by Linda Ladd
Relieved and more than pleased with Andrew's help, Bethany followed his lead. Several courses proceeded in a similar fashion as the men talked about the sugar cane harvest and horses, which she soon learned was a passion with Andrew. When the entrée was finally placed in front of them, Bethany carefully cut a piece of the very white meat with her knife and fork, just as Andrew had done, and was about to place it in her mouth when Luke spoke directly to her.
"How do you like the alligator?"
Bethany looked at him, then down at the piece of meat on the prongs of her fork.
"In the bayou," she said in a totally revolted voice, quickly placing her fork back on her plate.
Luke's initial look of surprise changed to one of amusement, and he burst out laughing; bringing Andrew's eyes in his direction. Andrew was more impressed by Luke's hitherto unknown laughter than by Bethany's amusing quip. Any woman who could make his aloof, self-contained brother laugh with such abandon had to be special.
For the first time, Andrew really looked at Bethany. He saw soft blond hair falling in wispy ringlets over her shoulders and small, delicate features. She was really remarkably beautiful even though she had not bothered to apply lip rouge or any of the other artificial embellishments used by most of the fair ladies of New Orleans. Bethany Cole was an innocent beauty, so much so, in fact, that Luke wouldn't help but notice it eventually. That, Andrew decided, would be a most interesting day.
Luke was looking at him. "Andy? You didn't answer my question."
"I was admiring your wife's beauty."
Bethany blushed, and Luke looked at Andrew, then at his wife, and repeated his question without additional comment. "Are you pleading anyone's case at court at the moment?"
"I think I'm about to," Andrew replied with a curious expression that made Luke follow the direction of his brother's gaze back to Bethany. "Perhaps, you will allow me to escort your lovely wife along the gallery?"
"Be my guest," Luke said. "I have some papers to go over in the library."
Andrew moved around the table, and Bethany placed her hand in his outstretched one, glad to be freed from the dining table, but feeling very strange in the new role she was playing. Her spirits improved as she and her new brother-in-law moved into the night air. She breathed deeply as they strolled together down the wide stone gallery.
"Why did you marry my brother?" Andrew asked suddenly, stopping at the balustrade.
Bethany leaned her palms against the cool stone.
"Because I love Peeto. Didn't Luke tell you about our agreement?"
"He told me, but I have to say I was surprised. I've never claimed to know my brother well, but I would have laid a high wager that he would never marry again."
There were so many things Bethany wanted to ask him, but she was reluctant to do so for fear of alienating him. Luke said Andrew would help her run Cantigny after he left, so she didn't want to do or say anything to make him angry.
"I would have thought you would know your brother better than anyone," she said, curious about their relationship.
Andrew smiled as he leaned against a pillar. "I probably do, but that's not saying much."
It made Bethany feel a little better to know that even Andrew didn't understand Luke, although she could tell he was fond of his brother.
"Do you love Luke?" he asked bluntly.
"Of course not," Bethany answered quickly. "To be honest, I'm not even sure I like him much."
"Why?"
"Because he abandoned his son without a care, and now, he's planning to do it again. Petie needs a father as much as he needs a mother."
Andrew perched a hip on the wall, gazing up at the stars twinkling far above, thousands strong in the dark sky.
"Luke's not like other men. He's had a hard time of it nearly all his life. He grew up with the Indians-did you know that?"
Bethany turned her head quickly, not sure she wanted Andrew to know that she had asked the servants about Luke.
"How did that happen?" she asked.
"A band of Mandan Sioux attacked our farm just outside St. Louis. Nobody ever knew why they had wandered so far south. My father was able to save Anne and me-we were just babies then, Anne three, and me one-but Luke was five, and they took him and mother."
"How awful!"
"They murdered mother, and Luke didn't return to us until he was fifteen."
"Fifteen!" Bethany parroted in surprise. "He was with them that long!"
