“Let’s both go,” he said. “Bound to be some rich Yankee spinsters just waiting for a Southern gentleman to come into their lives.”
Rachel giggled, saying, “We’re a pair of silly fools, aren’t we?”
Jake suddenly grew serious, his wide mouth growing tense. “To tell the truth, Rachel, I’d really like to cut and run. You’re right about the war. The South is going to be ruined—no way she can win this war. And I don’t want to see it.”
Rachel glanced at him quickly. The last two weeks she’d been so ashamed of his cowardice she had avoided him. Now she was seeing something else, and for some reason it troubled her. Without thinking what she was doing, she moved Crow closer to the mare, reached out, and put her hand over his hands as they gripped the pommel. “God has given you so many gifts—and you’ve wasted them all.”
He was acutely conscious of her firm hand on his. “Yes, I have,” he said quietly, thinking of all he knew of Vince’s past.
“You can change,” Rachel said softly, and her voice drew his gaze. “Anybody can change—and down beneath all that anger, I believe there’s a very fine man. I’d give anything to see you be that man.”
He sat there, aware of her strength, her character—and of how very attractive she was to him. Suddenly he knew that under any other circumstances, he would have pulled her close and kissed her. He longed to do so with a force that startled him—and at that moment he was possessed by a most astounding realization. And that realization, with her hand, so warm and strong, on his, and the planes of her face, so soft and gentle, near his, struck him so hard that it nearly knocked the breath from him.
I love this girl!
It leaped into his mind, and he was so astonished that he could only sit still and stare at her. Why, she’s all I’ve ever wanted! was his next thought, and he suddenly realized that behind all of his restless wandering had been a search for a woman like this. He had known many women, of course, but never before had he met one who stirred him as did Rachel Franklin.
Then, right on the heels of this revelation, came the cold fact of how hopeless his position was. A bleakness formed within him, and he could only say, “I’d like to be that man, Rachel—but it’s not that easy.”
A shadow came to her face as he said the words, and she drew her hand back. Disappointment pinched her lips together, and she said briefly, “I suppose not”; then she kicked Crow in the sides and shot off at a dead run.
Jake followed slowly. When he got to the barn and carefully dismounted, she was gone. Delight came up to say, “I’ll take keer of yoah horse. You have a nice ride, Marse Vince?”
“Very nice,” he said evenly and left the barn.
All during November of 1861, both North and South seemed to be caught in some sort of paralysis. After the horrible slaughter of Manassas, both nations had realized that the war was not going to be the quick affair they had expected. On November 6, in the first general election, Jefferson Davis was elected president of the Confederacy for a six-year term. On the first day of that same month, George B. McClellan officially replaced Lieutenant General Winfield Scott as general in chief of the United States Army. On November 8, two Confederate commissioners, James Mason and John Slidell, took passage aboard the British packet Trent out of Havana. Captain Charles Wilkes of the USS San Jacinto intercepted the British vessel in international waters and forced the British captain to surrender his passengers. This action came close to changing the course of the war, for it was an open act of aggression by the United States Navy against England.
There were skirmishes in the eastern sector, but the most significant military movement was the massing of Union troops in the West. An obscure officer named Ulysses S. Grant was assigned to the command of General John Charles Fremont; a red-haired, nervous general named Sherman was attached to that same army. Grant and Sherman would prove to be the most potent forces the North would bring to bear against the Confederacy. On November 13, President Lincoln paid a call on his new army chief, but McClellan kept the president waiting and finally retired for the evening without meeting his superior.
Jake Hardin heard about some of this and knew it was significant to the course of history, but it meant little to him. A much more significant event in his own life was a meeting that he had with Brad Franklin. Jake was sitting in the library reading Ivanhoe when Franklin came in and closed the folding doors. There was something in the man’s manner that made Jake put the book down with alarm. When the Major sat down in a chair and stared at him with a frown, Jake was certain that what was coming was something unpleasant.
“Vince, it’s time to settle something.”
