Hope Reborn (6 page)

The man sat back in Sue’s rocker and sighed. “Inquiring about my father was a sidebar, so to speak. The real reason we came—my mistress and cousin, May Meriwether, wishes to interview Major Baylor and Captain Rusk.

“She’s a novelist of some note and read of their exploits.” He grinned. “Miss Meriwether has traveled to Texas, interested in fictionalizing some of their adventures. If they’re agreeable.”

The front door opened. Mary Rachel held out two glasses of water. “I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but did you say May Meriwether? She’s here?”

“Yes, I did, Miss, and she’s settling in as we speak at The Donoho.”

“Oh, Daddy, you know how much I love her books. Tell him yes. I can’t believe she’s right here in Clarksville. How did that happen?”

Henry sat the water on the willow table between the rocking chairs; he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen his daughter so excited, especially not since her mother died.

“She is indeed. We’ve traveled to Texas all the way from New York.”

“Oh, that’s so exciting. Do you suppose I might meet her? Did you say you’re her cousin? Could you ask her? When’s her next book going to be out? Do you know what it’s about?”

The visitor must have caught some of Mary Rachel’s excitement and smiled at his second oldest daughter. “Yes, three times, Miss, then an I’m-not-sure and a no. She loves meeting her readers.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful!”

“Miss Meriwether finished the rough draft on her latest manuscript during the journey here, and is at this very moment reworking the first twenty-four chapters.”

“Really? I cannot believe that May Meriwether is in Clarksville.” She faced Henry. “Daddy, can we go? I have to meet her. Tell me we can. Come on, please. We’ve got to. Besides, just you and I haven’t been to town since forever.”

He wanted to say no, but knew better. In all of Mary Rachel’s seventeen years, he’d never been able to deny her anything, just like her mother, God rest Sue’s soul.

“If Mister Meriwether thinks Miss May would be agreeable, and Miss Laura is willing to watch your sisters and brother, I guess I could take my favorite daughter to the Donoho for supper.”

“Oh, Daddy, thank you!” She threw her arms around his neck. “You’re so wonderful.” She glanced at the visitor. “He tells every one of us that we’re his favorite.”

He smiled, loving it that she knew him so well. “But it’s true.”

May stepped back; she couldn’t see her new outfit completely in the mirror over the dresser. She backed up next to the bed, still not far enough. She faced Chester. “What do you think?”

“That Miss Mary Rachel will be thrilled, no matter what you’re wearing.”

She snarled. Why had he arranged this supper date, especially when she had no way to cancel?

The least he could have done was put them off a night, given her an opportunity to shop, or even have something made, but no. He assured the Buckmeyers that she would love to have supper with them tonight.

Indeed.

After a hundred miles on that awful stage, then editing until her eyes blurred, she only wanted to relax and enjoy the Donoho’s overstuffed feather mattress.

“What time is it?”

He pulled out his gold timepiece and made a big show of flipping it open. “Six forty-eight, ma’am.”

“Hold up that other dress.”

He ignored her request. “You look fine as you are, ma’am, and I told them seven. Shall we go downstairs now, or shall you be late?”

She fluffed her curls then smoothed her dress. “Are you certain? I can still change. Being a few minutes late is acceptable, even fashionable.”

“Not in Texas, ma’am.”

“Fine, I’m ready then.”

She followed Chester down the hall through the lobby then stopped at the double door that opened into the dining hall. He headed straight to a far corner table, where several standing men blocked her view.

Halfway across the room, a young lady burst from the confab and rushed toward her.

She stopped short of knocking her to the floor then stuck out both hands. “Oh, Miss Meriwether, is it really you? I love your books.”

May took the girl’s hands. “Yes, it’s me, and thank you. I’m thrilled that you love my stories.”

“Oh, yes, Daddy –” The girl pulled back. “Where in the world have my manners gone? I apologize.” She curtsied. “Mary Rachel Buckmeyer, ma’am.” She looked over her shoulder.

