Legacies

by Janet Dailey

  Before Lije could take a step, his grandfather walked casually between the two men. "Ah, lemonade." Will Gordon lifted a glass from the tray Shadrach carried. "Just what we need after our dusty ride. Your glass is nearly empty, Kipp. Would you like another?"

  Kipp shook his head. "This will do me."

  The Blade took a glass from the tray and crossed to the opposite side of the room. The others began talking, seemingly unaware of the tension in the room. But Lije noticed it, just as he noticed that the two men never turned their backs on each other.

  "I had forgotten how it is between my father and Kipp."

  Dinner was over, and all but Eliza, Temple, and Reverend Cole had gone to the stables to admire Alex's black filly. Sorrel had taken one look at the sleek, long-legged horse and wheedled until Alex gave in, hoisted her onto the saddle in front of him, and held her snugly in place. While he took her on a short canter around the grounds, the others strolled back toward the house.

  Will Gordon, Kipp, and The Blade walked together, with Will Gordon firmly positioned between the two men. Lije lagged behind to walk with Susannah, keeping both men in view, unable to shake the old feeling that he needed to stay close to his father. With the heat of the lazy summer afternoon upon them, no one hurried. High on the branch of an oak, a mockingbird trilled its repertoire of songs.

  Susannah initially made no reply to Lije's remark, then said, "If it weren't for my father, I doubt either of them would willingly breathe the same air, let alone eat at the same table."

  "True." Lije nodded, aware that it was only the high regard both men had for his grandfather Will Gordon that brought them together. And Will Gordon was determined to have the wrongs of the past put aside and his family united once more.

  "Actually, it's gotten better," Susannah remarked. "Remember the first time we all gathered under the same roof? It was Christmas five years ago."

  "They circled each other like two snarling dogs with their hackles raised," Lije recalled.

  "Remember when we sat down to dinner and Reverend Cole offered the blessing?"

  Lije finished the thought. "And reminded us all of the admonition from Jesus to 'Love thine enemies.'"

  "I thought Kipp was going to bolt from the table."

  "Or come over the top of it."

  A sigh came from Susannah, soft with sadness. "Mother says that Kipp is still convinced your father is waiting for a chance to avenge Shawano's death."

  "Kipp wants him to try. He's looking for an excuse to kill him. In his eyes, my father will always be a traitor who deserves to die."

  "Kipp is my brother, and I'll always love him." In truth, he was Susannah's half brother, but that was a distinction she never made. "But he is all twisted with hate. I feel sorry for Alex." She paused. A rueful smile touched the corners of her mouth. "What a gloomy pair we are. This is a beautiful day; you're home at last—we should be enjoying our time."

  "I suppose we should."

  "What are your plans now? Are you going to open a law office in Tahlequah?"

  "I doubt it" Lije studied the dappled pattern of sunlight on the ground beneath the oaks. "The thought of sitting at a desk surrounded by books and papers is not one that appeals to me. I've had enough of that for a while."

  "You could always work with your father in one of his ventures."

  "I could." Lije nodded. The Blade's holdings were extensive and wide-ranging. In addition to the family plantation, he owned two buildings in Tahlequah, three riverboats, and a small fleet of keelboats. He also ran a herd of cattle on the Outlet and operated a sawmill. "I've considered asking Grandfather to use his connections and influence to have me appointed to the Light Horse."

  "Lije Stuart, peace officer," she said as if imagining him in the role. "You would be good at it. You have the skills and the training in law, and you're a just and fair man. Yes, the job would definitely suit you."

  "Maybe. But I think both my parents and yours would prefer that I take up lawyering—become a 'gentleman of the green bag,'" he said, deliberately using the quaintly old-fashioned term. "Fortunately, it isn't a decision I have to make right away."

  Ahead of them, the trio of Kipp, Will Gordon, and The Blade strolled past the rose arbor on the plantation's back lawn. Red blooms covered the trellised vines, scenting the air with their fragrance and creating a tunnel of scarlet glory.

