Pillar of Light

by Gerald N. Lund

  “Well,” Wesley said, pushing his chair back, “Joshua and I will retire to the gentlemen’s study for a glass of sherry and a good cigar. Ladies, if you’ll excuse us.”

  Joshua stood too. Normally this was a custom he did not prefer, this leaving women together to do lady talk while the men gathered off by themselves. He even found it irritating that in some homes, especially on the larger plantations, the gentlemen’s study had a door specifically designed to be too narrow to allow ladies with their wide-hooped and many-petticoated skirts to pass through. But tonight he didn’t mind. He had some things he wanted to discuss with Mr. Richard Wesley.

  He waited only long enough for Wesley to shut the door and get the cigar box down. Joshua took a cigar, but just held it in his hand. He watched as his friend got out a match and struck it. “Tell me about Berrett and Boswell,” he said.

  Wesley jerked around, nearly burning himself. He recovered, touched the flame to the end of his cigar, and puffed it into life. “What about them?” he said, eyeing Joshua narrowly through the smoke.

  “Come on, Richard,” Joshua snapped. “You know how I feel about Caroline. This is my business now.” He told him quickly of the experience he had had that day.

  Wesley let out his breath slowly, the sigh showing a deep weariness. “I had heard they were about to make another move. I had hoped it wasn’t true.”

  “So, I want to know the full story.”

  For several moments Richard looked at him, then finally he nodded. He reached over and stubbed out the cigar in an ashtray. “All right. Sit down. This may take a while.”

  Chapter Nine

  Joshua Steed stopped for a moment on the sidewalk outside the entrance to the offices of Berrett and Boswell, merchants and cotton factors. He looked up at the sign that hung from a wrought-iron holder bolted to the brick wall of the warehouse. There was no evidence that the sign had ever read, “Berrett, Boswell, and Mendenhall.” Not that it surprised him. From what he had learned in the past two days, Mr. Berrett and Mr. Boswell would not stoop to something as crude as simply painting over a name. Squeezing a man’s fortune from between his fingers, driving him into virtual bondage, legally robbing any vestiges of the estate from his widow and children—now, that was a different matter entirely. But crudity was certainly not the style of Mr. Jeremiah Boswell and Mr. Theodore Berrett.

  Joshua took a breath. He knew full well that these two were masters at playing their game. Three different lawyers had convinced him that Caroline stood not one chance of breaking the contracts signed by her late husband and witnessed by men of impeccable credentials. One by one, Donovan Mendenhall had signed away his assets, thinking that the guarantees he was promised in return justified the risks he was taking. And one by one, he had lost it all. Will Mendenhall believed with all the faith of his twelve-year-old heart that his father had died of yellow fever. There was no doubt in Joshua’s mind that the dreaded disease had been the ball that killed him; but he also knew now that by that time, Donovan Mendenhall had been a totally shattered man.

  Angrily he jerked the door open and took the stairs two at a time.

  * * *

  “I assure you, Mistuh Steed, everything is in perfect legal order. We understand Miz Mendenhall’s discontentment, but—”

  “Look, Berrett,” Joshua cut in sharply, “let’s get a couple of things straight. I run a freight business in Missouri. I know when there’s something in the corral you don’t want to step in. Putting a handkerchief over it doesn’t make it stink any less.”

  Theodore Berrett was shocked by Joshua’s bluntness, but Jer-emiah Boswell didn’t move or react in any way. He was watching Joshua closely, his eyes hooded and unreadable. Joshua noted it with no surprise. Everyone had said that Boswell was the shark you had to watch.

  “Why don’t you just say what you’ve come to say,” Boswell said evenly.

  Joshua nodded. “Fair enough.” He took a cigar from an inside coat pocket, then a small knife from his vest pocket. He began to trim off the end slowly and deliberately. He stuck the cigar in his mouth, took a match from the box on the desk without waiting to be asked, and lit it up. Only when it was glowing and the air around his head was filled with smoke did he continue.

