The Color Of The Soul (The Penbrook Diaries) (18 page)

“Thanks,” Andy said, rubbing his raw
skin. “The would-be assassin becomes the hero.”

Rafe jammed a meaty finger into Andy’s
chest. “Listen to me. You’d best stay off this road from here on out.”

Andy shook his head. “Can’t. I have a
story to finish researching before I can go home.” He gave a wry grin. “But
I’ll travel by night and follow the river so the patrollers and bloodhounds
won’t find me.”

Rafe scowled. “Spare me the runaway slave
references. Get in the truck. I’ll drive you back to Buck’s place.

Andy’s brow rose. “You mean ride in
back?”

“Don’t be stupid. You think I make my
Ruthie ride in back? We’re both targets as it is, so no one will be surprised
to see us together.”

“Suit yourself.” Andy climbed into the
truck, refusing to acknowledge that his gut was clenched with nervous tension.

When they arrived at Buck’s rooming
house, Rafe pulled along the edge of the street.

Andy reached for the door handle,
then
turned back. “Look. Under the circumstances--”

“You don’t need to apologize for your
opinion about me and Ruthie. We don’t care what you think.”

“I wasn’t.” Andy stared with frank
perusal at the giant of a man. “Personally I think relationships between races
are a mistake. There are too many repercussions. But that doesn’t excuse the
way I spoke to you or Ruthie.”

Rafe nodded. “Well, we already settled
that, didn’t we? And don’t expect me to apologize for thrashing you. You’re
just lucky they pulled me off you when they did.”

Andy’s lips tilted. “Yeah, I suppose so.
Anyway, I’m obliged for the intervention today and for the ride.”

“You take care. And next time you need to
go out to Miss Penbrook’s, have Buck send word and I’ll drive you out there. No
sense tempting Gabe and his boys.”

“Why do you care?”

“I care about my brother. I don’t want to
see him messed up in something he can’t get out of. My family has enough
trouble to deal with.”

“If you’re so worried about your family,
why don’t you give up Ruthie?”

Rafe gave him a sad smile. “Might as well
ask me to rip out my heart. Believe me, I’ve tried. I can’t. She can’t. We need
each other.”

“Then why not leave town? Go north to
Canada?”

He gave a shrug. “I don’t know. We might
if things get worse.”

*****

The house was quiet when Andy entered. He
headed straight to his room and slipped off his shoes. Prayer seemed the only
appropriate course of action as he stretched out on the bed and closed his eyes.
“I don’t know why
You
’d spare my life after I walked
out on You so many years ago,” he spoke into the darkness. “But thank
You
.”

He touched the spot on his wrists where
the rope had rubbed him raw. Tears formed quickly, and before he could wipe one
away, another made a trek down his cheek. Today, he’d almost been killed.
For what?
The look of utter hatred in Sam’s eyes haunted
him. Curling into a ball, he sobbed until no tears remained.

1912

Twelve-year-old
Andy sat on the step and watched Jonas Riley playing
baseball in the street with his friends. White friends. Usually Andy didn’t
care about being excluded. He’d rather be reading a book or writing a short
story anyway. But today, Aunt Lois had sent him outside with the other boys,
insisting he was going to be sickly if he didn’t get some fresh air once in a
while.

“Andy,
come be our fourth man,” Jonas called. “We need another player.”

“Hey,
he ain’t playing.” Karl Starnes held the ball tightly in his hand and stood his
ground.

Jonas
stepped forward and faced him nose to nose. “Who says?”

“I
do.”

Standing
to his full height, Jonas looked down on Karl. “Well, I say he’s playing. And
I’m a lot bigger than you.”

Jonas
was a true friend.
Andy’s best friend.
Mrs. Riley
always said they could have been brothers.
Like two peas in a
pod.
Jonas and Andy laughed when she said that. Andy’s happiest times
were when he stayed inside the Riley home and read, or played cowboys and
Indians with Jonas.

The
times he hated were when Jonas got into fights because of him. Like he was
about to now. Anger popped out Jonas’s freckles and Andy almost felt sorry for
Karl. He was about to get some thrashing.

Karl
obviously saw the same thing. With a scowl, he backed down. “All right. He can
play. But I don’t want him on my team.”

“You
couldn’t have him if you did want him. He’s too good for your team.”

