Rachel looked at her mother but shook her head stubbornly. “Remember that strawberry horse I had, the one called Prince? Well, he was good, too—until he got a chance to give me a bite or kick me in the ribs! That horse would be good for three months just to get a chance to kick me once!” Her eyes flashed, and she said adamantly, “I know you pray for Vince every day of your life, but I just don’t—” Then she suddenly broke off. She turned away for a few seconds, then looked at her mother with a weak smile. “Mama, you’d find something good about Judas! And I’m just an old dragon! I wish I were more like you. You never boil over like I do.”
“Well, I never pulled a gun on a man,” Amy agreed blandly. Rachel’s hand flew to her mouth, and a dull red crept up her neck. Her mother merely pulled her daughter’s hand from her embarrassed face and held it. “You have deeper feelings than I do, or maybe I should say more feelings.”
“You could say ‘crazy, wild, unsettling’ feelings,” Rachel offered with a wry smile. “I try to be cool and ladylike, but then I just pop off, like a volcano. I am trying hard, though, Mama. Really I am!”
“You can’t be something you’re not, Rachel,” Amy said quietly. “You’re a woman of strong emotions, and try as you will to repress them, they’ll come out eventually. God gave you those feelings and the ability to feel them intensely. So the only thing you can do is ask Him to help you … and to guide you when the time comes for you to share those emotions with a man.”
“Oh, don’t worry about me and men, Mama. The spinster of Lindwood isn’t going to get carried away.”
“Nonsense.” She paused, then asked, “Are you serious about Leighton Semmes?”
Rachel stared at her. “How do you know about him? Have you taken up gossiping?” At the twinkle in her mother’s eyes, Rachel sighed. “Well, he’s handsome and rich and charming. Besides, I’m a challenge to his pride. Just about every woman he’s known has practically swooned when he looked at her. Now he’s got to have me, but only because he can’t have me!”
“He’s a worldly man, Rachel. A strong one, to be certain, but not the sort who’d make you happy, I think. He doesn’t seem to me to be a man of faith.”
Rachel sighed. “Well, maybe you’re right, Mama. At any rate, he’s taking me to the ball in Richmond. I’ll tell you more about how I feel after that.” A twinkle sparked in her eyes, and she added with a grin, “After I’ve seen him in his dress uniform.” Her mother shook her head indulgently as Rachel rose and left the room, saying, “I’m going to make Vince go with us. I want him to show up in public. I want to give Simon Duvall his chance to shoot him!”
“He won’t go,” Amy said.
“I’ll steal his pants if he doesn’t! He’ll have to go!”
All day Jake worried about dinner with Vince’s father, but finally realized that there was no sense in that. If he sees through me, that’s that, he finally summed it up. The thing was made easier by a short meeting he’d had with the two men earlier. He was reading in the library when he heard horses, and going to the window, he saw two men in uniform dismount and give the reins to Tad, who was grinning broadly at them.
“Might as well get the worst over,” Jake said, taking his crutches and making his way down the hall. By the time he arrived, everyone seemed to be gathered in the library. He stood just beyond the doorway, listening as they talked and laughed with Rachel and Les, then swung into the room.
Brad Franklin looked up with shock in his eyes, which Jake had expected. But he said, “Well, now, I thought you’d be flat on your back, Vince.”
“I’m sure you did,” Jake said, a mocking tone in his voice. “But I’ve had good nursing.”
Brad’s face reddened a little at the tone in Jake’s voice, but he still peered at Jake intently. Grant stared, too, and an uncomfortable silence was filling the room. Quickly Rachel said, “You can talk later, Daddy. Go now and see Mama.” Jake threw her a look of gratitude, which only seemed to confuse her.
Blast! he thought. Out of character again. I’ve got to be more careful.
Drawing a breath, he said coldly, “Yes, by all means, go see Mother. That is, of course, if you’ve had your fill of staring at me. Though I’m sure seeing me like this brings you some pleasure, I don’t appreciate being scrutinized like some deformed animal that’s going to be destroyed.”
