”

“Barber was on the train? Did he bother you?”

“Of course, but after I buried a fist in his piggies, he crawled away and left me alone.”

Archer laughed. “Details, please!”

So she began at the beginning. By the time she got to the end of her tale, his laughter was echoing around the room. “Oh, I wish I had been there to see his face.” Walking over, he gave her a quick kiss. “I'll go see about the water.”

Smiling, she watched him leave.

Dinner that evening was a fun affair. All of the brats showed up, as did André Renaud, Raimond, Sable, and their children. Baby Desiré was an adorable five-year-old. Her big sisters, Blythe and Hazel, were poised young women, and the silent, eighteen-year-old man-child Cullen, with his watchful eyes, reminded Zahra of Alfred.

Zahra had seen Alfred earlier in the evening, and he'd welcomed her back with a rare smile and a hug. According to Juliana, he would officially be hired tomorrow as the household's new driver. He'd been invited to the dinner too, but he'd chosen to take his meal in the kitchen with Juliana's cook, Little Reba.

After dessert, Cullen drove his sisters home, and
the adults, including Juliana and Sable, settled in to discuss the plans surrounding the Death Books. It was decided that they would follow the advice Alfred had given at their last gathering and search the homes of Isenbaum, Banks, and Thomas on the same night if possible. They conceded there was no guarantee that all the homes would be empty at the same time.

Archer said, “But the Democrats are having their own ball this year. I think we can assume Isenbaum and his friends will be attending.”

“Do you know the date?” Zahra asked.

“No, but I can find out tomorrow.”

She then asked Alfred, “How are Caleb and Jesse doing with the shadowing?”

Because Jesse wasn't from New Orleans, all of Isenbaum's visitors were strangers to him, so he'd jotted down their physical descriptions and added a description of their vehicles. Archer and his brothers were able to put names to most of the descriptions because they fit men known to be either members of the local Democratic Party or city officials. The remaining descriptions were of persons unknown to any of the Le Veqs.

Alfred said, “This man Jesse refers to as barrel-chested and tall, and driving a beat-up buckboard, has been at the house every evening. According to the log, the man comes around at about the same time each time. Seven p.m.” Alfred looked up, as if seeking an explanation, but no one had one because no one knew who the man might be.

Drake offered a solution. “How about I join
your man tomorrow night? Maybe I'll recognize him.”

Zahra answered, “That's a good idea, Drake. Thank you.” She then asked Alfred, “How are Suzette and Clare coming with the servants?”

“Nothing to report yet. I'm meeting them at the city market tomorrow.”

Zahra nodded. All in all, it was a good start.

Beau Le Veq and André Renaud had slipped out of the meeting earlier. It was their night to join the patrols that had been formed to combat the nightly visitations of the White Leagues, but the normally gregarious Philippe hadn't said a word all evening.

His mother must have noticed. “Philippe, are you feeling poorly? You don't look well.”

He shrugged listlessly.

Archer and Drake began chuckling.

Raimond asked, “What's so funny?”

Archer pointed at his baby brother, who in truth was taller than all of his siblings, and said, “Him. He's mourning.”

Taking exception to the flippancy, Juliana said pointedly, “Archer, there's nothing humorous or amusing about someone's death.”

Drake stepped up for his brother. “No one died, Mama. Phillie's mourning Naomi and Salome.”

“Who?”

Zahra hid her laughter behind her hand. Philippe looked at once angry and bereft over having his business bandied about this way.

A confused Raimond asked, “Are they the twins from Madame Domino's?”

Archer said, “Yep.”

Raimond leaned back and barked a loud laugh.

Philippe snapped, “It's not funny!”

Which of course made his brothers howl louder.

Even Juliana had trouble keeping her smile from showing.

Philippe turned to his laughing brothers and declared, “You three baboons can kiss my arse!” And he stormed out. Next came the sound of the front door slamming closed.

Sable asked, “So where did the twins go after the fire?”

“Utah. To marry a sixty-year-old Mormon named Uriah Bennett.”

Juliana echoed, “Sixty?”

Zahra nodded. “Adair said the poor man will be dead in a month.”

The room exploded in laughter. Even Alfred chuckled.

Shortly afterwards, Juliana yawned and told everyone good night. “Zahra, I will see you in the morning.”

