Runaway (46 page)

“There’s really nothing I know that you don’t,” he said, “but if you’ll come downstairs and offer me a whiskey like a good hostess, I’ll be delighted to share what I do know.”

“Come,” she told him, heading for the stairs. “I’ll absolutely douse you in whiskey if it will enlighten me at all!”

In the library she poured whiskey for Robert, a brandy for herself, and sank into the comfortable sofa in the center of the room, watching her husband’s best friend
as he paced to the long window, looking out on the lawn. Waiting.

But he wasn’t going to give away his secrets so easily.

He turned and smiled at her. “How have you been? I heard about your outing into the wilderness. But you’ve been home some time now too. How are you faring here now?”

“Very well,” she replied, then lowered a finger at him. “You should have told me about Jarrett’s family. And how do you know about my excursion into the wilderness?”

“It wasn’t my place to tell you about his family—Jarrett would have gotten to it.”

“Perhaps—when we were old and gray and on our deathbeds.”

Robert grinned. “He is too close to his brother to have let it go that far! I know about your excursion because I’ve just come from the village. I’ll tell you more about it, but you finish first.”

She shook her head. “I’m fine.”

“You look it. In fact you look wonderful. More beautiful than ever.”

“Thank you. Well, perhaps I am fitting in,” she said softly, then looked at him and admitted, “I’m scarcely jealous of Lisa at all anymore! Oh, Robert! I went to her grave, and then Mary and Naomi told me what happened to her. I was so sorry! For everyone.”

Robert looked down at his glass, a curious smile curving his lips. “Yes, it was a tragedy. But you never should have been jealous of her. You would have liked her.”

“It’s just that …”

“What?”

“Jarrett still loves her.”

He was silent for a minute. “Tara, he can still hold love in his heart for her and love you as well, you know.”

She shrugged. “Ah, but there’s little I can hide from you! You know exactly how I came to be here.”

“How you came to be here doesn’t matter. That you are here does.”

“Thank you,” she said again softly. “And now, no more procrastinating, sir! What is it that you know that I don’t?” she demanded.

He shrugged after a moment, then looked at her. “Things are getting very serious in this war, you know,” he told her softly.

“But what can it be that I haven’t heard?” she asked him. “Not much could sound more terrible than what befell Major Dade!”

Robert took a big sip of his whiskey, rolled it in his mouth for a moment, then swallowed hard. He looked at her. “James McKenzie is moving his people,” he told her, setting his empty glass down on Jarrett’s desk.

“What?” Tara gasped. “But I thought that his land—”

“His land is being overrun by the military. The Treaty of Moultrie Creek is no more than a worthless piece of paper with politicians playing games with every point.”

“But Jarrett owns so much of this land.”

“Tara! Tara!” Robert walked over, kneeling down in front of her. He took her brandy glass from her fingers and set it on the side table, then took both of her hands. “James was born with white blood, and he reveres his father’s memory. But his mother is Seminole, his wife is Seminole, his children are Seminole, and his life is Seminole. This war has come too far, and too close. He must begin to move out of the way of the soldiers crawling the woods for battle and searching for Indians to ship west. Don’t you see, James has no choice.”

“But Jarrett will—”

“No, Tara. Jarrett won’t stop him. It would be wrong; he could endanger his brother. You have to understand.”

“This is so insane!” she told him. “Jarrett and James are brothers. You have made good friends with these people. I don’t see—”

“Tara, that’s exactly it!” he said with a sigh. “We have brought it down to people. To flesh and blood. Little children we love. Men we admire, women we like.” He smiled. “Even you’ve done that now, Tara. Yet remember how frightened you once were of the very idea of the Seminoles?”

“I still have the good sense to be afraid of vengeful warriors.”

“But Osceola is the fiercest of the warriors—are you afraid of him?”

“I’m Jarrett’s wife,” she said flatly.

Robert smiled. “You simply have to try very hard to understand what no man can really explain.”

She didn’t know if she understood anything or not, but when she looked up, she felt a sharp stab of unease sweep through her.

Jarrett was in the doorway.

Robert remained on his knees before her, his hands clasped warmly around hers. It was certainly a disturbing picture.