It
was a lie that all too soon became obvious. But even losing the game for Jonas
couldn’t diminish Andy’s sense of pride. Jonas was a good buddy. Easily the
most popular boy in school and well liked. And he was Andy’s champion.

Wrapped
in a cocoon of love and acceptance, it was only in the dark of night that Andy
longed for home.

Andy’s eyes opened at the sound of a
knock on his door. He called a welcome.

Ella stepped inside. “There’s a phone
call for you.”

Frowning, Andy sat up. “Miss Penbrook?”

She shook her head. “It’s a woman who
says she’s your wife.”

Andy shot from his bed and sprinted past
Ella. In the hallway downstairs he snatched up the phone. “Lexie?”

“Hi, Andy.” Something was different. That
hard-edged tone he’d become accustomed to over the past year was noticeably
absent.

His pulse picked up. “Is everything all
right?”

“Yes. I--I just have to tell you
something.”

Dread formed a knot in his gut. “Go
ahead.”

“Not on the phone.”

He gave a short laugh. “Then why’d you
call?”

“Don’t be nasty.” Hurt deepened her
voice.

“I’m sorry, Honey. But I don’t understand
why you called only to tell me you can’t tell me something over the phone.”

“Well, if you’ll listen, I’ll explain.”

Andy released a sigh. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m taking a bus down there tomorrow.”

The thought of seeing Lexie sent a shock
of joy spreading through his chest.

“I wanted to surprise you, but Mama is
worried I might run into trouble.”

Like a jolt, Andy recalled the haunting
hatred in Sam’s eyes. The rope. The blows. “Your mama’s right. I don’t think
it’s a good idea, Lexie.”

“What do you mean? You don’t want to see
me?”

“It’s not that.” He didn’t want to
explain. Admit that he’d become some sort of target.
And that
Lexie might become one, too.

“Andy, I do have to speak with you. But I
can’t do it over the phone.”

He could well imagine. Most likely she
wanted a divorce. Better to wait until he was back in Chicago to let her rip
his heart to shreds. At least he could make an effort to win her back on safe
ground. “I’m sorry, Lex. You’ll just have to wait until I get home.”

“But why? I won’t be in any danger with
you there.”

Torn between the pride that she believed
in him and the knowledge that he couldn’t allow himself to weaken, Andy spoke
more bluntly than he desired. “Listen, I don’t want you here distracting me
from my work. All right? I’ll be home as soon as I can and then we can talk
about whatever you want. It won’t be much longer.”

“That’s what you said when you left.
You’ve already been gone a lot longer than you thought.”

“I know. Things happened.”

“I can just imagine what
things
.” The hard-edged tone was back.

“I doubt you can. If you come down here
you could be in danger, like your mama said.”

“Sure, Andy. How convenient. You just
make sure you come by and see me when you get home. I won’t bother you
anymore.”

“
Lexie.
. .”

But it was too late. The phone clicked.

With a frustrated growl, Andy slammed
down the receiver.

“Troubles at home?” Ella’s husky voice
pierced the silence.

“That’s none of your concern.”

“Shoot, Andy. No need to be mean.” She
stood between him and the steps. He’d have to brush past her to return to his
room. But he’d definitely made a new commitment today while standing with a rope
around his neck.

“Excuse me.”

“Sure, Andy.” Her sultry voice had its
intended effect. Andy felt himself responding to the way she swayed to the side
to let him pass.

He let his eyes linger too long. A smile slid
across her lips and she pressed close as he walked by. She wrapped long,
slender fingers around his arm. “We’re alone in the house,” she said, her lips
close to his ear. “The family went to a church meeting two counties away. They
won’t be back until the wee hours of the morning.”

Fire shot through his belly as temptation
wound a chain around his heart.

Ella laid her head against his shoulder,
her soft breath tickling his neck, her fragrance wafting to his nostrils,
clouding his senses.

He truly did want to make a new start
with Lexie. But
Ella.
. .

Swallowing hard, he tried something new.
Help, God.

In a beat, he had the answer. “No.” The
word seemed to come from outside of him, though he knew he had spoken it.

“What did you say?” Ella lifted her head
and stared into his eyes. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her
curves against him.

Help, God.
Andy
shook her off. “I said no.”

She stepped back, pressing her hand to
her cheek as though she’d received a hard slap. “Do you mean that?”

“I love my wife. I want to make things
right between us. The only way I can do that is to stay away from you.”