“That’s my father, the one sitting down, Patrick Henry, but he prefers Henry. Most folks call him Mister Henry. Some, mostly if they fought in the war, call him Colonel, but –” She put her hands to her mouth.

“I know I’m prattling on, and I’m so sorry for that. Just look at those rude men. They’re taking all Daddy’s attention.” She took May by the hand. “Won’t you come with me? I’ll introduce you.”

May let the girl pull her toward the group of men. As she neared, the one on the far side of the table rose and turned his full consideration to her. Time slowed. The child’s father extended his hand.

Somehow, May extended hers, and he took it into his. A tingling spread up her arm all the way to the center of her chest and settled in the core of her being. Her heart flipped, beat too fast, and then stopped.

A little gasp escaped.

She smiled more at herself than him. She must stop being an idiot immediately. The man was married.

“Miss May, I’d like you to meet my father, Patrick Henry Buckmeyer, but he prefers Henry.”

“Henry.” He hadn’t released her hand. She gave a slight shake. “I’m so pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“The pleasure is mine.” The man pointed to a chair to his right. “Please.” Turning to the men who pretty much all stared, he nodded. “I’m sure you’ll excuse me, fellows. I have plans with the two ladies and don’t intend to bore them with politics.”

They dissipated, she sat, and Chester pushed her chair in then retreated. As though the waitress anticipated nothing more than for May to take her place, the lady began delivering plates laden with steak, creamed potatoes, and a pile of the greenest steaming greens May ever saw.

Henry nodded toward her. “Hope you like steak. I took the liberty of ordering.”

She smiled at the liquid velvet emitting from his mouth then chided her ears. They loved the sound of his voice too much. Why, she was doomed, relegated to spinsterhood!

All the attractive men who caused such a reaction inside her had been snatched up and married. “Thank you, sir. It smells wonderful, and I’ve never seen greener greens.”

He extended his hand toward Mary Rachel, who took it then held his other out to her as did the young lady. May looked from one hand to the other. What were they doing?

They obviously wanted to hold her hands. Perhaps a Texian tradition. She placed hers into their open palms, then the girl and her father bowed their heads.

How quaint. He was going to bless the food right there in public. She had landed in the middle of a gathering of religious zealots? She resisted the urge to look around for Chester.

The cad probably was grinning from ear to ear.

Praying at a restaurant. Indeed.

“Amen.” Henry released her hand and went to work on his side of beef.

May allowed herself three extra bites of the best tasting filet mignon she’d ever eaten in her life. It literally melted in her mouth.

And as for the greens, she’d never cared for the vegetable, be they turnip, collard, or mustard. Started not to even try them, but the pigment was so intense, she forked one small bite.

Beyond belief, they tasted delicious. And the roll. Everything about the meal, exceptional!

These Texians had to be serious about their eating. Hardly a word passed until their plates lay emptied. “Would you care for dessert, ma’am?”

His daughter smiled. “The Donoho’s known for their wonderful assortment of pies.”

“Well, if it’s anything like the meal, I’m certain it would be scrumptious, but I couldn’t eat another bite. I don’t know when I’ve enjoyed a meal more.”

Once the waitress cleared the table, Henry turned to her. “I want to thank you, ma’am.”

He was as bad as Chester ma’aming her. She tilted her head ever so slightly, and shamelessly stared into his eyes. “Whatever for, Henry?”

“Writing books that my daughters can read.”

“Oh, why, thank you.” She found no lust in the windows of the man’s soul, but something else tugged at her heart. Though not quite sure of what she saw, she didn’t think it had anything to do with her.

Was he so in love with his wife that all other women paled in comparison? And why hadn’t she accompanied him? Had May ever known such a devoted man?

“Daughters you say? You have another?”

Mary Rachel touched her arm. “Yes, ma’am. I have four sisters and one little scalawag brother.”

“Oh, Mary Rachel, Houston isn’t a scalawag.”

The girl gave her father a stern look as though she the parent and he the unruly child. May loved it. A doting father and his patronizing daughter. Reminded her a bit of her and the commodore before….

