The tall leader pulled a gold watch from his breast pocket. Not to tell the time but to twiddle it between his fingers while he seemed to mull over something in his head. His next words shot fire through Sarah’s heart. “You two stole that rig, didn’t you?”
Henry’s senseless grin faded. His Adam’s apple rose then fell. “Excuse me, suh? What did you say?”
Pocket Watch Man swept Sarah’s body with a downright meddlesome gaze, so slowly her skin crawled, and then fixed soulless eyes on Henry. “You ain’t deaf, boy. I said you stole the rig. The mule, too, because that there’s my mule. Been looking for my animal all day, ain’t I, boys?”
The grinning dullards alongside him nodded.
“And here you come, riding up with my mule hitched to my wagon, sitting there pretty as you please on a stolen rig.”
Terror melted Sarah’s bones. Her dress was all that held her useless sack of skin on the seat. Henry’s face looked the way it had the time Dandy kicked him in the stomach and laid him out on the ground gasping like a trout.
“No, suh! Ya’ll mistaken. We ain’t no more stole this rig than fly.” He jabbed his finger at Dandy. “I’ve had this here same mule going on three years now.”
The fearsome stranger waited while the stillness behind Henry’s words settled around them like pitched hay. Then he rose up in his stirrups and eased back with a grunt. His squirming seemed to set off the other two riders, because they leaned over their saddles, watching his face and waiting. Sweat pooled at the base of Sarah’s spine.
The man cocked his head at Henry. “Know what I say to that, charcoal boy?”
Henry trembled beside her. His face shifted from fear to terrible rage then relaxed to show no emotion at all. . .until he smiled. Sarah stared up at his even row of shiny white teeth and decided he’d lost his mind.
“Naw, suh, I don’t know what you might say. I sho’ don’t.” Henry leaned back against the buckboard seat and adjusted the raggedy brim of his hat to cover his eyes, which made his broad grin stand out like a polecat at a party. “But I know you sho’ ’nuff ’bout to tell me.”
The man’s eyes narrowed, and his face flushed red. “I say you’re a low-down liar and a thief!” Flecks of spit spewed from his mouth into the air.
All three horses lurched toward them at the same time. The skinny, pock-faced boy, who hadn’t yet said a word, reached for the pistol strapped to his side.
Sarah stood up and screamed then lunged forward to cover Henry with her body. A shot rang out, the exploding boom loud in Sarah’s ears. She’d heard that gunshot wounds burned like melted lead poured in an open sore, so she stiffened and waited to feel hot pain.
When her body spun, she opened her eyes to see if Henry or Jesus held her. Through the haze of fear muddling her mind, she realized Henry had turned his back on the men. Puzzled, she followed his gaze to the edge of the woods.
T. M. Bagby, the sheriff of Marion County, sat astride his horse in a clearing not ten yards off the road. Sheriff John Vines, who held the office just before Bagby, stood next to him, the reins of his dun pony in one hand, a rifle pointed to the sky in the other. Wisps of smoke still streamed from its barrel.
“What’s going on here?” Sheriff Bagby growled.
Sarah’s shaky legs failed her, and she slid down Henry’s body to the seat. Sheriff Vines mounted his horse, and the two men rode their way. Never in her life had Sarah been so glad to see two white lawmen.
Sheriff Bagby came alongside the wagon, his angry glare aimed at the strange men, a fact that greatly eased Sarah’s mind. “I asked you men a question. What the devil’s going on?”
Edward, the fleshy one, lowered his head like a hang-tail dog and backed up behind the others. The hungry-looking boy pulled his hand away from his holster, but by the snarl on his face, it pained him.
The prideful man in front lost no trace of his swagger. He took his time answering while he circled the face of his timepiece with the thumb of his smooth white hand. For the first time, Sarah noticed his slender fingers looked more like a woman’s than a man’s. He pointed at Henry. “This business is between this man and myself. No one else. How about you two ride on off and let us get it settled?”
Sheriff Vines tightened the grip on his rifle and eased closer. “I’d sure like to oblige you, mister, but”–he pointed over his shoulder at the clearing–“from over there it appeared your business had gotten a little out of hand.”