“Aw, Andy. She’d never know.”

“I would. And that’s enough.”

“Don’t expect me to offer again.”

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t.” A wry
grin twisted his lips. “You’re not so easy to resist.”

She let out a huff, and her face twisted
in anger. In that instant, Andy felt no attraction for her at all.

As she walked away, a feeling of
exultation rose inside him. He felt as though he’d passed a test, grown some as
a man.

A smile remained on his lips as he
retreated to his room, stretched out on the bed, and opened the diary on his
nightstand.

Chapter Eleven

December
1867

After two months passed with no word from
Chicago, Cat had begun to believe Stuart Riley had forgotten all about her. But
as she stared at the telegram in her trembling hands, the truth came back with
startling reality.

Will
arrive in Oak Junction three days before Christmas

STOP

Will
purchase two tickets for return trip dated December twenty-six

STOP

Looking
forward to seeing you again

STOP

She couldn’t stall much longer. Soon, she
would have to make a decision one way or another. Would she accept Stuart’s
proposition, or stay at Penbrook?

“What’s that?”

Cat jumped at the sound of Camilla’s
voice. “Mercy, Camilla. Don’t sneak up on people like that.”

“I didn’t sneak.” She eyed the telegram.
“Who’s it from?”

“Stuart.”

Camilla smiled. “That’s lovely. How is
he?”

“You can ask him yourself.” Cat shrugged.
“He’s coming for Christmas.”

“Wonderful.”

“Yes. Isn’t it?” Cat said absently.

Camilla gave an exasperated huff and
planted her hands on her hips, which had become quite round since the lean days
of the war. “For heaven’s sake, Cat. He was your beau for three years. Aren’t
you the least bit excited that he’s coming?”

Cat faced Camilla with a forced smile.
“Of course I am. I’ll bake a sweet potato pie and we can fix that chestnut
stuffing your ma used to make. We haven’t had that since the Christmas--”

A high-pitched scream pierced the air,
cutting off the rest of her comment.

Henry!

Cat’s heart lurched at the sound of her
boy’s cry. She and Camilla both sprang into action. “Where is he?” Cat said,
more to herself than Camilla, as they ran out of the study and into the foyer.

The door flew open and Shaw rushed
inside, cradling the screeching child in his arms. Cat nearly fainted at the
sight of blood covering his mouth. “What happened?”

“He done took a fall.”

“A fall off of what?” Cat demanded. She
looked down at her son’s tearstained face. “You’ve been told over and over not
to--”

“For heaven’s sake, Cat. Let’s take care
of his injuries before you fuss at the child.”

The two women followed on Shaw’s heels as
he hurried to the kitchen. He laid Henry on the table.

“I don’ think he be hurt too awful bad,
Miss Cat.” He held the thrashing child down. “Get somethin’ to clean up the
blood.”
 

Cat could no more have crossed the room
for water than she could have carried the cast iron stove on her back. She
grabbed Henry’s trembling hand as the room began to spin. Shaw snatched up a
wooden chair and pressed it into the back of her knees. “Here, Miss Cat. Sit
befo
’ you falls down.”

Giving a grateful nod, she sat heavily,
staying firmly at Henry’s side.

Camilla pumped water into a bowl. She wet
a towel and gently began to cleanse away the blood. “There now,” she soothed.
“You lost your front tooth. But guess what? You were going to lose it anyway in
another year or so.”

“I
wath
?”

Camilla caught him close, mindless of the
sticky blood from his shirt staining her yellow bodice. “I’m so happy you’re
all right.” She set him back on the table and held him at arm’s length. “Now,
young man. Tell me how you lost that tooth.”

Henry hesitated, averting his gaze.

“Come on now.” Camilla’s expression held
a combination of affection and admonishment. “Let’s have it. The truth.”

 
“I fell off
Claud
.”

A gasp escaped Cat’s lips. “What were you
doing on
Claud
in the first place? How many times
have you been told to stay away from that crazy cow?”

Henry frowned, undaunted by her scolding.
“I had to get on her. Lenny dared me.”

Shaw chortled. Camilla’s lips tipped
upward in an indulgent smile.

Cat’s ire rose. “Henry Jr., I ought to
tan your hide. You could have been killed.”

Henry scrunched his nose. “I don’t like
being called Henry.”

“What do you mean?”

