Winds of the Storm

by Beverly Jenkins

  “So soon?”

  “Yes. You have business to oversee, and I’m not one for being one amongst many.” He bowed. “Until our ride, madame.”

  In his eyes she saw a directness that touched her core. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  “No more than I.”

  Chapter 6

  “We did well,” Zahra declared as she and Alfred went over the previous evening’s receipts. She and the rest of the household had only gone to bed when the last of the drunken guests had staggered out around four that morning. They’d slept the day away. “The gaming tables and the bar made up for the girls being allowed to keep most of their takes.”

  Alfred was pleased. “Good.”

  “The twins brought in a small fortune.”

  Alfred dropped his head and shook it dramatically.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “I’ve just never been around women like them before.”

  “They are something, aren’t they?”

  “That and more.”

  Zahra’s mind’s eye could still see the twins entwined in the erotic tableau. Any uninitiated persons viewing their performance had received quite an education. Personally, Zahra’s limited experience in the bedroom had been greatly expanded as well.

  “So where’d you disappear to last night?” Alfred asked. “I couldn’t find you after I tossed out the fool with the razor.”

  “I was with Le Veq.”

  Alfred eyed her skeptically.

  “Don’t look at me that way. It’s part and parcel of having to amend this plan of ours.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I need to get the information for President Grant as soon as possible so that I can return home and determine what is happening with my parents.”

  “I understand that. So?”

  “So, the fastest way for me to learn the rules of the game and its players is to use someone who is already at the table. Otherwise we may still be here next year this time.”

  “But why him?”

  “Why not?” she asked with a shrug. “He’s a Republican, his family is prominent, and he’s handsome. No one would expect me to be seen with Etienne Barber, for instance.”

  “True, but Le Veq worries me.”

  “He worries me as well, which is another reason why I’m enlisting his aid.”

  “To keep an eye on him.”

  “Correct. In fact, he and I will be going riding in a few days.”

  “Are you sure he won’t find out why we’re really here?”

  “No, but it’s all I have for the moment, so we’ll cross our fingers and see what tune comes out of the horn.”

  “All right, but watch your step.”

  “Advice I have already given myself.”

  And she had, reminding herself as she sat in a rocker on the verandah outside of her bedroom later that evening. Bundled up against the cold, she mused on the past few days. Only now would she admit that she’d been dreaming about him; hot, erotic couplings that left her damp and restless when she awakened. Last night, he’d come to her as the statue Adam and she’d been Eve. Even now, Zahra could feel the warm weight of his hand cupping her breast; as if to offer proof, her nipple hardened shamelessly. She also willingly admitted that were she not engaged in this charade for Araminta and the president, a liaison with Le Veq might prove intriguing. He was as tempting as any other man she’d ever met—the kind that could make a woman lose her religion—but Zahra could not let herself be so dazzled by him as to lose sight of her true mission. She’d always prided herself on being strong-minded, and in the days and weeks to come she sensed she was going to need every ounce of it.

  Unlike Zahra, Archer’s thoughts weren’t on the present but on an event of the past; Oscar Dunn’s official death certificate had finally been published in the local newspapers. According to the document, Louisiana’s first Black lieutenant governor had died of congestion of the brain. That evening, Archer discussed the findings with his brothers as they ate dinner with Juliana.

  “I talked with Coroner Creagh over at his office this afternoon, and, according to him, the poisoning rumors were so rife he went to the Dunn house the day of the death and told the family that because of all the rumors, the law demanded an inquest and autopsy.

  “But what I didn’t know was that Doctor Avilla, the chief police physician, wasn’t allowed to see the body either.”

  “The police were kept away too?” Drake asked.

  “Yes.”

  Beau remarked, “This is beginning to smell, Archer.”

  “I agree.”

  The conversation turned as Juliana announced she’d gotten word from Raimond. He, Sable, and the children would be returning later in the week, but the silent Archer continued to muse on the mysterious circumstances surrounding the death of Oscar Dunn.

  Drake said, “Mother, I—”

  But his words were drowned out by a cacophony of noise flooding in from the streets. Curious and confused, they all left the table and headed to the door, where they were alarmed by the sight of a large crowd of men marching by. Archer estimated there were at least two hundred in the noisy throng. In their hands were banners, lit torches, and signs proclaiming supremacy held aloft on pieces of wood. They were also carrying clubs, guns, and lengths of pipe; On their faces were masks and bandanas to hide their identities. The power of their voices and marching feet shook the ground as they chanted in unison, “Redemption! Redemption!”

  The brothers shared an angry glance. Their neighbors came out to investigate.

  One of the marchers looked towards the Le Veqs and yelled, “You Sambo Republicans better leave town or you’ll wish you had!”

  His comrades roared agreement. A shot rang out, then another, shattering the window behind Juliana and making the Le Veqs scramble to shield their mother. Archer drew a pistol, and Juliana screamed, “No! They’re trying to provoke a riot! Don’t shoot back!”

  She was right, of course; provoking a fight and then murdering the victims had become one of the supremacists’ most hated tactics, but Archer was so furious that he felt capable of killing them all with his bare hands.