She’d certainly have to work those two into a book.

“Daddy! You proclaim to be a guardian of the truth. You know you don’t switch him near enough.”

He nodded, and gave her a let’s-not-get-this-old-debate-going look, before facing May. “A few years back, Mary Rachel wanted something different to read. I asked around, and your name kept coming up, so –”

“I’ve read all your books. Every single one. At least twice, some even three times.”

The young lady’s enthusiasm tickled May. “Well, you have no idea how that delights me. Penning love stories is…well….” She shrugged. “To be honest, at times I get so bored.”

“How could you? It must be so much fun.”

“Yes, most of the time, but this last one presented a real struggle for the first half or better. Then after that, the characters took over their own tale. That’s when the story caught a strength. A good portion of what I’d written needed reworking.”

She looked to Henry. “There’s nothing more tedious than rewrites. Hopefully, I can finish it in a day or two. I’m nearing my deadline.”

“Really? Who gave you a deadline?”

Henry enjoyed how the novelist mesmerized his daughter with her explanation of publishing. He’d known the basics of getting the written word into print, but found the details interesting as well. No wonder the ladies love reading May’s books. If her stories proved half as interesting as listening to her, then they would be grand.

He glanced toward the next table. Chester sipped coffee and pretended not to be watching. May’s cousin, but he called her his mistress first; was he her slave?

Henry hated the thought of any person being owned by someone else, but understood it.

The Bible even spoke of how a slave and master should act, as though the practice wasn’t frowned upon by the Almighty. But he also hated the way so many slave owners took advantage of what they considered their property.

If up to him, he’d free them all, but for sure anyone with mixed blood would be counted white, not the other way around.

Was that how Chester came to be May’s cousin?

“I could do that. Tell her daddy.”

Henry focused on his baby girl. “What darling? Tell who what?”

“Miss May. Tell her how legible my penmanship is.”

How had that come up? “Yes, ma’am. She writes the final draft of all my letters. Her mother taught her well.”

“So then can I? I’ll do it for free, too. My pay will be getting to read your next book before everyone else.” She beamed. “I’m so excited.”

The evening had been so good for Mary Rachel. He loved her being so animated, then looked from his baby to the lady. “What exactly are we talking about?”

“Oh, I was telling Mary Rachel how once I finish reworking my novel, I’ll need a scribe. I never post the only copy.”

“Sure, if she wants to, I don’t care. The cotton isn’t ready, and the canning’s all but finished. She has chores, but they don’t take too long of a morning.”

“Wonderful, then it’s settled. I’ll have Chester fetch you as soon as I’m finished with my revisions.”

Henry held his hands up. “Whoa now. I’m sorry, ma’am, but my daughter won’t be going with Chester or anyone else. He can bring your book to her, but she stays with me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” She was obviously taken aback; maybe he shouldn’t have been so blunt. “I, uh…. Suffice it to say, as like you with your daughter, I never let a new manuscript out of my sight until it’s in print. I’ve so much invested. You understand.”

“Oh, Daddy.” She faced the author. “He’s only worried about Indians snatching me. It’s ridiculous.” She turned back to him. “I’m seventeen years old. I could stay a few days in town.”

“No, Mary Rachel, you cannot.” He hated using the tone he reserved for insubordinate men on his baby, but he couldn’t stand the thought of her being in any danger.

“Indians?” She glanced around at her man. “Are they still a threat? I was under the assumption –”

“But Daddy.” Her bottom lip quivered.

“No, don’t Daddy me.” He faced the lady. “My home is plenty big. You and Chester are welcome to come stay with us.” He smiled. “Your cousin said you came to visit with Levi and Wallace. They should be back any day now.”

“Oh do! Please, Miss May, say yes. You can have my room. It’s the best, on the corner. There’s almost always a breeze. I’ll bunk with Gwendolyn, or CeCe.”

“I do understand the need of a breeze.” She smiled and her eyes sparkled. “Your Texas sun is blistering.”