We’ve been through a lot of changes in the last few years, this family of mine, Burke thought as he watched his parents. He remembered something his mother once had told him: “Your father’s always felt inferior—especially where his brother Stephen is concerned.” Stephen Rocklin had moved to the North, where he’d become a successful factory owner. Thomas spoke of him from time to time, and always with an air of respect…and regret that he himself had not done so well. Burke pursed his lips. He could understand that feeling of regret—far too well.
The three sat there for a long time, and finally Thomas asked, “What are your plans, Burke?”
Burke answered lightly. “I think I’ll become rich, healthy, and good-looking—which is better than being poor, sick, and ugly.”
But his father was not to be put off. “Will you go into the army with your brother?”
Burke grew serious at once. “No, sir, I don’t plan to do that.”
“I didn’t think you would,” Thomas sighed. He believed in the Cause and was proud of the fact that one son wore the Confederate uniform. But he knew Burke was not happy with the war, for the two of them had argued about it before. “Will you stay here and help with the work?”
Burke said evasively, “I don’t know, sir. I have one idea, but it’s very vague. Let me have a few weeks. I’ll do what I can around here while I’m waiting. Will that be all right?”
“It’ll have to be, I suppose.” After a pause, Thomas started to speak again, then lifted his head and narrowed his eyes. “Who is that riding up?”
“Why, I believe it’s Denton!” Susanna said, noting the uniform. She got to her feet at once. “I wonder why he’s come? I hope nothing’s wrong with Raimey.”
The three of them waited, and then they heard boots on the pine boards—but when the officer entered, all three of them spoke out with astonishment, for it was Clay, not Dent, who entered.
“Well, here I am, in all my glory!” Clay laughed at the surprise on their faces. “Don’t blame you for being shocked,” he said, coming over to hug his mother. “They’re really scraping the bottom of the barrel this time!”
He shook hands with his father and with Burke, then sat down and began to eat, explaining his promotion.
Thomas listened avidly, and when he finally said, “I’m very proud of you, Clay! Very proud indeed!” there was a quiver in his voice and a mistiness in his eye.
Clay couldn’t speak himself, for he knew too well the grief he’d brought into his father’s life, and it made him very happy to do something to redeem himself.
“How long can you stay?” Susanna asked.
“Just a few days. I want to take Rena camping.”
“Good. She needs you, Clay,” Susanna said.
After breakfast, Burke pulled his brother aside. “Going into Richmond to start my campaign.” He grinned. “Hope I do as well as you, brother.”
“Burke, you’re not serious about that fool notion to marry a rich girl.”
“I’m as serious as a man can get,” Burke insisted. He fished into his pocket, came out with a small box, and opened it up. A flash of light caught at the diamond ring inside. “Already got the engagement ring,” he said fondly. “All that’s left of a big bust.” He put the ring away, then said, “I sold my horse yesterday to Tom McKeever. Got enough out of him for a fancy set of clothes and some courtin’ money.” His white teeth gleamed as he grinned widely. “I’m off, Clay. Wish me luck.”
Clay shook his head sadly. “I wish you sense, Burke. There’s no happiness in what you’re trying to do.”
“No sermons!” Burke punched Clay on the arm lightly. “Congratulations, General! Father is proud as punch—and so am I!” He sauntered out the door, and as Clay looked out the window to watch his brother ride out toward Richmond, there was a heaviness in him.
Headed for a big fall, he thought sadly, then turned to find Rena.
Melora was swimming in the creek, enjoying the coolness of the water after the long hours she’d spent under the blazing July sun. She kept her shift on, for visitors sometimes came and hunters often crossed their land.
She floated on the surface close to the shore, watching the tiny transparent bodies of the minnows as they hung motionless in the clear water. A movement caught her eye, and she turned to see a V-shaped ripple—a water snake, she knew instantly—and got to her feet at once. It was, she saw, a harmless snake, not a moccasin, so she released her breath.
At that moment, she heard a faint cry that sounded like her name. She waded quickly to the bank and hurriedly pulled her dress over her head. “I’m over here,” she called, slipping into her shoes. She thought it was Josh, her fifteen-year-old brother, coming to fetch her for supper, so she sat in the sun, drying her hair with the towel she’d brought. When she heard his footsteps, she said, “I’m almost ready, Josh.” Then, when she got no answer, she turned—and saw Clay standing there.
