Rebel

by Beverly Jenkins

  Bawling, he felt the boat being pushed into the water. As it began to float, he frantically extended his bound hands in a desperate search for the knife, but felt nothing except the water’s slow rise dampening his nightshirt. Scooting around carefully but quickly, he finally felt the sheathed blade, and in his elation tipped the dugout over. Hands tied behind his back, he went into the water. Frantic, he tried to hang on to the boat, only to hear three large splashes. He froze. Gators. Screaming within the wet hood, he didn’t have to wait long before being dragged under and death rolled until he drowned.

  Chapter Ten

  Drake came down to breakfast and found only Valinda at the table. “Good morning, cheri.”

  “Good morning,” she said shyly.

  He ran his eyes over her mouth and forced his mind away from how sweet she’d tasted last night in his arms. “Where’s the Lovely Julianna and Henri?” he asked, taking a seat.

  “Little Reba said they’re eating in their suite.”

  “Ah, that’s what lovebirds do after being apart. Did you sleep well? No bad dreams?”

  “No bad dreams.”

  “Good.”

  “How was your sleep?”

  “Good.” He dreamt of her. Hot, lusty pirate dreams.

  Reba came in. “Drake, there are some soldiers outside asking for you.”

  He stood and left the room. Outside was his nemesis from the Bureau, Lt. Merritt, and a three-man mounted detail. “What can I help you with, Lieutenant?” Drake asked coolly.

  Merritt glared down from his mount. “Where were you around two o’clock this morning?”

  Drake eyed him. “Here in bed. Why?”

  “Do you have witnesses?”

  “Either tell me what this is about or leave. My breakfast’s getting cold.” He knew Merritt disliked being challenged, especially by men of color, but that was his problem, not Drake’s.

  “Liam Atwater was taken from his house by some riders about that time and hasn’t been seen since.”

  “Again, why are you here?”

  “To see if you know anything about it.”

  “I don’t.” He crossed his arms. He saw Merritt look behind Drake, so he turned and saw his mother, Henri, and Valinda watching from the door. “Anything else?”

  “If I find out you were involved—”

  “You won’t. Good day, Lieutenant.” He walked up the steps. The angry lieutenant wheeled his mount around and he and the detail rode off.

  Inside, Henri asked, “What was that about?”

  Drake explained to him about Atwater murdering Daniel Downs, before adding, “Apparently early this morning, some men dragged Atwater out of his house, and now’s he’s missing.”

  Julianna said, “For good, I hope. How dare he murder a man in front of his wife and child.”

  Valinda said, “The lieutenant thinks you know something about it because you were trying to have Atwater arrested?”

  “I suppose so.”

  She shook her head. “Had the Army been helpful, maybe the murderer wouldn’t be wherever he was taken. Come and eat before your breakfast gets any colder.”

  He smiled. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Julianna and Henri went back to their rooms and he rejoined Valinda at the table.

  She asked, “You said you went to the police and the Army about the murder. If they think you were involved, might the supremacists think so, too, and retaliate?”

  He studied her and reminded himself that she was both brains and beauty. “More than likely, but my brothers and I will be prepared.”

  “I wonder if the country will ever heal from the war?”

  He thought back on the reports Rai shared at the last Council meeting about the uptick in the violence sweeping across the South. “It won’t be anytime soon. Maybe not even in our lifetimes.”

  “It’s sad to think that the race may still be demanding justice when little Desiré grows up.”

  “It is.”

  “So, were you and your brothers involved?”

  He studied her again. “Would you think badly of us if we were?”

  “No. Someone has to champion us if the government won’t. During the Draft Riots back home, mobs attacked members of the race all over the city. They even burned down a Colored orphanage. Those who hate us have no shame, and if dragging them from their houses teaches them a lesson, I’m all for dragging them out every night until they learn.”

  He was impressed by her fire. “Do your parents hold those views?”

