Passion's Fury (2 page)

April had attended a heat race one Sunday in Montgomery and had been completely enthralled. Four-year-old horses competed the full distance of four miles, and that day, her father’s entries had won.

She always had loved to ride, but, due to her father’s insistence that she spend most of her time in pursuit of genteel interests such as books and music, there had not been much time for riding. Vanessa, on the other hand, went riding as often as she pleased. April had often watched in wistful envy from the windows of the great house as her twin romped across the lush green lawns of Pinehurst.

They neared the stables, and April could not stand the suspense any longer. “Poppa, would you please tell me what all this is about?” she begged, shivering in the cold despite her cape and his arm about her.

He stopped just outside the door leading to the smaller of the buildings. “Do you remember my prize Darley Arabian?” he asked proudly.

“Yes, of course. He’s a magnificent creature. People come from all over just to see him.”

“Do you remember all I told you about him?”

She nodded. “He has a pedigree, is full-blooded, and is a descendant of a famous horse named
Eclipse,
bred by the Duke of Cumberland.”

“And I had him brought over here from England at great expense,” he added with a wry smile. “Well, I’ve a wonderful surprise for you, and it’s been quite difficult keeping it a secret. I’ve had to keep you away from the stables and leave strict orders to the groomsmen that your surprise be kept out of sight.”

“Poppa, whatever are you talking about?”

Bewildered, she watched as he reached to open the stable door. The glow of a lantern spilled out into the gathering twilight. He looked inside, nodded to someone, then turned to her and said in a voice trembling with pride, “I have hidden Virtus’s colt from you, April, because he is my gift to you on this day.”

He laughed at her stunned expression and reached to pull her inside the stable. She gasped, catching sight of a shiny black colt prancing in the center of the room. His coat shone like satin, and his
eyes sparkled with gold and red fires. He was the most magnificently beautiful horse she had ever seen, even among her father’s thoroughbreds.

“You…you mean he’s
mine
?”
April looked from the black colt to her father in disbelief. “You are giving the son of Virtus to me?”

“He’s all yours.” He was beaming with pride. “Now he hasn’t been broken yet, and I certainly don’t want you riding him until he is. Like his father, he’s high-spirited. But you should be able to handle him after he’s trained.”

“She’ll never be able to handle this horse.”

For the first time, April noticed a man standing in the shadows outside the ring of light, holding the colt’s reins. He stepped forward, and she dimly recognized Rance Taggart, who had arrived at Pinehurst when his father became ill. Frank Taggart had been in charge of the stables for as long as she could remember, and his son Rance had often been at Pinehurst.

Vaguely, she recalled her father saying something about Mr. Taggart’s son arriving a month or so previously, but since she had not been in the stables of late, she had not noticed him.

Now, she felt her father stiffen with indignation. He was not accustomed to being challenged.

“What do you mean by that, Taggart?” Carter Jennings growled.

Rance’s eyes flicked over April briefly, then met the challenge of Carter’s glare. April noted that he was a full head taller than her father, with wide shoulders. Beneath his open suede shirt, she could see a heavily furred chest tapering down to a flat belly and narrow hips. He was well-proportioned, lean, yet muscular.

Her gaze moved to his face. His hair was ebony, and his eyes, a smoldering chestnut brown, were intense, probing in their alertness. He was quite handsome. Something about him was disturbing…something she did not understand just yet. Something dangerous? She was not quite sure, but the man possessed a quality that caused her to tremble at his nearness.

Rance spoke to Carter Jennings in a firm confident tone. “This colt is very high-spirited, and even after he’s broken, it will take an experienced rider to handle him. April isn’t that experienced. If you want to give her a horse, there are some gentle mares—”

“You forget your place, Taggart!”

Rance Taggart did not wither before her father’s angry, booming voice as other men did. He stood straight, erect, eyes unwavering. He had no intention of apologizing.