“Yes, sir?”
Franklin’s fair skin was windburned and rough from his days in the field, and his rather hungry-looking face had none of the good humor to which Jake had grown accustomed. His eyes were pulled down into a squint, and his lips were tense as he said, “Maybe you can guess what I’m going to say.”
“No, I don’t think I can.”
“All right, I’ll give it to you as straight as I can. You’re a failure in every way. I don’t like to say that, especially since for years you’ve considered me to be unfair, favoring your brothers and sister over you. I’m sorry for that, but I can’t change the way you feel—though it’s been a grief to me.”
Somewhere outside the window, some of the slaves were laughing as they raked the leaves from the oaks, and the cheerful noise of their voices sounded thin and far away, like happy crickets. The clock on the wall ticked solemnly, a ponderous and heavy brass pendulum arching in a uniform cadence from side to side.
Franklin looked down at his hands, sighed heavily, then said, “You’ve not been a good son. Maybe I’ve been a bad father—probably so—but my failures were honest ones. Yours were not. I won’t lecture you, though. It’s too late for that, I know.”
He took some papers out of his pocket, opened them, and pressed them flat. “This is a copy of my father’s will. You know what it says, or at least you know the part that pertains to you.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, my father was a difficult man, and I was a difficult son. He thought I didn’t care for him, and he thought I didn’t have any love in me, especially not enough to give a son if I ever had one. So he tied the bulk of the estate up in a trust and left it to my eldest son. You’ve been looking forward to that for a long time. As a matter of fact, it’s ruined you! You never felt you had to do anything, because everything would one day be handed to you on a silver platter. You’ve spent your life on that trust, and I’ve seen it take every good thing out of you. You’ve become a womanizer, a drunk, and a coward—in short, Vince, you’re a man without honor.” He paused to ask, “Care to comment on that?”
“Well, no, sir, I guess not.” Jake was wishing Vince were sitting in his chair—wishing it hard! He could not defend the life of another man, for he truly didn’t know him. But he knew enough to be certain that much of what Franklin said was true.
“You’ve read the will carefully,” Franklin said slowly, as if forcing the words from his lips, “but men have a way of seeing only what they want to see. If I could have found a way to break this will, I’d have done it in a second, but it can’t be done. At least—not in the way my father might have expected.”
“I don’t understand you, sir.”
“My father didn’t respect me, but he was certain of one thing, and that was my love for the land, for Lindwood. He knew I’d do almost anything a man could do to keep the home place in the hands of Franklins. And he was right—or he was, up until now. But some things are too expensive, and I think holding on to this plantation may cost too much for us to do it.”
“You’re thinking about selling Lindwood?”
“No. That can’t be done. Like most other planters, we live on borrowed money. What Father expected was that my oldest son, when he came into the bulk of the estate at the age of twenty-five, would save the place—pay off the mortgages, invest in new lan
d, or buy more slaves. But you won’t do those things.”
“Well, it might be—”
“No, you’ve not shown the slightest interest in this place since you were young—at which time you apparently decided to go to the devil. Well, in a few months you’ll be twenty-five, and the will says that you’ll get the money.” He paused, then shook his head slowly. “For years I’ve hoped you’d come to yourself, that you’d become a man, but you haven’t changed a bit. So let me read you one little clause in the will you’ve probably never noticed.” He lifted the copy, ran his eyes down it, then read, “‘The entire amount of the trust shall go to the eldest son of Bradford Lowell Franklin upon his twenty-fifth birthday, provided that he is at that time living at Lindwood and that my son, Bradford Lowell Franklin, certifies that he is qualified to receive the monies of the trust.’” Brad Franklin lowered the paper slowly, then shook his head. “It never occurred to Father that I’d refuse to certify you, but that’s what I’m going to do.”
The force of his words hit Jake a heavy blow—but not as heavy as he knew it would be to Vince! “But, sir—” he began, only to have Major Franklin cut him off.
