The Color Of The Soul (The Penbrook Diaries) (25 page)

*****

Samuel Dane answered the knock at the
door.

Rafe and Gabe’s father, Sheriff John,
stood on his porch, wielding his shotgun. “Where is he?”

“What’s the problem, John?”

The sheriff pushed his way into the
house, weeping. “They got my boy.”

“Who?”

“The Klan. And don’t pretend you don’t
know Sam’s the ringleader. Sure as he whipped that Yankee colored, he killed my
son tonight.”

Bile rose to Samuel’s throat as horror
swept through him. “What are you talking about?”

“The bastards tossed a brick through the
jail window with a note telling me where to find them.”

Samuel’s legs weakened. “Where to find
who?”

John ignored Samuel’s question. “I found
the two of them.” He groaned with grief. “In Penbrook’s north field.
Both of them hanging.”
He retreated to the porch just in
time, and vomited all over the steps.

Samuel’s mouth went dry. “Two of them?
Who else?”
Dear Lord, please, not Andy.

“
Rafe
…and his
little colored gal.”

Relief mingled with grief over his
friend’s loss. “John, if my son had anything to do with this, I’ll find out.”

“Just tell me where he is and I’ll take
care of it myself.”

“You can’t do that. Vigilante justice is
lowering
yourself
to their level. Let the legal system
run its course.”

A low sound tore from John’s throat.
One that could have been hysterical laughter or perhaps a sob.
“You know what kind of justice the courts of Georgia will have for a colored
gal and the white man who loved her so blindly that he refused to carry on with
her discreetly? I understand you want to protect your son. But I couldn’t
protect mine, and I won’t let you protect yours from what he’s got coming to
him.” He pointed the barrel of the shotgun at Samuel’s chest. “Where is he?”

“If I knew, I’d tell you. But I haven’t
seen him all evening.”

John’s grief-stricken gaze locked with
his. “I believe you, Samuel. I don’t hold you responsible for the animal Sam’s
become. And I’m sorry that I’m going to have to kill your son. But I have no
choice.”

The sheriff made a half turn and Samuel
grabbed the shotgun. “Sorry, John. I can’t let you go off half cocked to find
my son and kill him in cold blood.” He struggled to wrench the gun free from
Samuel’s arms.

“That’s what he did to my boy!” He
gripped the weapon for all he was worth. “Killed him in cold blood. An eye for
an eye.”

“No. Not an eye for an eye. You have to
let a jury decide.” Sweat beaded on Samuel’s brow as he fought for his son’s
life. He understood a father’s desire for revenge. But what if Sam were
innocent?

The sound of gunfire exploded in the room
and the sheriff dropped to the ground. Samuel stood in disoriented silence,
trying to wrap his mind around the fact that his friend was lying on the ground
with a bullet through his head. It couldn’t have come from the shotgun.

“Thank you, Father.”

Samuel glanced up to find Sam putting away
his pistol, calm as though he hadn’t just killed a man--the sheriff to boot.
“I’ll say that I came into the room and found you in a struggle for your life.
I had no choice but to shoot.”

Samuel looked at the young man he’d
raised. His son. But a man he no longer recognized. “You killed three innocent
people tonight. Don’t you even care?”

Samuel poured himself a drink. “What?
You’re not going to thank me for saving your life?”

Was he deliberately avoiding the issue of
whether he had killed Rafe and his girl? “I was winning the struggle. In
another minute, the gun would have been in my hands. There was no need to kill
John.”

“We both know there was a very good
reason. He would have shot me the second he laid eyes on me. Who would you have
rather seen die tonight, Father? John, or your own flesh and blood?”

“Neither one of you had to die.”

Sam lifted his glass of whiskey in a
toast,
then
gulped it down. “Better give the deputies
a call and let them know the sheriff’s position has been vacated.” He strode
toward the door.

“What about Ruthie and Rafe? Did the Klan
get to them?”

“Father, I’ve told you before, I don’t
know anything about a Klan.”

Samuel watched him go. Tears burned his
eyes at the monster his son had become.