“Mister Clay!” Jumping to her feet, she stood stock still, taking in the new uniform. He still doesn’t know how handsome he is, she thought, but said, “Congratulations, Lieutenant Rocklin. You look very dashing.”
Clay laughed with some embarrassment. Walking toward her, he asked, “How are you, Melora?”
“I’m very well.” Melora studied his face and was relieved to see that the awful strain that had marked him after Ellen’s death was now gone. She knew him almost as well as he knew himself, even better at times. “Come and sit down, Clay. Tell me about your promotion.”
The two of them sat down, and as the water gurgled nearby, Melora picked up her comb and ran it through her hair, listening as Clay told her the story. When that was done, he told her about Burke, expressing his fears. There was nothing he kept from her, but he knew she’d never reveal a word of it.
Finally he said, “Rena told me how you’d asked her to come and spend the day. It was good of you.” Clay’s face grew heavy. He picked up a flat stone and skipped it across the water. “She needs someone, Melora. She looks as though she’s almost a woman, but she’s still a child in many ways.”
As Melora shared her insights about his daughter, Clay glanced at her and smiled, watching her as she spoke of Rena. He knew she was unaware of what a beautiful sight she was. Her height, her father’s green eyes, and her mother’s black hair all made a fetching combination.
They talked of Rena for a long time; then Melora put her comb down and looked at Clay.
Clay laughed as her look brought a sudden memory to him. “I remember when I was sick and stayed at your house. You fed me soup and acted so very businesslike about your patient. You must have been about six years old.”
Melora nodded. “And I remember how you promised to bring me books, and how excited I was when you carried out that promise. Our whole family has grown up on those books, Clay. I read them to Toby and Martha still. And Josh and Father listen, pretending that they’re not.”
“Is Pilgrim’s Progress still your favorite?”
“Yes. I love the part when Christian slays that dragon!”
Clay grew still, and his eyes clouded. “I remember when I went off to the Mexican War. I rode out here and told you I’d slay a dragon for you.” He thought of all the wasted years that had followed, and pain filled his eyes. “I’ve made such a mess of things, Melora!”
She could not stand to see him hurt. Tossing down the comb, she rose and came to sit beside him. She took his hand and held it in both of hers. “You’re not to think that!” she said fiercely. “Since you let God take over your life, you’ve become a wonderful father. And you were a faithful husband to Ellen. I want you to be glad for that,” she said, her eyes enormous. “Most men would have abandoned her when she got so sick. But you never gave her a cross word!”
Clay studied Melora’s face for a few moments, drawing strength from the feel of her soft hands. The love and respect he saw in her eyes touched him deeply, and slowly he put his arm around her and drew her close. She came trustingly. Her lips were soft an
d warm under his, and he could feel the beat of her heart as he held her.
Melora was not afraid, for she knew that Clay’s honor was as firm as rock. As she leaned against him, savoring his taste and touch, she was reminded again that she longed for the love she would find only in this man.
Finally she drew back, her cheeks flushed and her eyes shining. She reached up to gently touch Clay’s dear face, and when she spoke, her voice was not quite steady. “I’m sure Pa and the others are wondering where we’ve got to. They’ve already waited for supper so I could come swim for a bit.” She got to her feet and picked up her comb and towel, glancing at Clay with a mischievous light in her eyes. “I must admit you amaze me, Mister Clay,” she said, once again using the childhood name she’d given him. “In all the years I’ve known you, you’ve never come to our house when it wasn’t mealtime!”
“I’m a slave to my stomach,” he answered, laughing. He stood and took her hand, and she paused to look up at him. “Melora, you’re the finest and most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.” His voice, too, was unsteady with emotion.
Melora stared at him, then said, “Thank you, Clay.” She hesitated, then went on: “You know people will still talk about us, even though Ellen is gone?”
“Let them talk!”
She smiled at his defiance but shook her head. “You and I could bear it, Clay. But what about Rena? We can’t let her be hurt.”
Clay groaned. “Oh, Melora, what are we to do? I love you, I want to be with you…but there is still so much to keep us apart. Rena is only a part of it. I’ve got to go back to the war, and it may be years before I return!”