Sheriff Bagby looked even madder than before. “What say you let us in on the details? We’ll decide whether or not it’s our business.”
Sarah nudged Henry hard. He gave her a look like nobody was home but came around in time to speak up in a jumble of words. “Sheriff, this stranger say I done stole my own wagon. Old Dandy, too.” He straightened his shoulders and scowled at the man. “Ain’t stole nothing. He knows it same as I do.”
The sheriff glanced back at Henry. “Why, that’s foolish talk. Henry here is no thief.”
Pocket Watch Man regarded Sheriff Bagby with one raised brow then spat on the ground between them. “Suppose I want to contest? It’s the word of three white men against one colored boy.”
Sheriff Bagby frowned at each accuser in turn. “Gentlemen, I know this man well enough to say he’s the owner of this rig and the animal pulling it. I can vouch for him myself.”
Sheriff Vines snorted. “So can I, which means you need to refigure your math. Looks like it’s the word of three white men against one colored man and two officers of the law. By my ciphering, our sum’s higher.”
Pocket Watch Man’s jaw worked in circles. “What if I said I bought the rig from him fair and square, paid good money for it, and he slipped around and took off with it again?” He sneered over at Henry. “I know he don’t look smart enough, but he’s got himself quite a racket going down by the docks.” He sat back with a haughty smirk, clearly proud of his lying story. “Now then. What avenues for justice does this town afford?”
The two lawmen shared a grin. Then Sheriff Vines’s amused look turned hard. “Sir, one of the avenues for justice around here is the truth. So I’m sure you won’t mind giving me a truthful answer to a direct question.”
“Not at all. Ask what you will.”
Sheriff Vines tipped his hat. “Let’s start simple. You got a name?”
“Indeed I do. Frank Griswald, from the Boston Griswalds, at your service.”
The sheriff raked him with doubtful eyes. “If you don’t mind, I have a few more questions, Mr.”–he paused and raised one brow–“Griswald.”
Sarah and Henry shared a knowing glance.
Sheriff Vines edged closer on his horse. “You boys staying here in town?”
The lead man nodded. “We are. We’re paying guests over at the Commercial Hotel.”
The sheriff nodded then leaned forward on his saddle horn. “The Commercial Hotel, you say? Well, tell me this, didn’t I see you three get off the Maria Louise when she put into port not an hour ago?”
Griswald opened his mouth to answer but closed it again when Sheriff Vines held up his hand. “Since I know right well I did see you crawl off the Louise, I’m wondering how you found time to negotiate purchase of a rig, manage to lose it again, book a room, find the livery, and hire these horses, then track down this man to accuse him. That’s a busy hour, my friend. It just don’t sound reasonable.”
Sheriff Bagby interrupted before the black-hearted scoundrel had a chance to answer. “If you don’t mind, John, I have a couple questions of my own. First, your name isn’t Griswald at all, now, is it? Fact is, you’re Jack Thibeau, a two-bit gambler out of New Orleans. You stole the Griswald name just like you were about to steal from this man. . .after murdering him and his wife in cold blood.”
Sarah tensed as the three scoundrels started to fidget, but they stilled when Sheriff Vines lowered his rifle. Sheriff Bagby unsheathed his own gun and lifted the business end in their direction. “Before you boys start lying and denying, what say I escor
t you into town and lock you up for attempted murder?”
Bertha slid a satin ribbon around her neck and pulled it up into her hair then wove it through the tied-up curls and fashioned a pretty bow in front. The dusky green fabric against her black hair set off her eyes to perfection. Leaning closer to the looking glass above her dressing table, she ran her finger back and forth over her two front teeth. The resulting squeal sounded loud inside her head. Twice since dinner she had scrubbed her teeth with tooth powder until they gleamed.
She picked up the container of Sozodont and read the label. “For relief of impure breath caused by catarrh, bad teeth, or use of liqueur or tobacco.”
Catarrh? Bertha glanced at her reflection and sniffed. No runny nose.
Bad teeth? She drew back her lips to check. Not yet, thank the Lord.
Liquor? No, thank you.
Tobacco? Never!
Still, the powder promised sweet breath and pearl-like teeth. With Thad coming soon, she wanted her breath as sweet as possible. She ran her finger across her mouth again and listened, grinning at the satisfying squeak.
