Legacies (46 page)

"What's your news?" Rans's question pulled Lije's attention back to The Blade.

"Old Johnny Scott was killed three days ago. Beaten to death."

"Johnny Scott, the old whiskey peddler?" Lije frowned in surprise. "Before the war, I must have trailed that man a dozen times or more. He was a cagey old rascal. I never got close to him." Lije had a moment's regret for the old man's passing. "I always figured he'd die drinking his own bad whiskey. I guess somebody was after his gold."

"What gold?" Rans looked from The Blade to Lije.

"Scott had a cabin just across the line in Arkansas, not far from Dutch Mills," Lije explained. "If you believe all the stories, he buried the gold he made smuggling whiskey somewhere in the woods behind his cabin." His gaze centered on The Blade. "Why do I have the feeling Scott's death has something to do with Alex?"

"A neighbor of Scott's saw two men ride past his house right around dark. He didn't get a good look at the men, but one of them was riding a black mare with a white star. The old man was found dead the next morning, and fresh tracks of two horses were found in his yard."

"Was the gold taken? Do they know?" Rans asked curiously.

"There were holes dug in the woods, and a couple of rusty iron pots were found nearby—empty, of course."

"Then all those stories about buried gold may have been true after all," Lije mused. "Does Sorrel know about this?"

"She knows, but she's convinced Alex had no part in it. According to her, there must be dozens of black mares with white stars in the territory. There's no proof the neighbor saw Alex's mare."

"She wouldn't believe it if there were," Lije said in disgust.

"No," The Blade agreed. "Alex has cast some sort of spell over her. The only way I know to break it is to keep her away from him. I don't want him near her again."

"That may not be wise," Lije warned.

"Wise or not, I don't trust him. The man's a thief and a murderer, and I don't want him near my daughter."

Lije couldn't argue with that, but Sorrel would. He knew that, too.

"We aren't going to solve any problems standing around here," Rans said at last. "We might as well head to the house and get washed up for dinner."

"You go ahead." Lije knew how small the house was. It would be even smaller with Diane in it. "I have a few things to finish here."

He dallied outside as long as he could, then went to the house and killed more time washing his hands and face, all the while listening to and for the occasional sound of Diane's voice. He splashed his face with cold water one last time, then wiped it dry.

When Lije finally walked into the house, everyone was seated at the wooden table. Two chairs remained empty, one beside Diane and the other one at the far end next to Susannah. Lije made the long walk to the latter. His muscles felt knotted, and his nerves were on edge.

A platter of roast beef, a basket of homemade bread, bowls of hominy, roasted onions, fresh green beans from Susannah's garden, and parsnips, dishes of pickled beets and corn relish, and jars of honey, horseradish, and butter, all made the rounds of the table. Lije filled his plate, the chink and clatter of dishes and silverware jangling his nerves. He speared the first bite of green beans.

"Let me cut that for you." Diane's quiet voice ripped through him. His glance shot to the far end of the table where Diane calmly sliced her father's meat into bite-sized pieces.

Unembarrassed, Jed Parmelee leaned back in his chair to give her room. "As useless as this arm of mine is, there are times when I wish the surgeon had sawed it off. I never thought I would consider it a nuisance, but that's what it has become. Especially in the summer when it gets hot. If I wrap it against my side the way I usually do, the heat makes a rash. If I rig it in a sling, the cloth rubs my neck raw. And if I let it dangle, it flops in my way." It was all said with more bemusement than rancor.

Diane chided him in mock reproval, "Complain, complain, that's all you ever do." Jed chuckled as Diane returned his fork to him. "There, you're all set." She picked up her own utensils. "Actually I am constantly amazed by how well Father has adjusted to the use of only one arm. Believe me, he can do more things with one arm than most people can do with two. Of course, his right arm is as strong as two."

"I know what you mean," Rans spoke up and proceeded to tell them about a friend of his in Texas who had lost a leg in the war and been blinded in one eye. "You should see him work cattle. I still don't understand how he stays in the saddle."

The food turned tasteless in Lije's mouth. Changing. Diane had talked about changing. But one thing would never change—Jed Parmelee would never regain the use of his arm. It would always serve as a reminder of just how far apart their beliefs had taken them.

