The Western Justice Trilogy

by Gilbert, Morris

  “I’ll give you seven hundred.”

  “Seven-fifty.”

  “Oh, that’s all right. I hate these things.”

  “Okay. Here, sign this. These are the papers on the mare.” Sabrina signed the papers, and then Mick nodded, saying, “Thank you, Miss Sabrina. I’ll let you know when I get some more good-looking stock.”

  “Thank you, Mick.” Sabrina stood there stroking the silken nose of the mare then said, “Morris, rub her down and be sure to watch her diet. I think I’ll take her out for a ride tomorrow.”

  “What about today?”

  “Oh, I’ve got to go to a stupid ball. I’d much rather go with you, sweetheart.”

  “Is that what you named her? Sweetheart?”

  “No, I haven’t given her a name yet. I think I’ll call her Cleo for Cleopatra.”

  “Well, she’s a beauty, Miss Sabrina. I’ll take care of it.”

  Charles and Caroline Warren were entertaining Sabrina’s escort, Lane Williams. They were in the larger of the two parlors. There was a large fireplace of polished marble at one end, and the pictures on the walls were either seascapes or Dutch pastoral scenes with cows.

  The long green velvet curtains splayed out on the floor and sagged with braided sashes. There was a large cut-glass bowl of roses on a low mahogany table between two chairs, and all in all the room had all the Victorian clutter that had been so popular and still was.

  “I expect there’ll be a crowd at that ball, Lane,” Charles said. “Everybody I know is going except us.”

  Lane Williams was a small young man, shorter than Sabrina. “There probably will be, but I’m not going to stay for the entire ball.”

  “Well, you’ll have a lovely time,” Caroline Warren said. At the age of forty-seven she was an attractive woman with the same auburn hair and green eyes that she had passed along to her daughter.

  “I hate balls,” Charles Warren said. He had a square face, was six feet tall, and weighed over two hundred pounds. He was forceful and stubborn. Founder and owner of Warren Steel Mills in Memphis, he loved his family, his church, and his business, in that order. He had planned on having sons to help him with the business, but that had not happened, so he always thought what sort of partner one of the girls’ suitors would make.

  They were interrupted when Marianne Warren came into the room. She was nineteen, with beautiful smooth blond hair and blue eyes. Her parents had long ago learned that she was very romantic. She read romances by the ton it seemed, and once her mother had said, “Marianne, you’re waiting for a knight in bright shining armor to come and sweep you off, but there aren’t any white knights in armor these days.” She had realized, of course, that that would mean nothing to Marianne.

  She was wearing a beautiful bright green satin dress trimmed with glittering black lace and black velvet ribbons. Three black feathers were arranged in her blond hair, held on by an impossibly large emerald and a diamond stick pin.

  “You look beautiful tonight, Marianne. You’ll be the belle of the ball.” Caroline Warren smiled at her daughter.

  “Oh no. Sabrina will be the belle of the ball.”

  Charles grinned, and then a thought came to him. He turned to Sabrina’s suitor. “I can’t keep up with you two. Are you engaged or not?”

  “We were yesterday, but this is another day.” Lane smiled wryly. “I ought to keep a record or a journal or something. You can ask her, and then we’ll both know.”

  Even as he said this, Sabrina came in. She was wearing a beautiful dress of her favorite Nile green color, and it was as elegant as the water in the sun. It was stitched with silver beading and seed pearls. The waist was tiny, and the bodice crossed over in front with the bosom cut low.

  “You look beautiful, Sabrina.” Lane smiled. “You’ll be the belle of the ball.”

  “She always is,” Marianne said. “I wish I could be just once.”

  “Well, when we’re married, your competition will be gone,” Lane said. “By the way, your father wants to know if we’re engaged. What’s the score on that?”

  It was a question that came up often, and Sabrina stared thoughtfully at Lane. “I’ll let you know before the evening’s out. If you step on my toes, the engagement’s off.”

  “Well, let’s go,” Lane said.

  They left the house, and as soon as they were gone, Charles said, “I don’t know about that young man. He doesn’t have much strength it seems.”

  “You think everybody who’s not as driving and forceful as you are doesn’t have enough strength, Charles. He’s a fine young man. He’ll be good to Sabrina.”

