by Janet Dailey
"Neutrality will be impossible," The Blade told her. "If the fighting comes this far west, the Cherokee Nation will become a battleground."
"Must we talk of war and fighting?" Temple protested with thinly disguised irritation. "Surely there are any number of more pleasant topics that can be discussed."
"You're right. I apologize," The Blade said, but his smile teased her. "I'm afraid I acquired the bad habit of discussing politics at the table from you." Unable to deny it, Temple flashed him an angry look. His smile widened even as he swung his attention to their houseguest. "Believe it or not, I had no interest at all in politics before I met my wife. Now she objects to it. I suspect mainly because my views seldom coincide with her own, which can make things very awkward at times."
"But never dull." Diane smiled back.
"No, never dull," he agreed. This time when he glanced at Temple, he saw the little smile she was trying to conceal, and he knew he was forgiven.
Temple turned to their daughter. "Sorrel, have you told your father of the entertainment you've planned for him after dinner?"
Sorrel leaned forward, eager to claim center stage. "I learned two new songs on the piano, and I am going to do them for you tonight."
"You play them beautifully, too," Diane told her. "I was listening while you practiced today."-
The Blade frowned and took his watch from his vest pocket to check the time. "I sent word for Asa Danvers to come to the house at half past eight," he said, referring to the plantation's overseer. "He left a message that he needed to see me."
"You're always too busy for me." Sorrel slumped in her chair.
"No doubt his business with Mr. Danvers is very important, but I don't think there is any need for you to be upset, Sorrel," Diane said. "I'm certain your mother can arrange to have our coffee served in the music room. That way you can play for us while we drink our coffee, and your father will still be able to keep his appointment with Mr. Danvers."
Sorrel sat up. "Can we, Mama?"
"Of course." Temple immediately summoned the maid.
The Blade glanced at Diane Parmelee with a mixture of gratitude and reluctant admiration. He had been fully prepared to dislike Jed Parmelee's beautiful daughter. But Diane possessed that rare combination of beauty, intelligence, and wit. He could now see the attraction she held for his son, although he doubted Lije had spoken more than ten words to her tonight In fact, Lije had spent almost no time in her company since she had arrived.
Candles flamed brightly in the music room, casting their light into every comer. Lije stood behind his mother's chair and watched his sister at the piano, her head bent over the keys in studious concentration.
He never once allowed his glance to stray to Diane, but her profile filled his peripheral vision. He was aware of the attentive way she watched Sorrel, the small smile of approval that curved her lips, and the shine of her hair in the candlelight, the same golden color as the flames. It was as if there were no one and nothing else in the room. The pressure of it worked on nerves that were already stretched taut.
Restlessness surged through him as he waited, with jaws clenched, for Sorrel to finish her mini-recital. The instant the last chord faded into silence, he left the others to praise his sister's efforts.
Once outside, he walked to the edge of the wide veranda and stopped to light a cigar. He puffed on it and leaned a shoulder against a tall, white pillar, struggling to relax. A full moon hung low above the trees, a large and lustrous pearl against the velvet blackness of night over which had been strewn a scattering of diamond-bright stars. But he found no enjoyment in the sight or the evening silence. All his senses were turned to the sounds coming from inside the house.
When he heard the door swing wide behind him, Lije steeled himself not to turn. Light footsteps approached. He took another puff on his cigar and watched the blue smoke dissolve into wisps.
"I wondered where you had gone." Diane stopped near him, the sweep of her full skirt brushing his leg.
"I needed some air." The small ease the cigar had given him was gone. He flipped it into the night. His gaze followed the crimson arc it made as it fell.
"It's a lovely evening," she remarked. "You don't mind if I join you."
Raw and tense, Lije straightened away from the pillar and swung his gaze to her. "You already have."
"Yes." Diane tipped her head and slanted him one of her patented, provocative looks. "Do you mind my staying here?"
"No." But the admission was a grudging one, made as he faced outward again.
"I wondered," she said. "I have seen so little of you this past week."
