Threads of Betrayal

by Monica Koldyke Miller

  “Good. Just a formality, of course, but one must ask.” Shifting his weight, the agent cleared his throat. “As you’ve surely seen in the papers, there’s been increasing hostility between the states ever since Kansas turned bloody. This has the president deeply concerned. After taking counsel with his cabinet, he’s decided to fortify our departments in the improbable event of war. It’s only a precautionary step but must be kept quiet because the southern states would view his move as aggressive. In the end, we fully expect and pray it’ll be a needless arrangement.”

  “Couldn’t Buchanan simply explain his reasons?” Thomas asked. “Secrets have a way of coming back to haunt you.”

  “It’s a ticklish situation. There are those in congress who wouldn’t understand the president’s actions. The hornet’s nest, shall we say, is stirred up enough. With all this talk of secession, it’s his hope these operations stay out of newspapers.”

  “I see.” Thomas opened a ledger, his fountain pen poised. “Which department do you represent, Mr. Follet?”

  “Both Secretary of the Navy and Department of War.” He reached inside his coat pocket and withdrew a folded parchment, handing it to Thomas. “This is an outline of our requirements.” While Thomas scanned the paper, Follet turned to Reagan.

  “I understand you’ve recently acquired a large land tract,” he began. “Congratulations.”

  “I didn’t realize our company affairs ever made it to Washington,” Reagan said.

  Follet chuckled. “It’s in everyone’s best interest to know each others qualifications. If you can meet our needs, we’re prepared to award you the largest contracts.” He then turned to Thomas. “Also, once you sign, you’ll be our sole provider unless and until you couldn’t handle any further needs.”

  “I see,” Thomas said again, tapping his pen.

  “Perhaps you don’t have sufficient resources…?”

  “We have resources,” Thomas cut in, handing the paper to Reagan. “We’ll start immediately. We have a million feet of timber on our docks. We can ship the rest after next spring’s harvest.”

  “Very good.” The agent produced two agreements and waited while Thomas and Reagan read the contracts before they signed. Follet offered his hand. “I’ll be in touch. Until then, it’s been a pleasure.”

  After the agent left, Thomas placed the contracts in his safe. Worry marked his face.

  “Is something the matter, Father?”

  “This just makes war seem all the more likely,” Thomas said. “Looks like we got these land tracts just in time. I’m leaving it to you to fill these contracts by spring.”

  Reagan nodded, deciding not to tell Thomas of his own botched contract. The government’s order would gain him time. And though these contracts were larger than the one he’d lost, if he didn’t replace it, Thomas might never trust Reagan again.

  Chapter Six

  The Cantonsville picnic made a place for friends to gather, eat heartily and doze through the Mayor’s annual speech. A platform built in the meadow near the river would refresh the marching band after its trek from town square. And since the picnic marked the end of summer, the townspeople enjoyed a more relaxed atmosphere than any other time of year.

  Katherine Burnsfield removed two bread pans from the oven, setting them to cool before retrieving a basket from the pantry. She had finished stacking plates when the housekeeper entered the kitchen.

  “Tea is being served in the parlor and Mr. Burnsfield asked to see you,” she said, holding open the door.

  “Thank you, Sarah,” she said, stretching her back. “I didn’t realize how late it was.” Soon after, Katherine entered the parlor to find Reagan browsing the bookshelves and Thomas reading The Cantonsville Daily.

  Amy, their daughter of seventeen looked up from the loveseat. She wrinkled her nose. “Mother, must you wear that shabby thing? If anyone saw you in it, I’d just die.”

  “Well, young lady, instead of doing embroidery, you could help me,” she said. “Let’s see what you wear in a hot kitchen.”

  “Enough.” Thomas held up his hand. “I didn’t call us together to hear my two favorite women squabble. I wanted to speak with everyone, so please sit a moment.”

  Amy scooted over, making room for Katherine as Reagan shelved his book. He then kissed Katherine’s cheek and settled into a chair, lighting a cheroot.

  Thomas folded his newspaper. “I’ve been concerned with what’s happened at Harper’s Ferry and have decided we won’t be vacationing in Charleston as planned.”

