Night Winds

by Gwyneth Atlee

  Ethan regarded him as if he were a particularly annoying insect. “You’ll find the office on Commerce Street, and someone there who’ll be interested. Run along, now. I must speak to the lady.”

  “You can’t just dismiss him like a servant! This man helped me. I consider him a friend,” Shae protested.

  Harry looked at her and shook his head. “A friend, is it then? Me reputation as a ladies’ man’ll be in ruins now.”

  He winked at Ethan, who scowled in return, then dug a pair of double eagles from his pocket. “There’s a lad. You have our thanks. Now you’ll be leaving, promptly.”

  Harry neatly caught the coins as Ethan flipped them and nodded his thanks to the man. Then he turned a curious gaze on Shae.

  Ethan pointed in the general direction of his father’s business office. “It’s that way, boy. Can’t miss it. Now as I said, run along. My father will doubtless offer you a finder’s fee, perhaps even a percentage of the salvage. But neither one of us is fond of those who don’t take orders quickly.”

  “That’s that’s very generous, sir. Miss Shae?”

  Shae had no idea what to say. With what she knew of Ethan, she didn’t want to spend a moment with him. Neither did she want to cause Harry any trouble with the Lowells. Right now, she felt so tired and dizzy, every word took great effort.

  “Thank you,” she finally told the sailor. “You’ve been very kind. And don’t worry. I’ll be going to find my fiancé, Phillip Payton, in a moment.”

  As Harry said goodbye, Shae turned an icy gaze on Ethan, to see how he’d reacted to the news that she planned to marry Phillip.

  His expression was so filled with regret that she almost pitied him. That is, until he next spoke.

  “I’m so sorry to bring bad news, dear, but Phillip Payton’s dead. He drowned in last night’s storm.”

  At his words, last night’s black flies filled the periphery of Shae’s vision. She tried to make sense of what he said, but the swarm grew thicker, closer, until it descended like a wall of winged obsidian across her consciousness.

  *

  One of the nurses told Phillip he was desperately needed outside of the infirmary. For the first time since he’d come here, Phillip trotted out into the autumn sunlight. The azure sky was so bright he had to shade his eyes against it. He followed the young woman to what he’d assumed was some sort of medical emergency. What he saw, instead, spurred him to a run.

  A group of four coarse-looking white men surrounded Abraham. The boy’s arms were pulled behind him, and a rough loop of rope hung around his neck. At least two of the men had pistols sticking from their waistbands.

  “What in God’s name is going on here?” Phillip demanded.

  A large man with a larger belly pushed his way forward. “White woman caught this nigger stealin’. We knew he was guilty ‘cause he lit out runnin’ when we tried to talk to him. But before we could find a solid tree to string him up, he started squallin’ he was yours. Wouldn’t a bothered with it, but I got to thinkin’ how you helped out my little girl once. This boy right, Doc Payton? You got some sort a responsibility for him?”

  “Abraham, what happened?” Phillip asked, ignoring the man.

  The boy lifted his head tiredly. He looked already defeated, as if he were certain he would die. “I was only lookin’ for my mama and my brother. Then this white woman calls out, ‘Hey, boy. I got a job for you. I need you t’ help pull this drownt heifer offa my front porch.’ I told her, ‘Ma’am, I’m sorry, but I gotta find my family. They might need me bad.’ She got real mad, started hollerin’ about how I was shiftless and I’d be sorry if I didn’t remember ‘bout my place. I got real scared then, you know? Cause I seen this gang a men roustin’ ‘round lookin’ for any trouble they could find.”

  One of the men interrupted by giving the rope around the boy’s neck a vicious jerk. Phillip grabbed the man’s hand and warned, “Don’t do that again. I asked the boy what happened. Now let go of that. Look at all these women and children. For their sake, let’s be civilized.”

  The man with the huge belly glanced at a group of children who had drawn close to stare and nodded. Negro and white children mingled, as families of both races had crowded into this area, one of the first cleared. His bearded compatriot dropped the rope.

  When Abraham could speak, he continued, “I knew I had to get out a there before they found me, so I ran. Next thing I know, they shoutin’ after me. I can tell you I didn’t slow down none. I know what their kind do to blacks whenever they gets the chance. Next thing I know this fellow jumped on me, and they was sayin’ how that lady caught me stealin’. She claimed she saw me carvin’ fingers offa man’s dead body just to get his rings.”