She crossed the room to her wardrobe and threw open the doors. As she thumbed past her everyday frocks to find her favorite green dress, the lyrics to the song she hummed came to her mind.
Oh! why am I so happy,
Why these feelings of delight?
And why does gladness cheer me?
Why everything so bright?
To say things were bright would be false. The very gloomy fact of Thad’s leaving hung around her neck like a millstone. But she couldn’t mourn today, not when Papa had given permission for Thad to come for supper and stay as long as he liked. A dangerous offer, considering the two of them had so much time to make up.
Bertha sang aloud as she slipped into the lacy dress.
“Why am I so happy,
Why these feelings of delight?”
Why? Because at long last Thad admitted his love for her. After the many times she had thought of it, prayed for it, daydreamed about it, Thaddeus Bloom would stand on her doorstep, come to court. She wouldn’t allow herself to think beyond tonight.
Bertha checked herself in the looking glass. Though she had taken extra care getting ready, the image staring back surprised her. Her hair never looked so glossy or her eyes so bright, as though the joy churning in her heart had oozed its way to the surface.
Only one thing missing–jewelry to accentuate the plain, high bodice of the gown. She reached inside her collar and found the chain around her neck. A few years past, Moses Pharr had found the beautiful silver necklace by the docks and given it to Bertha, an act of generosity Rhodie had never forgiven. With two fingers, Bertha pulled the necklace free, kissed the filigreed cross, and centered it on her chest. Perfect.
Perfect necklace, perfect dress, perfect night.
“Perhaps I should change me mind. If Thad sees you like this, he’s bound to carry you off, and I’ll never see you again.”
Bertha smiled at Papa’s reflection in the glass then turned to where he stood in the doorway. “Oh, Papa, thank you for letting Thad come.”
“Allowing such a fine boy to court you is easy. Telling your mother he’ll be staying past respectable was the hard part. Well, that and sitting up half the night playing chaperone. I admit I don’t look forward to it.”
“You, Papa? You’ll be my chaperone?”
Papa lowered his head. “Aye. ’Tis a woman’s place, I know. I might as well don a skirt and corset.” He lifted pleading eyes to Bertha’s. “But what can I do? Your mama refuses. Will you be very ashamed of me?”
Bertha put her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. “Ashamed? I’m glad. You’ll make a much better chaperone than Mama.”
When he made a face, she laughed. “Comfort yourself with knowing tonight is the first and last time I’ll be courted.”
He pushed her to arm’s length. “What folly is this?”
She squeezed his shoulders. “I mean it, Papa. If Thad leaves tomorrow without proposing first, I’ll live out my days a spinster.”
He flashed a roguish grin. “Then I’ll keep you to meself forever? So much the better.” He cupped her chin in his hand. “But I fear it’s too much to ask for with a daughter as lovely as you.”
Warmth crept up her cheeks. “I only want Thad, Papa.”
“Aye, and from what you told me this morning, I suspect he wants only you.”
“Then why is he so stubborn? We’ve wasted too much time already, and he refuses to ask me to wait.”
Papa pulled her down on the bed beside him. “We men are complicated creatures, me love. Matters you can’t understand consume our hearts, but these things nurture traits you will someday find of great value. Traits like honor, self-sacrifice, and commitment. Thad loves you, and you love him back. This is the foundation of a good relationship. The rest are minor details. Can you trust God with the details, Bertha?”
He wrapped his arms around her, and she leaned her head against his shoulder. “Your words encourage me, Papa. Until now, I’ve been afraid to hope.”
He patted her head. “Never fear hope, me girl. Not with the Great Hope in your life. He’s well able to work out the details of a surrendered life.” He took hold of her shoulders and raised her up to face him. “The cantankerous man in question will arrive any minute. Are you ready?”
Bertha grinned. “Oh, Papa, I’ve been ready for months.” Then she held up her finger. “Except for one last thing.” She picked up the Sozodont powder from the dressing table and held it up for him to see. “I need to clean my teeth.”
He covered her hand with his and pushed the bottle down. “Your teeth are fine, Bertha. Too much of this stuff will eat away at them.”