  “Oh Daddy, I told everyone we were going to see some real plantations. Lucy Barnett’s family traveled there without harm. Surely, we could too.”

  “That was before Brown’s raid. Ever since, the papers have warned other raids are likely. Anyone traveling south could be accused of inducing a slave insurrection. With those kinds of rumors, I’m taking no chances. You ladies will simply have to content yourselves with visiting Philadelphia this year.”

  “So you think violence will worsen?” Katherine asked.

  “I’m not sure. But, it’s not worth risking our safety. Charleston will be there next year and the year after that.”

  Reagan twirled his cigar, causing smoke to spiral like a corkscrew. “I bet those southern boys would take one look at Amy and beat a path to her feet. Maybe we should wait till she’s married good and proper rather than chancing a Dixie son-in-law.”

  The jest missed its target as Amy’s sullen expression didn’t change. “That’s all right, dear,” Katherine said as she brushed back her daughter’s hair. “We could go shopping like your father suggested. You’ve wanted new clothes and this would be the perfect opportunity.” She looked expectantly at her husband.

  “Yes, I suppose, if you promise not to spend all my money,” Thomas said, smiling.

  “But, I’ll look like a ninny to all my friends. I said I’d bring back souvenirs.”

  “You can tell your friends of our change in plans at the picnic…” Katherine began.

  “Oh no!” Springing upward, Amy’s sampler fell when she grabbed Katherine’s hand and pulled her toward the door. “I forgot the picnic’s tomorrow. I don’t know what to wear!”

  After they departed, Reagan picked up the embroidery hoop. “Dinner’s sure to be delayed,” he said, chuckling. “I hope you realize Amy’s hopelessly spoiled.”

  “I know. I’ve probably ruined her,” Thomas said, grinning. “But then again, I’ve had no trouble with any man wooing her with his paltry fortune.”

  “Would you like a drink?” offered Reagan, opening the sideboard. At Thomas’s assent, he poured sherry into two glasses, handing one to his father before retaking his seat.

  “I guess I never wanted to believe it’d go this far,” said Thomas, swirling his drink. “The war, if there’s to be one, could light a bonfire if it’s discovered we supplied lumber while others were seeking resolutions.”

  “We’re breaking no laws,” Reagan said. “I can’t see many getting upset about a business deal.”

  “It’s more complicated than that.” Thomas got up, tossing the paper into the hearth. “John Brown has become a martyr to those who believe in abolishing slavery. Yet, there are just as many who believe the South has every right to its way of life. Like Mr. Brown, they may be willing to take the law into their own hands. Those are the ones I worry about.”

  Reagan stubbed his cheroot, stretching his long legs. “I suppose there’s always that chance. But as long as we’re careful with whom we deal, I see no problems in doing business with the government.”

  “Just the same, I’m not mentioning it to Katherine. I think it prudent you do the same.”

  “The election itself may make the point moot,” Reagan said. “From what I’ve read in the papers, there isn’t one candidate that’ll satisfy either side. Not even Lincoln, though most consider him a dark horse.”

  “Lincoln!” Thomas snorted. “What do we know about him except he’s against slavery spreading to
the territories? The very thing the South wants most.”

  “If war is coming, we might as well turn a profit,” Reagan said. “If we don’t supply the lumber, someone else will.”

  Thomas nodded while looking into his drink. In the deepening dusk it appeared like blood and he inwardly suppressed a shiver.

  Chapter Seven

  The Cantonsville picnic was about to begin. The band assembled in Town Square while youngsters ran among waiting wagons. From buckboards, bonneted girls dangled their feet while adolescent males jostled each other. On his horse beside the family surrey, Reagan searched for the Bruesters, catching sight of their fringed surrey as the band struck up a tune.

  Reagan had looked forward to this day for no other reason than to initiate another encounter with Amanda. Having earlier sent a note of regret for his behavior at the ball, he now believed he could seek her company.

  What had started as a ballroom diversion had turned to a hindrance when he couldn’t banish her from his mind. Often, he found himself reliving their one shared dance, her beauty awakening lustful cravings that had to be beaten back with iron will. Frustrated that a mere chit, barely out of adolescence could so plague him, Reagan thought seeing her again might cure his fascination. He must know if she were worth pursuing or would become a preoccupation that quickly faded.