“I won’t argue this. The will states that if I don’t certify that you are fit to receive the trust, it will go to charity. There are some causes that will be very happy to hear that some large sums are going to fall to them.”
Jake had no idea of what to say. If only Vince were here! He finally said, “But that’s foolish, isn’t it? I mean, I’ll be glad to see that the money goes to Lindwood—”
“Vince, you’ve done nothing but lie to me for years. Why would I take your word for anything?”
Jake sat there stunned, aware that Franklin was watching him with interest. Probably expects me to start shouting and screaming, he thought, but he knew that such behavior would have no effect. Brad Franklin was a firm man, and once he had made up his mind, no arguments would move him. Jake finally shrugged, saying, “I’m sorry it’s come to this. Isn’t there some way I could influence you? You may not believe me, but I’d like to see Lindwood prosper.”
“Would you? You’ve never shown such a feeling for your home.”
“Well, maybe nearly getting killed changed me some.”
“I’d like to believe you. A lot of sweat and tears have gone into this place. I’ve put my life into it, and it was our dream—your mother’s and mine—to grow old here, with our children and grandchildren around us.”
“I–I’d like to see that, sir!”
When Jake said this, Franklin stared at him, letting the silence run on. He tried to see beyond the errors of his son’s past and look for something that would make him feel that Vince could be honest. Finally he said, “I don’t think you mean it—but if you want a chance to prove it—”
“Yes, I would like that. Very much!”
“All right, here it is—” Brad shook his head, interrupting himself long enough to say with a sour smile, “I thought you’d make some kind of offer to reform, to get the money. So if you’ll do three things, I’ll certify you for the trust.”
“Three things?”
“All impossible, Vince, I really believe. But I’ll lay them out; then you can do as you please. First, you’ll ride Crow, really master him.” He smiled at the expression on Jake’s face. “That surprises you? Well, it’s a small thing. I gave you that horse knowing that he was half outlaw. You were just starting to rebel, and I had the foolish idea that if you could learn to break a horse to your will, it would teach you something. But he won, didn’t he? I saw it happen, and it’s been a shame to me that my son is afraid of horses. Do you think men don’t know that about you? How many times have I seen you get in a buggy like a woman, when the men were all riding horses?”
Jake had not understood that the matter of Crow was so serious, but now he saw that the horse was a symbol to Brad Franklin of his son’s failure as a man. He said quietly, “You know I’m afraid of horses, and you know that Crow is a tough one. But I’ll do my best with him.”
“Will you? I’m thinking it’s too late, but that’s the easiest of the three. You can guess one of the other things, I would suspect.”
Jake nodded, for it had leaped into his mind. “You want me to meet Simon Duvall.”
Franklin looked grim. “I think most of this dueling business is wrong—and stupid! But a man sometimes has to choose—and you chose to be branded a coward in front of the world! I won’t have it! You can take your chances with Duvall or forget about the trust. Your mother may not agree, but then again, I think she will. You may get shot, but if you do, I want to see the wounds in the front!”
Jake nodded slowly. “I agree.”
Major Franklin was surprised and said so. “I don’t think you’ll go through with it, but you’ll have to if you want the money. Now about the third thing, I had some hope that you might be willing to try a horse and a fight with Duvall. But the last thing—well, I can’t see that you’ll agree to it.”
Jake was thinking hard, and he asked, “Does it have something to do with the war?”
“Yes, it does. You were always a quick thinker. This war, it’s not what I wanted. But we didn’t have the choice, most of us, so we’ve had to lay our lives down for our homes. You think it’s foolish, this war. You’ve ridiculed it often enough. But if you want Lindwood, you’ll have to fight for it—maybe die for it.”
He leaned back, studying the face of the young man. “I’m probably asking too much, but I’m convinced that the final ruination of you would be to have great wealth put into your hands. Maybe nothing can change you, but if anything can, I think throwing yourself into a cause might … so I want you to join the South in their fight. The men in your regiment will know what you’ve stood for, and they won’t make it any easier.”