"For ten years. Then, one day he just rode into St. Louis on an Indian pony. His hair was braided, and he was dressed like an Indian, but he never said why he came back, if he escaped or was set free, or anything else about those years with the Sioux. He refused to talk about it. I really shouldn't be telling you all this, I guess, but you are his wife now, and I don't think Luke will ever tell you."
What Andrew had related did make a difference in the way she thought about her new husband. It must have been horrible to have been kidnapped as a child, just as bad as it had been for little Peeto when he had been suddenly thrust into the white world.
"Luke still left his son with others without a thought to what would happen to him," she said a moment later.
"That's not true."
Andrew's remark drew her full attention. "He didn't?"
"No. As a matter of fact, the day he brought Pete back to St. Louis to stay with Anne, he sent a letter to me here, where I was handling this end of our fur business, directing me to acquire a plantation and enough holdings in New Orleans to insure his son's future. When he was older, Pete was to come to me, so he could grow up in a proper setting."
"I see," Bethany murmured, though she didn't really. Luke was so strange. Apparently, he did care for Peeto, but not enough to act like a real father. Why was he willing to arrange security and wealth for his son, yet refuse to raise the child himself? It didn't make sense.
The next morning Bethany sat alone, the long dining room table stretching out in front of her for twenty feet, elaborately set with linen and silver. It was a lonely place for a solitary person, but she was glad that neither Luke nor Andrew had joined her for breakfast. At least, she didn't have to worry about making blunders in her table manners.
Actually, she probably wouldn't have been that uncomfortable with Andrew. He had been nice to her the night before, even walking her to her bedchamber door before bidding her good night. He was so much friendlier than Luke, it was hard to believe they were brothers. She knew now that their dissimilar experiences growing up had made them so different, and she was glad Andrew would be around to help her with Peeto and Cantigny after Luke left Louisiana.
Suddenly, she wished she had insisted that Peeto come down to breakfast with her, but he had been eager to play in the garden with Raffy. She could hear them now, calling to each other as they tried to catch frogs among the lily pads of the fishpond. She lifted her hand, admiring the emerald ring. The diamonds winked and glittered in the sunlight slanting through the French doors, but Bethany didn't feel married at all. Her wedding night had been so strange, nothing like she had envisioned in her childhood dream of marrying Marcus. She gave a self-mocking smile, remembering the way she had locked her bedchamber door the night before and listened fearfully for Luke's footsteps, even though he had made it clear he did not expect her to share his bed.
Luke's voice sounded in the hall outside the dining room as he spoke to a servant, and she thrust her hand back into her lap, forcibly resisting an overpowering urge to flee onto the gallery.
Luke's tall frame appeared almost at once, making escape impossible. He had been riding, and she had to admit he looked superbly masculine in his dove-gray riding breeches and dark linen shirt.
"Good morning," he greeted her, placing his gloves on the sideboard as Jemsy hurried to pour him a cup of coffee. Luke drank his coffee plain, but Bethany had taken only one sip of the teeth-tightening chicory brew the Creoles called coffee before she had diluted it liberally with cream.
Luke lounged
at the other end of the table, placing himself a good distance from her, but even so his green gaze made her want to squirm. She focused her attention on the trees outside the open doors.
"I've decided it's time for Pete to begin his lessons. Has he had any instruction at all?"
"No," Bethany answered, glad he was taking an interest in the boy's education. "Except that Mistress Anne used to read to him sometimes, stories about the founding fathers and the rebellion."
"I think it's time he learned to read and write for himself. He's old enough now."
Hot color flowed up Bethany's neck to her chin, cheeks, and the roots of her hair, but Luke continued talking as if he didn't notice.
"I want to teach him myself, since most of the tutors hereabouts instruct in French. He'll have to know Creole eventually, of course, but that can wait."
"Raffy's already teaching us some words," Bethany told him.
"'Raffy?"
"He's one of the servants. He's about Peeto's age, and they're already friends."
