The black swan (69 page)

She spat at him again. He slapped her so hard, her head

rocked. She was dizzy, her balance precarious. She groped for tJie table, her fingers closing over the handle of the carving knife.

Beau, left for unconscious, struggled to the sitting room and the muskets. He grabbed both, then dug his Colt out of his mother's sewing basket. He staggered to the dining room. Leaning heavily against the doorjamb, his mouth still pouring blood, he fired into Jake's surprised face.

Barbara leaped, driving her knife deep into Luke Baker's belly.

The other two men grabbed for their pistols as Barbara, screaming, shoved the dying man from her. Everything insight she hurled across the room. Three guns went off.

Beau discharged the second musket The Federal's head splattered on the wall.

The other Federal moved toward the window, wary of Barbara and Beau. As Beau fired, the man leaped, crashing through the glass.

Beau ran to the darkened parlor. He could hear scuffling and shouting upstairs. He moved into the hall. Legs braced, feet spread, hands together steadying the Colt, Beau aimed for the heart of one of the men at the top.

Mrs. LeClerc, her arms outstretched, butted the other Federal, pushing him down the circular staircase.

The two soldiers lay in a tangle at Beau's feet. One man was dead, the other dazed. Without hesitation Beau cracked his skull.

Barely able to speak through his ruined mouth, Beau motioned to his mother and Sissy. "One got away," he muttered, all but unintelligible. "He'll bring help. Got to get you away. Can't come back."

Mrs. LeClerc nodded. She couldn't nurse Beau now or help him in any way but to obey without question. She gathered food, matches, and necessities, thinking of the Federals who would hunt Beau down. Shortly the women were headed for the stables as Beau instructed.

Joachim had the horses hitched and waiting. Beau handed his mother a paper bearing directions to Tom and Ullah's bayou house. "Don't tarry. Ma. You have to be there before dark, or you'll get lost."

"Beau . . ." his mother cried.

"I'll come there, soon's it's safe."

"Beau .. ."

He tried to smile. It became a grimace of pain. "I'll be careful."

She cried openly as he helped her on to the wagon. "Beau, we love you, dear. Don't . . . just remember we love you."

"I know, Ma. Me too," he said, then nodded to Joachim. The wagon lurched, then rumbled at a slow pace down the driveway. Beau glanced back at his home once, then returned to the stables and saddled a horse.

With a boldness that defied his own reason he rode to the St. Charles Hotel. Not bothering to conceal himself, he walked to the flagpole, looking up where the Stars and Stripes fluttered in the late afternoon sun. Then, with the catlike agility that had once won him the task of placing the shingles on Tom and Ullah's roof, he shinnied up the flagpole.

Two guards gaped at him in astonishment. "Halt!"

Beau looked down. From his pocket he withdrew three sulphur matches. He struck one and held it to the end of the flag.

"He*s bumin' the flag!"

"Desist, or I'll shoot!"

Beau lit the second match and held it to the cloth of the flag.

Two shots rang out.

Beau plunged to the ground, the flaming flag tight in his hands.

"Look at the damned bastard," said one guard as they rushed over, grabbing the flag and stamping out the remaining flames.

The second man kicked savagely at the body. "Killin's too good!"

"Jeez-zuz, I tell ya, ya never know what one o' them crazy Rebs is liable to do."

Chapter Twenty-One

Ben knocked on the door of Adam and Dulcie*s suite at the Royal Victoria. "Good morning, Mrs.—" Dulcie's face

was white and strained, her eyes watery, her lower lip trembling. "What's wrong? Where's Adam?"

"Oh, Ben, it's so awful."

Ben stepped inside. Adam, hard-faced and grim stared down at his hands. He held two letters. A short one from Zoe said that Beau would be in Wilmington at the end of June. The other was from Beau's mother.

"Tell me what's got you both lookin' like you're at a funeral." Ben said.

Dulcie put her hand over her mouth, her breath catching on a stifled sob. "I'll ... I'll go send Claudine for some coffee." *

As Ben uneasily sat down, Adam silently handed him the letters. He read Zoe's first, as had Adam. "He lost the Ullah." Ben looked up. "Is that what's got you all worked up? Jeez, Adam, we knew it would come sometime. We ought to be whoopin' it up! Beau's all right. What's a ship?"