“I own this colt, just as I own everything else at Pinehurst, and if you think I will tolerate your telling me what I may or may not give my daughter—”

Rance’s smile was arrogant as he tilted his head to one side. “Mr. Jennings, I don’t give a damn if you give your daughter every horse you own. Along with every cow and mule. I’m just telling you what I know. This colt is too dangerous for her to ride. She could get her neck broken.”

As if to emphasize the statement, the colt suddenly reared up on his hind legs, forelegs thrashing wildly in the air above. Startled, April stepped back. She would have fallen, but Rance’s free hand shot out to steady her. He gave the reins a yank with his other hand, bringing the colt down on all fours once again. “See what I mean, Mr. Jennings?” he drawled.

Carter Jennings’s hands were clenching and unclenching at his sides. “You made him do that. I find you insolent, Taggart. Tell me, just how is your father? I’d like to know how much longer Pinehurst will be subjected to your presence.”

Rance was unswayed. “My father is still in bed, Mr. Jennings, flat on his back. But if you would like me to leave before he’s able to take over the stables again, I can oblige you.”

Despite his anger, Carter knew that it would not do to turn the care of the expensive stock over to the Negroes. Until Frank Taggart was able to resume his duties, his son would have to be tolerated.

“You may stay,” he said tightly, “but remember your place. I won’t tolerate insolence from you or anyone else in my employ.”

He turned to April, forcing a smile. “Well, what do you think, darling? He’s a beauty, isn’t he? And, I might add, worth a fortune.”

Her first reaction had been to protest the extravagant gift, but suddenly she found herself resenting the arrogance of the man who stood there smirking, insisting that she was inexperienced. A quiver of rebellion sparking from deep within, she stepped forward and touched her fingertips to the colt’s velvet nose. “I think he’s wonderful, and I love him already. I can’t wait to ride him.”

She turned to look at Rance, expecting to see—what? Anger? Alarm? Instead, she saw that his mildly mocking expression had not changed. His mouth twisted to one side in a knowing grin, as though he
knew
she was actually frightened and realized he was right—she wouldn’t be able to handle this horse.

April and Rance locked eyes, each silently challenging the other.

Suddenly the stable doors creaked open. Turning quickly they saw one of the servants scrambling to get out of the way of a thundering horse. Vanessa was riding him. She reined her lathered mount to a stop only a few feet from where they were standing.

Carter began swiping with annoyance at the dust settling on his coat. “Vanessa, in the name of heaven, do you have to charge in here like that? You could injure someone. And
that is no way to stop a horse. You have the manners and the grace of a nigra field hand!”

Vanessa threw her right leg up and over the horse’s neck and dropped to the ground with a thud of booted feet. She was wearing worn, dirty breeches, and her golden hair was tossed wildly about her wind-flushed face. She tossed the reins to the stable hand, who led the animal away to walk him down.

Her blue eyes swept over the three of them curiously. She ignored her father’s admonishment. Then her gaze narrowed suspiciously on the colt. She addressed herself to Rance. “Why is the colt here?”

“Your father just made a present of him to April.”

“Oh, he did, did he?” She placed her gloved hands on her hips and turned to April, lips curled back in a snarl. “Well, you did it again, didn’t you? You begged and wheedled Poppa into giving you something just because you knew
I
wanted it.”

“Oh, Vanessa, no!” April gasped, shaking her head quickly from side to side. “I knew nothing about this.”

“What do you mean, something
you
wanted?” Carter snapped. “I would never give you something as valuable as this colt. I know how you handle the horses. You haven’t got sense enough to appreciate something of value.”

Vanessa gave her hair a toss and turned her sneering grin on him. “Really, Poppa? Well, tell me. When have I ever been given anything of value? I’ve never had anything except April’s leftovers!”

“This is neither the time nor the place,” he sputtered, face coloring. “Get out of here at once.”

“Oh, I’ll go”—she took a step backward—“but I won’t forget this. You win again, sister dear.” She gave April a snapping salute before turning on her heel and walking toward the door.