“Now just a minute—!” Grant began to protest at Jake’s insulting comments, but his father cut him off, placing a restraining hand on his son’s arm and shaking his head. He moved to leave, saying, “I’ll see you at dinner, son.”
Jake said nothing in response. Grant threw him an angry look and stepped closer, then said, “You look terrible! But one thing’s certain, even if I didn’t recognize your face right off, your rotten personality would identify you in a second.”
Jake smiled coldly. “What a shame, dear brother, that you weren’t there to see me when they first pulled me out from under that building. You might have talked them into just letting me die.”
With a muffled exclamation, Grant turned and left the room. Jake glanced at Rachel, noting the tightness of her expression. She merely looked at him for a moment, then shook her head and walked away. Jake sighed, relieved not to have to talk anymore. But he felt a tension growing within himself. Grant couldn’t believe I was Vince—and Mr. Franklin knows Vince better. One slip, and the whole thing’s over.
Later that night at dinner, Brad Franklin was not paying as much attention to his oldest son as he might have. He was being very attentive to his wife, who had been placed at his right hand, her leg bolstered with cushions. She was as beautiful to him as ever and had dressed for the occasion in a dress of light blue silk that set off her complexion.
The two newcomers ate hungrily, and at Les’s insistence his father spoke of what had been happening. “Well, we were in the Battle of Ball’s Bluff. That was on October twenty-first. General Shanks Evans—the one who held the first of the Yankee charges at Manassas—was in command at Leesburg. The old man drinks like a fish, but he’s a fighter, isn’t he, Grant?”
“A wildcat,” Grant agreed, nodding. “I guess that Union general knows that now!”
“General Stone, that’s his name.” His father nodded. “He got the idea of crossing the Potomac and attacking us. Well, Stone managed to stay out of the actual fighting, so he sent Colonel Edward D. Baker to make the crossing. He did get across the river, but he ran into four whole brigades, including the Grays.” He lifted his glass, took a sip of water, then shook his head. “It was a bloody massacre,” he said quietly. “The poor Yankee privates were trapped, and it was like shooting fish in a barrel.”
Grant continued the account. “We drove them back to the river, but there was no way for them to cross. So we had them in a crossfire.” A shiver passed through Grant’s shoulders, and he said, “I did my share of the shooting, but I couldn’t help but think what it would be like if our fellows were pinned down like that.”
“I read something about it in the paper,” Les said. “There’s a big public outcry, and Stone is the man they blame. And Evans is the hero around here.”
Brad looked up and, seeing that the talk had disturbed Amy and Rachel, said quickly to Jake, “Well, let’s hear your report, son. Tell us about the fire.”
Jake was taken off guard but managed to give a brief summary of the event, then said, “It’s a good thing you sent Rachel to get me, sir. I was getting pretty low in that hospital.”
“Well, to tell the truth, I didn’t send her,” Brad said. “I was off with the company, and you know Rachel and your mother. They cooked the whole thing up.”
“Dr. Maxwell says he’s doing fine, Daddy,” Rachel said. “I think he’s right, don’t you, Melora? He’s not nearly so much trouble now as he was when he first got here.”
Melora had listened to the Major’s story of the battle, and after agreeing with Rachel, she asked, “Did you see my brother, Major Franklin?”
“He didn’t, but I did,” Grant
said. Grant was a second lieutenant of the Third Platoon of Company D. “Bushrod Aimes is your brother’s lieutenant, and we were next to each other on the march and in the line. I even had mess once with the squad your brother is in.”
“Is he all right?” Melora asked.
“Sure, he’s fine,” Grant assured her. “You don’t have to worry about him.” A smile came to his lips, and he added, “That’s a tough platoon. Got a sergeant named Waco Smith who was a Texas gunfighter of some sort. Still carries a .44 on his hip, despite regulations. And Uncle Clay, he’s in that platoon, too, and you know what a dead shot he is!”
A brief silence went over the room, and suddenly Grant’s cheeks reddened. He had forgotten about the rumors concerning his uncle and Melora. Now he said quickly, “Clay and your brother Bobby are the best shots in the whole regiment—next to the chaplain, that is.” He looked to his father for verification. “Aren’t they, sir?”