Chapter Sixteen

Georgia,
1877

Cat arrived back at Penbrook, knowing she
would have to answer for blurting out the truth to Henry.
Half
the truth anyway.
Only she knew the full extent of the lies her son had
lived his entire life without even knowing it. Out of fear for Henry’s future,
she’d kept hidden the fact that Thomas was indeed a father. If Camilla had
known, she might not have allowed the land to go to Henry. Now it was too late.
It had already been legally transferred.

She found Camilla, Henry, and Thomas in
the parlor, deep in discussion.

By the ashen look on Camilla’s face and
the anger on
Thomas’s
and Henry’s, it was obvious
Camilla had confessed.

With grim determination, Cat stepped into
the room.

Thomas lifted his eyes to hers. “Cat? Is
this true? Is Hank your son?”

She nodded. “Yes, he is.”

“My father raped you?”

Henry’s outburst brought a gasp from
Camilla’s lips. “Hank, please,” she said. “Don’t be vulgar. After all, you’re
speaking of my father too. And things were…different back then.”

He kept his tortured gaze fixed on Cat.
“Please, Camilla. I don’t want to offend you. But if my father…our father was
the sort of monster who would…” He clenched his fist.

Camilla let out a huff and answered Henry
before Cat could find her voice around a lump in her throat. “Oh, all right.
Yes. The whole household knew that my father was a monster. He forced Cat to
give you up to my mother because she couldn’t have any more children. She could
never bear him a son to carry on the Penbrook line.” Her eyes focused on the
floor. “Isn’t it ironic that I should inherit her unfortunate malady?”

Thomas sent her a look filled with
disgust. “Lord, Camilla. This is not about you. Let’s focus on helping Hank
adjust to this news.”

Camilla nodded and stared, red-faced, at
her hands. “I--I apologize.”

Cat’s heart went out to her. She went to
Camilla’s side. Wordlessly, she sat beside her on the sofa and covered her
hand. Camilla’s eyes were wide when she caught Cat’s gaze. She clasped Cat’s
hand between hers in a painful grip, as though drawing strength.

Henry’s eyes were filled with confusion,
remorse, and anger. He stared at Cat. “You’re truly my mother?”

“Yes.”

“And I
was.
.
.conceived in rape?”

Tears stung Cat’s eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

Henry came and knelt before her. “You’re
sorry? You’ve done everything to protect me, to give me more than you had. You
have nothing to be sorry for.” His eyes filled with tears. “My father was a
monster. Is that why I ache for Annie? Did I inherit a lust for Negro women?”

Camilla gasped again. “What do you mean
you ache for Annie? Do you mean to say you’ve been dallying with our Annie?”

“I’m not dallying. I love her. At least I
think I do.”

“Why, the little tramp!” Camilla’s
outrage mirrored Cat’s. At least the two women could agree on this point. “I
shall terminate her employment immediately.”

Thomas narrowed his gaze at his wife. “So
help me…Camilla.”

Camilla pressed her lips into a firm
line, but fell silent under his warning tone.

“Hank,” Thomas clapped the young man on
the shoulder. “You’re nothing like your father.”

“Tell them.” Camilla’s whisper was barely
audible. She turned her gaze upon Cat. “Tell them.” Her eyes pleaded. “End your
son’s suffering and guilt over my father’s sin.”

Cat met Camilla’s wide gaze, trying to
understand. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Look at them. Together.
Side by side.
Why do you think I sent poor Hank away to
school? The resemblance was growing every day. It was becoming obvious.”

Shock jolted through Cat as she realized
Camilla hadn’t been as ignorant all these years as Cat thought. “You knew?”

Camilla’s head moved in a barely
discernable nod. “I figured it out when he was about eight years old.”

“What are you two talking about?” Thomas
stared from one to the other.

“Thomas, you might want to sit down for this.”
Drawing a shaky breath, Cat met Henry’s gaze. “You don’t have to worry about
inheriting any evil qualities from Henry Penbrook. He wasn’t your father.”

Henry stood and paced the floor, silently
digesting the newest information. He released a half-sigh, half-groan. “I don’t
understand. Would someone please tell me the truth?”

Cat stood and went to her son. Suddenly,
her head swam. She closed her eyes and swayed. Henry’s arms encircled her. “Are
you okay?”

