The black swan (53 page)

"But a challenge—"

"A challenge has to be worth takin'."

Dulcie was bewildered. Brave men fought when challenged. No one ever questioned the worth of a challenge. Honor was to be defended at all costs.

Her cousin Robert Tilden was at the refreshment table. Robert was twenty-two, swarthy and dark-haired, with a waxed moustache that curled up to points. He was a member of a Zouave army company in New Orleans. Today he wore the high-necked red Garibaldi smock, belted with a sky-blue sash over full-cut blue breeches that tucked into shiny black boots.

On a visit to New Orleans at the age of fourteen Dulcie had briefly fallen in love with her good-looking cousin. She was quite certain Robert would not have walked away from Leroy's taunts. She smiled at him fondly, glad of a respite from her disturbing doubts about Adam. "I declare, Robert, no one but you could make those baggy britches look stylish!"

Robert's white teeth flashed. "You'll turn my poor head with your flattery. Cap'n Tremain, we missed you out on the field. I'm afraid the Savannah True Grays are over-supplied with boys and short on men. I hear you're orginal-ly from New Orleans. I figure two New Orleanians should even the odds for them. Would you care to join us tomorrow?"

Dulcie felt herself cringe. But Robert's smile was genu-iae; so was Adam's.

"Thank yon. Perhaps I will. Captain Biggs also extended an invitation."

To Dulcie's amazement the men laughed easily together. Robert, whom she'd known all her life, was no stranger to a fight. And she had seen Adam's temper flare over less. Aboard the Tunbridge he'd disposed of Toby Dobbs without hesitation. But both of them seemed to take Leroy's slur on Adam's courage as a joke. What did they see that she was unable to?

Dulcie could not help remembering the lavish ballrooms in the Castle duBois. Her own home was as beautiful in its way tonight, softly lit by lamps and candles reflected in gilt-framed mirrors. Yet she realized she was looking at it with detachment. Perhaps her year in Europe had removed her from the self she had been before.

More likely, Adam Tremain had made her look at herself and question the desirability of a prearranged life. Only now did she realize she wanted none of it. He had made it impossible for her to live the contented social life of her mother or dream the limited domestic dreams of Camille Whitaker Biggs.

By first intermission Dulcie felt old and very mature. The young belle was gone, as were the courtiers. Aside from Adam and Glenn she had hardly danced tonight with a male over the age of sixteen. Glenn's seriousness became him now, in spite of his constant talk of Addie Jo. Dulcie was half-amused, half nettled: after all, Glenn had grown up in love with her.

She walked in the garden with Andrew Whitaker, who claimed her for the next dance. "Miss Dulcie, I want to apologize for my brother-in-law. He ain't scarcely mo'n half-tamed anyway, an' there's not a gentleman here who's not ashamed o' the way he's baitin' yo' daddy's houseguest.'*

"Captain Tremain can take care of himself, Andrew, but thank you."

"Me'n Leroy's friends, but many's the times I've hauled off and fisted him good. He just loves a fight, an' he's gonna make a fine soldier—if one o' his friends don't kill him first on account o' his mean mouth."

"What about you, Andrew? Are you anxious to get into the war?"

"Yes an' no, Miss Dulcie. I never backed off from a fight yet, but somethin' about this one makes my stomach clench up. I ain't jes' positive I'm gonna get back from it."

Dulcie felt her blood go suddenly cold. War and death went together, but not for men like Andrew or Glenn or Adam. "Of course you will, Andrewl What silly talk!"

He produced a grin. "Jes' in case I don't, could I kiss you now?"

She hesitated. It wasn't proper, but Andrew was nice. "All right, but on my cheek. And no hands!"

Andrew laughed. "You sho' know how to plumb ruin a good thing, Dulcie!" He leaned forward, his hands behind him, and kissed her softly on the mouth.

As Andrew drew away, Adam said pleasantly, "Excuse us, please." Gay, clinging to his arm, said nothing. Wide-eyed, Dulcie watched them pass.

"Miss Dulcie, I'm truly sorry," Andrew whispered. "I wouldn'ta done anything to make him think ill of you.'*

"He seemed happy with Gay," she said flippantly.

Andrew grinned. "You promised me the next dance. That way some big tall ship's cap'n can't take exception when I got both arms around his girl."

"But I'm not his—"

"No, but you're a-gonna be." He swept her onto the floor, giving ker no chance to reply.