He ate the food on his plate, drank his coffee. The minute Susannah rose to clear the table, Lije excused himself and walked out of the house.

On the porch that ran the length of the house, he stopped and breathed in deeply, his nerves quivering from the strain of the last hour. When he heard the creak of the door hinge, followed by light footsteps, he stiffened and shoved his hat on his head, moving toward the steps.

"Lije, wait." The sound of Diane's level voice was like a rope cast around him, pulling him up short. He fixed his gaze on the green grass prairie that rolled to the far horizon, its vastness dwarfed by the immense sky. She came up behind him. "I hoped we might talk."

Hardened with grimness, Lije looked back to meet her gaze. "About what?"

"Us," she replied evenly.

"There is no 'us,' Diane. Not anymore."

She dropped her gaze. "That's very definite."

"What did you expect me to say?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "I . . . I received a letter from Adam Clark last week. He was the physician at the fort during the war. He's been mustered out and gone back to Abilene to take over his father's practice. He's asked me to marry him."

"Congratulations." He pushed off the porch steps and headed across the yard.

Diane came after him and swung ahead to block his path. She held her head high; her eyes sparkled with determination. The combination accentuated the pride and strength of will Lije had always admired in her.

"I haven't accepted his proposal yet, Lije," she told him, then challenged, "Have you thought at all about what I said at Susannah's wedding?"

His breath ran out in a silent, humorless laugh. "I've thought about it, but my opinion hasn't changed. I can't be your friend. I told you before—we went past that."

"I know we did. But it would be a beginning, Lije."

He shook his head, visualizing the hell of being with her and not taking her in his arms, of watching her smile and not kissing her.

"Have you forgotten your father's arm was crippled in a battle against my regiment, Diane? Have you forgotten just how far apart we have drifted since the war began?"

"I haven't forgotten, but the war is over, Lije."

"Yes, the war's over." Lije nodded. "But the feud isn't, Diane. Alex is still out there."

Impatience and disdain nickered in her eyes for an instant; then she collected herself. "I know you still regard Alex as a threat. Heaven knows he's turned into a dangerous criminal, capable of anything."

It was her brief hesitation, her careful choice of words that told Lije she didn't believe—she didn't believe the old feud still had meaning. It hurt that she didn't understand, that she didn't accept it as valid.

But maybe it was best. He thought of his mother and the years of agony she'd gone through, fearing for his father's safety. He didn't know how long the fight with Alex might drag on. There was no way he wanted Diane to go through the anguish his mother had suffered.

"Lije?" Diane frowned, confused by his lengthening silence. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No, you're absolutely right, Diane. Alex is capable of anything."

"Then—"

"Maybe you should accept your doctor's marriage proposal. Right now I can't deal with what's between us. I have too much unfinished business. There's too much going on. I haven't got the time to find out if there's anything for us to salvage."

"Not salvage," she objected to the word. "Something to build on. I won't settle for less."

"You'd better go see if your father needs you," he told her. "I have work to do."

As he walked off, Diane watched him, confused, hurt, and a little frightened. She knew she might have lost the last chance to rebuild her relationship with Lije. But there was still Sorrel's graduation. She'd wait until then before making any decisions regarding her future.

 

 

 

31

 

 

Grand View

Cherokee Nation

]une 1867

 

Lije drove the carriage around to the front of the house and swung to the ground. The sun was high in a sky of pure blue and the air had that warm, lazy feel of summer to it. In the trees, a wren warbled in a musical burst.

Deu came up in the buggy. "Master Lije, will you tell Phoebe I'm out here waiting for her?"
 

"I'll tell her." Lije headed for the house.
 

Eliza bustled into the foyer, saw Lije, and paused. "Is the carriage out front?"

"Ready and waiting," Lije confirmed. "Where's Phoebe? Deu's outside waiting for her."

"I'll tell her." Eliza crossed to the rear hall and traveled its length to the butler's pantry. Phoebe was there. "Deu is outside," Eliza told her while pulling on an ivory glove. "Are you ready?"