Placing a hand on his chest, she nodded.
“Just a little dizzy. I’ll be fine.”

“Maybe you should sit too.”

Shaking her head, she looked up into his
eyes. “Hank, the truth is…” She drew a deep breath and exhaled around her next
words. “…Thomas is your father.”

Thomas’s face blanched. “What did you say?”

Cat forced herself to meet his accusing
gaze. “It was you. Not Henry.”

He frowned, as though trying to wrap his
mind around the revelation. “Lord, Cat. You mean, that one time, in the barn?”

Though she’d thought modesty had fled her
senses long ago, Cat’s cheeks warmed at the memory.

In a beat, Thomas shot from his wing
chair and closed the distance between them in a few long strides. He grabbed
her by her arms, shaking her, tears filling his eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I’m sorry, Thomas.” She tried to shove
herself away from him, but he only held her tighter. “At first I didn’t know.
I-I truly believed he was Henry’s. So did Miss
Maddy
and Henry.”

“When did you learn the truth? How did
you learn the truth?”

“Your father knew. He figured it out before
I did that Christmas before you joined the army. Henry had taken the rest of
you on a tour of
Penbrook’s
fields but your father
stayed behind. I had been shut away for days and snuck out to the garden with
Henry Jr.” She smiled. “I’d never have done it if I’d known your father was
home. He found me there and asked to hold the baby. He thought I knew the baby
was yours. When he pointed out the obvious similarities between the two of you,
it was all-too-clear Henry wasn’t the father. Oh, Thomas, I was overjoyed. I
thought surely now you would love me again.”

“But you didn’t love me. I asked you,
through Camilla, to run away with me, the night they caught us in the barn. But
you refused.”

Camilla opened her mouth, but Cat stopped
her with an upraised hand. She sat back, silent.

“Anyway, your father was kind, Thomas,
but he convinced me that you’d give up everything for me.”

He pressed his forehead to hers. “I would
have taken you away, married you.”

Cat reached up and caressed his hair. “I
know,” she whispered. “But it wasn’t meant to be. I had to think of our son’s
future, and we must think of him now.” She pulled away and turned to Henry.

He stared back, his eyes filled with
confusion and pain. “I don’t know what to believe anymore.” He turned and left
the room.

Thomas stared at Camilla, turning all of
his anger on his wife. “You knew this and didn’t tell me? All these years, I
could have been raising my own son.”

“I was afraid you would go to Cat.”

His eyes blazed. He would have melted
Camilla to nothing with that look if she’d had the gumption to look him in the
eye. He spoke through clenched teeth. “You’ve never been more right. I would
have gone to her. As a matter of fact, I’d divorce you and marry her today if
she’d have me.” He turned to Cat. “But you wouldn’t, would you? You stopped
loving me a long time ago.”

Without awaiting the inevitable answer,
he turned and followed his son.

“He’s just upset, Camilla.” Cat’s heart
raced within her breast. Panic rose. Everything she’d worked for in order to
build her son’s life was beginning to crumble. What would happen to his
inheritance now? Would Camilla expose them and claim
Penbrook
for herself, as she rightfully could?

Gathering a calming breath, she turned to
Camilla. “He’ll be all right once he calms down.”

Camilla’s shoulders rose and fell. “No,
he won’t. He hated me before any of this came out. He’ll hate me all the more
now.”

Camilla fell silent and remained that
way. Finally, Cat left her and retired to her room. Carrying her new child
heightened the fatigue she felt from riding today--an activity she hadn’t
engaged in much during her years in Chicago. She wrote a brief letter to
Stuart, informing him of her safe arrival and letting him know that she would
return within the month. By the time she slipped the letter inside an envelope
and set it on her desk to be taken into town the following day, exhaustion had
swept over her. She was only too glad to loosen her corset, stretch out on her
bed, and give in to the blessed darkness of sleep.

When she awoke, dusk had fallen. She
dressed, pushing back the thought of what she had to do in the next few hours.
Seeing Henry’s tortured face had been enough to force her decision. How could
she ruin another child’s life? Tomorrow, when it was all over, she could focus
on her son, try to undo the damage she had done, and help him figure out what
next step to take in order to ensure a wonderful future. She stole through the
dusky night and saddled the mare she’d used earlier.