  The marchers laughed, then journeyed on, shouting their hated chant.

  As the men faded into the distance, the brothers drew in angry breaths and saw that all of them had drawn their pistols. Philippe helped Juliana to her feet.

  They all crowded around to make certain she hadn’t been hit by the lead.

  Archer asked, “Are you hurt?”

  Her eyes blazed. “Just my pride. Having no recourse but to watch those mongrels go by is the most humiliating, I believe.” Then she added a declaration. “Gentlemen, if the government doesn’t put a stop to this madness, I will leave this godforsaken country and live out the rest of my days in Haiti.”

  That said, she went inside.

  The still seething brothers cast malevolent eyes at the shattered window behind them. Archer said, “She could have been killed.”

  The enormity of that was not lost on any of them.

  Archer eyed his brothers. “Some veterans are proposing arming themselves and fighting fire with fire. I believe they just got four new recruits.”

  “Five,” Philippe contradicted. “When Raimond comes home and finds out those sheet-wearing cowards shot at his Lovely Juliana, all hell is going to break loose.”

  The next afternoon, Archer was eating his lunch at his desk and reading the local newspapers when a report on a fire at the home of one of the city’s most vitriolic Democratic officials caught his attention. It seemed a band of mounted hood-wearing men swarmed over the estate in the middle of the night tossing torches into the house and into the estate’s cane fields. The terrified family swore the bandits were men of color. The mansion was totally destroyed.

  The morning of Zahra’s scheduled ride with Archer finally arrived. The part of herself that had been a successful dispatch was confident and assured, but the female self that was admittedly attracted to h
im was somewhat nervous, mainly because there was no guarantee that he’d be as malleable as she needed him to be. As a dispatch she’d never been attracted to a player in the ruse before, but she hoped admitting that fact would make her proceed with caution.

  She adjusted the green domino that matched her bustled green gown, then viewed herself in the mirror. Satisfied with her reflection, she picked up her cape and handbag, and left her bedroom.

  Downstairs, the girls were sitting around in their morning clothes, enjoying coffee and beignets.

  As Zahra descended the staircase, Adair asked, “Where are you off to so early?”

  “Riding with Archer Le Veq,” she responded, pulling on her signature net gloves.

  “Oh, my,” an impressed-sounding Matilda said with a smile.

  “May we go along?” the twins asked, grinning.

  “No,” Zahra said with mock ferocity. “He’s mine, at least for the morning.”

  They sighed, “We’d love to get him in the room.”

  “He’s here, Domino,” Lovey called out from her position at the window, then added appreciatively, “Lord, that man is easy on the eyes.”

  The women laughed.

  The twins ran playfully to the big front door, pushing each other out of the way in an attempt to reach it first. Once again, Zahra shook her head at their antics. In the end, they opened the door together, and as he entered, they bowed dramatically. Zahra noted that his answering grin seemed to light up the room.

  “Bonjour, ladies,” he said in greeting to them all.

  When his eyes met Zahra’s, his intense gaze warmed her blood, as if they were the only people in the room. “Bonjour, Domino.”

  “Good morning, Mr. Le Veq.”

  “How are you?”

  “Well,” she responded, wondering why the room seemed to be so warm all of a sudden. “And you?”

  “I’m well.” For a second or two, silence reigned, then he asked in that same dulcet tone, “Are you ready?”

  “Yes.” Finally breaking free from his spell, she turned to the girls and said, “Be good while I’m gone.”

  “You, too,” Stella tossed back knowingly.

  Heat seared Zahra’s cheeks. Ignoring the female giggles behind her, she took hold of Le Veq’s properly extended arm and let him escort her outside.

  As they moved down the walk to his waiting black-and-brown barouche, there stood Alfred. With a scowl on his face, he opened the carriage’s passenger side door. Zahra gracefully lifted her skirts and stepped in. Once she was seated beneath the half moon roof and Archer had taken his spot behind the reins, Alfred warned, “Treat her nice, or you’ll have to answer to me, Le Veq.”

  A displeased Zahra turned to speak, only to have Archer say first, “I plan to.”

  Making a mental note to remind Alfred that although she appreciated his concern, she already had a father, Zahra and Le Veq drove away from the brooding giant, who was left standing at the curb.

  The January day was bright but cold. Zahra was glad she’d worn her heavy cape and even more grateful for the heated bricks he’d provided for her feet, in addition to a thick blanket that warmed her from waist to toes.

  “Warm enough?” he asked, looking her way.

  “Yes.”

  “Good. I wouldn’t want you to catch a chill.”

  “Neither would I.”

  It was small talk, a natural occurrence on first dates, because neither was sure how or where to begin again.

  Archer didn’t have to wonder why she attracted him the way she did. The mystery surrounding her identity was only enhanced by the beauty he sensed lurking beneath the green satin rhinestone mask. He found her so fascinating that he was willing to put up with the whirlwind sure to begin once he was seen with her this morning. Never a slave to public opinion, he planned to enjoy her company for as long as she extended him the privilege. More than a few male noses were going to be put out of joint by her largesse, but that didn’t bother him either. “Shall I show you the city?” he asked.

  “I’d like that.”