“No, I don’t think they would.” Jake felt trapped, and he said, “I’ll need a little time. It’s not a small thing you’re asking, is it?”
“No, but there’s no time for thinking. You’ll either do it or you won’t, Vince. If you’re going to do it, I’ll need to know pretty soon.”
“All right.” Jake got to his feet, looked around for his cane, then remembered he’d laid it aside for good the day before. “I’ll make a decision as soon as I can.”
As Jake left the room, Franklin was suddenly certain that his son would run. “He did before, when it was just one man after his hide,” he muttered. “Why wouldn’t he do the same thing when he has to face the Union Army?”
CHAPTER 13
A VERY TIGHT CORNER
For two days after Brad Franklin laid down his conditions, Jake wandered over the countryside, riding the little mare Lady for long hours. She was a fine little horse, never balking or refusing a command. Then the weather turned bad on the third day, with snow beginning to fall about ten that morning.
As the flakes came down, Jake stopped Lady and watched them with delight. He had always loved snow, but he had spent most of his life where there was little of it. Now the sight of the flakes swirling and dancing in the wind pleased him. Lifting his face, he savored the cold touch of the tiny flakes as they landed on his skin. Finally he moved toward home. By the time he arrived, the ground was white with a thin blanket.
Bob, the youngest of the grooms, unsaddled the mare, and Jake hurried into the house. Going through the front door, he was met by Melora, who said, “Vincent, there’s a man to see you. He said his name was Finch.”
“Finch? Did he say what he wanted?”
“No, he just said he had to see you. I put him in the library.”
“Thanks, Melora.” Jake turned and made his way to the library, apprehensive about the man. It had to be a friend of Vince’s—and it would be hard to fake the thing knowing no more than he did.
However, that part of it was not difficult, for the tall, rawboned man, who was sitting at the table drinking coffee, rose as he entered and asked, “Are you Vince Franklin?”
“Yes, I’m Franklin.”
&n
bsp; “Well, I got a message for you. Sort of a private message, I guess, nothing written down.” He was a tough-looking man with a scar on his forehead and some teeth missing.
“Well, what is it?”
“Mrs. Rocklin—Mrs. Ellen Rocklin—she wants to see you.”
Jake tried to think what she could want. His first thought was that she was trying to stir up her old romance, and he wanted no part of that. “I’ll see her pretty soon. You can tell her I’ll be visiting at Gracefield later on in the week.”
Finch shook his head, saying, “I reckon it’s pretty important. She told me to tell you that she had to see you—today.”
“Today!”
“It’s what she said. I dunno what about—” Finch hesitated, sizing up his man, then nodded. “I’d go if I was you, Mr. Franklin. Mrs. Rocklin, she was pretty stout about it. She said that if you wouldn’t come, she’d have to come here—and she didn’t think you’d like that.”
Jake thought rapidly. He certainly didn’t want Ellen coming to Lindwood, and he’d had a taste of how vindictive she could be when she’d forced Melora to dance with Clay. Better get it over with, he thought, then nodded. “All right. Where’ll I find her?”
“She said she’d be in her room—that’s in Mrs. Mulligan’s boardinghouse, over by the bakery. Said she’d like to see you about one this afternoon.” Then he picked up his coat, saying, “Got to get back.”
Jake stood there, trying to think of a way out of the meeting but knowing that he’d have to go. He went to his room, changed to some heavier clothing, then went back to the kitchen, where Rachel was baking a cake. “I’ve got to go into Richmond, Rachel,” he said.
“It’ll be too long a trip for you,” she said. “You can’t ride that far.”
“I’ll take the buggy.”
She tasted the mix, weighed the flavor of it, then put her spoon down and called out, “Melora!” When the woman appeared, she said, “Vince and I have to go to town. We’ll be late getting back. Can you take care of everything?”
Three Books in One: A Covenant of Love, Gate of His Enemies, and Where Honor Dwells Page 82