Hope Reborn (26 page)

“Why’d you let that man goad you into a fight?”

He chuckled then grimaced and grabbed his chest. “It was the other way around.”

“You picked a fight with him?”

He nodded. “Back in ’14.… Now if I tell you this story, it cannot find its way into one of your books.”

She nodded. She had plenty of tales herself that would never go on a written page, and she figured sooner or later she’d have to tell him. “I’ll not breathe a word to anyone.”

He exhaled then sucked in another breath through clinched teeth. “The Brits had landed, but instead of attacking, they waited.”

“This is in New Orleans, right?”

“Yes, downriver from the city. Anyway.…” He leaned his head back and stared into the past. “Bull and I both served as Jackson’s aides.”

Henry hated thinking about those days; how much of an idiot he’d been. But he’d told Sue about Bull, and now he needed to do the same with May. How very different the two were in a lot of ways, yet so much alike in others.

“At first, everything was fine between us. Jackson kept us busy, and we both worked hard for the general. Then I started noticing little things, smirky sideways glances, a condescending tone in his voice. Then once Silas hung Patty Boy on me, and Bull realized how much I hated it, he never missed an opportunity to tease me.”

“How old were you?”

“Sixteen.”

“That’s right, I remember now. So what about Bull?”

“Couple of years older, but I was pretty much full grown. I’d always been big for my age.”

“So why was he messing with you?”

“Wasn’t ever sure. Who knows? But while we were waiting for the British to attack, I heard a juicy little rumor about Bull, so I turned the tables on him. Must have been some truth it, and well…the war of words escalated.”

“Hold it, what was the rumor?”

Henry gritted his teeth, grabbed his chest, and let out the chuckle. “Exact same thing Sue asked when I told her this story.”

“Did she let you dodge the question?”

“No.”

“So, what was it?”

“Seems Bull had trouble with the sporting ladies. Those who frequented such establishments claimed he never got his money’s worth.”

May leaned back and studied him a moment, then a bit of realization dawned. “Oh.… So what about you, Mister Buckmeyer? Did you ever visit such establishments?”

“No.”

“Never?”

He looked her straight in the eyes; even in the lamp light he could see the disbelief. “No, not once.”

“How come?”

“Never wanted to do what my father had done.”

“You never went to The Swamp?”

“I didn’t say that, but it was the gambling I went for, not the ladies.”

“Ever win?”

“Some, but back to my story.”

May wanted to ask more about his gambling days, but that also might open the door for him to question her about her sordid past. Definitely appeared they had a vice in common.

Her and her big mouth asking about The Swamp. Either he didn’t pick up on it that she knew what New Orleans’ infamous seedy section was known as, or he was just being a gentleman.

For a few minutes while he rambled on, she tried to count all the gold coins she’d left there.

“So when he wouldn’t fight me, I insulted his manhood.”

She tried to recall what he just said, but it wasn’t there. “Why wouldn’t he fight you?”

“Said Jackson would hang him for killing his pet aid.”

“Why’d he think that?”

“I just told you. He was a prize fighter, undefeated, already won six or seven matches.”

“Really, and you were challenging him?”

“That’s right. I was full of myself back then. I’d killed that lumber jack, and well, figured if I whipped Bull, I could silence the rest of them. Make them call me Patrick instead of Patty Boy.”

“So what happened?”

“He finally agreed, so we went down to the edge of camp, roped off a ring then got after it.”

“Who won?”

“The rules we agreed to, the ones they’d been using in England for years, were a round lasted until someone was knocked down, or even thrown down. You’d get half a minute breather, then the next round started.” He shrugged. “I’d just knocked him down to end the twelfth round when Jackson stopped the fight.”

“So no one won?”

“Well, I would have been smart to call it a draw, but I didn’t. Claimed I won. I’d put him on the ground eight of the twelve rounds, and that got his goat something terrible.”

“No rematch?”

“Not until the other day.”

She wanted to ask him about this latest fight, but more so, she wanted him to rest. She stood. “Can I get you anything?”

“No, sit back down.”

“You need to rest, Henry, heal up. If you want anything, I’m happy to fetch that, but seeing as how I can’t get in bed with you, I’ll be taking my leave.”

He tried to put on a hurt look. “Fine, run off then, I’ll just lay here all by myself and listen to my ribs knit.”

Seeing through his proffer for pity, she stopped at the door. “Hey, I’ve got an idea.” She backed up a step. “Scoot down, get flatter. Do you need any help?

“No, what’s your idea?”

“I’ll read you to sleep; I’ve got five more chapters finished.”

Upon her return, he gave her a weak smile, then his eyes slipped shut before she finished the second page. She finished that one and the next in a slow monotone then eased out, reading as she went.

She followed a delicious aroma to the kitchen. Mammy worked at the stove. Her brother and Chester sat at the table’s far end; everyone else had disappeared. May grabbed a fresh cup of coffee and put her feet under the table.

