Three Books in One: A Covenant of Love, Gate of His Enemies, and Where Honor Dwells

by Gilbert, Morris

  “No, I don’t think they do.” Rachel bit her lower lip, then shook her head. “Why have you waited so long to—”

  She broke off, and Jake said quickly, “I’m the same old Vince, Rachel. Don’t let my pretty words fool you again. I’m just not strong enough to be mean yet. Come on, now, let’s go back to the house.”

  The pair of them mounted and left the creek. Jake kept up a running conversation, but Rachel could not help thinking of what he had said about loving a woman. She knew his affairs had been shallow, physical involvements; but there seemed to be something deeper in him now. When they got back to the stables and dismounted, Jake said thoughtfully, “Well, I rode the horse—but can I shoot the man?”

  “Don’t do it! I’ll talk to Daddy!”

  Jake gave her a curious look. “I have to do it. You know I do. Only question is—can I do it?” He stroked the steaming sides of the black horse, then asked a question that was directed more to himself than to her, she thought.

  “Can I put a bullet in Simon Duvall? What will it prove if I kill him? Or if he kills me?” Once again, Jake considered just walking away. After all, this wasn’t his fight. But the thought of the hurt in Rachel’s eyes when she found out that he wasn’t what she believed him to be, and the thought of the disgust in Brad Franklin’s eyes when he discovered that Jake was a liar and impostor … He shook his head. No, he was in this now and he would not back down. Only one thing would stop him, and that was if Vince came back to do these things himself.

  Rachel shivered, a quick vision flashing before her eyes of a man on the ground with his life’s blood draining out. Suddenly the chill she felt was much more intense than that caused by cold weather. “Why not just go on into the army? That’s an honorable thing, and it will satisfy everyone.” But even as she spoke, she saw the stubbornness in his jaw. Her next words were spoken in a quiet, sad voice. “You’ll face Duvall, won’t you? And nothing I can say will stop you.”

  Jake blinked at her, then suddenly took her hand and blurted out, “Rachel, if I could do anything in the world for you, I’d do it. But this job isn’t of my choosing.”

  She slowly pulled away from him and walked into the stable. Jake thought that it was because she was angry, and he accepted that as right. But he would have been stunned by the truth. For Rachel suddenly had been invaded by strange feelings of tenderness and concern for this man who was her half brother. She knew he had been a wastrel all his life, but that no longer seemed to matter. She thought perhaps it was because she had nursed him back to life, because he had been almost like an infant in her care.

  But he was no infant now! And as she left him, she discovered to her consternation that she was filled with fear over what might happen to him. If it had been Grant or Les, that would have been purely natural. But Vince! She had despised him for years, and now, suddenly, she found that impossible. Once again she heard the words he’d spoken by the river. Then the thought came to her, as strongly as anything she’d ever felt: If I ever fall in love, I want to be for my man what Vince says a woman ought to be!

  As she walked toward the house, she tried to fit the words and the new spirit in Vince to the brother with whom she’d grown up, but it was impossible. He pretty much looked like the Vince she’d always known, as much as he could without his beard. But he certainly didn’t act like him. Finally, with a shake of her head, she put away the thoughts of him as much as she could.

  But his words, his smile, and his gentleness kept coming back to her, stirring in her emotions that she did not understand.

  CHAPTER 16

  AT THE WHITE HORSE BAR

  By the fourth day of the family reunion, Dee was ready to run the whole bunch of Rocklins and Bristols off. She said as much to her mistress that evening as she was supervising another gargantuan meal.

  “Miz Amy, this heah bunch is worse than all them locusts in Egypt!” Stirring a huge bowl filled with batter, she shook her gray head in disgust. “I ain’t nevuh seed folks eat like they does!”

  Amy sat in her wheelchair peeling potatoes. She was still weak but had grown sick of doing nothing. “Now, Dee, it may be the last time we’ll have the whole family together for a long time. It’s hard on you, with me not able to help, I know—but you’ve done so well!”