  “I know what your legal standing is. I’ve checked that out carefully.”

  “Then surely you know we are in a very strong position to—”

  Boswell shot his partner a withering look, and Berrett clamped his mouth shut.

  Joshua never took his eyes from Boswell. “I also know that, legally or not, you two robbed Donovan Mendenhall just as surely as if you put a gun to his head.”

  A faint smile played around Boswell’s mouth, but his eyes were, if possible, even colder than before. “In Savannah, Mistuh Steed, if it’s legal, then it isn’t robbery.”

  “Well,” Joshua said, taking another long puff on his cigar, then blowing it at the ceiling, “that’s just it, Boswell. I’m not here to play by Savannah’s rules. Out west we speak a different kind of language.”

  “How quaint.”

  Joshua laughed shortly. The man was good. Pure ice. This was not going to be easy, but that would make it all the more enjoyable. He stood and walked to the window that looked down on River Street and the docks. It was a warm day outside, and the window was open. The sounds of the street floated up to them clearly. Across the street, a ship was tied up at the docks. Men were wheeling bales of cotton up the gangplank and disappearing into the holds. He didn’t have to look at the name on the bow. He knew it was owned one hundred percent by the two men who sat behind him now.

  “Cotton,” he mused, “now, there’s a flammable cargo for you.”

  Berrett shot out of his chair as though someone had touched his posterior with the tip of Joshua’s cigar. “Are you suggesting—” His eyes popped out in near apoplexy. “How dare you threaten us!”

  Joshua turned around. “Why, Mr. Berrett, I do think your emotions have gotten the best of you.”

  Boswell had risen now too. He leaned forward, resting his hands on the desk. “Get out, Steed, or I’ll send for the constable.”

  Joshua returned to his chair and sat down. “My, my, aren’t we testy today?” He smiled pleasantly. “You mustn’t think—”

  A sharp cry from outside cut him off. “Fire! Fire on deck!” Before it even had time to register, the cry was picked up by other voices and pandemonium erupted outside.

  Boswell went pale, then kicked his chair aside and leaped to the window. Berrett was beside him in an instant. Joshua got up and strolled back to join them. Across the street, men were running from every direction toward the ship. Some had grabbed buckets and were passing them up to eager hands reaching down. A small column of black smoke was rising from the deck near the main mast. Joshua watched as several buckets of water were hurled at the base of the pillar of smoke. In a moment, it was over. Cries of relief went up. By the time Boswell and Berrett were certain that their ship was no longer in danger, Joshua had returned to his chair again.

  He noted with satisfaction that Boswell’s icy veneer had been shaken. He had suspected it would be. At least twice in recent memory Savannah had been devastated by fires, the last one burning for three or four days and destroying large portions of the city. Savannahans were deeply paranoid about fire.

  He looked past them toward the window again as they turned to face him. “Lucky thing it didn’t happen at night, and down in the hold. Before you know it, a whole ship could be lost.”

  “Theodore,” Boswell said between pinched lips, “go fetch a constable.”

  Joshua was rolling the cigar back and forth between his fingers. He raised his eyes in mock horror. “Surely you can’t think I had anything to do with that. Why, you would have to testify that I was right here with you during the whole time. How could I be responsible for something clear across the street?”

  “We’ll see about that, Mistuh Steed.” He waved angrily at his partner.

  Joshua chuckled
softly. “Why, Mr. Boswell, I believe it was you who said that in Savannah if something is legal, it isn’t robbery. Might I suggest that in Savannah if something isn’t provable, it isn’t arson.” His voice went suddenly flat and hard. “Especially if the men making the accusation are held in contempt by respectable officers of the law and all gentlemen of integrity.”

  For several seconds, Boswell just stood there, the eyes almost black in their fury, his hands clenching and unclenching. Berrett was too shaken to remain standing. He collapsed into a chair and began mopping at his forehead.

  Finally, Boswell walked back behind his desk and retrieved his chair. He sat down slowly, his eyes never leaving Joshua’s. “What do you want?”