  “She’ll wear him out just like you wore me out.”

  Caroline came over and put her arm around his waist. “No, I didn’t. You always get anything you want from me.”

  Charles laughed and said, “That’s the way it’s supposed to be in a marriage.”

  The ball at the Steens’ mansion was held for the betrothal of their daughter. It was glittering, glamorous, and grandiose. At the entrance to the ballroom was a long table covered with a snowy white tablecloth, and gentlemen’s silk top hats, canes, and gloves were arranged in militarily precise rows. The strains of a slow waltz filtered through the twelve-foot-high double doors, which were open but still guarded jealously by two gigantic footmen.

  Inside the great ballroom the scents and sounds and sights were overwhelming. Women glowed in hundreds of butterfly colors. All of the men were striking in full evening dress of white ties and tails. The flowers smelled luscious, the chandeliers glittered like diamonds, and the music of the twelve-piece orchestra resounded magnificently.

  Almost as soon as they were inside, a tall, handsome man with a beautiful beard came and said, “I’m going to have to ask for a dance from your fiancée, Lane.”

  “All right. You try to steal her at every ball. Go ahead, Harold.”

  As the two whirled off to the music of a waltz, Lane said, “It seems a shame to spend all this money on something as frivolous as a dance.”

  Marianne looked around. Thousands of flowers lined the walls in great stone urns. There were old ivies, deep green, long, trailing, curling up the walls. “It is rather frivolous, I suppose, but it is exciting.”

  “May I introduce myself?”

  Neither Lane nor Marianne had heard anyone because of the music, but when she turned quickly, she saw a man six feet tall, very trim, and very handsome.

  “My name is Gerald Robbins. I’m here on business. I hardly know anyone at this ball, so I thought I’d ask the most beautiful woman here for a dance.”

  “There you are, Marianne,” Lane said, smiling. “You’re already attracting the men.” He said, “I’m Lane Williams, and this is Miss Marianne Warren, daughter of Charles and Caroline Warren.”

  “And may I have this dance, Miss Marianne?”

  Marianne was flustered. He was the best-looking man in the hall as far as she was concerned, and there was something dashing about him, always an extra for a man.

  He led her to the dance floor, and soon they were moving around smoothly. “You dance beautifully, Miss Warren.”

  “Why, thank you, Mr. Robbins. You say you’re new in town?”

  “Yes, just here on some business.”

  “Well, where is your home?”

  “Oh, out West. I deal in cattle quite a bit. Have a large ranch.”

  “Oh, how exciting!”

  Robbins laughed. “Well, that’s one way of looking at it, but taking care of a thousand cows is not very exciting. That’s why I come East every once in a while just to have some real culture.”

  Marianne was fascinated and peppered him with questions about his ranch and his life. He had a smooth voice and had all the wit that one would expect in a man. “You don’t look like a cowboy.”

  “Well, I don’t wear spurs and chaps and a ten-gallon hat to a ball like this.” Robbins smiled. “What does your father do?”

  “He owns an ironworks here in Memphis. Actually, it�
�s called Warren Steel Mill.”

  “And you have brothers and sisters?”

  “Only one sister. She’s around here somewhere.”

  For the rest of the ball, Marianne either danced with Gerald Robbins or else waited for another chance.

  When Lane prepared to see her and Sabrina home by going outside and sending for the carriage, Robbins said, “I’m a lonesome bachelor and usually wouldn’t be this forward, but there’s a concert tomorrow in the park. I just wonder if you would accompany me.”

  “Oh, I’ll have to ask my father. But I’m sure he’ll say yes,” Marianne said.

  Robbins bowed slightly. “I’ll pick you up, if you’ll give me your address, tomorrow. I think the concert begins at two o’clock.”

  Marianne watched as he walked away.

  After he had returned to the party, Sabrina joined Marianne with their coats.

  “Oh, I wanted you and Mr. Robbins to meet before we leave. He is so wonderful, Sabrina. I know you will just love him. He is taking me to a concert tomorrow. That is, if Father agrees to his taking me.”

  “You know how to work Father. Just give him that pitiful look you do when you want something, and he will give in as usual. Now let’s go. Lane is waiting for us.”