"I prefer that you don't call him by that name anymore."
Bethany looked blankly at Luke. "What do you mean?"
"Call him Peter, or Pete, if you like, or even Petie, as I've heard you do. Drawing attention to his Indian background will only make it harder for him."
"But, that's his name! He's used to it-"
Luke placed his cup carefully in the saucer, the look in his eyes cutting off further argument. "He'll be called Peter or Pete, is that clear?"
Bethany was silent, but mentally she told herself she would call Peeto whatever she wanted, and Luke couldn't do anything about it.
"Since the boy still doesn't take to me much, I want you to sit in on the lessons with us," Luke continued. "He'll probably respond better with you there. Don't you agree?"
"He's very smart. He'll catch on fast whether I'm there or not."
"All right then, but I want you present. Fetch the boy, so we can get started."
"Now?" Bethany asked in surprise.
"Do you have an objection to starting now?"
"No, but-"
"Then, run, get him. I have to go into town later this morning. The schoolroom's up on the third floor. You shouldn't have any trouble finding it."
Peeto didn't prove to be particularly thrilled about beginning his studies, not with five newly captured frogs and one albino lizard in the gunny sack Raffy was holding. His face was long, indeed, as they mounted the steps that led to the attic schoolroom.
Luke had not yet arrived, and Bethany examined the large room with interest. The hardwood floors were as clean and polished as those in the rest of the house, a good example of Tante Chloe's regime, but the toys that lined the shelves against the walls looked worn and well used, as if some child had loved them very much. She touched a red wooden rocking horse with a white tail and mane made from real hair, making it rock, then looked up as Peeto cried out in delight and dug into a hinged wooden box full of gaily painted tin soldiers.
"This will be a good place for you and Raffy to play on rainy days," she said. "Just look at the toys!"
"Can I go tell Raffy?" Peeto asked, glancing longingly at the door.
"No, Luke wants to teach you to read. I know you want to play now, but just think, Petie, you'll be able to read anything you want!"
"I would just as soon go fishin'," Peeto answered sullenly, not impressed with the prospect of book learning. "You're gonna stay here, ain't you, Beth?"
"Yes, but you have to pay attention and do what your father says."
"I don't like him," Peeto reminded her stubbornly.
Bethany gave him a stern look. "He won't be around much longer. He said he's leaving before the first of the year. Will you try to like him until he leaves? For me?"
Peeto gave a reluctant nod, and Bethany left him to play with the toy soldiers on the floor while she moved desultorily around the room, examining the slates and books and the pictures of cherubic children that were on the walls. She stopped in front of a cupboard with glass doors, her attention on a beautiful baby doll on the second shelf.
She took out the doll, smiling in delight at its fancy white dress and lacy bonnet. The head was made of delicate china, the face was painted with big blue eyes and a fragile rosebud mouth.
"What do you have there?"
Luke's unexpected question almost made her drop the doll. Never had she known anyone who could move so silently!
"It's a doll. I was just looking at it," she answered defensively. "I've never seen one before."
"Didn't you have one when you were little?"
"No," she answered, quickly placing the doll back on the shelf. "My pa didn't believe in toys. Peeto and I are ready for his lesson."
"Pete," Luke said, correcting her mildly. "Why don't you sit over there on the window seat?"
Bethany and Peeto sat down together where he had indicated. Joining forces against him again, Luke thought, as he picked up two drawing slates.
"You better have one of these, too, just in case Pete needs some help," he said as he put a slate in Bethany's hands.
As Luke turned away to pick up a book, Bethany felt the purest joy bubble up inside her, and she wasted no time selecting a piece of chalk.
"All right," Luke began. "First, you have to learn the alphabet. There are twenty-six letters used in the English language, each with a different sound. Once you know them, you can put the sounds together to form words, and after that, reading is easy."
Bethany watched intently as he drew something on the slate, then held it up for them to see.