“Yes, they are. I expect they’ll be made sharpshooters as soon as we can get some Whitworth rifles. But Grant’s right, Melora. Your brother is in a tough outfit, and they’re learning how to take care of each other.”
“Is Dent Rocklin back with the Grays?” Rachel asked.
“No, not yet. I think he and his bride are still too much in love for him to do much soldiering,” Major Franklin said with a smile. “He’d be likely to say to a recruit who was disobeying orders, ‘Now don’t do that, sweetheart,’ instead of bawling him out properly.”
“They’re back from their honeymoon,” Rachel said. “I ran into Raimey a few days ago. They’re staying at Gracefield. I expect Raimey will stay there with Susanna until the war’s over.”
“She’s a fine girl,” her father said. “From what I hear, she’s not let her blindness spoil her life. That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”
“Very good,” his wife said quietly. “It seems to me that God was in that meeting. There was Dent with his terrible wounds, wanting to die, and God sent what you might think would be the very last person to save him. But when God does things, He sometimes has to use ways that seem most strange to us.”
Rachel said, “Well, if you’re all finished with your stories … I have an announcement.” Everyone looked at her, and she said soberly, “I have a gentleman friend.”
“Not you, the spinster of Lindwood!” Grant exclaimed in mock horror.
“Yes, and he’s got to be tested. I want to find out if he’s serious. Young men can’t be trusted these days, you know.”
“What sort of test are you giving this young man?” her father asked.
“He’s coming to take me to the ball in Richmond. I want all of you to be ready. When he comes to call for me, he’ll find he’s not only taking me, but my whole family!”
“Oh, come now, Rachel,” her father protested with a slight smile at her proposal. “That’s too hard a test for any man!”
“No, it’s not,” Rachel answered coolly, then added, “He’s supposed to be an officer and a gentleman, and I’m going to find out if he really is.”
“An officer? Which officer?” Franklin demanded.
“Captain Leighton Semmes.”
“Semmes? I know him,” Grant said, grinning. “He’ll run like a rabbit when he sees this crew!”
“Not if he’s serious,” Rachel insisted. “Now you’re all to come. All except Mama.”
“I’d rather stay home with your mother,” Brad protested.
“I know you would, but you’ve got to go. You’re the one who has to corner Captain Semmes and ask if his intentions are honorable.”
“And I’m the one who calls him out if he says they aren’t.” Grant laughed. “Oh, we’ve got to do it, Father!”
“Yes, you can tell me all about it when you get home,” Amy insisted.
“Well, he’s definitely serious if he takes this whole bunch on,” Brad Franklin said, smiling. “I’d have run like a rabbit if the whole Rocklin bunch had ganged up on me when I was courting your mother.”
“No, you wouldn’t,” Rachel said calmly. “You’d have faced up to them, and that’s what I want a man to do. I know this one can make nice speeches, but there’s more to a man than that.” Then she said, “All right, we all go. Agreed?” She looked around the table but paused when she saw Jake.
“You go, too, Vince. No shirkers around here.”
“Why, I can’t dance with this leg, and I look like the devil. Grant said so.”
“You go or I’ll hide your pants and saw your crutches in two,” she said. “It’ll do you good.”
The others were looking at him, and Jake finally asked, “What about Simon Duvall? Are you going to take a pistol to him again if he threatens me?”
“What’s that?” Brad asked in alarm.
“I’ll tell you later, dear,” Amy said quickly, then added, “You must go. I’ll ask it as a favor.”
Jake dropped his head in confusion, feeling their eyes on him. Finally he lifted his eyes and met Rachel’s direct gaze.
“Well, I guess one ball can’t hurt too much.”
CHAPTER 11
A FANCY BALL
The letter from Vince came on Tuesday afternoon. Jake was making his way carefully around the walk that circled the house when a buggy drove up the driveway. “Hey, Vince,” the driver called out. “Got some mail for you.”