She wanted to snatch her hands away, but she didn’t dare. She had no intention of looking guilty when she and Robert both were perfectly innocent. She rose slowly, indicating the doorway. “Jarrett has come back, Robert. And Captain Argosy is with him. Perhaps they will be willing to share their decisions respecting Jarrett’s whereabouts in the next few weeks, if not the cause and reason for them!”

“Jarrett, Tyler.” Robert was smoothly off the floor, shaking hands with both men. If Jarrett’s enthusiasm for a greeting in return was lacking, Robert didn’t seem to realize it. Only Tara felt the fiery force of those ebony
dark eyes on her, and the heat that seemed to radiate from him with each smooth and catlike move.

“There’s no cause or reason of which you are not aware, my love,” Jarrett told her, standing behind her, his hands upon her shoulders, his lips just brushing her nape. “There is a war on. But supper is served. Shall we?”

He escorted her into the dining room. Robert and Tyler followed. Jarrett kept the talk conversational as the meal was served, urging Tyler to tell Tara about social events in Tampa, sparse now, admittedly, but no matter what great events were taking place in the world, gossip remained.

Halfway through the meal Robert told Jarrett what he had already told Tara. Robert had been right: though a deeply pained expression appeared on his face, Jarrett did not intend to oppose his brother’s decision.

“Of course, James intends to see you himself, but under the circumstances …” Robert’s voice trailed away.

“Just what exactly are the circumstances?” she demanded.

Tyler remained uncomfortably silent. Jarrett picked up his wineglass and spun it around. “Dozens of homes have been destroyed. Farmers killed. Rich men, poor men. But you are aware of that.”

Tara felt a chill.

Jarrett continued. “The military has suffered deeply as well, despite the federal troops sent. Some fine men have been sent here, but local militia drop out, the men are desperate to return to their homes to see to their own families. The federals know little or nothing about this terrain, they are bogged down in marsh and swamp, the Indians fight and strike and slip into the foliage, down the streams and rivers of grass in their cypress canoes.”

“So you are leaving again?” Tara said coolly.

“Tara, I am in a good position to help,” Jarrett informed her. His voice was as sharply edged as her own, and she saw his black gaze fall upon Robert. Was he worried again about leaving her? Had these days meant so little?

Yet hadn’t she worried herself? Fear that some other woman out of his past who had offered him comfort or entertainment or simple forgetfulness after Lisa’s death might offer again something that she did not?

Like trust and honesty?
she taunted herself.

“Jarrett, you cannot be the only living human being who can solve this thing!” she protested.

Tyler leaned forward suddenly. “Sergeant Culpeper was killed last week, Tara. In a skirmish with one of Osceola’s subchiefs, Coacoochee, or Wildcat.”

She swallowed hard. The knowledge hurt. She could remember Sergeant Culpeper, sitting here, in this room, right in front of her. So very polite, so very young. With so much life left to live!

She glared at Jarrett.

Tyler continued. “Osceola sent word to General Clinch after escaping one of his traps. He told the general that the whites had guns—so did he. The whites have powder and lead—and so does he. The whites will fight—so will he, until the last drop of Seminole blood moistens the soil of this, his hunting ground.”

“What has Jarrett to do with this?” she demanded.

“Jarrett can reach Osceola. Few white men can.”

Osceola! She wanted to hang him herself! She wanted to lay her head down on the table and cry for poor Sergeant Culpeper. And so many others. She could almost feel her heart hardening against Naomi and Mary, James and the girls. But Robert had been right—the relationship was between people, and none of them was
happy to be on opposite sides of a devastating and painful war.

The meal had ended. Plates remained half full. Jeeves would come into the room any minute and offer the men cigars and brandy in the library. They’d talk again—without her.

She stood abruptly, determined that she wouldn’t wait tonight to be left, she’d do the leaving herself.

“Well, if you are determined to do the army’s work, Jarrett, I can only assume you will leave in the morning. Tyler”—she hesitated, ready to tell him she was already sick to death of seeing him, but she held her tongue and managed to say other words just as true—“take care of yourself, Tyler. Keep your head down under fire.”