“Uncle Thomas calls me Hank. So does
Uncle Stuart. That’s what I want to be called.”

“Well, too bad.” Cat stared down the
six-year-old. “Your name is Henry Jr. and that is what I will call you.”

“You have to do as I say. Sissy says
you’re nothing more than a servant.”

Shock weakened Cat’s knees. She shot a
glare at Camilla, whose face had suddenly reddened. “Is that so?”

“Oh, Cat really. Don’t get into a snit
about it.”

Shaw lifted Henry from the table. “C’mon,
boy. Let’s go see
iffen
we can find dat
missin
’ tooth.”

Cat turned on Camilla, this close to
slapping her stupid face. “How dare you tell him I’m nothing more than a slave!
”

“I never used the word
slave
.” Lifting the bowl of bloody
water, Camilla walked to the door and tossed the contents outside. She looked
Cat squarely in the eye. “If memory serves, my exact words were ‘field hand’.
Which you are, running about in trousers and riding astride.” Camilla lifted
her chin in unrepentant defiance.

Cat would have loved nothing better than
to slap that arrogance right off her face. Instead, she gathered a breath and
stared her down. Camilla could rail all she wanted, but the truth of the matter
was that Cat ran things at Penbrook. The field hands, male and female, turned
to her for instruction. So no matter how spiteful Camilla’s words might be, in
truth, she had no power to do anything.

“Perhaps I should take Henry with me to
the fields in order to keep him from your poorly executed upbringing. I will
not have my son become a spoiled lord of the manor with no regard for the
feelings of others.” She stepped closer, standing inches from Camilla. “My son
will never be like your pa.”

“No one wants him to be like Pa,” Camilla
hissed. “And stop calling Hank your son.”

“He
is
my son.” She narrowed her gaze. “And stop calling him Hank.”

Camilla regarded her, shaking her head.
“Do you want him to lose all hope of inheriting Penbrook?”

Cat grabbed her arm and yanked her close.
“I warn you, Camilla, do not even threaten such a thing.”

“I’m not the one threatening his future,
Cat.” Camilla jerked free. “Your recklessness is.”

“My recklessness? What are you talking
about?”

“Don’t you know what people are saying
about you?”

Cat narrowed her gaze. “What are people
saying?”

“That you’re an unnatural woman. That you
unsex yourself by wearing men’s britches and strutting around in the fields
like you’re a man.”

Laughter formed on Cat’s lips. “Oh, Camilla,
what do I care what they think about that? If I don’t run things, who will care
for Henry’s inheritance?”

“You don’t think I would? After all, I
love him, too.”

That much was true. As far as Camilla was
capable of loving anything or anyone. But Camilla still held to the notion that
one spec of Negro blood lowered a person’s worth. No matter how miniscule the
African blood in her son’s body, the taint was there in Camilla’s mind.

“Do you love the part of him that I
contributed?”

Camilla’s face grew red.

“If you don’t love all of him, then you
don’t love him at all.” Cat turned on her heel and stomped out of the kitchen.

From
Camilla’s diary

Camilla watched Cat storm out of the
kitchen. For heaven’s sake, she could get into a snit quicker than anyone
Camilla knew. Or cared to know, for that matter. Of course Camilla loved her
little brother. And thankfully, that African part of his blood made up such a
small part of him that one couldn’t see it. Even if you looked hard, there was
simply no hint of Negro blood in the look of him.

Camilla wiped down the table, and rinsed
and put away the bowl. She set a pot of coffee to brew on the stove and sat at
the table, feeling the weight of loneliness.

The kitchen door swung open just as she
was pouring herself a cup.

“Where’s Cat?” Thomas stood, shaking, in
the doorway.

Camilla shot to her feet. “What’s wrong?”

He held out the telegram Cat had been
reading before Henry’s accident. “Where is she?”

“I don’t know, Thomas. She was here
earlier, but we had words and she stormed off. Probably to the fields.”

“She’s not in the fields. I just came
from there.”

“Well, there are lots of them, aren’t
there? How would you know if you missed her?”

He scowled and scratched his head, but
didn’t argue with her logic. “I suppose I’ll have to wait until she returns to
speak to her.” He eyed the coffee. “Any more of that?”

“Of course.” Camilla’s heart dipped and
soared at his boyish grin. “Please sit down and I’ll bring it to you.”