"Yes, ma'am." Phoebe tucked the ends of the checkered cloth around the sides of the large basket, then used both hands to pick it up by its wooden handles.

"How nice you look, Phoebe. Is that a new hat?" Eliza studied the small-brimmed hat perched atop Phoebe's curls. A spray of blue flowers, the same color as her dress, adorned the brim.

"Yes." Beaming proudly, Phoebe reached to touch it. "Deu bought it for me. He said today was a special occasion, and I needed to have something special to wear."

"I completely agree." Eliza fitted the glove snugly to her fingers, then tugged its mate onto her other hand. "Now you tell Ike that as soon as Sorrel's graduation exercises are over, Nathan and I will come directly to his school. We should be there in plenty of time for the dedication ceremony."

"He will be so glad to have you, Miss Eliza."

"Not as happy as I will be. It's a wonderful thing he is doing, dedicating the school to Shadrach. As his former teacher, I wouldn't miss this ceremony for anything." Eliza smiled proudly, conscious of the tears that threatened to fill her eyes.

"Ike said he was only making Shadrach's dream come true. Shadrach always wanted to build a school for colored children. It's only right for it to be dedicated in his memory."

"Indeed." Eliza nodded in firm agreement, then briskly gathered herself up. "You mustn't keep Deu waiting any longer. We will see you at the school."

Eliza moved off, retracing her steps, her thoughts crowded with a thousand memories. But there was no time to dwell on the past. There was still Sorrel's graduation to attend first. She walked straight to the parlor where the others were gathered—The Blade, Reverend Cole, Jed Parmelee, Diane and Lije, Susannah and Rans.

"What are we waiting for?" Eliza paused in the archway.

"Temple and Sorrel haven't come down yet," Susannah explained.

"What's keeping them? We'll be late." With an impatient frown, Eliza turned to face the staircase.

Sorrel appeared at the top of the curved stairs, dressed in her white graduation dress, a lilac sash around her waist, her flame gold hair caught up with a matching ribbon. Temple was behind her.

"Here they come now," Eliza told the others. "Good, we're all ready."

Diane moved to the archway and paused next to Eliza, looking up. "You look beautiful, Sorrel."
 

"She does, doesn't she?" Emotion tugged again at Eliza as she watched the young girl—no, she was a young woman now—come down the steps, moving with a regality and grace that reminded Eliza of Temple. Something glittered on her dress. The sparkle caught Eliza's eye.

"What's that you're wearing, Sorrel?" She crossed to the base of the stairs for a closer look and gasped in surprise when she recognized the silver sword-shaped pin with pearls and an amethyst crowning its hilt. "The kilt pin." Eliza's eyes misted as she glanced past Sorrel to Temple. "You gave it to her."

"I wanted Sorrel to have it, and this seemed to be the perfect day to give it to her." Reaching up, Temple lightly ran a smoothing hand over her daughter's fiery tresses. It was a mother's caress, a brief clinging to a child who had become a woman.

The Blade came to stand by the stairs. "That pin has been in the Gordon family for over a hundred years. You should be honored your mother gave it to you."

"I am," Sorrel replied. But Lije noticed it was the gold locket around her neck that she reached up to touch. The locket Alex had given her. He stifled a sigh of irritation when he heard footsteps outside on the veranda. The front door opened, and Lije stiffened.

"Alex, you came!" Sorrel launched herself toward her cousin.

The Blade caught her arm before she could sweep past him. "What are you doing here, Alex?" he demanded as Lije pushed past Diane to stand next to his father.

"Let go of my arm! You're hurting me," Sorrel protested.

The Blade ignored her attempt to twist free. "You haven't answered my question, Alex."

"I'm here for Sorrel's graduation." Alex grinned back at him, satisfaction and confidence gleaming in his black eyes. "She invited me."

"Sorrel made a mistake. You're not welcome here," Lije told him.

"No!" Dismay and shock riddled Sorrel's expression. "I asked him to come."

The Blade ignored her. "Get out, Alex. And don't come near my daughter again." Lije watched surprise, disbelief, and anger chase themselves across Alex's face, a redness rising in his neck. "Don't make me repeat myself," The Blade warned.