The men stood up. Tyler nodded gravely to her, knowing there was little he could say now that she would want to hear. Robert caught her hands and kissed her cheek.

She smoothly eluded Jarrett when he would have stopped her, slipping gracefully from the room, then speeding away from it.

She didn’t go upstairs right away, but rather wandered out to the porch. The night was cool, but mild enough. She thought of the chanting and songs that filled the fields, of the laughter the servants shared within the house. She thought of the nights when she had held both her husband and happiness, and she was suddenly afraid that it was all slipping away, that when Jarrett left this time …

“Ah, if I could but read your mind! Smooth that troubled brow!”

She spun around. Robert had come outside.

“It would not be difficult to read my mind. I am in a tempest! I am sorry for James, I am furious with Jarrett. He cannot end this war! He cannot control Osceola—”

“And he cannot turn down Tyler when Tyler has terms for him to bring to Osceola.”

“Tyler could spend the next decade sending Osceola terms. And I hate him now. I hate him because so many people are dead, and I hate him for Sergeant Culpeper—” She broke off. “Lisa would probably have managed all this so much better!”

Robert shrugged. “She’d have been upset.”

“Oh, how can you know?” Tara cried out passionately.

“Well, I knew her all my life,” Robert said defensively.

“What?” Tara demanded.

He was very still for a moment, then he cocked his head slightly, staring at her. “You mean that Jarrett has never mentioned our relationship. You still don’t … know?”

“Oh, my God! What don’t I know now?”

He smiled, shaking his head. “Nothing like the fact that you’re related to a tribe of Indians, although I suppose it is a similiar situation. Lisa was my sister.”

“What?”

“Lisa was my sister. I came with her when Jarrett bought this land, we were friends from the start. We—” He broke off, worried as he stared at Tara.

The world was spinning. Not blackening, just spinning in a white whir.
Sister!
Oh, what a fool she had been making of herself all this time. What had she said to Robert? Had she ever said anything hurtful in her jealousy, had she said or done anything foolish that might have been hard on Robert? She had imposed on him, when he must still have been in pain for a woman he had loved himself. She desperately hoped not. Robert had been so kind to her.

Damn Jarrett, damn him, damn him.

And she was still so dizzy. It was ridiculous, but she was afraid that she was going to mimic southern belle
behavior and faint there on the porch. She was starting to fall. Robert rushed forward.

It was just when he caught her in his arms that Jarrett came walking out onto the porch.

Tara fought to still her spinning head. She blinked, gritted down hard on her teeth, and willed herself to gain strength to stand alone. Robert tried to right her. Jarrett stood just outside the doorway as tall and still as a cast-bronze figure. He walked over to Tara and Robert and for once, seemed not at all in a mood to mince words with either of them.

He wrenched Tara from Robert’s hold, his fingers biting around her upper arm. “Well, my love, I’m not so sure that you’ll be at all unhappy or lonely with my departure this time.”

“Jarrett—” Robert began.

But Tara meant to have none of it. She found all the strength she could possibly want and let fly with fury, her hand striking with a determined violence against Jarrett’s cheek. He was so startled that his hold eased, and she wrenched free from him, tearing into the house and up the steps.

In her room she paused by the window, inhaling great gulps of air. After a moment she could breathe. She still couldn’t think.

She stood gazing out at the darkened lawn, her back very stiff.

She heard Jarrett when he entered the room, and she knew that he was staring at her long and hard.

“How dare you!” she said after a moment, shaking. “How dare you! To accuse us, when you were hiding the truth again!”

“What truth?”

“He’s your brother-in-law!” she cried.

“And what the hell difference does that make?” Jarrett demanded furiously.

“Oh, my God!” she breathed. “You didn’t tell me, you didn’t warn me! And I said so many things to him!”

“Whatever indiscretions you shared with him were by your own choice.”

“I wouldn’t have hurt him!” she cried raggedly. “I wouldn’t have spoken about Lisa to him. If you hadn’t kept this particular secret—”

“I didn’t mean to keep it a secret!” he snapped in interruption. “But then again, why not? Your life is one huge, continual secret!” he reminded her.

“And your life is one compromise after another!” she charged him.