The others made their departures, and once they were all gone, Archer and Zahra were left alone sitting in front of the parlor fireplace, enjoying the flames, the crackling warmth, and the nearness of each other.

Zahra had her weary head resting on Archer's shoulder. “I could sleep for a week.”

He kissed her forehead. “One last question, Madame Spy, and you can go to bed. Do you still want my friends to help us search?”

“If they can get here in the next few days.”

“All right. I'll wire them first thing tomorrow.”

She nodded, then said, “I would love to sit here with you all night, but I must go.”

“Can I walk you to your room?”

She raised up and gave him a sleepy smile before shaking her head no.

He kissed her softly. “Why not?”

“Because as sleepy as I am, spending the night with you is still tempting, and I don't want us to end up in the woodshed with your mama in the morning. So you stay away from my bedroom door.”

He chuckled softly, “Familiar with my maneuvers, are you?”

“Quite.” She returned his kiss. “So good night, Frenchman.”

“Good night,
chérie.
”

They shared a few more kisses, then Zahra floated up the stairs and Archer left the house, closing his mama's door softly behind him.

W
hen Zahra awakened the next morning, it was still dark. Feeling the chill in the air, she put on the night robe she'd been given yesterday by Juliana and walked across the cold floor over to the fireplace. She stuck the poker into the low-burning embers to see if she could wake them up, then added pieces of kindling. That did the trick, so she quickly crawled back into the bed and buried herself beneath the warm sheets and quilts.

The sleep had left her rested and refreshed. Were she at home, she wouldn't be lying here like a lady of leisure: She'd be up already, boiling water for the day's laundry and treating herself to grits and whatever else she could find to accompany it for breakfast. There'd be no beignets or café. Archer wouldn't be taking her shopping later either. Who had time for shopping when there
was a pile of shirts to scrub? She gently rubbed the skin on her palms and fingers. The calluses and redness had finally disappeared, but she knew it wouldn't take long for the lye to return them to their normal state.

Zahra sighed. She knew she was going home when this affair ended; she was committed to that, but what should she do about Archer? Who would have imagined that she'd wind up in love with the
gens de coleur
she'd rescued from General Brandon Crete's barn? Certainly not she, yet here she lay, in his mama's house, madly in love with everything about him: his intelligence, his wit, his commitments to his family and to the future of the race. In her mind, there was not a finer man in the state of Louisiana, or anywhere else, for that matter. But she still planned on turning her back on whatever future they might have had together. Men like him did not marry swamp rats. The knowledge that Raimond had married Sable, a former slave, was a plus, but Sable appeared to have the grace and social niceties necessary to be the wife of a man as distinguished as Raimond Le Veq. Zahra wasn't certain about herself. Yes, she had set many a grand table while posing as a servant during the war; she knew which fork went where and where to place the dinner plates and such, but for instance, at last night's dinner, she'd had no idea what all the forks had been for! Dessert forks, salad forks. She'd wound up discreetly watching Sable. Whenever Sable had picked up a fork, so had Zahra. She'd done the same thing during her dinners with Archer. Yes, she was a spy and
accustomed to masking shortcomings, but in this case she was also a fraud.

In her own defense, Zahra knew every which way to skin rabbits, how to build a snare, and she could scale and gut a fish in no time flat, but she didn't think that kind of knowledge was a necessity here in the House of Le Veq. She'd done well posing as the elegant and sophisticated Domino, but it had been a role. The real Zahra Lafayette didn't even wear corsets, for heaven's sake! And she preferred bare feet to shoes any day of the week.

Yet the thought of leaving Archer and never seeing him again left her morose. She supposed she should stop worrying over it, because no matter what her heart had to say, her mind was made up. Once this was done, she'd be going back to South Carolina to see her parents and getting on with the rest of her life.

 

Zahra had fun shopping with Archer and Juliana. They went to all the fashionable shops in the city, including Wilma's, where Archer introduced Zahra as his mother's new companion and secretary, Zahra Crane.

Juliana said, “We need to add some pieces to her wardrobe.”

Wilma smiled. “It's nice to meet you, Miss Crane.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” the gregarious Zahra Crane replied.

“What will you be needing for her precisely, Mrs. Vincent?”

Archer answered for his mother. “Everything.”

Zahra shook her head. “Just the necessities.”

“Everything.”