  Joshua felt a tiny leap of exultation. The man was far from down, but at least Joshua had his attention. “You’re paying Mrs. Mendenhall a stipend of about two thousand dollars per year. The home in which she lives is worth about twenty thousand dollars.”

  “That house already belongs to us,” Berrett cried. “Donovan Mendenhall gave us title to it.”

  “It will take a long and costly court battle to have her evicted.”

  Boswell nearly snorted outright in disgust. “We can afford it. Mrs. Mendenhall cannot.”

  Joshua nodded thoughtfully. “Assuming, of course, you don’t have any costly fires.”

  Berrett’s mouth dropped open. “Blackmail and extortion are against the law in Georgia, young man!” He was nearly screaming at Joshua. “You’ll spend the rest of yo life in prison.”

  Joshua ignored him. He spread out his free hand, looked at his fingernails closely, then finally looked up at Boswell. “There is a simpler solution.”

  Boswell’s eyes were little more than narrow slits now, but Joshua could see something new in them. Respect. “I’m listening,” he said.

  “A twenty-five-thousand-dollar, one-time settlement.”

  Berrett shot right out of his chair, spluttering, his eyes like a startled possum’s. “What?”

  “Shut up, Theodore,” Boswell said quietly.

  “But . . .”

  Boswell whirled on him. “Shut up!” Without waiting to see his partner’s reaction, he turned back to face Joshua. “Go on, Mistuh Steed.”

  * * *

  “Will, would you and Olivia go downstairs and play? I have some important business to discuss with your mother.”

  Caroline whirled around in surprise, but Joshua was not looking at her. He was watching her son steadily.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Olivia’s lower lip shot out in that pouty look which she had so mastered. “I want to stay. I don’t want to go downstairs.”

  Caroline felt a touch of irritation at Joshua’s request. He was so assured of himself, so completely confident. “I have not kept secrets from my children, Joshua,” she said. “I don’t mind if they stay.”

  Will’s eyes darted back and forth between his mother and Joshua. Joshua merely smiled at him. That was enough for Will. He straightened his shoulders and took his sister’s hand. “Come on, Olivia.”

  “But I don’t want to go.”

  “Come on,” he said more forcefully, starting to pull on her.

  Caroline was caught. One part of her was peeved at Joshua for ordering her children around in her own house. Yet she was also deeply grateful that after almost two years a man had come into Will’s life who commanded the same respect and adoration he had for his father. “Olivia,” she finally said, “go with Will. Joshua and I will only be a few minutes.”

  Knowing when she had lost, Olivia sniffed, pulled loose from her brother’s grasp, and marched out on her own.

  “Thanks, Will,” Joshua said softly. Will gave him a little wave, then pulled the door shut behind him.

  Caroline decided she did not want to quarrel with him. It had been a pleasant dinner, and Joshua was wonderful with the children. They really enjoyed his company. She smiled wryly to herself. As if their mother didn’t. “My, my,” she teased, “this must be terribly important.”

  But Joshua did not smile. He took her by the arm. “I think you’d better sit down.”

  She laughed, tossing her head so her hair bounced on her shoulders. “I feel like a little girl who’s about to be spanked by her father.” But she let him steer her to a chair and sit her down.

  He pulled up a chair to face her, but to her surprise he didn’t sit down. Rather he began pacing in front of her. Slowly the humor in her died. She had never seen him quite this serious before. “What is it, Joshua?”

  He stopped, his eyes earnest and dark beneath the furrowed eyebrows. “Caroline, I . . .” He stopped and came to his chair. He turned it around so the back was to her, then sat down facing her. It was as though he wanted the chair as a shield between them if things did not go well.

  She was completely sober now too. “What is it, Joshua?” she asked again.

  “I . . .” He let out his breath in disgust. “Caroline, I’m not a man who’s good with words. I’m not one of your polished Southern gentlemen.”

  She smiled warmly at him. No, he definitely wasn’t that. But that was part of what made him so attractive. “I know what you are, Joshua. You don’t have to apologize for that.”