  “My grandmother Rose does, but political discussions aren’t encouraged at home. My father says only men understand such complex issues, and since he’s the only man in our household, he does his debating at the barbershop where he works.”

  “Your father sounds like most men I know.”

  “Unfortunately, he sounds like most of the ones back home, too. That’s why I take such joy in being acquainted with your mother. She’s like my grandmother who I also admire because they’ve made their own way and are forces to reckon with.”

  “And that’s what you aspire to? Being a force to reckon with?”

  “Yes, and to teach girls to aspire to be the same.”

  “What’s your dream, cheri?”

  “To head up a school where girls who, like me, have no interest in embroidery or playing the piano, can learn as much about whatever they want: mathematics, botany, the stars. They can study animals or anatomy. And I’d have the money to provide excellent teachers who don’t believe learning will damage them.”

  “That’s very lofty.”

  “It is, but dreams can’t come true if you don’t have them.”

  At that moment, Drake wanted to give her her dreams and anything else that quick mind of hers desired. She was smart, witty, sassy, and, as he learned last night, ripe with passion. He thought back on her sighs during those two short kisses and the memory made his groin tighten in response. Although he told her he wouldn’t judge her Cole, Drake couldn’t imagine being content with passionless kisses on her brow and cheeks. Were she his, he’d make love to her from sunset to sunrise, then pray for more hours in the day, and two extra days in the week. And that still might not be enough.

  “What are you thinking?”

  “Pirate thoughts.”

  “What kinds of pirate thoughts?”

  “Truthfully?”

  She nodded.

  “Making love to you from sunset to sunrise. Every day.”

  Her eyes closed for a moment. In response, he smiled. “You asked, cheri.”

  “I did. Didn’t I?”

  “Yes.”

  Truthfully, if he were in his right mind, he’d forget about the feel of her in his arms, about wanting to taste her ripe mouth and treating her to a long sultry session of what it meant for a man to be on his knees. In a few days, her intended would arrive. Although she might be having second thoughts now, he doubted she’d stay. Once she saw Cole, their plans would reassert themselves and she’d be on the train back to New York. He wondered how long she’d remember him. And what in the world was he going to do with the two train cars he’d asked Hugh to deliver?

  “Drake?”

  He looked over.

  “Thank you for the kiss last night. I don’t feel so ignorant anymore.”

  He nodded. “I’m glad.” He wanted to take the conversation further, coax her onto his lap, and do all sorts of pirate things to her, but decided to begin weaning himself from her immediately, even as his eyes lingered over her sweet mouth. “So, what are your plans for the day?”

  “Sable and I agreed that I’d come and teach the children anyway, at least until Cole arrives. Once he does, I’ll let her know what my final decision will be.”

  “Do you need a ride over?”

  “I was going to ask Julianna if Mr. Doolittle could take me, so I won’t have to impose on you.”

  “It isn’t an imposition.” For a man set upon distancing himself, he was admittedly doing a poor job.

&n
bsp; “I have slates and books to take. There’ll be no room on Havana.”

  “Okay. That makes sense. I’m going to the stable. Not sure I’ll be here for dinner though.”

  He saw her disappointment. “You belong to another, cheri. I don’t want these kisses between us to go any further. Passion could lead to a place you’ll regret, so I need to let you be.”

  She nodded. “You’re right of course.”

  “Enjoy your time at Sable’s.”

  She gave him another tight nod and he left her seated at the table.

  His foreman, Solomon Hawk, and the five freedmen he’d hired as laborers were already working when he arrived.

  “Morning, Drake.”

  “Morning, Solly.” The decision he’d come to about Valinda had left him more than a bit grumpy. “Where are we today?”

  Solly studied him for a moment as if assessing his mood, and replied, “Planning to finish framing the kitchen so we can start putting on the bricks.”

  “That’s fine. I’ll be working on the gazebo.”