"I warned you it would be that way."
"So you did, but I have the feeling that you deliberately arranged to spend as little time with me as possible."
Again he was the object of her knowing glance. "I hope you didn't expect me to dance attendance on you."
"The way you did back East, you mean?" Diane guessed.
This time he leveled his own glance at her. "Yes."
"By that, am I to infer that you intend to ignore me completely from now on?" her voice teased.
"Diane," he began, his patience exhausted.
"You remember my name." She rounded her eyes in mock surprise. "Now that is reassuring."
In spite of his better judgment, Lije found himself smiling. "Why are you doing this, Diane?"
"Why are you avoiding me?" she countered.
He sobered slightly. "When you have been badly burned, you're careful about getting too close to the fire again."
"But isn't the cold much worse?" She stood before him, as serious now as he was, her eyes reflecting the same needs and wants that tormented him.
The nights of restlessness and frustration had him on edge, teetering on the brink. Lije was never sure who made the first move. One moment they stood apart; in the next they were wrapped together.
His lips hovered above hers, threatening, promising. She couldn't tell. She didn't care. It was their taste she wanted, no matter how harsh, how demanding. Reaching up, Diane drew his face down to hers. She felt his body, hard and confident, against hers. She tasted his lips, soft and urgent.
There was fire. There was heat. He took all she gave, then more. It might never be enough. She could make him blind and deaf with needs. Knowing it, Lije couldn't stop it. The way she touched him, so sure, so sweet while her mouth was molten fire. Desire boiled in him, rising so quickly he was weak with it before his mind accepted what his body couldn't deny. He held her closer, rough against smooth, hard against soft, flame against flame.
Whatever doubts he'd had, Lije never doubted the want. He hadn't always understood it, the intensity of it, but he had never doubted it. Such mindless passion was pulling at him now.
When at last she buried her face against his jacket, he felt the tremors that shook her and gathered her closer still. "Do you have any idea how much I love you, Lije?" she murmured against his collar. "I would have hounded you shamelessly until you took me back."
The chuckle came from low in his throat. He cupped her face in his hand and tipped it up so he could look at her. "Now you tell me."
"Aren't you going to say it, Lije?" she whispered, her eyes focusing on his lips. "A woman likes to hear the words."
"I love you." His voice was thick with the powerful emotions that lived within him. "I never stopped loving you."
"Show me," she insisted with a boldness that took Lije by surprise. When she saw his stunned expression, Diane laughed softly in delight and turned inside the circle of his arms, wrapping them tightly around her middle and letting her head fall back against his shoulder. "Do you see how brazen I have become with you? I would gladly anticipate our wedding night. That shocks you, doesn't it?"
"To the core." The mere mention of marriage had sobered him and forced him to look ahead at the choices each would have to make. Choices that could tear them apart.
"Will your family think it improper if we marry quickly?"
&nb
sp; "That will depend on how quickly." He chose not to mention the problems ahead of them. Instead, he took his pleasure in the moment—in the silken texture of her hair against his cheek and the fresh scent of her skin. "My mother will certainly object if she isn't given time to plan a large feast for us."
"And Father will want to be part of it," she said and released a long sigh.
Beneath it, Lije caught the soft crunching of footsteps. "Someone's coming." He released her and stepped away even as he spotted the overseer approaching the house.
Her soft laugh mocked his show of discretion. "Are you concerned for my reputation?" she teased.
Before he could reply, Lije was greeted by the overseer. "Evenin', Mr. Stuart. Ma'am." He doffed his hat to Diane, the bald crown of his head gleaming white in the moonlight.
"Asa." Lije nodded to him.
The overseer paused by the steps and glanced back into the moonlit darkness. "Saw a rider turn into the lane. Seems a bit late for company."
Lije stiffened in instant wariness and scanned the tree-lined road. There was something moving in the deep shadows that cloaked it. Distance muffled the thuds of the horse's hooves, making them faint but audible now that his hearing was attuned to them.