  The boy made a repulsed face. “What’d I wanta do a sick thing like that for? All I wanted was my family.”

  Phillip looked up at the group of men. “Do you gentlemen have any kind of proof?”

  The man with the shaggy beard puffed up in anger. “You’d take a nigger’s word over a white woman’s?”

  “Did you check his pockets? I’d imagine sawn-off fingers to be difficult to hide. And he’d need a knife as well, unless this woman said he chewed off the man’s digit.”

  “We, uh, didn’t check yet, Dr. Payton,” the big-bellied man admitted.

  “Then there’s no time like the present. Untie Abraham. I’m sure he’d have no objection to turning his pockets inside-out. I realize that the city is in disorder and vigilance is in order, but I’m equally certain that none of you gentleman wish to execute a child in error. If you were that kind of men, you would not have come here to see me.”

  They all nodded at his assessment of their fair-mindedness. The bearded man untied the boy’s hands.

  After quickly rubbing each of his wrists, Abraham turned out his pockets. They were completely empty.

  “But maybe he throwed out the evidence when we was chasing him,” a bald man suggested. He sounded disappointed.

  “Wouldn’t you have noticed?” Phillip asked. “I have another theory, but first, did any of you actually know the woman who made the accusation?”

  They admitted they did not, though one man had seen her around the neighborhood, he thought.

  Phillip blessed his luck. If the woman had been someone’s wife or mother, this would have been even more difficult. He continued, keeping his voice carefully calm. “Did any of you come across a man’s corpse with a missing finger? Did she mention where she’d seen this crime occur?”

  “Now that you mention it,” the bald man said, “she didn’t. And I thought we had our area pretty well cleaned out of bodies. We don’t want no sickness there.”

  “I’m not a judge,” Phillip continued, “just a doctor. But one doesn’t have to be a man of education to see that the woman might have been ‘confused’ about what she saw. Not lying, perhaps, just awfully confused. And I know Abraham to be an honest young man, one who very likely lost his family. To answer your earlier question, yes, I am responsible for him.”

  “What are you suggesting, doctor?” the fat man asked.

  “That you do what’s right. Release this boy to me. He won’t trouble you again, will you, Abraham?”

  Abraham shook his head, “No, sir. I ain’t never goin’ near that neighborhood again.”

  Phillip removed the loop of hemp from the boy’s neck.

  The bearded man shook his head doubtfully. “You know, I hear you’re partial to them Negroes. You wouldn’t just be takin’ up his side ‘cause a that?”

  His big-bellied cohort whacked him on the shoulder. “Don’t show off yer ignorance, Vance. Don’t you know logic when you hear it? This man’s college educated, he is, a doctor even. I tell you how he saved my girl’s life?”

  The large man stuck his hand out and shook Phillip’s. “Good to see you again, sir.”

  Phillip thanked them all for acting fairly and watched the whole group saunter off, their heads held high with pride. Beside him, Abraham gave a huge sigh of
relief.

  Phillip turned to look at him and then let out his own pent-up breath. “Did they hurt you?”

  “Not much, but I thought I be dead for sure. Thank you, Dr. Payton.”

  “You’re very welcome. That woman should be thrashed for telling such an evil lie.”

  “Them’s your words, not mine. I’m not sayin’ nothin’ ‘gainst her. Leastwise, not until I’m sure they can’t hear.” Abraham gestured toward the men, still visible as they left the crowded grounds.

  The boy turned his dark gaze toward Phillip. “I ain’t never gonna see Mama or my brother again, is I?”

  Phillip swallowed hard. As much as he hated to dash Abraham’s hopes, he thought the truth would be best. Yet that did make his answer any easier. “I don’t think so, Abraham. I’m sorry, but I doubt your mother ever left the house, and Jacob . . .”

  Phillip had to stop. He could almost feel the waves tearing the two boys from his grasp. He’d reached out, groping for them, but everything became a roar of swift water, swifter wind. He shook his head. “It’s a miracle either of us made it out alive.”