  Drake led Havana to the stable, then took a moment to say good morning to the men before heading to the shed. Inside was his forge, anvil, and tools of the trade. He donned his leather apron. Valinda tried to enter his mind, but he pushed her aside, picked up a shovel, and dug out the upper layers of ash in the forge. Adding new charcoal, he lit the mass and waited for the coals to reach the proper temperature.

  Once it did, he began working on the iron he’d be using on the planned gazebo. He hammered, thinned, and slowly twisted the strands of metal into the swirls and curlicues needed for outer walls. Frustration tied to Valinda lingered, as did his desire. He was doing the right thing, but he didn’t have to like it. Glancing up as he worked, he saw his brother Raimond, arms crossed, leaning against the shed’s opening. Drake had no idea how long he’d been waiting, but before investigating, he took another few minutes to finish hammering the piece he was working on, then set it aside to cool. He shucked his mask and removed his gloves. “What?”

  Raimond walked in. “My, aren’t you the surly one? It’s good to see you, too. Thorn in your paw?”

  Drake sighed.

  Rai said, “Mama and Henri are going to Baton Rouge the day after tomorrow. I just want to make sure someone’s at the house with Valinda and Little Reba while they’re away.”

  “I told her I’d stay over but if someone else can take my place I’d appreciate it. Trying to get this house finished.” And avoid Valinda.

  “I’m on my way to Lafayette, Archer can’t leave the hotel, and Beau and Phillipe set sail this morning for Cuba to pick up some shipments I have coming in. They’ll be gone for four or five days, so you’re it, I’m afraid.”

  “Okay.”

  “Why the bad mood?”

  “I need to stop pining after the lovely Valinda, and it’s not sitting well.”

  Rai scanned his face. “You know her intended is due any day now?”

  “I do.”

  “I saw the way you made Beau leave her side at dinner last night.”

  Drake walked over and banked the fire in the forge. “He made his own decision.”

  “His own decision, my ass. You were two seconds away from tossing him into the street. You can’t have a woman who’s already promised, Drake.”

  “I know that. Have known that. She climbed trees when she was young, Rai.”

  Rai dropped his head and shook it with amusement. “Just the kind of woman every Tree House King needs. How far gone are you?”

  “Far enough.”

  “If she leaves, then what?”

  Drake shrugged. “Ride north and steal her back?”

  Their grins met.

  “Spoken like a true pirate.” Rai paused for a moment, taking Drake’s measure, then added, “I know you don’t need my advice.”

  “Correct.”

  Rai chuckled. “Never mind then. Do what’s best for her. Not you. But if you need me to ride north, let me know.”

  Drake loved his brothers, but he loved Rai the most. “I will. Safe travel to Lafayette.”

  Rai nodded and made his exit.

  Drake blew out a long breath and went back to work.

  Valinda stood in the back of the wagon and took in the miles-long line of Black and White faces and tried to keep her heart from breaking. She and Sable were among a group of volunteers distributing food, but she hadn’t expected it to be such an emotional undertaking. There were families, single men, single mothers holding infants, and elderly women with toddlers latched onto their homespun skirts. There were old people lying in the beds of listing wagons and others perched on the backs of swayback mules. All were hungry. All waited patiently. What pulled most at her emotions was the resignation in their eyes. Many took the rations of pork, yams, and beans with a nod of thanks; others simply walked away.

  She dragged yet another ten-pound bag of yams to the wagon’s edge. The muscles in her arms burned in response to the unaccustomed heavy lifting. “My arms are on fire,” she told Sable.

  “It’ll go away in a few days. Take a break and go help Mrs. Bentley at the stipend tables. She needs to be relieved. She’s seated at the table beneath that oak over there.”

  Val took in the two long lines of people stretching from the table and back across the open field. “Why are the lines divided by race?” One held Blacks. The other Whites.

  “The older White women don’t want to be in the same line as the people who once worked for them.”

  Val found that sad. Everyone there was seeking assistance of one type or another, yet bigotry continued to take precedence in some minds. Wondering if the nation would ever rid itself of the divisive thinking, she left Sable and set off across the field.