  “But Mr. Robbins…”

  “I’ll meet him some other time, Marianne, all right? Come along now. My feet hurt. Let’s go home and relax.”

  Marianne relented. “Well, I think you will have many other opportunities to meet him as I plan on seeing Mr. Robbins many more times after tonight.” She sighed contentedly as she left with her sister. She knew she would in fact see him in her dreams that very night.

  CHAPTER 8

  July had brought a heat wave into Memphis. Dulcie had washed some of Sabrina’s finer clothes and was now hanging them out on the line. She mumbled to herself as she often did. “There comes that no ’count Caesar. He’s gonna try to get next to me just like he always does, but he ain’t gonna have no luck.”

  “Well, hello. How’s my favorite young woman?” Caesar, the carriage driver, was a tall, well-built, handsome black man. He had a beautiful smile and graceful moves that had made him a favorite with the ladies. Now he came and stood next to Dulcie and said, “What you been up to today, Miss Dulcie?”

  “I’ve been eavesdropping.”

  Caesar blinked his eyes. “Well, that ain’t nice. Who was you eavesdropping on?”

  “I was listening to Miss Sabrina and Miss Marianne. Then I listened to what Mr. Charles and Miss Caroline had to say about them daughters of theirs.”

  Caesar reached over and put his hand on Dulcie’s shoulder. “That’s always nice to be able to listen in on the rich folk.” This was his term for the Warren family. “I don’t get to eavesdrop on nobody except you and some of the other ladies around this neighborhood.”

  His grasp tightened, and Dulcie suddenly looked up with her eyes flashing. “You get your paws off of me, Caesar!”

  “Why, honey, I’m just being affectionate.”

  “I know what you’re being. You’re trying to get next to me like you always do.”

  “Why, you can’t blame me for that,” Caesar protested. “After all, you’re the prettiest lady in this whole town of Memphis. As a matter of fact, I came over to give you an invite.”

  “Humph! I know your invites. What is it this time?”

  “Well, it’s so hot I thought later in the afternoon when it cools off, we go down to the river. You know where the big trees overhang and there’s a nice grassy bank there. We could take something to eat and have a little picnic.”

  Dulcie glared at Caesar. She knew his reputation, and although she was tempted to give in to his invitation, she knew better. “I remember,” she said loudly, “how Clara went to the river with you, and she got a baby out of it.”

  “Well, that’s so, but ain’t that boy baby handsome? Just like me.”

  “You think mighty well of yourself, Caesar, but I’m a Christian woman, and I’m not about to put myself in any kind of a way with you.”

  “Well, I goes to church every Sunday.”

  Dulcie bent over the basket, picked up one of Sabrina’s gowns, and clipped it onto the clothesline. The breeze stirred it slightly, and it smelled of lavender, for Sabrina liked her clothes to have this scent. “Bein’ inside a church don’t make you no Christian—no more than bein’ inside a stable makes you a horse.”

  Caesar grinned and shook his head. “You is a mighty clever woman, Dulcie. Just think what it’d be like if you and me had some children. They’d be handsome like me and pretty like you. They’d be smart like you. They’d be nice and easy to get along with like me. Now, tell me what you heard them women and Mr. and Mrs. Warren talkin’ about.”

  “Mostly they was talkin’ about that new man that Marianne has got on her mind.”

  “What did they say?”

  “Well, Miss Sabrina tried to tell Marianne how foolish she was to make that much of some man that ain’t goin’ to be here. Mr. Charles and Miss Caroline said about the same thing. They’s worried about her.”

  “Well, what do you think, Dulcie?”

  “That girl Marianne, she’s a sweet child, but she ain’t had no experience with men to speak of, and right now she got some romantic notions. Them things is bad for a person. They can get her into bad trouble, and Miss Marianne don’t need no trouble with a stranger, which is what that man is.”

  Caesar listened carefully as Dulcie talked on. When she finished, he pushed his case for a picnic again. He looked surprised to hear her say, “All right. I’ll go to the riverbank with you, but I’m takin’ one of our knives from the kitchen. You try to put your hands on me in a way that ain’t proper, and I’ll cut your fingers off.”