  The praise caused Dee to sniff, but it pleased her all the same. She gave the batter a few more vigorous slaps with the wooden spoon, then poured it into a black iron skillet. Opening the door of the oven, she inserted it, then closed the door. She wiped her hands on the apron, then stood there thinking. Finally she asked, “Whut you reckon Marse Vince is up to?”

  “Up to? What does that mean, Dee?”

  “Why, dat young man ain’t nuffin’ like his ol’ self, and you knows it!” Puzzlement grew on her lined black face, and she asked curiously, “Whut’s Marse Franklin think dat boy gonna do? He gonna fight with dat man in Richmond? He gonna get hisself killed!”

  Amy glanced at the black woman, who was more friend than slave, and shook her head. “I don’t know, Dee. I’ve tried to talk the major out of it, but you know how stubborn he can get when he sets his mind to something. And when I try to talk to Vince—” She broke off abruptly, for the subject disturbed her. “It was fine of him to ride that horse, and I’m proud that he’s decided to join the army. But that business with Duvall is terrible!”

  “Miss Rachel, she got real close to him,” Dee observed. “Maybe she can talk him outta it.”

  “She’s tried, but Vince won’t listen.” Amy’s dark eyes clouded, and there was a mixture of sorrow and anger in them. “This war—you’d think it would be enough! And now this thing with Vince—”

  “Well now, don’t you get all agrafretted ‘bout it, you heah?” Dee came over and patted her mistress on the shoulder, then took the bowl of potatoes from her hands. “You gonna go take a nap befo’ supper.” She ignored Amy’s protests and took her to her room and tucked her in as if she were a child. “You sleep now,” she commanded, then shut the door and moved back down toward the kitchen.

  When she got there, she saw Jake ride out of the stable on a big black horse. “Whar he goin’ now?” she muttered, then shook her head, saying in disgust, “White folks!”

  Jake had caught a glimpse of Dee in the window, but his mind was so busy that the sight of her barely registered—just the one quick thought: I hope she didn’t talk to the messenger.

  Looking up at the skies, he saw that the day was ready to fade and knew that he would not be back for supper. The skies were flat and gray with more snow in the offing, but he didn’t think of that, for the message that rested in his pocket had driven all other thoughts from his mind the moment he’d received it. He’d been waiting with apprehension for Vince’s reply, and when it came, it was brief: “Meet me tonight at seven at the White Horse Bar. Underhill.”

  The messenger had been a slight young man, no more than seventeen or so, and he had said, “Man who paid me to deliver this, he wants to know will you come?”

  “Tell him I’ll be there,” Jake had said, giving him a dollar. Now as he drove Crow along at an easy gallop, he tried to find some sort of reason in the summons but failed. If Vince gets spotted by just one person who recognizes him, it’s all over, he thought grimly. And on the heels of that thought came another: That’d be fine with me!

  All the way to Richmond he thought about what he’d been doing and was not happy with it. No matter how he tried to rationalize it, he still had an edgy feeling. It was a lie, and though he’d done things he’d not been proud of in the past, there was something about the whole thing with Vince Franklin that made him feel dirty. Perhaps it was the way Amy Franklin had shown such love to him. More likely, he thought instantly, there was something about his relationship with Rachel that made him uneasy.

  Maybe it’s because I never had much of a family, he thought as he reached the outskirts of Richmond. Always wanted to be part of a big family, and this is about as close as I’ve ever come. But it’s all a
lie, and it’ll blow up in my face soon enough.

  The streetlights glowed, making yellow points in the darkness as he rode down the main thoroughfare. The snow was packed down hard, and Crow almost slipped once. “Steady, Crow!” Jake said, patting his shoulder. He asked a man standing in front of a shop, “Friend, where would the White Horse Bar be found?”

  “You done passed it,” the man replied. “It’s back the way you come—look for the sign on yore right.”

  “Thanks.”

  When he moved back up the street, he saw the small sign and tied Crow up to the hitching rail. He entered the large room, which was filled with the acrid odor of cigarette smoke and whiskey, and looked swiftly around for Vince. It was a rough place, with a bar along one wall and a few tables and chairs covering the rest of the place. Two of the tables were occupied, but none of the men was Vince. Jake assumed that Vince would have donned some sort of disguise, so he walked to the bar. “I’m supposed to meet a fellow here.”