“Vanessa, listen to me, please.” April started to follow, but her father caught her arm and held her back. “It isn’t what you’re thinking,” she called to her twin. “You must believe me. I had no idea—”

“Don’t argue with her.” Carter gave her a gentle shake. “She’s just trying to make trouble as she always has.”

Vanessa paused at the door to look over her shoulder at Rance and cry, “Maybe you can see now that I was telling you the truth about my life, the way I’ve been treated!” With a sob, half anger, half anguish, she rushed into the night.

Carter turned to Rance and told him to put the colt away. “And see to it that Vanessa never rides him.”

“Whatever you say, Mr. Jennings.” Rance began walking toward the stall, pulling the colt along. But he cast one final look at April. Was it contempt? Anger? She did not know and she admonished herself for caring. She had not seen Rance Taggart in years. But, strangely, she felt touched by him now.

Her father took her arm and led her from the stable. “This is a special night. Your night,” he murmured quietly as they walked toward the house. “We won’t let Vanessa ruin it for either of us.”

She did not speak. There was too much turmoil inside her. Oh, why couldn’t Vanessa see that she loved her and despised the way their father treated her?

Suddenly, April felt an impulse to turn and look back. Rance Taggart was leaning against the stable door, tall in the moonlight, arms folded across his chest. He was not smiling. He was staring boldly at her.

Once more, she felt a strange trembling from deep within.

Chapter Two

The great plantation of Pinehurst had come to full life. The tall, regal Lombardy poplars lining the long, curving drive swayed in apparent anticipation of the evening ahead. The white, columnar, two-story mansion glowed and glittered, as though bragging to every tree, rock, and blade of glass, that
it
was host to this magnificent affair.

April stood in her room before the oval, gilt-edged mirror above the dressing table. Surveying her hair critically, she decided that Cora had done a good job. A great roll swept from behind each ear and down below her neck, creating a silken, glistening hoop of golden tresses. The hair was carefully parted above her smooth forehead.

She turned her head this way and that in the lantern’s glow, satisfied with the way the tiny diamond teardrops sparkled in her hair.

Cora stepped forward with an enormous powder puff, which April took and began dusting her chest. She loved the fragrant smell and, feeling just a bit wicked, allowed a bit of rice powder to settle into the ravine of her cleavage.

“You sho’ got nice bosoms,” Cora said admiringly. “If I hadn’t nursed nine young’uns, maybe mine wouldn’t hang to my belly. ’Course I ain’t never had a fine body like you got, Miss April.”

April felt her cheeks grow warm. Such talk embarrassed her, and she always hated dressing in front of her maids. She much preferred to stand behind the brocade screen in privacy, but tonight she was in a hurry and had no time for modesty. The visit to the stables had delayed her, and the guests were already arriving. The musicians were beginning to tune their instruments. She wanted to make a grand entrance with Vanessa, but, as angry as Vanessa had been, she might just go on down alone if April weren’t ready when she was.

“The hoop, Cora,” she said quickly. “I must hurry.”

“I’ll have to get Lucy to help,” Cora said as she rushed from the room.

“While you’re doing that, have someone check and see how long before Vanessa will be ready.”

Oh, why did Poppa have to be the way he was? He seemed to be getting worse, too. He just wasn’t himself at all lately. It was the war, she told herself. He was worried. South Carolina had seceded from the Union in December. Mississippi and Florida followed in January, and her own state, Alabama, seceded one day after Florida’s decision. Then Georgia and Louisiana announced their severance, and Texas was close on their heels.

War was imminent, and although her father tried to shield her, she knew enough to be afraid.

The door opened with a bang and Cora and Lucy hurried in, each carrying a tall stool. Cora brought the big iron cage hoop from where it stood in the corner and fastened it about April’s tiny waist. Then the two Negro women climbed up on the stools. They each took a long pole and lifted the first of three horsehair crinolines.