Mammy grinned. “He lasted longer than I expected, must not have given him enough laudanum.”

May nodded. No wonder he drifted off so fast.

“It’s a wonder more ribs weren’t broken, hard as that Bull was beating on him.”

The very thought sickened her stomach. She sat back. Perhaps she’d had enough coffee. Oh, how she would have hated seeing another man beating so on Henry. “So Bull won the fight?”

“No, ma’am. Mister Henry gave way more than he got.” The freed slave shook his head. “At first, looked to me I wasn’t going anywhere.”

Chester nodded. “Levi said the same thing. Bull worked Henry over hard. Seemed Glover was getting in three or four licks to one in the beginning, but then like he got a second wind or something.…”

“Yes, ma’am.” Mammy’s brother spoke up. “Ain’t never seen such. He went berserk on Bull Glover. Could be the Lord Himself sent an angel with some special drink, maybe even something like He gave Elijah. You knows, that powerful food the prophet ran thirty days on.”

May shook her head with no idea what the man spoke of.

His head bobbed up and down. “Yes, ma’am, he about killed old Bull, beats him to a pulp before he be quits. Mister Levi jumped the ring’s wooden wall and grabbed ahold on his uncle ’fore he sent old Bull straight to the devil.”

“My, my, my.” Mammy turned from the stove.

He looked at his sister. “Levi told us later that he figured Mister Henry wasn’t about to stop.”

As she listened to the men discuss the fight in greater detail, a horrible thought bit her. Had Henry ever loosed that wolf in him on Sue or any of the girls? Or even Levi?

The day broke, and the house came alive, though more subdued than normal. The question quieted her as well.

All morning while he slept, she pondered the mysterious, uncontrollable animal that lived inside the one she loved. Was she risking her life being around a man capable of such violence?

But she’d never heard of him going crazy on someone undeserving. Should she ask Rebecca? Or Rose? Would either tell her the truth? Maybe Wallace had seen it loosed.

But if it had only been Sue, would anyone know but the man himself?

All that day, she argued with herself, and in the end, decided she needed to discuss it with Henry. But Mammy wouldn’t let her in.

The cook guarded his door, and the one time she slipped into the library unseen, Newly Blue stooled her off. Mammy came a running and led her back into the kitchen where she prepared dinner.

“Now, sweet child, he needs his sleep if he’s going to heal. He’s home, came back to us.” She hustled around then sat a plate with two of her cookies before May. “Here’s my peace offering, don’t be angry with me. When he asks for you, I promise I’ll come get you. Fair enough?”

May hung her head. “I know you’re right. I’m not upset with you, Mammy.” She took a bite of cookie as the dear lady sat a glass of milk in front of her. “If I promise, give you my word not to disturb him, do you suppose it would be acceptable to write in the library?”

Mammy studied her hard, then a smile cracked her stern face. “Yes, Miss May, I do suppose that would be just fine.”

“Of course I’ll leave the door opened.”

He slept the whole day away, and that night. She moved back upstairs into Mary Rachel’s room though insisting the girl stay, too. Still, May couldn’t bring herself to ask about her father’s temper.

Could be she should let the matter lay for the time being. Until she could talk to Henry himself, go straight to the horse’s mouth; never even once suspected the man of ever stretching the truth.

She could wait. Let him heal up.

Then she’d find out for sure.

Trace chains rattled, mules snorted, then a passel of bare feet landing on black dirt echoed through his room. Henry tried to work the sounds into his dream, but too many voices and too much commotion brought him to consciousness.

He rose to one elbow. The ache behind his eyes and in his chest begged him to go back prone, but his bladder shouted the loudest.

Once dressed, he figured it had to be the pickers Jean Paul had contracted. His chest still pained him a bit, but nothing like it had been. He eased out to the porch.

Exactly as he figured, maybe two dozen folks milled about eating Mammy’s offerings. May’s perfume reached him first. Oh, he had missed her smell. So good to be home.

Then the lady herself showed with that smile that could light the night sky to noon. “You’re up! How are you feeling?”

“Not too bad, head’s hurting.”

She pressed her shoulder into his. “I’m very proud you came home to me.”

He pressed back then grinned at her. “I am, too.”

“Are these all the pickers? Mammy’s cooked enough food for a small army.”

“Don’t know, but if you missed it, I’ve been asleep for, what? Twenty hours?”

“Ha! Twenty, you say? No, sir. It’s been over seventy-two. I about gave up on you ever getting out of bed.” She laid her head on his shoulder.

“I couldn’t have slept that long. You were reading your story, and.…”

She nodded. “That was early Friday morning, my love, and now it’s Monday. Mammy’s kept you drugged and in bed so your ribs could heal. She even posted Newly Blue at your door to keep me and your babies out.”