  "Look at the roses. They're at their peak now," Susannah murmured. "Imagine how beautiful they must be at Chief Ross's home at Park Hill. The entire mile-and-a-half-long driveway is bordered with roses."

  Drawn by the brilliant cascade of flowers, Susannah paused by the arbor for a closer look. A big yellow-and-black bumblebee crawled across the center of one of the blooms, its legs and wings dusted with golden pollen. Susannah touched a finger to the velvety petal on a different rose.

  Lije stood back and watched as she bent her head to breathe in its perfume. A shaft of sunlight pierced the canopy of oak leaves and brushed the curly tips of her brown hair with its gold. Against the backdrop of sunlight and roses, she made a striking picture in her fawn-colored gown, tall and slender, graced with a natural pride.

  More than that, she possessed a compelling honesty, a straightforwardness in both her feelings and her manner—a rare quality in a woman. She would never be a beguiling beauty, the kind whose provocative looks had a man believing more than what was said. Susannah knew nothing of a woman's tricks. Flirtatious glances and tantalizing smiles were alien to her nature.

  "The garden always reminds me of Diane. We walked in it so often as children," Susannah remarked casually, though she watched closely for any reaction Lije might make.

  He stiffened. Susannah studied him with sudden, sharp interest. "What is it, Lije? What happened between you and Diane?"

  "Nothing."

  She shook her head, refusing his answer. "Something did. Last I heard from her you two had grown closer than ever. Now, every time I mention her name, your eyes turn so bright it's chilling."

  "You're imagining things."

  When he would have moved away, she stepped into his path. "Don't pretend ignorance with me, Lije Stuart. I know you too well." He silently cursed her for that. "You and Diane spent a great deal of time together while you were back East."

  "Perhaps we did. But the fact remains that I am here, and she is back East."

  "But why? That's what I want to know."

  "She's there because it's where she wants to be."

  Susannah shook her head at his deliberately vague answer. "It's obvious you had a quarrel. Over what? Was it her mother?"

  "Whatever was between Diane and me is over. I don't want to discuss it anymore, Susannah," he stated in a hard, flat voice. "It's time we went inside. The others will be wondering where we are."

  Susannah hesitated, then chose not to pursue the subject. It was obvious Lije wasn't going to confide in her, which meant that if she wanted to get the whole story, she would have to learn it from Diane when she went East.

  Together Lije and Susannah moved toward the house, neither speaking, neither noticing the pair coming through the trees behind them, and neither hearing the young voice that called out.

  "Wait, Lije! Wait for us!" Sorrel shouted and broke into a run. "Wait!" But he didn't look back, and Sorrel knew she wouldn't catch up with him before he reached the house. Crestfallen, she stopped, then glanced back as Alex strolled up. "I guess he didn't hear me."

  "I guess not."

  "We didn't go for a very long ride. He could have waited so we could all come back to the house together."

  "It doesn't look like he wanted to wait."

  "I know," Sorrel nodded, the hurt setting in.

  "Don't look so sad, my little Sorrel." Alex smiled at Sorrel, a calculating gleam in his eyes. "Even if your brother doesn't wait for you, you know I always will."

  She looked up, all smiles again.

  3

  Lije waited until he was home a week before he informed his parents he intended t
o seek an appointment to the Cherokee Light Horse. He chose a time when the family had gathered for breakfast. Their reaction was one he had anticipated.

  "The Light Horse." His mother's fork clattered onto her plate. "You can't possibly be serious about this?"

  "I am." Lije calmly cut into his omelet, releasing an aromatic steam to mingle with the scents of bacon and coffee.

  "But I thought—"Her glance flew to his father, seated at the head of the table, his eyes narrowed in a sharp study of Lije. "Your father and I both thought that if you chose to go on your own, you would open a law office."

  "I have arranged for space to be available in one of the buildings I own in Tahlequah," The Blade informed him. "It's centrally located and more than adequate for your needs."