“Miss Cat?” Shaw’s voice echoed in the
dark barn.

Cat started at the interruption.
“Heavens, Shaw. Can’t you announce yourself before sneaking up on a person? You
gave me a fright.”

“You ain’t
fixin
’
to go
fer
a ride with the dark
settin
’
in, are ya? Ya
shouldn
’ be out by
yo’self
anyways.”

“That’s for me to decide, not you.”

“I ain’t
lettin
’
ya go off
ridin
’ all alone.” He started to saddle his
horse.

“I won’t be alone.” She gave him a
pointed look. “It just so happens I’m meeting someone. A man.” The lie rolled
off her tongue with shameful ease. Still, with Shaw sniffing around, she’d
never be able to accomplish her mission tonight. Better to let him believe she
had a private liaison than to know what she really had in mind.

“Who ya gonna be
meetin
’?”

“That’s my business.”

Shaking his head, he continued saddling
his horse.

“You can’t go with me.”

“Unless ya tell me who you’s
meetin
’, I’s goin’, and that be final, Miss Cat.”

“But you can’t!”

He fixed her with a long, steady look
that clearly revealed his determination.

“Oh, all right. I’m meeting Thomas.”

“Thomas?” Hurt flickered in Shaw’s eyes
as he stopped saddling the horse.

“Yes. Are you happy now that I’ve been
forced to break my confidence?”

“Ya mean, you’s
meetin
’
him in sin against God and the wife of his youth?”

Cat’s stomach dropped at the hushed,
sickened tone in his voice. She swallowed hard. “That’s right. And you had your
chance, so you have no call to object.”

“Oh, my precious Cat. When ya
gonna
surrender
yo
’ heart to
almighty God? Don’ ya know dat His love is what you been
cravin
’?
Not Mister Thomas, not even
ol
’ Shaw.”

Cat’s heart nearly beat from her chest.
The awe in his voice when he spoke of God drew her in, almost making her
believe.

He reached out. “Come back to de house.
Don’ meet wif Mister Thomas. Don’t add dis sin to
yo
’
name.”

If only it were that easy. She mounted
the horse and nudged it forward. When she reached Shaw, he looked up at her,
pain and regret clouding his face. “I’m sorry to be such a disappointment to
you. But God forgot about me a long time ago.” A sob caught in her throat.
“Please don’t follow me.”

She swung her horse in the opposite
direction of Madame Flora’s cabin so Shaw wouldn’t get suspicious if he watched
her ride away. She rode along for a time, not taking any chances. Finally
satisfied that he wasn’t following, she turned the horse and doubled back. She
followed a worn path through the woods and beyond.

Eerie silence greeted her when she
reached the cabin. She dismounted and tied up the horse in front.

Swallowing back a sudden rush of fear,
she knocked on the flimsy plank door. It swung open. “Hello?”

“Come in,” Madame Flora’s low, husky
voice beckoned. The woman was dressed in a shapeless, dark red and purple robe.
A matching turban circled her head. She handed Cat a cup of steaming brown
liquid. “Drink.”

“What is it?”

“Herbs to relax you and expel the
contents of your womb.”

Cat sniffed the cup. She made a face at
the pungent odor. “This is necessary?”

“I assure you, it is. Drink quickly. The
hour is almost upon us.”

“What hour?”

“We must be ready at the stroke of
midnight.”

The woman was crazy. Still, Cat knew she
had no choice. She shuddered and gulped the foul-tasting contents of the cup.

Madame Flora’s lips curved into a
one-sided smile. “That’s it. Now, undress and lie on the table.”

Alarm seized Cat as she glanced at the
table. On a towel sat a sharp, hooked instrument, a knife, gauze, and a bowl.
Her head began to spin. “What did you give me?”

“Shhh. Don’t worry.” Her soothing tone
sounded far away. “If you do not miscarry fully, I’ll help you along. Now,
hurry and undress before you fall asleep.” The woman came at her, face
distorted, then moved away. Cat blinked hard. Fear spiked through her.
Oh, God. Shaw was right. This is an evil
place.

Run. Resist the devil.