"This is an A. A is for"-he paused, giving Bethany a significant look-" alligator."
Bethany flushed, but nodded encouragement to Peeto as the little boy carefully copied the letter on his slate.
"Very good," Luke praised him. Then, he smiled to himself, because out of the corner of his eye he could see Bethany bending diligently over her own slate, her delicate brows drawn together in concentration.
"Let's try another. This is a B. B is for bayou, and beware, and Bethany," he said with a grim smile. This time Bethany had to laugh as she attempted several copies of that letter on her slate.
Peeto, on the other hand, spent most of his time with wistful eyes on the windows facing the levee, where Raffy was playing with their new frogs.
At that point, Luke decided he would have much more trouble keeping his son motivated in his studies than he would his wife. Even now, Bethany obeyed his every directive with such eager, pleased anticipation that he had to smile. She would learn to read very quickly, he had no doubt. And, she would learn to be the mistress of Cantigny with just as much ease, because he meant to help her in every way he could. She would have instructors for dancing and etiquette and every other subject she would be required to master in order to take her rightful place in Creole society. Luke would see to it himself, and as soon as possible.
Chapter 8
Luke reined up at the edge of the levee and looked out over the river. On the opposite shore, he could see the workers of the Fortier plantation burning the residual of their cane crop, as was being done on Cantigny. He had ridden out early to look over the fields and the rum distillery and had found all in order and working well. Andrew had been a good manager for him, with both his fur accounts and his other business holdings, and he would be for Pete as well.
It was hard to believe it was already mid-October, harder to believe that he had arrived at Cantigny little over a fortnight ago. Time was moving fast. As he gazed out at the low delta lands downriver-swampy, alligator-infested bayous, and cypress forests for the most part-an intense longing for the Rockies enveloped him. It would be beautiful there now, with the brilliant yellow of the aspens and snow on the ground at the higher elevations. He wished he were there.
He sighed, turning his horse upriver toward the big house. Would it never change? Would he always be torn between two vastly different worlds? Each had its own merits-the great western plains with their gigantic he
rds of buffalo and magnificent snow-covered peaks, and New Orleans Society with its sophistication and civilized ways. The life of the Sioux was so simple compared with that of the whites. He remembered the summers of his youth spent hunting elk with Snow Blossom's brothers, or splashing and laughing with Snow Blossom herself in the cold mountain streams.
They had been young and innocent then, and life had been free and easy. Sometimes he wondered what his life would be like if he had not felt compelled to come back to St. Louis to seek out his white family. If he hadn't left the tribe in the first place, perhaps, when he trapped alone in the pristine mountains with only red men for companions, he wouldn't long for the warm summer breezes of New Orleans and the sophisticated white women dressed in pretty silks and satins. Yet now, when he rode along the muddy shore of the Mississippi River, it was the wilderness he craved, and the isolation of the Sioux villages.
Luke knew one world as intimately as the other, but he didn't fit into either one, not like other people. Thank God, Peeto would never experience such a hell. Luke had made certain about that. Although at Peeto's birth, Luke had assumed the child would grow up with the Mandan Sioux, an ironic twist of fate had decided otherwise. Peeto would know only the ways of the white man.
Luke halted the stallion as he caught sight of Bethany on the levee, still a good distance upriver from him, sitting on a big blue-and-white quilt spread over the grass. He looked around for Michelle, the two boys, or the menagerie of stray dogs and cats that usually accompanied her.
For once, she appeared to be alone. He smiled, noting that she was poring over the Louisiana Gazette, one of the New Orleans newspapers. Every time he came across her these days, she was trying to read something, either a book or a newspaper or the family Bible that was on the carved wooden stand in the drawing room. Pete had proved to be an intelligent boy, but Bethany was learning to read with a quickness that astounded Luke, despite his earlier prediction. He was even more impressed by her undisguised joy over her accomplishment.