“Thank you.” He sat, eyeing the telegram
once more.

“You’re positively shaking, Thomas,”
Camilla said, setting down a steaming mug in front of him. “What’s that about?”

“You don’t know what’s in this telegram?”

“Just that Captain Riley is going to
visit at Christmas. Cat was about to tell me more when we heard Hank
screaming.” The first part of her statement was the truth, of course.
The second a bold lie.
Cat hadn’t seen fit to elaborate. But
Camilla knew there was something more to Thomas’s angst than simply Stuart
coming for a visit.

Thomas’s head jerk up. “Is Hank all
right?”

Sitting across from him, Camilla spooned
sugar into her coffee. “Oh, sure. He just fell off
Claud
and lost a tooth. Cat overreacted as usual.” She exhaled a breath. “There sure
was a lot of blood, though.”

Thomas shook his head. “That boy is
fearless.”

“Yes.” Impatience grated Camilla’s
insides. She had to get the conversation back to that telegram. “So, why are
you so upset about Captain Riley coming for Christmas? We’re all quite fond of him,
even if he is a Yankee. Is that why you’re so upset? I assumed you’d reconciled
yourself to Stuart’s presence long ago. To forbid him a place at dinner would
be unforgivable after all he’s done for us.”

“I’m not talking about the visit. I mean
what he has in mind afterward.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

He slid the telegram across the table.
Camilla read it, her eyes going wide at the implication. “Riley wants to marry
Cat and take her away?”

“It seems so.”

In a bold move, Camilla reached out and
covered Thomas’s hand. “Why shouldn’t she? He knows about her and doesn’t mind
that she’s a Negro.”

Thomas glared and jerked his hand away.
“Cat isn’t a Negro.”

Stung, Camilla clasped her fingers and
stared downward. “She really is,” she murmured. “You knew that years ago, when--”

Thomas shot from his chair, sending it
crashing to the floor. “For the love of God, Camilla.” He glared down at her.
“Have some decency.”

Shaking, Camilla rose slowly and faced
him. “You dare to tell me to have decency? When you and she were found
undressed in the hay?”

He raked his hand through his hair in a
frustrated swipe. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Then why didn’t you marry her, take her
away?”

He frowned. “You know I wanted to. She
was the one who refused.”

Heat seared Camilla’s cheeks at the
memory of a secret only she carried. A secret she had every intention of taking
to her grave.

“Well, that’s all behind you. Cat made
her choice. There’s really nothing you can do about it.”

He jerked his head up, his eyes blazing
with a determination that made Camilla shudder. “Yes, there is something I can
do about it. Something I should have done seven years ago.” His boots thudded
on the floor as he walked with purposeful strides across the kitchen.

“Thomas, wait!” Desperation drove Camilla
to lower herself to running after a man. Something she swore she’d never do,
even if it meant remaining a spinster forever. She reached out and grabbed his
arm. “Don’t make a fool of yourself over her. Hasn’t she made fools enough of
us?”

“Fools of us?” He shook his head, his
eyes sparking with disgust. “She’s saved us. I intend to convince her to marry
me, if she’ll have me.”

“No! I won’t allow it. I--I’ll expose her
for what she is.”

He gave her a final look of disdain
before leaving her standing, staring after him, her heart shattered into a
million pieces.

1948

The front door crashed open downstairs.
Andy heard high-pitched laughter and the hiss of someone being shushed. It had
to be Ella. The foolish woman had obviously brought a man home. Buck would fire
her in a heartbeat if he knew.

He set aside Miss Penbrook’s diary and
walked across the room. He opened the door just as Ella stumbled up the stairs,
intoxicated. “What are you doing, Ella?” He stared past her to a man, who
didn’t appear to have been drinking at all.

Ella sneered and waved her hand. “Go back
to your books, Andy. You had your chance.”

The man laughed and pressed his face
against her ear. “He must be a fool.”

“No, not a fool,” Andy said. “Just decent
enough not to take unfair advantage of a woman who has had too many drinks.”

The man laughed. “You the same decent
fella almost got yourself killed by Rafe a couple of weeks ago?”

Andy’s ears burned. “Maybe I got some
sense knocked into me. You think you might need the same thing?”

“Oh, shoot, Andy. Don’t start acting all
tough and manly. Leroy don’t mean me
no
harm.” She
reached up and patted his cheek. “Do you, Baby?”