  “This is the famous Place de Negroe,” he said to her as they stopped near a large open field near Ramparts Saint. “When the French and Spanish ruled New Orleans, free Blacks and slaves were allowed to come here on Sundays to market their wares, meet their neighbors and families, and generally have a good time. There was music, drums, and dancing. In the old days, this was a gathering place for the native tribes. Over the years though, the name changed to Congo Plain but is now called Congo Square. We celebrated the Emancipation Proclamation here, and gathered here to mourn when Lincoln died. Crowds still gather on Sundays for the festivities. People come from all over the world to see the dancers and hear the singers. I’ll have to bring you here one Sunday afternoon so you can see it for yourself.”

  “Sounds like fun.”

  He nodded, then signaled the two horses so they could move on. He showed her the Ursuline convent, the beautiful opera houses, and the building housing Straight University.

  “It was charted for the race’s higher education by the state legislature in ’69,” Archer explained.

  “So it’s new?”

  “Very.”

  Looking at the impressive structure filled Zahra with pride as she thought about the bright young minds gathered inside honing their intellectual gifts.

  “The school’s named for a man named Seymour Straight,” Archer said, admiring her even more than the celebrated university. “He donated the land, and the Freedman’s Bureau donated twenty thousand dollars.”

  Zahra was even more impressed.

  Leaving the school, he drove them to a less prosperous section of the city—the Mississippi shoreline, where squatters had set up tents and wooden lean-tos, and where the smells from cooking fires floated on the air. Most of the residents were destitute, homeless freedmen. Zahra saw no beauty or brightness there, only mothers and children wrapped in newspapers, sleeping on the ground; men with vacant eyes who’d spent the night sleeping beneath wagons. In spite of the gains made by the race in the years immediately following the war, the big cities of the South were awash with shantytowns just like this, filled with residents with no hope in sight. “So, where does the race stand here?” she asked as they headed back to the main area of the city.

  “On a very slippery slope. Just like in Memphis, the rioting here in ’66 is not far from our minds.”

  The New Orleans riot of July 30, 1866 began when thugs, many of them Confederate veterans, descended on the city’s Mechanics Institute to oppose a convention of Blacks and Whites called to amend the state’s harsh Black Codes. Aided by firemen and police, the Rebs shot at delegates marching to the meeting then broke into the building to attack the attendees already inside. Thirty-seven of the delegates were killed, three of them White. During a hearing on the event, the 39th Congress determined that in addition to the deaths, hundreds more had been injured.

  Archer continued, “The fact that the city’s police force is more than one-quarter Colored shows there has been positive change, and many of the sheriffs in the parishes are also men of color, but Governor Warmoth is trying to reinstitute segregation on all levels—transportation, the schools, lodging. He probably would be impeached by now but for the death of our Lieutenant Governor Dunn back in November.”

  “How did Dunn die?” Zahra had read bits and pieces in the city’s newspapers, but she wanted to hear his view.

  “That’s the question of the day.” He then explained to her as much of the mystery as he knew personally.

  “So do you believe he was poisoned?” she asked.

  He nodded. “The evidence so far points to arsenic, but whether it really was or not, only an autopsy would tell.”

  Zahra found the story of Dunn’s death very interesting. “But you said Dunn was originally a supporter of Governor Warmoth.”

  “Yes, he was, much to the chagrin of many of the Radicals, but Dunn refused to support the man my circle supported.”


  “Who was?”

  “Francis E. Dumas.”

  “Why wouldn’t Dunn support him?”

  “Dumas was one of the state’s largest slaveholders before the war.”

  “Ah. Was he a man of color?”

  “Yes. Officially, an octoroon, but he supposedly treated his slaves well.”

  “Not well enough to give them a wage or set them free?”

  Archer could tell by her tone that he was tipping in quicksand, so he didn’t address that; instead, he asked, “where were you born?”

  Zahra met his eyes. “Baltimore,” she lied.

  “Fred Douglass is from Maryland.”

  “So I hear.”

  He smiled, and Zahra found herself charmed. “What’s the smile for?”

  “You. So mysterious.”

  “You may not be interested if I reveal everything.”

  Their gazes met long enough for them both to be touched, then he drove her back to the house.

  As they sat out front, Zahra said, “Thank you for the drive. I know much more about the city than before.”

  “Make sure you take that giant with you when you’re out and about. Supremacist thugs are becoming bolder and bolder. They’re not above targeting a woman.”

  “Thank you for the warning.” Zahra was indeed glad for the advice, but she rarely left the house without her pistol or the razor strapped against her thigh, and she was well trained in the use of both.

  “Will you have dinner with me this evening?”

  The request caught her off guard. “Where?”

  “My hotel.”

  Zahra studied him for a long moment. In spite of her previous vows, she wanted to spend more time with him. The morning ride had been quite enjoyable. “What time should I be ready?”

  He gave her that easy smile. “Seven?”

  “Seven, it is.”

  He came around to help her out, and as her hand met his, the warmth slid up her arm and spread. “I had a wonderful time, Mr. Le Veq.”

  “Name’s Archer.”

  “Archer,” she replied, softly smiling. “I’ll see you this evening.”