  Lije shook his head. "I've spent most of the last four years inside walls, surrounded by books and papers and people. For now, I want something that makes some physical demands on me and offers less confinement."

  "If that's your only criterion, then take charge of Grand View," Temple argued. "Heaven knows, there's more than enough work here on the plantation to keep you occupied, and it would relieve your father of some of his responsibility."

  "Your overseer, Asa Danvers, is more than competent to handle the farm's day-to-day operations. I would be doing little but overseeing the overseer."

  "Then take over the sawmill—or the cattle operation in the Outlet," she said, her impatience with him slowly turning to a desperate anger.

  "Of what use would my education be if I did that?"

  "What about the riverboats? Why—" she began, then realized his argument also applied to them and abandoned that alternative.

  His father finally spoke. "You have given this a good deal of thought, haven't you?" The observation earned him a fiery look from Temple.

  "Are you saying that you approve of his choice? How can you?" she stormed. "What future is there for him in the Light Horse?"

  "I never said I planned to make it my life's work," Lije pointed out. "Then why do it at all?"

  "Because I have the necessary skills and knowledge to do it, and do it well."

  "But why would you want to do it at all? Why would you want to spend your time tracking whiskey peddlers, thieves, and murderers; stopping brawls; or dealing with drunkards?"

  "Is it better to ignore the fact that such elements exist in our Nation?"

  "No, but why do you have to be the one to confront it?" She stood up and threw her napkin on the table, giving full rein to her temper. It was the first time, in Lije's memory, that she had ever unleashed it on him. The dubious honor was one she usually reserved for his father. Sorrel sat silent, all eyes and ears as she watched the back-and-forth wrangling. "Why can't you leave it to others?"

  "Why?" Lije challenged, his voice growing quieter, firmer. "Because it's unpleasant, I should leave the job for someone else to do—isn't that what you really mean? That may be the popular attitude, but that doesn't make it the right one."

  She deliberately remained deaf to his reasoning. "The Light Horse doesn't have the best reputation. Some of the men are little more than vigilantes who use their authority to mete out punishment as a weapon to be used against their enemies and their enemies' accomplices."

  "That's all the more reason to join and make sure that a few don't corrupt the whole system and that there is justice for everyone."

  "How very noble," she said with scorn, "and how very naive. Corruption will always exist. It can never be stamped out entirely."

  "That doesn't mean it shouldn't be fought wherever it is found."

  "He has you stopped, Temple," The Blade said softly, the smallest suggestion of a smile edging his mouth. "Admit it."

  She swung to face him, her hands clenched at her side. "How can you side with him?"

  "Because his reasoning is sound."

  "Sound?" The word was a strangled cry of outrage. "Am I now to fear for his safety, too?"

  Without waiting for an answer, she swept from the room with her chin held high. But Lije saw the hot glitter of tears in her eyes as her parting question echoed through his mind. Rising to his feet, he swore under his breath, at last understanding the real reason she was against his decision.

  "I should have remembered," Lije muttered and rubbed the back of his neck. "I never realized—"

  "Nor did I." The Blade stood up and let the full weight of his gaze come to rest on Lije. "Are you still set on this course?"

  Lije hesitated, then nodded. "I am." He sighed and lowered his hand. "I'd better go speak to her."

  "No." The Blade motioned for him to stay. "Let me talk to her. After all, it began with me." But there was more sadness than humor in the smile he sent Lije.

  Lije watched him leave, then turned back to the table and encountered Sorrel's gaze, dark with accusation. "Mama had tears in her eyes when she left."

  "I know." He sat down in his chair and retrieved his fallen napkin. The omelet on his plate now looked cold and singularly unappetizing. He laid the napkin across his lap and picked up his fork.

  "Why did you make her cry?" Sorrel demanded.

  "I didn't mean to."

  "You aren't nice at all." She scrambled out of her chair and faced him, her chin quivering and her eyes stormy. "I wish you had never come back. I wish Alex was my brother, not you!"