  “I’ll be just as good as the driven snow. We’ll have us a time, Dulcie.”

  Sabrina was sleeping peaceably, but the door opened and then closed, waking her up. She sat up in bed and looked startled, then said, “What are you doing interrupting my nap, Dulcie?”

  “You done had enough nap. You won’t sleep tonight.”

  “You want to run my life. You’re my maid and sometimes you act like I’m the maid and you’re the mistress.”

  “You need to get up. Miss Marianne done had a long talk with your momma and your daddy.”

  “You always listen to people.”

  “Well, why shouldn’t I? White folk treat house servants like they was furniture. What do you think, we don’t hear nothin’ or see nothin’? You just plumb forget about us. You better get dressed. You need to talk to Miss Marianne about that man she’s been seein’.”

  Sabrina took a deep breath and nodded. “I guess you’re right about that, Dulcie. Help me get dressed.”

  Sabrina had almost finished dressing when Marianne burst in. “I’m going out with Gerald late this afternoon. We may go out to Rudolph’s Restaurant. That’s the nicest place in Memphis.”

  Sabrina turned so that Dulcie could fasten the buttons on the back of her dress. Her mind worked rapidly. She had thought a great deal about this man whom Marianne was seeing, and when she turned around, she said, “That’s fine, Dulcie. Why don’t you go take some of those clothes that you washed this morning and iron them.”

  Dulcie gave Sabrina an insulted look. She well knew that this was her signal to leave.

  Marianne waited until Dulcie had left the room then said, “I’m so excited. You’re going to have to help me pick out a new dress. I don’t have a thing to wear.”

  “You’ve got plenty of dresses, but let me tell you, Marianne, you don’t need to be thinking about Gerald as a man you could marry.”

  “Why not?” Marianne demanded instantly. She was not a quarrelsome girl. As a matter of fact, she was far more docile than either their mother or Sabrina, but she was sensitive about Gerald and defensive.

  “Well, in the first place you don’t need a man who is not a Southerner.”

  “Well, he is a Southerner.”

 
“Where is his home? I don’t know anything about him. Neither do Father or Mother.”

  “He grew up in Mississippi. As a matter of fact, he served as a cavalry officer in the war. Fought under Robert E. Lee.” She shook her head and said defiantly, “He and Lee were close friends.”

  “That’s what he told you?”

  “Yes, and the man couldn’t be a close friend of General Lee unless he was a good Southerner.”

  “Where is he from? What does he do?” Sabrina said. Now as she looked at her sister whom she loved dearly, she saw a vulnerability there that, for some reason, frightened her. Sabrina herself had always been forthright, saying pretty much what she thought without apology, but Marianne had a far gentler attitude. She could not bear to hurt anybody or anything.

  As Sabrina stood before her sister, she studied her face and saw there a quiet calmness that she herself did not possess. Sabrina had always been outspoken, forthright, and willing to argue with anyone, even her parents. But Marianne had a gentleness that she envied. Marianne’s face was a mirror, which changed as her feelings changed, and she had never showed herself capable of robust emotion. But now that seemed to be what Sabrina was seeing in her.

  Marianne’s hair had a rich yellow gleam, and she was wearing a gray dress that deepened the color of her eyes and turned her hair into a more shining color. She had a pleasantly expressive mouth, one that, Sabrina had learned, showed her emotions very easily. She was growing up now, and Sabrina saw that her hips, which had been straight as a boy’s only a short time ago, were rounded, and the light from the windows ran over the curves of her shoulders, and the light was kind to her, showing the full, soft lines of her body, the womanliness in breast and shoulder.

  Suddenly Sabrina said, “Marianne, I think you’re paying far too much attention to this man. He’s not going to be here long, is he? Didn’t you tell me he’d be leaving for the West?”

  “Not for two weeks, and he asked me to go with him tonight to see Hamlet.” Marianne’s face was as clearly expressive at that moment as Sabrina had ever seen it, graphically registering the light and shadow of her feelings. Pleasure and wonder and the fullness of her youthful heart seemed to flow, and a strange small stirring of hope followed. She wasn’t smiling, but the hint of a smile was at the corners of her mouth and in the tilt of her head.