  It took nearly an hour for the procession to reach the meadow along the river’s edge. As the band neared the pavilion, wagons fanned out forming a ring around the platform. While horses were unhitched, baskets were unloaded and children dashed away to play. The womenfolk hastened to claim areas under the willows while toddlers amused themselves on hastily unfurled blankets.

  After hobbling his horse, Reagan searched among the crowd until he spotted Amanda shaking out a blanket. He decided his memory hadn’t been faulty and her beauty just as flawless as he’d recalled. He leaned against a nearby tree watching as she assisted Emily to a seated position before she turned toward two women walking by. Though the women were shabbily dressed, Amanda smiled and lifted her hand in greeting. It became obvious he wasn’t the only one watching when Emily tugged on Amanda’s purple-sprigged dress.

  “Amanda, get my fan and parasol from the surrey. And stop gaping!” Though spoken low, Emily’s rebuke caused startled looks from the two passing by.

  “I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware…”

  “Remember your station! Why must I keep reminding you? You’re a Bruester and shouldn’t appear familiar with anyone except those of similar birth. It’s only proper.”

  “Mother, please,” Amanda whispered. “Others might hear you.”

  “Never mind them. They’re just envious,” Emily said, lowering her voice. “Amanda, you don’t understand. When I was your age, I too had notions and fancies for the common man. But, they were foolish dreaMs. You’re too young to know who’s best for you and as your parent I should be the one to guide you.” Emily’s voice grew hard as she eyed her own wedding ring. “And here you are, ruining all I’ve sacrificed for since you were a child. Now, get my things and tell your father to stop talking horses, I want him here.”

  Amanda hastened to do her mother’s bidding, her steps taking her directly toward Reagan. As she rounded the tree, he stepped from his vantage point.

  “Why, hello Amanda,” he said. “I almost didn’t see you. But, since you’re headed somewhere, may I escort you?”

  Having her gaze on the ground, it took several seconds for Amanda’s eyes to travel up the long legs and broad chest before reaching Reagan’s face. Her cheeks flushed as the night of the ball flashed through her mind and the same exhilaration filled her as when he asked her to dance.

  “I received your apology, which caused no small stir with Mother,” she said, stepping around him. “I told her I’d simply overreacted to your teasing. So, no other amends are necessary.”

  Amanda hurried off, but Reagan caught up with her, touching her arm. “I ask only for a moment,” he said.

  She stopped abruptly. “You have some nerve, Mr. Burnsfield. Though manners dictate I accept your apology, it doesn’t mean I’ll give you another chance to be rude.”

  “Allow me to make amends…”

  Amanda poked a finger in his face. “You spoke that night as if I encouraged such comments!”

  “Not at all…”

  “I suppose it never occurred to you a lady wouldn’t permit a second chance. I believed you honorable, but you betrayed my trust.”

  He grinned suddenly, rubbing his jaw. “And, you properly chastised me. You have permission to smite me twice if I ever forget to be a gentleman again.”

  Even as her anger kindled, Amanda was reminded how handsome he was. His white shirt, open at the collar and turned at the wrists revealed a man unafraid of labor. Lifting her eyes, Amanda met Reagan’s amused look as he caught her examining his person. “If you’ll excuse me, I must go,” she said.

  Reagan held up both hands, dismayed by her stubbornness yet delighted at the challenge. “A truce!” he pleaded. “Please, let’s start anew.” Lifting his hat, he bowed with a flourish. “How do you do? I’m Reagan Burnsfield and it would be an honor to assist you around these woods.” Rising, he covered his heart with his hat, being rewarded with a roll of her eyes. “My greatest desire,” he continued, “is to see you forgive the braying ass before you, who most humbly asks your pardon for his behavior.”

  Amanda’s pique ebbed at his ridiculous stance and she played along, hoping none would see their foolish behavior. “Oh, for heaven’s sake! Pleased to meet you too.” She gave a brief curtsy. “Now put on your hat before someone sees you.”

  A distinct clearing of someone’s throat caused both to turn. “Every time I see you, you are pursuing the affections of my next paramour, no?” Beauregard stepped close, forcing Reagan to step back.