  Abraham’s stare dropped to his muddy feet. “I reckon that the Lord has reasons, but I sure can’t think of none.”

  “Neither can I, Abraham. Neither can I.”

  Both of them were silent for several moments. Then Phillip forced his mind back to the present.

  “Can you walk to Villa Rosa?” he asked. “I’ll send a note with you. Mrs. Kelso might grumble at your dirty clothes, but she’ll make sure you’re fed and get a chance to wash up. She’ll give you a clean bed where you can sleep.”

  “A bed? A real bed?” Despite grief and exhaustion, the boy looked almost excited.

  Phillip offered him the slim consolation of what he hoped would pass for a smile. “Yes. A real bed of your own.”

  *

  This was all that Ethan had wanted from the first, the opportunity to hold her in his arms. Any other woman, especially one of Shae’s poor social standing, would have welcomed his attentions. Any other woman would have been grateful at the generosity of his offer of marriage.

  It was Shae’s fault that she’d spoiled it. Not his. No, never his. Hadn’t most of the elite of Port Providence witnessed how she’d snubbed him? Wouldn’t her own father tell her she deserved what he’d just done?

  He hadn’t counted on her collapse after he had spoken. Hadn’t counted on the utter limpness of her body as he held her. But he hadn’t imagined seeing her here, either, dressed in a youth’s knee breeches. Hadn’t thought her anything but dead.

  He nearly smiled at the suddenness of his inspiration. He’d had no idea that a spiteful lie would so quickly deliver her to him. Now he could take her somewhere, care for her, and have her to himself. . .

  “Miss Shae!” the sailor interrupted.

  Ethan glared at him. Would the fool never leave? “I believe I’ve made myself clear. Go away. The poor girl’s had a shock, that’s all. I’ll see she gets the very best care.”

  Still, the lanky young man hesitated, obviously worried about Shae’s reaction to him earlier.

  “Your loyalty is touching.” The sarcasm in his own voice was palpable. “But where would you take her? Could you see to it that she’s fed and clothed and tended? Go on with you, or I’ll see that you’re fired.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Lowell. It’s just that, well, she’s something special’s what she is.”

  “I can hardly fault you for recognizing the obvious,” Ethan told him. “I’ll tend her flawlessly. You have my word as a gentleman.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “What in God’s name are you doing, Ethan? I will not have you bringing that woman in this house.”

  Ethan had sincerely hoped to avoid his father, but he’d had no other place to take Shae. His apartments had been swept into the sea, and masses of people, suddenly homeless, had snapped up every last bit of available shelter. He’d counted on his mother, who was far too gracious to leave a helpless young woman on the streets. Unhappily, however, it was Augustus Lowell who met him at the huge front doors.

  “Would you have me leave her unconscious in the street?” Ethan asked. “She’s fainted.”

  “Then why not take her to St. Michael’s? When I stopped in to check on Raymond, I saw Phillip Payton there. Surely, he’ll see to it she’s well cared for.”

  Ethan flinched. If Father knew that Phillip lived, he couldn’t very well keep Shae here. But it was too late, even if he could think of somewhere he might take her. Mother was standing, watching from the parlor doorway, a scrub brush in her hand. Surprisingly, mud stained her skirt at knee level. Evidently, she’d been helping the maids attempt to save the mud-caked parlor floor.

  “Augustus, I’m surprised at you. Of course, we have to open our home to Miss Rowan. Now, just help Ethan take her upstairs to the guest room.” She turned her still-elegant figure back toward the room behind her. “Sally, take a bit of a break from that. Fetch some warm water upstairs, and later on we’ll need some nice broth.”

  Ethan’s mother hurried upstairs to prepare a guestroom. Ethan and his father shared Shae’s weight as they followed.

  “It’s unseemly, bringing her here,” Father muttered. “I tell you, I won’t have you sniffing after this girl in our home. I only just managed to get Miss Tisdale and her mother’s bodies out, and that with a substantial bribe.”

  “You had to bribe a mortuary to take bodies?”

  “They’re all overflowing, in case you hadn’t noticed. By the way, Raymond Tisdale’s dead. I noticed you couldn’t trouble yourself to stay with him. Poor man would have died alone if it hadn’t been for Phillip’s sister. What’s her name, the lame one?”