  She ran from the room. Lije sat for a long moment, then pushed his plate away and turned sideways in his chair, hooking an arm over the back of it and sighing in regret. Regret for the hurt he had caused his mother and little sister. But Lije knew the hurt would be even greater if the feud erupted again. And if it did, he was determined to be in a position to know about it almost immediately—and to act on it, within the law. He would not stand by helplessly a second time. That "was his primary motive for joining the Light Horse, one he knew he could never share with his parents.

  The Blade found Temple in the parlor, pacing back and forth, pushed by the rawness of her anger and pain. She wheeled around and glared at him.

  "Men." She snatched a pillow from the sofa and crushed it in both hands, her fingers curling into its plumpness. "None of you care anything about the distress you cause others."

  "You know better than that."

  Abruptly, she turned and crossed to the ornately carved walnut-framed fireplace. She stood before it, her gaze fixed on the intricate design of its brass fire screen.

  "Of all the choices he had, why did Lije have to pick this one?"

  "Because he believes it's the best one for him." The Blade walked over to her.

  "It isn't fair," she said stiffly.

  "I know." He smoothed his hands over her rigid shoulders and onto her arms. She tensed at his touch, then relaxed, muscles sagging as a lost and lonely sigh rushed from her.

  "Every time I think back to those days in our homeland when you first advocated a treaty of removal, I remember the menace I felt when those men surrounded our house—the times your life was threatened, the times you were ambushed, wounded." Her voice was tight, on the edge of breaking. "And later, when we settled here—when Shawano and the others were assassinated and you went into hiding, I remember what it was like." Pausing, Temple turned to face him. Her eyes were dry, but it made the starkness of their pain all the more tearing. "The fear I felt every time a rider approached, certain he was bringing word you were wounded or dead. For so many, many years, I was afraid every time you left the house. Even now, my heart freezes a little when you are away and a rider comes. Moments ago, our son announced he wanted to join the Light Horse and apprehend criminals, people who may be desperate, violent men."

  "I know, Temple." Reaching up, he stroked his fingers over her cheek in a tender caress.

  "Do you?" She captured his hand and pressed her cheek against it. "The only thing worse than losing you would be losing our son. I don't think I could stand it"

  "There would be no greater pain than that," The Blade agreed, "but I know how strong you are, Temple. You would endure it beca
use you must. As we all must."

  She drew back, her look determined once more. "But you could speak to him, persuade him—"

  "I won't even try to change his mind. Lije must follow his own path. How can you expect him to choose the safe and easy way when he is our son?"

  "I don't want Lije to have the life we had. I want something better for him."

  "That isn't ours to choose."

  "Why must you always be so reasonable?" She spun away and folded her arms tightly in front of her. He chuckled, and Temple grew testy again. "I'm glad you find me so amusing."

  "I was remembering the way Lije stood up to the fire of your temper, never once flinching. I think he will have no difficulty confronting a desperate and violent criminal."

  "I see no humor in that."

  The Blade grew sober once more. "I expect Lije will be riding to Oak Hill shortly to ask for your father's assistance in getting appointed to the Light Horse. He knows you're upset, and he knows why you are, but he will go just the same. You may not be able to give him your approval, but don't let him leave with only the memory of harsh words between you. You will regret it, and so will he."

  Wisely, The Blade didn't press the issue and turned to leave. Lije stood in the doorway. The Blade glanced briefly at Temple, then walked away, nodding to Lije as he passed him. Thinking she was alone, Temple turned and saw him.

  "I sent word to the stables for Ike to saddle my horse," Lije said.

  Her head came up, her chin pushed forward at a combative angle. Then she lowered it, resignation flickering over her expression. "I wish I could change your mind about this, but you are too much like your father."

  "Good." Lije smiled. "That means I am forgiven."

  "You sound very confident," she said, softening a little in spite of herself.

  "I am."

  "I have no choice." She studied him from across the room. "A long time ago I learned that Stuart men will not be controlled."

  "You wouldn't want us any other way."

  "Perhaps not. But you are my son, Lije. You can't expect me to be in favor of your choice."