  Her words seemed not to sink in. He was obviously struggling. “I don’t know how to say this, so I’ll just lay out what has to be said and let the chips fall where they may.”

  “Fair enough.”

  He took a quick breath. “I know about Boswell and Berrett and what they did to your husband.”

  Caroline’s mouth dropped open. If he had reached out and kicked her, she couldn’t have been more stunned.

  “I know it all,” he went on, the words pouring out now. He told her about what he’d done since he had seen her go to their offices. He told her about his investigations and about hiring lawyers to check and double-check the contracts. By the time he finally stopped, his hands were clenched on the back of his chair, and she could see the beads of perspiration on his forehead. But that did nothing to lessen the anger she felt.

  “What right do you have to pry into my affairs?” she asked coldly.

  He didn’t dodge her anger. “None. But I did it anyway. Because I don’t want to see you lose everything.”

  “I can handle my own problems,” she snapped.

  “Caroline, I have as much admiration for you and your capabilities as for any woman I have ever known, but you are going to lose. Even the best lawyers in the city are saying that. You will lose this house. And you will probably lose your pension.”

  She jumped up, turning her back on him. She didn’t want him to see the fear on her face. She had lived with that thought now for over a week, the dread like some great knot inside her.

  “Those two are jackals, Caroline,” he said softly, standing now too, but not coming to her. “You fight them, they’ll tear you apart.”

  “I’ll manage,” she shot back at him.

  “No, you won’t,” he snapped angrily. “You don’t know how to deal with men like that.”

  She whirled, her eyes blazing. “And I suppose you do.”

  He reached in his coat pocket and withdrew some folded papers. “Will you sit for just another minute or two and listen to me? Then I’ll leave. If you wish, I won’t come back.”

  “I—”

  “Please, Caroline. This will only take a minute.”

  Breathing hard, she finally nodded and returned to her seat. He took a deep breath, then let it out slowly, painfully. “What I have here is an offer from Boswell and Berrett. They want to buy you out once and for all.”

  Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “For how much?”

  “They are willing to pay you twenty-five thousand dollars in gold.”

  “What?” She shot to her feet. “My husband invested twice that amount in their company. This house is worth almost that much alone.” She was near tears, but this time they were tears of anger. “You call this helping me?” she asked incredulously.

  “S
it down and listen for a minute!” he roared.

  She rocked back, shocked by the anger in him.

  “Please, Caroline,” he said more softly. “Just one more minute.”

  She sat down slowly, her lips tight. “All right, Joshua, I’m listening.”

  He put the papers back inside his coat. “I don’t know how they did it, or what they held over your husband’s head, but the contracts he signed are legal and binding. They’re foolproof. Your lawyer has already told you that. I’ve had the best lawyers in town tell me the same thing. You fight them on this and you’re going to lose.”

  He leaned forward, his eyes boring into hers. “Do you hear me, Caroline? You’re going to lose.”

  “I haven’t lost yet,” she said stubbornly.

  He threw up his hands. “Come on, Caroline! You’re not one of those plantation girls with a face full of makeup and a head full of cottonseed. Wake up. You think just because you don’t want something bad to happen, that makes it go away?”

  She finally dropped her gaze. He was right, but it hurt like fury to have to admit it. The very thought of the triumph in Mr. Boswell’s little pig eyes galled her more deeply than she could express.

  “They’ll let you take all the furniture.”

  “How gracious of them,” she said bitterly.

  He ignored that. “There are two conditions.”

  She didn’t look up. For the first time, a bleakness came into Joshua’s voice. “You will have to sign papers renouncing all claims to the business.”

  Her head came up. “Only that?” she sneered. “What else?”

  He took a deep breath. He couldn’t meet her eyes. “Having you around is an embarrassment to them. You will have to agree to leave Savannah.”

  For a moment her eyes widened, then instantly they turned dark. “Now, is that all, Mr. Steed?” she said, the words coming out clipped and hard-edged.