She danced with Andrew and giggled at his jokes. Robert came up, tremendously attractive in a muted plaid coat and trousers, and swung her off her feet in a reel. Leroy, quite drunk, appropriated her for a waltz. He could hardly walk, yet he danced as lightly as ever. But whoever held her, her eyes constantly sought and found Adam.

Adam, she observed resentfully, was the belle of this ball. Not enough that his wine frock coat, pale gray trousers, and ruffled shirt fit him as though they were molded to his body. Not enough that one glimpse of him made every woman aware of her sex and his. Not enough that his ways were endearing him to every female from fluttery-lashed Millie to old Grandmother Whitaker. Not enough that he had made her long to be with him. It wouldn't kill him to ask me for one dance, she thought almost tearfully.

The long intermission was nearly over before he came up to her. "May I get you a cup of punch, Dulcie?" His expression was unreadable, almost dangerously neutral. Was he angry still? Or did he not care?

"Yes, please, Adam."

They strolled onto the front veranda. "Are you enjoyin' the dance?"

"Of course." He smiled down at her. "Aren't you?"

Something in his voice made her look at him, then quickly away. "Yes!"

In his silence her fib stood out boldly. Adam took her hand in his.

There were others nearby, couples strolling toward the gardens and the folly. He had nothing to say to her, for the intermission ended and they were alone, and he had not uttered a word. Yet, there was a union in their silence. Her jealousy eased. Perhaps now she could stand seeing him dance with other girls and not feel diminished by it

"Dance with me, Dulcie."

Her heart leaped with gladness. "I'd—I'd like that."

They whirled over the smooth lawn to the strains of "Wait for the Wagon." His eyes never left hers. They were laughing, then came the applause. Waite and Phil leaped into view, clapping. "Bravo! Bravo!"

Dulcie was annoyed. Waite said, "Robert says you'll be on our team tomorrow. Captain."

"We need somebody that can get outa his own way better'n Glenn!"

"You think I can, that it, boys?" Adam asked lightly.

"Sure," Phil piped. "Anything'd be an improvement over what we got."

Adam laughed heartily. "One thing all your family seems to believe is that no man should be allowed to think too highly of himself."

The tournament resumed in the morning mist. When the long silver trumpet blew, Jem announced the javelin throw.

The contestants had shed yesterday's finery. Most wore riding breeches and soft shirts. Dulcie quickly decided that Robert was nearly as handsome as Adam, that Leroy was nearly as well built. Adam was wearing breeches of a warm earthy brown, that fit snugly over his flat belly and narrow hips, stretching across his powerful legs and buttocks. His shirt, damp in the mist, clung to his chest, sleeves rolled up to reveal thickly muscled forearms. His hair curled riotously, making him look younger and more rakishly masculine than ever. Dulcie couldn't tear her eyes

from him, nor could she ignore the intriguing pictures of him that flashed through her mind.

Gay poked her. "Why are you blushin'? What happened? I didn't see anythin'."

"There was nothin' to see!" Dulcie tried to watch calmly as Adam took his position on the field. He picked up the javelin, testing its balance, flexing his arm, getting the feel of the instrument in his hand. Then he ran, his powerful legs setting a rhythm, torso turning, arm out, his chest thrust forward as he hurled the spear out toward the markers. Dulcie could barely sit still as Glenn's team became victors on the strength of Adam's and Robert's throws.

She was nearly breathless when the steeplechase began. Down the course were bales of hay, sections of snake fence, and a barrier of large flat rocks. At the starting gun the contestants were to clear all barriers, turn around at the end, and run against the tide of laggers back to the starting point.

Phil and Waite took off at the "get ready*' count, and were ten feet down the lane before the shot sounded. "False start! Go on back!" Phil turned in one direction, Waite in the other. The mass of contestants pounded down * the track toward them. The cousins ran heavily into each other and went sprawling. Those in the rear had to leap over several fallen bodies before the casualties picked themselves up and continued running.

The steeplechase was grueling, requiring tremendous strength and stamina as weU as speed. Contestants fell, agonizing over cramps in legs and sides. By accident or in malice some stepped on the heels of men in front of them, battling to be first over the barriers.

Adam, running in front with Andrew, Robert, and several teen-age boys, had cleared the hay barriers and fences. Just ahead was the rock pile, too high to leap over, too wide to clear, and treacherous to climb. There was a mad scramble as others leaped for the same spot. The hurtling bodies, Adam among them, crashed down on the far side of the pile. With a triumphant "Yaa-hoo!" Leroy Biggs hurdled the rock pile and landed with both hands in the small of Adam's back.