"Go tell my father we have a visitor," he said to Diane on a deliberately casual note.
"Of course." Unhurriedly, she went inside to deliver the message.
Common sense told Lije that a man riding straight up to the house was no cause for alarm, but an inbred sense of caution pushed him off the moon-bathed veranda and onto the shadowed lawn.
"You make an easy target, Asa," Lije warned the overseer. "You better move out of the moonlight."
The man scurried away from the steps, taking cover near some tall shrubs. "You figure this fella means trouble?" he called softly.
"He could," Lije acknowledged in an equally low voice and fell silent. As the horse and rider drew closer, they became a solid black shape against the darkened lane. When they crossed a patch of moonlight, Lije had a long glimpse of the man's silvered beard. Recognizing the rider, he relaxed.
"Do you know who it is?" The Blade's voice came from the open doorway.
"It's Parmelee." Lije went forward to meet him. The Negro Ike trotted out to take the captain's horse when he dismounted. "You're out late tonight, Captain."
"I just came from your grandfather's." Jed handed the horse's reins to Ike. When he glanced toward the house, moonlight played over the grim set of his features and the network of tired lines in his face. "Is Diane inside?"
As Lije started to say she was, Diane glided from the house. "Papa," she cried and rushed down the steps to meet him halfway. Lije deliberately hung back to give them a moment of privacy. When he did, Ike shifted closer. "Is it true, Master Lije?"
"What?" Lije frowned at the interruption.
Ike avoided his glance and rubbed a hand over the horse's velvet nose. "I heard there was a big battle back East, and the Yankees lost."
"That's true." Lije regarded him curiously.
"I guess that means the war's over."
"Not yet," Lije replied curtly and moved off to rejoin the others, fully aware it would simplify a great many things if it were over now.
"This is such a wonderful surprise," Diane declared. "I had no idea you would be coming tonight."'
"It was a last-minute decision," Jed told her, the corners of his mouth lifting in a wan smile. "I just received word that I'm to return immediately and make a report on my findings here."
"So soon," Diane said in dismay.
He nodded. "There is little to be gained by staying longer. I met with Chief Ross this afternoon at Park Hill. Despite our recent defeat in Virginia, he remains firm in his policy of neutrality for the Cherokee. Under the present circumstances, that's the best we can expect."
The Blade made a scoffing sound, which Diane ignored. "That's good news, Father. Now there is something that I want to tell you" —she stopped and moved to Lije's side, taking his arm—"or I should say, that we want to tell you— all of you," she added, including Lije's parents in her sweeping glance, her face radiant with happiness. "Lije and I plan to marry."
Lije noticed the sharp, probing glance his father sent him at the same moment that his mother gasped, "How wonderful!"
Jed Parmelee's reaction was more subdued but no less genuine than Lije's mother's as he took Diane's hand and wrapped both of his around it. "I couldn't be happier, Diane," he murmured. "I know how much you wanted this." Turning, he offered his congratulations to Lije. Then Temple came up to hug them both.
"Are you going to have a wedding?" Sorrel wanted to know. "May I be in it?"
Diane laughed at her eagerness. "Of course, you may. We'll make you a beautiful new dress to wear for the wedding."
"A yellow one? I like yellow."
"Then yellow it will be," Diane promised, still all smiles.
"Did you hear, Mama? I get a new yellow dress." Sorrel beamed with satisfaction, then suddenly swung back to Diane, demanding, "When is the wedding?"
This time Diane hesitated, her glance running to her father. "We wanted it to be soon, but... with you leaving tomorrow and—" About to mention the war in the East, Diane stopped, then brightened with a new thought. "Christmas. Everyone knows the war will be over long before Christmas. You'll have time to obtain a furlough so you can be here to give me away. And a Christmas wedding will be beautiful with garlands of holly and mistletoe strung everywhere."
"And it will give us ample time to make your gown," Temple stated, starting to make plans. "On his last trip to Fort Smith, The Blade picked up a recent issue of Godey's Lady's Book. We'll go through the fashion plates and see if there's a gown you like that we can copy."