  The bartender gave him a steady glance. He was a thickset individual with misshapen ears and scar tissue around his eyes—an old fighter. He nodded toward the door at the rear of the room. “Fellow named Underhill? He’s in the back room.”

  “Thanks.”

  Jake moved to the door, opened it, and stepped inside to find a single round table with a few chairs. A man was slumped in one of them, wearing a full beard and rough-looking clothes. A limp slouch hat was pulled down over his eyes. Just to make certain, Jake let him speak first.

  “Sit down, Jake,” Vince said, and when he lifted his head, Jake saw that his face was thin and his eyes were bloodshot. “Have a drink.”

  “All right.” Jake sat down and took the drink Vince pushed toward him, but didn’t lift it. He was a little shocked at the man’s appearance, for he knew Franklin to be a careful dresser. But perhaps that was just part of the disguise. “Nobody would know you in that rig, Vince,” Jake said quietly. Then he leaned closer, peering into Vince’s face. “You sick?”

  “Yes.” Vince nodded, then drained the glass in his hand. He braced his feet against the jolt of the liquor and at once began to cough. It was a deep, ragged cough that racked him terribly. When he finally got control of himself, he shook his head, saying, “Been sick three days. Can’t seem to shake it off.” He peered toward Jake, nodding as he said, “You look good. I told you we could pull it off.”

  “We didn’t pull it off.” Jake shook his head, determined to push the matter to a conclusion. “Ellen Rocklin knows I’m a fake.”

  “How’d she find out?”

  Jake related the story, then said, “Vince, it’s not going to work. And it’s not just the Rocklin woman. I can’t keep on forever, not knowing people. I made a stupid mistake just this morning with Rachel.” He took a deep breath, then shook his head. “It was a good idea—but it’s just too tricky.”

  “What about my father?”

  Jake hesitated, then gave Vince the details—including the three tasks he had to perform.

  Vince’s eyes lost part of their dullness as he asked eagerly, “Well, Jake, did you ride the horse?”

  “Sure, that was easy. But fighting Duvall won’t be.”

  “You won’t have to. Join up with the army. Not with a branch around here, but some outfit far away. Ride out and stay there until the time comes. If you stick it out, Father won’t force the matter with Duvall.”

  “What if I get killed?” Jake asked curiously. “That’d put a crimp in your plan, wouldn’t it?”

  Vince didn’t catch the irony in Jake’s tone. “Well, in that case, I’d have to find some other way—” Then he saw the slight smile on Jake’s lips, and he laughed. “Sorry, Jake! I’m not thinking very straight. But you can wrangle a safe spot away from the action. Maybe in the quartermaster corps.”

  “That still leaves Ellen.”

  Vince nodded. “I know, but I can handle her.”

  “Not without paying her off. She’s a greedy woman, and she’ll do just what she says if you don’t give her the money.”

  “I can handle her, Jake,” Vince insisted stubbornly. “I hope you brought the checkbook with you. I’ve got to have some cash.”

  “I brought it.” He took the item out of his pocket, stared at it, then remarked, “I think I can go to jail for signing your name to these checks.”

  “Aw, Jake,” Vince protested at once, “you know better than that. Now write a check for a thousand dollars.”

  Jake looked at him, startled. “Can you cash a check that large here? Won’t they ask for identification?”

  “I never thought of that.” Vince studied the bottle, poured himself another drink, then said, “You’ll have to go to the bank in the morning and get the cash. You can bunk in my room tonight.”

  Jake studied the man, then said, “Let’s call it off. We really don’t have much chance.”

  Vince looked startled, then began to plead, “Oh, come now, Jake, it’s going to work! And we’re both in a hole, and pretty bad, too. Look, let’s go get something to eat and we can go over it again.”

  They left the bar and had a meal, then went back to the bar, where both of them drank too much. Jake was not a man who drank to excess, but he was depressed by the whole thing, and Vince kept insisting they go through with it. In the end he agreed wearily, and after a sleepless night, he went to the bank the next morning and got the cash.