"Keep reading." Adam's voice was deep and thick.

"Oh, God. Oh, my God." Ben looked stricken.

"This God-damned fuckin' war!" Adam exploded, his face tight with hurt and shocked anger.

Ben walked aimlessly. "Look . . . uh, Adam, I've got to get out of here for a while. Uh, tell Dulcie . . ." He dashed for the door.

As it closed, Dulcie came back into the front room. "He knows?"

Adam walked to the window. Standing behind him, Dulcie slipped her arms around his waist and laid her cheek against his back. "Thank God it wasn't you. Come sit with me, talk to me, Adam."

"Not now. Let me alone, Dulcie."

"You'll feel better. We can write to Beau's mother. We must let her know she's not alone. Come, tell me what you'd like to say. Oh, Adam, you can't brood. You have to go on a run soon."

He turned from the window, pushing her away. "Dulcie, not now," he repeated tensely. "Leave me alone!"

"I can't. I'm your wife."

"My wife, not my keeper, Dulcie!'*

"Adam . . ."

"I don't want to talk to you." His voice was cold, his eyes hard.

Dulcie stared at him, helpless and hurt. There was a

great part of himself he still kept closely guarded. The years of his growing up, the events that had made him the man she loved, he refused to share with her.

She fled to the bedroom before he could see her crying. She waited expectantly for the front door to close.

Adam was torn between the need to leave, walk, run, heal himself until the kinks of pain and memory eased and the need to go to Dulcie. He walked hesitantly to the bedroom. She was standing by their bed, waiting, he knew, for him to leave. He went to her, closing her inside his arms. "I'm sorry."

"Oh, so am I, Adam," she cried, holding herself against him. "I'll never ask you to tell me things you don't want to tell me."

"Beau . . . Beau was like my brother. I can't believe he won't be coming into port any day now, that I'll never see or hear his voice again. Oh, God, Dulcie, why? He had such plans, so much to do, and now . . ." he straightened and moved away from her again. "It's all a waste. The destruction and misery . . . it's a bitter, rotten war. So much death."

"It's not all death, Adam. There's life too."

"Life? Poverty. Illness. Hunger. Painful, useless life."

"No, you're virong. I didn't think this was the time to tell you, but perhaps it is the best time of all."

He didn't look at her. She went on alone. "We're goin* to have a child, Adam," she said softly. "He'll never see any of this war or misery. We'll make a fine home for him. Perhaps if we gave him Beau's name . . ."

Adam stared as though she were a marvelous stranger. She laughed nervously. "I—^it won't happen until next spring. You are pleased? Adam, say something!"

He nodded like a small boy, then smiled uncertainly. Dulcie laughed and threw herself into his arms. "Oh, Adam, I love you!"

He held her close, kissing her, then stopping to look at her, his fingers moving across the exposed areas of her flesh, perhaps to see if she had altered in that moment she told him she carried their first child. He took her to the bed, undressed her and then himself.

Dulcie giggled as he lay down beside her. His desire to see her all over, to find and marvel at the slightest change her pregnancy might have brought was obvious. She had done the same thing before her mirror, looking

at her breasts to see if they had yet begun to swell, sticking her small, still-flat tummy out to see what she would look like months from now.

Adam's hands moved across her breasts. "I think they are already a little larger," she said. "Can you tell?"

He put his face between them, then moved down to her belly, his hands caressing her. He kissed the smooth skin above the triangle of hair. "Will it be a boy?" he asked softly, wanting to hear that it would.

"It must be, Adam. And we will name him Beau. Beau Tremain."

He kissed the soft skin over the child again, then lay with his hand covering her belly. "I love you."

Late that afternoon they walked down Bay Street toward Rawson Square. Adam talked easily now, telling her of years in school when he and Beau and Ben heckled teachers and ran free in the bayous playing at Indians or hunting alligators.

They spent a leisurely afternoon, walking in and out of stores, buying things they neither wanted nor needed. Their talk flowed, and while it was tinged with a sense of Beau's death, it drew them closer together.

Dulcie looked up at her husband, her eyes filled with admiration and love. She wanted Jem and Patricia to see him through her eyes, to know him as she did now, to know how happy she was with him. Letters were not enough, particularly with the way she had left home, running first from New Orleans and then the harrowing escape with Adam from New York, and now Beau's death. Life was too uncertain, family too impermanent not to touch them whenever she could. Perhaps when the war was over, they wouldn't be there.