“No,” she said firmly. “I'm sure clothes here cost a whole lot more than they do back home, and I don't want to be paying Mrs. Vincent back for the rest of my life.”

Juliana said, “But Zahra, dear, the clothes are a gift.”

Zahra Crane's face brightened. “Truly?”

Smiling, Juliana nodded. “Yes. So, Mrs. Gray, why don't you take her measurements, and Archer and I will look at your pattern books.”

They spent an hour at Wilma's shop. Zahra thought Archer's talent for picking just the right style and color bordered on the magical. Whether he was eyeing capes, day gowns, or traveling costumes, she and Juliana wholeheartedly approved everything he selected.

When Wilma left them to add the selections to Archer's and Juliana's bills, Juliana said, “Do you see why I rarely go shopping without him, Zahra? Now, Raimond is a different matter. Don't ever shop with him. He'll want to put you in the ugliest colors and patterns imaginable. Ask his poor wife.”

Archer added, “And he'll get angry because Sable doesn't wish to be mistaken for a circus clown.”

Wilma returned with a receipt, which she handed to Juliana. “I will have Miss Crane's garments in a week's time even if I have to hire extra seamstresses.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Gray,” Juliana said.

“Miss Crane, again, it was nice meeting you.”

Zahra smiled. “Same here. Good-bye.”

After leaving Wilma's, they headed up the street towards the Hotel Christophe for lunch.

Archer said, “You two go on ahead. I need to send those wires off. I'll meet you at the hotel.”

The women nodded, and he headed across the busy street to the telegraph office.

The sidewalks were crowded as they always were at midday, and Zahra and Juliana had to walk slowly in order to move in pace with all the people ahead of them. They didn't mind; they enjoyed each other's company, so they chatted along the way. The walk's two-way pedestrian traffic made for even more congestion, and sometimes folks going north bumped into folks going south. Zahra was accidentally bumped by a tall, older man in work clothes, who immediately reached out to grab her as she stumbled. “Sorry, miss. You okay?”

“Yes, I am. Thank you.” And then, as she looked up into his weathered blue eyes, a cold dread coursed through her. She knew him. Immediately dropping her eyes lest he recognize her as well, she quickly made move to resume her journey, but he touched her arm to delay her departure.

“Do I know you?” he asked.

“I don't think so.”

Without another word, Zahra moved off, and she and Juliana continued up the street.

Juliana said, “He must have mistaken you for someone else.”

“No. He knew me.” Zahra's heart was pounding. She really wanted to turn around to see if he was still standing in that spot watching her, but
she knew better than to give herself away so easily.

Juliana must have picked up on Zahra's serious tone, because she asked with concern, “Who is he?”

“Confederate General Brandon Crete, the man who hung Archer in that barn.”

Juliana appeared stunned.

“Don't look back, Juliana.”

“Don't worry, dear. I won't.”

 

“Are you certain it was Crete?” Archer asked gravely as they sat waiting for their orders to arrive.

“I don't forget faces, Archer. Especially not that one.”

Juliana asked, “Maybe he won't be able to place you. And if he does, will it matter to him? He didn't appear to be a prosperous man. Maybe he's a simple resident now and is too busy rebuilding his life to worry much over a woman from his Rebel past.”

“He
was
dressed like a common laborer.”

“Then maybe Mama's right,” Archer said. “But even if Crete does remember you eventually, he really lost nothing that night in the barn, except me. I never got the maps I was sent in after.”

“But I did.”

Archer stared. “What? You had them the entire time we were together?”

“Yes, and the North put them to good use during Sherman's campaign. The Rebs couldn't have been pleased knowing the Union army knew as
much about the South's troop deployments and fortifications as the South did.”

Archer was impressed by her admission. “So what do you want to do about him?”

She shrugged. “Not sure. Our people are already overtaxed. All we can really do, I suppose, is to keep an eye out for him. With any luck, we'll never see him again, but if he's up to trouble he undoubtedly knows you're here, too, Archer. You have ties to the Radicals—and it's no secret that you own this hotel.”

“True, so let's alert our people to his presence in the city and play Wait and See.”

The women nodded solemnly.

The dread stayed with Zahra for the rest of the day. She tried to set it aside, but the questions continued to occupy her mind. Was the middle-aged Brandon Crete just a common citizen now, or had he followed in the footsteps of former Confederate General Nathan Bedford Forrest, the man deemed responsible for the 1864 massacre of the Black Union soldiers at Fort Pillow, Tennessee, and the founder of the Kluxers? She wished she knew the answer.