"You son of a bitch," Adam gasped.

"Somethin' botherin' you, Cap'n?" Leroy smiled, then fell back as Lyman slid face first down the pile onto him.

Adam, limping for the next few strides, went on. He leaped the last barrier—hay bales with slithery hay scattered on the far side—and sprawled again. He felt as bruised and mauled as he had when, as an apprentice aboard his first ship, he had learned to climb the rigging.

On the way back he concentrated not on his competitors, but on the course. The rock barrier looked less formidable now. The runners had knocked it down to more manageable height, merely an ankle-spraining obstacle. At the hurdles Adam made up distance, his long stride and powerful legs taking him over the snake fences with ease. He was ahead, sprinting strongly down the quarter mile to the finish line.

Leroy's heavy footsteps behind him spurred him on, knees high*, kick strong as he gauged his steps to the last hurdle. Leroy pulled up beside him. Again their eyes met, grim determination on both faces, mingled with the contorted grimaces of agonized lungs.

"I'm a-gonna whup you, you smart-assed boat driver," Leroy gasped.

"Like hell."

They ran down the long lane, faces red, hearts slamming, pushed on by cheers and the sight of the finish line. At the last barrier something—someone?—hit against Adam's foot. His rhythm was gone. He couldn't clear the barrier. He could go through it or ... He dived in a forward roll, regained his balance, and kept running. At the finish line he was two paces behind Leroy and five ahead of Lyman Matthews and Robert Tilden.

When the last contestant had straggled in, pandemonium reigned. Men bent over trying to regain their breath. Several vomited into the bushes. One teen-ager turned brilliant red, then ghost white as he passed out. Men were draped over the hay bales, chests heaving, sweat pouring.

"Keep moving, boy, keep moving," Adam panted, forcing Phil Tilden to keep jogging with him, slowing the pace until they could stand it.

There was a break while thirsty competitors crowded the refreshment table, laughing again and jostling each other. Leroy was lording his triumph. "Yes, sir, it just don't take much a-tall to beat out-a-town boys. Seems like if they ain't got a boat under their feet, they better get wheels!'* The laughter was general and good-natured, and Adam joined in.

"Hey, Cap'n," Leroy beamed, "how 'bout a good ol' boxin' match? Jes' you an* me, jes' us two big boys? Whad-daya say to that?"

"Sorry," said Adam, and finished his drink. "Too dangerous."

Leroy's laughter boomed out. Dulcie, approaching with Gay and Jeannie, said, "What's he up to now?"

"Haw! Haw! Haw! Too dangerous, the cap'n says. Well, by damn, Cap'n, even if I wasn't holdin' my cotton for better prices, I sho' wouldn't want to ship it with you!"

Adam said, with a little smile, "I didn't say who it was dangerous for."

Leroy's eyes narrowed. "I say you're afraid to face me fair and square."

Adam's mind flashed back to dock brawls in London, Tokyo, Bombay. Then it had been learn quick or lose his life. "I'm not going to fight you, Biggs. Save it for the Yankees."

Andrew said plaintively, "Leroy, ain't you never a-gonna grow up?"

Gamille tucked her hand under Leroy's arm and gave him a strained smile. "Honey, that was a mighty fine race y'all ran. I'm right proud of you!"

Leroy glowered at her and shoved her away. The others, embarrassed, covered up the awkward moment. Dulcie and Gay, chattering lightly, took Adam's arms, and they headed back toward the tournament grounds.

The horn sounded for the rope climb. Jem said, "Now, friends and neighbors, we've got an easy-lookin' little competition here, just a short trip up to that first limb"—^heads went up, up to the sailor's knots in the rope, sixty feet above the ground—"and down. Everybody gets two tries."

The younger boys went first. As one then another tried and failed to go up the rope, the audience and other contestants became eager to see somebody, anybody climb it. Glenn went higher than anyone before him; then he made the mistake of looking down. Leroy, who had sneered at the failures, was next. Like the others, he had watched the techniques of the better climbers. He pulled himself up until his feet could grip the rope. He went up hand over hand, more and more slowly, then he lost the hold with his feet, panicked, and started the rope to twisting. He slid back down.

He blew elaborately on his burning hands, spat on them