  “Now,” Vince instructed, “you need to get away as soon as you can, Jake. Write me in care of general delivery in Savannah.” He began to cough again, and this time the spasm nearly tore him in two.

  “You’ve got to see a doctor.”

  “Sure, I’ll do that,” Vince agreed. He seemed nervous and anxious, saying, “Well, take care of yourself, Jake. Just a little while and you’ll be on that island with your pocket full of money.”

  Jake stared at him but said only, “I’ll be glad when it’s over, Vince. It’s not something I’m going to tell my grandchildren about.”

  As soon as Jake left, Vince walked out of the hotel and took a cab to the house where Ellen stayed. He felt weak, but there was something he had to do before he left Richmond. The pistol he had slipped inside his belt was uncomfortable, but he ignored it.

  Ellen was asleep when the knock came at her door, and it took her several minutes to come out of her slumber. Finally she threw the covers back, drew on a robe, and staggered to the door. “Who is it?”

  “Open the door, Ellen!”

  She hesitated, then turned the key. Opening the door a crack, she peered outside. “I don’t know you,” she said to the rough-looking man who stood there. She would have closed the door, except that he put his hand out and stopped her.

  “It’s me, Ellen—Vince Franklin.”

  As he expected, her eyes opened wide, and she stepped back at once. When he entered and she had carefully shut the door, she exclaimed, “Vince! I don’t believe it!”

  “Ellen, I’m in a hurry,” Vince said. “Let’s talk business.”

  At once her eyes hardened, and she nodded. “I’ve been expecting you to pay a call. Sit down, Vince.”

  “No time, Ellen. Just tell me—how much?”

  Ellen laughed, letting her robe fall open. “Now that’s the way I like to hear you talk! Right down to brass tacks.”

  “How much, Ellen? Just lay it out; then we can argue over it.”

  “No argument.” Ellen grinned. “I’ve got you in a box. One word from me and you’ll get nothing.”

  Vince nodded. “I know that. But you’ve got to be reasonable. I won’t get a huge chunk of money. I’ll get control of the estate. It’ll take me a little time to liquidate it.”

  “Of course, sweetheart!” Ellen shrugged, her eyes alive with interest. “I know about all that. What I really want is a large bonus—and then a steady income, you know what I mean?”

  Vince knew well enough. She meant a lifetime of blackmail, but he only shrugged, saying, “I’ll make you an offer. Five thousand when
I come into the money, and one hundred dollars every month as long as you live.”

  “Oh, now, Vince, you can do better than that!” Ellen smiled. She was enjoying the thing, he saw, and now she added, “Let’s say you double that, and we can do business.”

  “Double!” Vince exclaimed, pretending to show shock at her proposal. But after a few minutes he caved in, saying, “Looks like you got the best of the argument, Ellen. Let’s shake on it.”

  She took his hand, laughing at the disappointment on his face. “You and I are a lot alike.” She leaned against him. “Maybe this will be more than a business deal—?”

  Vince forced a smile, saying, “I’m for that—but now I’ve got to get out of Richmond.”

  “How about an advance on that first payment?” Ellen asked quickly.

  “Haven’t got it. I’ll send you two hundred next week.”

  He left her then and two hours later was on the train headed for Savannah. His meeting with Ellen Rocklin had left a sour taste in his mouth, but he had already made plans for her. There was a man he knew in Savannah, a rough sort of fellow named Elvin Sloan. For five hundred dollars he would shoot his own mother.

  A shock ran through Vince at the enormity of what he planned. To have a woman killed! He was truly physically sick, and the thought of doing such a thing raised his gorge.

  Still, there was no other way. “She should have stayed out of it!” he muttered as the train clattered over the rails. “No-good tramp!”

  He slept fitfully during the trip, but when he finally got off the train, his fever was so high that the conductor took his arm as he stumbled. “Mister, you sick?”

  “No … all right, I’m … all right,” he mumbled, shoving the man away. Vince straightened up and forced himself to walk carefully, but by the time he got to the cab stand, a dizziness hit him. The world seemed to reel, and he made a wild grab at the cab—only to fall headlong to the ground.