Groaning, she set the can aside. “I just want everything to be perfect tonight.”
“You are perfect, dearie, and the only thing old Thaddy Boy will notice.”
Mama leaned inside the door. “Francis? Here you are, for heaven’s sake. I’ve been calling until my ears rattled.”
“If you’d rattled the windows instead, I might’ve heard you. I take it you’re ready to go?”
Bertha sought Papa’s eyes. “Go? You can’t go. Thad will be here any minute.”
Mama unfolded and pulled on her gloves. “Don’t fret, Bertha. We’ll be back before he arrives. I promised Dr. Eason I would look in on Mrs. McKenzie and her new baby. Supper is ready to serve, and we’ll return before Thad comes. Set the table while we’re gone, would you?”
“Yes, ma’am, I will.”
“And remember. . .should Thad happen to get here before we get back, serve him hot tea on the veranda.”
Bertha pointed toward the window. “But it’s cold out there.”
“Just do like I say. Don’t dare take him inside the house. Understand?”
“No, ma’am, I won’t.”
Papa grinned past Mama at her. “Heaven forbid I should have to shoot the poor lad the first time he comes calling.”
Bertha herded them toward the door. “If you’re going, then go. I won’t leave Thad to languish on the porch until he dies from exposure.”
When they left, she turned back to the mirror for one last check of her appearance. Satisfied with how she looked, she ran her tongue over the roof of her mouth and glanced at the tooth powder.
Papa’s reflection appeared in the glass, peering around the doorpost behind her. “Ah, ah, ah! Leave it alone, now.”
She burst into giggles and tossed the Sozodont container. He dodged it then disappeared, but she heard his hearty laughter until the back door slammed.
H
On the road to Bertha’s house, Thad made up his mind. Considering the situation in which he found himself, maybe, just maybe, the trait his mama often cautioned him about had waylaid him again. She claimed Thad had a habit of deciding too soon about the expected outcome of a situation and, once he decided it would turn out one way or the other, lacked the flexibility to consider a different end.
>
Might self-imposed blinders have blocked his sight? If he could wait however long it took to be with Bertha, why shouldn’t he believe the same applied to her? And Francis Biddie’s willingness to receive him tonight, knowing full well he’d be leaving tomorrow, cast new light on whether the man would be agreeable to a long engagement for his daughter.
Thad allowed the decision to settle around his heart. He would ask Mr. Biddie for Bertha’s hand in marriage. He wouldn’t leave their place tonight without the man’s blessing and a promise from Bertha to wait.
The murky clouds had folded back in the last couple of hours, allowing sunshine on Jefferson soil for the first time in several days–not that it warmed things up any. Thad approached the turnoff to Bertha’s just as the sun settled onto the horizon and began its slow ride down. An orange haze spread over the western sky, and Thad entertained the pleasing notion that it was the last sunset he would see before he and Bertha were betrothed.
He turned down the lane, leaving the painted sky at his back. Up ahead, the Biddie place sat back about a quarter mile off the road. In the fading light, the house and tall trees surrounding it stood out in sharp relief, like black cutouts on a gray background. Excited and impatient, he gave the mare a light tap with his heel to speed her along. As he neared the yard, he noticed the Biddie wagon approaching from another direction.
“Hail, Thad!” Mr. Biddie called.
Thad raised his hand in greeting. “Evening, sir.” He nodded toward Bertha’s mama, who sat straight and proper on the seat. “Mrs. Biddie.”
The woman nodded back but waited until her husband helped her down and Thad joined them on the front walk before she spoke. “Good evening, Thad. We’re ever so glad to have you tonight. I hope you’re hungry.”
Thad took off his hat. “Yes, ma’am. And thank you for the invitation.”
Mr. Biddie shook Thad’s hand then motioned toward the gate. “Come inside out of the cold. Bertha’s waiting for you.”
Mrs. Biddie nudged him and frowned. Mr. Biddie lifted his shoulders at Thad and grinned. She turned and offered her arm to Thad then nodded toward the horizon as they made their way up the walk. “How pleasant to see a sunset, no matter how unexpected and brief. I do detest wet weather. I like the snow, mind you, but not the rain. Have you ever witnessed the sunset on a snow-covered hill, Thad?”
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