"Adam, could you take me home when you make the next trip? I wouldn't get in the way. I know the rules of your ship now."

"You want to go to Mossrose," he said softly, a fact not a question.

"I'd like to see Mama, and of course Daddy will have instructions as to what our child must look like. You realize. Daddy will insist on a full head of red hair like his own, freckles, and—a Moran temper."

"Poor man's in for a disappointment. Beau will have a Tremain temper and no freckles anywhere. Those are cute only on girls."

**Then you'll take me?"

"I'm due in Savannah in August. It won't be an easy trip, Dulcie. Think it over before you decide. The river is closed off by the blockade. I'll have to come into Charleston and go to Savannah by land."

"Oh, good!"

"Good? No, you don't understand. We—"

Dulcie giggled and pressed his arm against her. "I'll have you all to myself across an ocean and then all the way from Charleston to Savannah and then at Mossrose and all the way back. Now, who doesn't understand?" she asked impishly. "Maybe we'll have twins."

Ben left for Wilmington the night before Adam and Dulcie were due to sail for Charleston. They went to the pier to see him off.

"Godspeed," Adam clasped Ben's hand with greater fervor and meaning than ever before.

Ben's eyes met his. "You too, Adam." He smiled at Dulcie. "You take care of yourself and your family, Dulcie. Watch out for the captain here."

When the Liberty steamed into the channel, Adam said, "You're certain you want to make this trip? I can carry letters to your family for you."

"I'm sure, Adam."

"I thought you would be, so I had your trunks put aboard. Dulcie, what about the baby? And why must you travel without Claudine?"

She shook her head stubbornly. "I won't need Claudine." Then she smiled. "Don't you remember, I want you all to myself? No one but us."

Pleased and loving every minute of her adoration, he looked no farther than her words for her reasons for leaving Claudine behind.

Dulcie boarded the Independence while Adam saw to last-minute arrangements. As she organized her own belongings in the cabin and struggled with unaccustomed practicalities, she knew that when she and Adam returned from Mossrose, something would have to be done about Claudine. Claudine was in love with Adam. She had not done anything Dulcie could criticize, but the knowledge was always there. So was the possibility that one night Adam would come in late when Claudine was not by Dulcie's side. She knew she couldn't stand that. Even if

Claudine weren't with Adam, the suspicion would be. And if Claudine were with Adam, she'd rather die than know.

The only reasonable solution was to bring a new maid back with her from Mossrose. She would give Claudine her freedom. Adam would approve. And Claudine would have to agree that her freedom didn't include Nassau or anyplace near Adam. Perhaps she would hke to return to France.

The following evening Dulcie stood on the quarterdeck beside her husband, waving happily at Claudine. The twinkling lights and gay noises were behind her. Claudine looked tiny standing beside the gargantuan Rosebud. Dulcie knew she felt abandoned and confused. For a moment all Dulcie's resolve melted. No one could replace Claudine. She would not send her away. Claudine was the best friend she ever had.

Then Adam waved to the small black girl, and Clau-dine's face changed. The lost-child look vanished as her attention riveted on Adam. She smiled, her whole being coming alive. Dulcie watched and felt a little sad. No matter how much she cared for Claudine, she cared for herself and Adam more. Claudine would leave on their return.

The Independence steamed out of the harbor, leaving Nassau a dim, misty mirage behind them. Adam set course for the North West Providence Channel. Dulcie was alert, tense, momentarily expecting to see a Federal cruiser. As the crew lounged without concern on the watch and Adam was relaxed and gazing contentedly out to sea, she tugged at his sleeve, her eyes full of questions. He laughed, and the sound was loud, carrying on the evening air.

"You said I wasn't allowed to talk!" she accused. "And here you are—"

"We're still in British waters—^no Federals allowed," he said, still chuckling. "As soon as we clear the islands, then it's all quiet."

"How long until we're clear? Will it be completely dark by then?"

"I certainly hope so. We want to slip past the cruisers that lie in wait just beyond the Bahamas. They like nothing better than to catch some unsuspecting runner steaming right into their path."

"You mean they cruise clear out here?"