Jake swung himself toward the buggy, and the driver—a short, pudgy man with a set of sweeping Burnside whiskers—reached into a box by his side and brought out a handful of letters. “Got it here somewhere,” he said, cheerfully sorting through a few. “Ain’t seen you since you got back. Thought maybe you might drop around and we could have a few.”
“Been flat on my back most of the time,” Jake said cautiously. Obviously the man was a friend. “How’ve you been?”
“Oh, fine. But did you hear about Grady? No? Well, he got himself in a mess with that Wadsworth girl over in Batesville.” The man chattered on about the incident, finally getting a few letters separated. Shoving the bulk of them back into the box, he thrust the rest toward Jake, saying, “That’s the lot. You going to the ball in Richmond tonight?”
“Guess so. Won’t be doing any dancing, though.”
“Well, I’ll see you there,” the messenger said as he grinned.
“Least that bum leg won’t keep you from drinking. ‘Sides, Mabel Richards will be glad to sit out the dances with you. See you there.”
Jake waved, then turned back toward the house as the buggy pulled away. He moved slowly, managing the steps cautiously, then sat down on one of the cane-bottomed chairs. Thumbing through the letters, he found that only one was for Vince. It was addressed in strong, bold strokes—a man’s handwriting. He opened it and looked at the signature, then grew still. Bill Underhill! The letter was from Vince! Jake’s eyes flew to the top of the page, and he began reading.
It was innocuous enough. It began,
Well, Vince, I’ve landed down in Memphis for a while. Guess I’ll stay here until things get settled. Unless, of course, the Yankees come and take the city. But they’d have to take either New Orleans or Vicksburg to do that, so I’m fine for now. I am running a little low on money. Could you send me the two hundred dollars I loaned you? It would tide me over for a time.
The rest of the letter was a breezy account of Vince’s activities, which Jake skimmed through. When he finished the letter, he put it back in the envelope and thought about it. He had to send the money, but it was a touchy subject, for he had no idea how Vince’s financial affairs worked. He had less than fifty dollars left of the money that had been in Vince’s wallet. Well, he would have to get more.
There was a busy air throughout the house, with the women scurrying around getting ready for the ball. He went to his room and began searching through the large desk, finding almost at once some canceled checks and other receipts in one of the drawers. There were several statements from the Planter’s Bank of Richmond, the last one dated in September. The balance showed a figure of $5
40, and finding some blank checks, Jake was writing a check for $200 when a thought came to him. He then wrote a brief letter:
Dear Bill,
All seems to be going well with our venture. So far I have been able to do all the things we talked about, though it has been a little touchy at times. By the way, you might let me know a little bit more about the financial end of our partnership, such as income and how to switch funds, things like that. I am enclosing a check for $200 as you requested. Let me hear from you soon, and I’ll keep you posted on things here.
Sincerely yours,
Vince Franklin
Richmond, Virginia
As he put the letter and check in an envelope, he thought, Got to get word to the bank that my signature will be different for a time. He sealed the envelope with a stick of sealing wax he had found in the desk. But there were no stamps, so he put the envelope in his pocket and went to find Rachel.
“I don’t have a stamp,” he said when he found her in the kitchen. “Will you mail this for me?”
Taking the letter, she nodded, then commented, “You write better with your left hand than you do with your right.” She looked at him, that curious light in her eyes again, as though something was tugging at her awareness but couldn’t quite get through.
“Guess I took more care with it,” Jake said, then added quickly, “I really don’t think it’s a good idea for me to go to that ball. Maybe I could stay home with Mother.”
He saw that he had successfully distracted her from the letter. Her eyes flashed, and she retorted at once, “You need to go. It’ll stop some of the talk that’s going around. And while the talk may not bother you, it definitely bothers Father.”
He had waited for her to tell him of her encounter with Simon Duvall, but she had never said a word. Now he asked, a mocking tone in his voice, “You going to take your pistol in case Duvall comes after me?”
Rachel showed a trace of embarrassment. “He won’t come after you. All he’s got is some sort of foolish pride in his dueling ability. When you get well, he may try to go on with the thing, but he can’t afford to attack an injured man.”
Three Books in One: A Covenant of Love, Gate of His Enemies, and Where Honor Dwells Page 79