"And one for me, too," Sorrel inserted.
"Of course." Temple smiled, then looked at the others. "Shall we all go inside? We have so much to talk about, to celebrate." Taking their agreement for granted, she hooked her arm around Diane's and set off for the house. "The last time I was in the mercantile store in Tahlequah, they had a bolt of white brocade in the back room. It would make a beautiful wedding dress."
As the men started to follow, the overseer, Asa Danvers, stepped from the shadows. "Can I have a word with you, Mr. Stuart? It's important."
Something in the curtness of the overseer's voice had Lije pausing along with his father. Jed Parmelee continued toward the house with the women.
"Very well," The Blade agreed. "We'll go into my study."
"If it's all the same to you, I'll say my piece right here," Danvers told him. "I'd just as soon not be under the same roof as that Yankee captain." This time there was no mistaking the man's hostility as he turned and spat in contempt.
"What is it you want to say?" The Blade challenged while Lije stood by, curious now to hear the answer.
"It's like this," Danvers began. "It's all well and good for the Cherokee to stay neutral while the South fights for its rights. But I got family in Arkansas. It's where I was born. So I'm handin' in my notice. Soon as I get my wife and kids to her sister's farm north of Fort Smith, I figure on joinin' up and fightin' for the cause."
"How soon will you be leaving?"
"Soon as I can get packed and loaded."
"I'll have your wages for you in the morning."
The man nodded and turned to leave, then swung back. "That Abe Lincoln can talk all he wants, but there ain't no damn way I'm ever gonna believe that some damn nigger is equal to me. It just ain't so!" He jabbed his finger in the air to enforce his contention.
When The Blade said nothing, the overseer hesitated, then stalked off. Lije noticed Ike standing off to the side with the captain's horse. His head was flung up in proud defiance, the skin stretched taut across his features, his eyes hot with anger and resentment.
Diane called from the house, "Lije, are you coming in?"
"I'll be right there," he replied, again feeling the probe of his father's gaze.
In silence they set off for
the house, but the silence didn't last. "This engagement of yours," The Blade said quietly, "is it wise?"
"That remains to be seen." Lije had his own doubts on that score. "I heard today that Stand Watie invited you to join his band of guerrillas."
"He did."
"Are you going to accept?"
"I haven't mentioned it to your mother yet, but I was considering it," he admitted. "It would make things very awkward for you and Diane, though, with Jed an officer in the Union army."
"Very awkward," Lije agreed, aware he would then be faced with a decision of his own, and there was only one choice he could make.
"We both know your mother would be opposed to the idea of my joining in the fight. To be honest, it's the thought of how she'll worry about my safety that makes me hesitate. I have caused her a great many anxious hours during the years of our marriage. She will think it's unfair to cause her more. Perhaps I'll wait," he said. "With luck, all the fighting may be confined to the East."
"And with luck, it will be over by Christmas," Lije said, echoing Diane's words as they climbed the steps to the veranda.
The weeks following Jed Parmelee's departure were busy ones. Much of Diane's time was occupied with wedding plans and preparations, while Lije had his hands full trying to keep some semblance of order in his district. The Confederate victory at Bull Run had led to repeated clashes in the Nation between Watie's Knights of the Golden Circle, who now called themselves the Southern Rights party, and Ross's supporters in the Keetoowah Society—the so-called Pins Indians who had taken the name of the Loyal League. Every day Lije saw the division within his Nation deepening.
Late one evening in the middle of August, Lije returned to the family plantation. He bypassed the darkened windows of the house and rode straight to the stables. Heat lightning flashed along the horizon. Nearby an owl hooted, and its haunting call seemed to reinforce the sense of foreboding that gripped him.
The yellow glow of a lantern spilled from one of the stalls. Spotting it, Lije pointed his tired horse toward it, his muscles tensing in automatic wariness. The light moved as he approached the stall door. A man stepped out, the lantern held high to throw its light on Lije.