  “Hey!” Reagan said, pushing none too gently on Beau’s chest. “Don’t you have enough diversions of your own?”

  “Ah,” the Frenchman said, lifting Amanda’s fingers. “This rare flower is too delicate to be handled by a rough lumberman like yourself. Gladly will I sacrifice my other enjoyments to instruct Miss Bruester on the finer delights of amour.”

  “Why Mr. Barrington, I had no idea of your interest. We spoke only once the night of my ball.”

  Beauregard assumed a humble stance. “Ce n’est que le premier pas qui coùte. It is only the first step that is difficult.”

  Amanda laughed gaily. “Though I enjoy your banter, it’s been said you only use your mother’s tongue when flattering a lady.”

  “My dear, do you doubt my sincerity? Ask Reagan if my heart did not pit-a-pat so, that I dared just one approach at your ball.”

  “If memory serves me,” Reagan said, his eyes boring into the smaller man. “Most of your evening was spent firmly wrapped around another ‘delicate flower’.”

  Beau sighed. “Alas, that one discovered my interests ran also toward her cousin. Both had brothers who convinced me my love for one as well as the other was--shall we say--unhealthy?”

  “Within a fortnight I wager you’ll have a new interest to entertain with your vast charMs. If you’ll be so kind to excuse us, I was escorting Miss Bruester.”

  Amanda touched his shoulder. “Mr. Barrington…”

  “S’il vous plait, all my friends call me Beau. It’d greatly please me if you’d be my friend.” Inclining his head, he gave Reagan an elfish grin before allowing the couple to continue.

  “Do you have something against Beau?” Amanda asked. “Twice you’ve chased him away when he’s been nothing but a gentleman.”

  “I caution you. If you think me a scoundrel, you’ll find Beau has the reputation of a rogue.” Reagan firmly clasped her elbow as they came upon a patch of weeds. “Many young ladies have had their hearts--and worse--stolen.”

  Lifting the hem of her skirt, Amanda picked her way through the nettles. “At least he doesn’t insult a lady in her own home.”

  “Nay, he does far worse. H
e overcomes a woman’s natural defenses with his glib tongue and fervent attentions.”

  “Beau’s your friend. Do you counsel all the women he fancies?”

  “Only those innocent of the ways of men. Beau has a tendency to trifle with women’s affections. I wouldn’t see you so abused.”

  Through the trees, Amanda could see George speaking to Thomas while hobbling their horses. Drawing near, she kissed her father’s cheek. “Papa, I came to get mother’s things and ask you to return to the picnic.”

  “Forget that a moment,” George said. “Come say hello to Thomas Burnsfield.”

  Offering her hand, Amanda was amazed at the resemblance between Reagan and his father. It crossed her mind that Reagan would look equally handsome in his later years. “Hello, Mr. Burnsfield, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “It’s a pleasure indeed,” he said, clasping her fingers. “I see Reagan accompanied you. I trust he’s being a gentleman?”

  Amanda couldn’t tell if Thomas knew of the incident at the party, or if the gossip had somehow escaped his ears. She desperately hoped her father hadn’t mentioned the event.

  “Why yes, so far,” she said. “If I find him lacking, I’ll be sure to inform you.”

  Thomas nodded. “Please do. Once I finish thrashing him, I’ll turn him over to George.”

  George’s pleasant countenance grew stern as he grasped his lapels. Though no accusations were uttered, Reagan felt the intensity of both men’s regard.

  Amanda reached for Emily’s things in the surrey. “I really must take these back. Shall I tell Mother you’re coming?”

  “Yes, yes, I’m coming,” George said, winking. “It seems I never have a minute to myself.”

  Thomas laughed, slapping him on the back. “I know what you mean, George. Although Amy’s decided she’d rather spend the day with her friends, I’m usually hemmed in when my family’s about.”

  As they returned to the picnic area, Thomas noted the erect strength of his son’s back. Though powerfully built, Reagan walked more like a sleek cat than a lumbering bear. It brought to mind that their plans for the lumber camp had been accelerated to fill the government contracts. Even now, wagons loaded with provisions were being secured in a warehouse.