That evening, as Zahra sat with Alfred in the parlor discussing what he'd learned from Suzette and Clare at the market earlier, Juliana entered the room. She was dressed for going out, but instead of the elegant and costly attire Zahra was accustomed to seeing her wear, she had on a simple brown gown and cloak.

Juliana pulled on a pair of dun brown gloves and said, “Alfred, I need to go out for awhile. Would you drive me?”

“Be honored.” He left the room to ready the buggy.

Since Juliana hadn't mentioned anything to Zahra earlier about having an appointment this evening, Zahra was a bit confused.

Apparently, Juliana caught the look and explained, “Your General Crete worries me, so I'm going to talk to the keeper of the spiders. With your people concentrating on the books, you don't have the time to find out what we need to know about Crete, so I'll see if Henry Adams knows anything.”

Zahra knew that whomever Archer married, the woman of his choice would be blessed with an incredible mother-in-law. The thought of Archer marrying some faceless woman in the future didn't sit well, so she ignored it. “When will you return?”

“Later tonight, more than likely. If any of my sons ask for my whereabouts, tell them I'm gone to see Aunt Vi.”

“Who's she?”

“No idea, but she's who I go to visit whenever I set out to do something I know they wouldn't approve of.”

Zahra laughed. “Juliana, when I grow up, I wish to be just like you.”

“Why, thank you. By then you and Archer will have given me more
grandbébés
to spoil.”

“Juliana,” Zahra said warningly.

“What?” she asked innocently. “The two of you are so in love I fear the furniture will catch fire when you're together in the same room. Everyone notices.”

Zahra hung an embarrassed head.

Juliana added, “I know there are many complications and wrinkles to smooth out before you can see your way clear, but love is a rare and beautiful thing, Zahra. Many women go to their grave never knowing what I had with my Francois—what Sable has with Raimond, and what you could have with Archer.”

Zahra couldn't meet her eyes.

Juliana continued anyway, “And do you know why I find his feelings for you so fascinating?”

“Why?”

“Because Archer has never been in love. Never. He's never believed in it, never set any stock in it. Thought it nothing more than foolishness.”

“But what about his mistresses?”

“He's had a string of them since he turned sixteen. None of them served any other purpose but to sleep with, buy for, and take to the Opera.” She paused to add, “I'm not saying he didn't enjoy their company, but for you, my dear Butterfly, he would cut out his heart with a spoon and present it to you on a plate should you ask.”

The force of that rattled Zahra in her chair.

“All of my sons are passionate, good men, and they deserve passionate, good women. You are both.”

Juliana let the silence fall between them for a moment, then looked at Zahra kindly and said, “All I ask is that you give my words some thought.”

Zahra nodded in reply.

Juliana smiled. “I must go. Alfred will have brought the coach around by now.”

“Good luck,” Zahra said genuinely.

“Thank you.”

Juliana hurriedly made her departure, and Zahra was left alone to contemplate all she'd just heard. Did Archer really love her? She knew he had special feelings for her, but she'd attributed them to male lust and an appreciation for the fun they had together. She'd never considered it to be anything more, mainly for all of the reasons she'd mused on earlier this morning while lying in bed. Besides, Archer had never mentioned anything remotely tied to love, except his comments about loons mating for life. Then came the realization that even if he wanted to declare his feelings for her, why would he, in the face of her continued and oft-stated commitment to leaving when the task here was done? There wasn't a man or woman alive willing to subject their hearts to such certain pain, and Archer was surely no exception.
What a mess.

There was no doubt in her mind that she was in love with Archer, though. But what might be set in motion if she were to let him know? She couldn't see him living in the swamps away from all the things he loved here, like his family, his hotel, and the vibrancy of his birthplace, but she couldn't see herself wearing corsets and shoes for the rest of her days either.

The dilemma was one that would have to be dealt with later, she told herself. Right now, she had to coordinate the search for the Death Books while staying in the shadows so she wouldn't be recognized by the Brandon Cretes of her life; love would have to wait.

But as is often the case, love had its own agenda. When she glanced up from the desk where she was working and saw him standing in the doorway, as if waiting for her to notice his presence, all she could see and want was him.