  “Justine,” Ethan supplied. He wondered what calamity had driven her out of the house. Then he remembered Phillip’s angry accusation about some mishap of Lydia’s.

  “And while Phillip’s down there working like a madman, what is my heir doing? Chasing about after a wrecked yacht and this Rowan girl, I imagine.”

  Ethan sighed, angrier than ever at the comparison to Phillip. He hoped that Madsen would work quickly, for now, more than ever, he wished Payton dead. Soon, he told himself. It must be soon.

  He hadn’t truly lied to Shae. He’d been merely premature in his reporting.

  *

  Textures first stole into Shae’s awareness. The smooth, clean sheets that swathed her bruised flesh, the coarse bandages around her injured hand, the soft down of the pillow cradling her head. Heaven. The word glimmered into consciousness, then was followed quickly by a voice denoting Hell.

  “I’ll see to her myself.” Ethan’s voice, demanding.

  A chill rippled through Shae’s body, and in that instant, she realized she was nude beneath the sheets.

  “Absolutely not. As I told you before, that would be completely inappropriate. Sally will help me with Miss Rowan. You’re not to see her without a chaperone.” The woman’s voice conveyed the unmistakable authority of decorum.

  Ethan’s mother, Shae realized. He must have taken her to his family’s home, Fairweather Manor. But why? She remembered seeing him, then . . . Delilah’d been there, and the sailor, Harry, and . . .

  Dear God. Horror tightened to a cold ball in her stomach, and tears leaked from her closed eyes.

  Ethan had told her Phillip drowned. Then everything exploded into a thousand jagged pieces. She’d . . .

  She’d fainted, she supposed, swooned like a debutante suffering from an over-tight corset. But the lacing of Ethan’s words had cut into her soul and not her body.

  Phillip. She wondered how it could be or if. Perhaps Ethan had only seen a body that resembled Phillip’s. Perhaps he had relied on a false rumor. Perhaps, even, he had lied to hurt her.

  Her mind lurched back to the crabs that scuttled toward their grisly banquet on the beach. To the horse carts she had seen, laden with stacked corpses. To the dead girl who still lay unburied, not far from the wrecked schooner.

/>   Her body shuddered as if afflicted with a sudden palsy, for she realized Ethan’s words were likely to be true. Despite her prayers, Phillip Payton was as mortal as those people.

  Despite her love, he was as likely to be dead.

  Footsteps faded down the hallway. Ethan’s footsteps, she profoundly hoped. She reached up to grab the cameo still dangling from her neck and pressed the oval piece into her palm.

  “Miss Rowan Shae? Are you awake?” Kindness suffused the older woman’s words. Although Shae knew she’d disapproved of her as a daughter-in-law, Ophelia Lowell was an early fan of Shae’s artwork. Long ago, the older woman had “dabbled” in painting herself, as she put it modestly.

  After Shae had seen the matron’s grotesque cherubs, she secretly agreed that dabbling was, indeed, the proper term. Happily, however, Ophelia’s interests had migrated from composition to collection. She owned some of the finest jewelry that Shae had yet created, and in her parlor, one of Shae’s landscapes put her amateur attempts to shame.

  Shae wished that she could sleep again, wished that consciousness, even her existence, would fade out like a meteor’s bright streak. But, perversely, her body reacted to a delicious smell, the fragrance of warm . . . chicken? Almost almost her will, her traitorous eyes snapped open, looking for the source. But how could she been hungry when Phillip was no more?

  “Look, dear, Sally’s brought some rolls and hot broth. It will do you so much good to eat.”

  Shae saw a young blonde, holding a tray. Her smile was as warm as the steam rising from the bowl. Shae let Mrs. Lowell help her sit up, even allowed the woman feed her like a tiny child.

  Shae couldn’t help remembering her mother, how she’d tended her when she was small.

  “There now, lie back, won’t you?” Mrs. Lowell said softly. Can you tell me what has happened, Shae? Ethan said he found you at your house, but it was ruined.”

  “Everything is ruined,” Shae groaned. “Ethan told me that Phillip Phillip was killed.”

  “Phillip Payton?” Mrs. Lowell looked puzzled, then another question surfaced. “You were involved with him?”