  Hundreds of people were milling about. On the surface, the gathering could have passed for a country fair, if it weren’t for the lack of gaiety. The majority of the people standing in the sweltering New Orleans heat were there for food, to report beatings, murders, and other incidents of violence to the Bureau agents in Union blue, and to apply for government stipends. The only people smiling were the freedmen in line to be married.

  Mrs. Bentley, a thin middle-aged White woman from Ohio, was one of the hundreds of missionaries who’d come south to assist the Bureau. After a quick introduction, she had Val take a seat in the rickety cane chair beside her. “Watch me for a moment and then you’ll be on your own. I’m going to go help with the marriages. I need some joy after sitting here all morning.”

  Val read over the government-issued form she had to fill out for each applicant. There were columns for the applicant’s name, age, number of children in the household under fourteen, and the reason the person wanted assistance. Her table handled the White women, and after watching Mrs. Bentley conduct a few of the interviews, she was left alone.

  “May I help you?” she asked the older woman next in line. Her brown gown was stained and wrinkled, the hem tattered and dirty. Her thin gray hair was pulled back from her bony tight-lipped face and she ignored Val as if she hadn’t spoken. “Excuse me, ma’am. If you’ll step closer I can fill out your form.”

  “I’ll wait until the other woman comes back,” she said firmly, not meeting Val’s eyes.

  “She isn’t coming back.”

  Hearing that, she immediately got out of line.

  As she walked away, Val stared with surprise. A few others within earshot stared as well. Val sighed.

  The next woman stepped up to the table. She was middle-aged, wearing a dirty, once-white blouse and a dark skirt patched on the side with green fabric. She was barefoot and had two small, dirty-faced children with her. She looked tired but nodded a greeting.

  Val asked kindly, “Your name please?”

  “Mary Castle. I’m 47. I have these two grandchildren. They’re five and four. They belong to my daughter, but she left here a few weeks ago and hasn’t come back.”

  Val wrote it down and asked, “The reason you can’t work?”

>   “Lost my husband in the war and I got these two children.”

  Val added that to the report.

  “Do you know when I’ll get the money? This is the fourth time I’ve applied.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Okay, thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” Mary departed and the next woman stepped up.

  Val filled out forms for the next two hours. A few women refused to be interviewed by her, but most didn’t seem to care that she was of a different race. Many were elderly and cited their ages and failing health as why they couldn’t work. One woman was blind, others like Mary Castle had small children in the home. The stories were sad. Val had come south thinking only people of the race were destitute and in need of help; she was wrong.

  At the end of the day, Sable drove the wagon home, and Val asked, “When will the people who applied for stipends get their funds?”

  Sable glanced over. “Never, more than likely.”

  “Why not?”

  “There’s no money. The forms will be filed and forgotten. The state has no funds and neither do any of the parishes.”

  Val was stunned.

  “The process is nothing more than an exercise, and it’s heartbreaking.”

  Val thought back on all the people she’d met that day: the elderly, the blind, the children. “Is it the same of our people?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why offer hope where there is none?”

  “It’s a question everyone has been asking. The men in Congress don’t see the need to do more than send pennies and offer platitudes and it’s infuriating.”

  Val agreed. Mary Castle had applied four times already. What would happen to her and the hundreds of others of both races who would receive nothing?

  “So now that you’ve seen the depth of problems we’re facing, what do you think?”

  “I think I need to help wherever I can.”

  Sable nodded. “Tomorrow is my weekly visit to the Colored Orphanage. Do you want to come along after my orphans are done with school?”

  “I do.”

  The next day’s visit to the city’s orphanage also fueled Val’s need to help. Most of the children had been abandoned and were under the age of ten. The lack of funding showed in the basic meals of grits and toast; the hand-me-down clothing provided by Sable, other volunteers, and the local churches; and the thin worn cots they slept on. But because they were children, smiles greeted their arrival and she and Sable smiled in response. Val had brought along a few books and sat on the floor and read to them.