“Clay, never take counsel of your fears,” Melora whispered. “You’ve been faithful. God never forgets faith. We’ll wait.” She nodded firmly, and her eyes glowed with confidence. “And we’ll see what God will do with us.”
Clay gazed down at her, a faint smile on his lips. “All right, Melora.”
Then they turned and made their way back to the house, smiling at each other when Rena came to greet them, happiness on her face.
“Oh, Daddy!” she cried, her young face lit up with excitement. “Come and see the new pigs!”
CHAPTER 7
A-COURTIN’ HE WOULD GO!
Having spent all his life in the high society of Virginia planters, Burke Rocklin knew the available young ladies as well as he knew the bloodlines of the state’s racing horses. But he had been gone for a year, and it took a little time to be certain how the lineup had changed—who had gotten married, who were the new arrivals, and who had risen from the middle class to the top of the social world through the riches of an industrious father.
It took only one session with Loren Delchamp, an old friend, to get all that together. Delchamp, the younger son of a rich planter from Lynchburg, was one of the first men Burke encountered after making his preparations for a siege. He’d bought a new suit and a new pair of boots, then ensconced himself in a nice room at the Majestic Hotel. When he had discovered that Delchamp was in that same hotel, he had considered it a stroke of good fortune.
The two had gone to eat at the hotel restaurant to talk over old times. Delchamp, a rather slight man of Burke’s age, was very glad to see him. As they ate heartily and drank their wine, he spoke freely of the past year. “The worst thing, Burke,” he complained, “is that the women have gone crazy over uniforms! Never saw anything like it!” He tossed off a glass of wine, filled his glass, and announced with disgust, “Society is gone to Hades in a bucket! At every dance, the women practically swoon over some bumpkin who was pushing a plow before he joined up. Nowadays, unless a man’s wearing brass buttons and a saber, he might as well stay home!”
“Always that way during a war.” Burke nodded wisely. He sipped his wine and asked casually, “What about Annabelle Symington? She still the belle of the ball?”
“Oh my word! She married Phil Townsend right before the battle at Bull Run! Poor Phil lost a leg there, but he’s set, I suppose. The Symingtons take care of him very well.”
Burke crossed one name off his mental list and for the next half hour skillfully plied Delchamp. Finally he had three names that he would use to plan his campaign; then his eyes grew sharp when Loren said, “There is a new star on the firmament, Burke. Family rich as Croesus.”
“Ugly as an anvil, I suppose?” Burke shrugged.
“Ugly! Not a bit of it!” Loren insisted. “Good-looking wench named Belinda King. Her father owns four or five garment factories.” He drained his glass, then gave Burke a sour look. “I made a try for her, but the competition was too hot.” He grinned as a thought came to him. “Now there’s something that would be a challenge to your talents, Burke!”
“Always liked a challenge,” Burke murmured.
“I’d like to see you win her away from that big snob she runs with.” Delchamp filled his glass again, drank it down, then said, “An old friend of yours.”
“Who?”
“Chad Barnes.”
At the name, Burke’s eyes narrowed. Barnes, the son of a wealthy planter in the next county, had courted the same girl as Burke for a time, and it had turned out to be a rather nasty business. Angry words had been spoken, and if it had not been for the intervention of friends, a duel would have been fought.
“My old friend Chad, eh?”
“That interests you, doesn’t it?” Delchamp grinned at his friend. “There’s a ball tomorrow night in the Armory. I could introduce you to Belinda. It might be fun for you. She’s a toothsome wench—and I’d like to see Barnes get left at the post!”
“Sounds like it might be fun,” Burke said as he nodded. His eyes were half hooded, and as Delchamp talked on, he thought of what might come of the thing. He despised Chad Barnes—if he could steal the girl from him, so much the better. Finally he said, “Let’s take in that ball tomorrow, Loren.”
Delchamp grinned and winked broadly. “I’ll bet you do the scoundrel in, Burke! You could always handle women!”
Burke and Delchamp spent the evening wandering around the streets of Richmond, then went back to the Majestic. They said good night but agreed to meet at six the next evening. For a long time that night Burke lay awake thinking of his future, but it seemed rather bleak. Gracefield was not going to make any money until the war was over, not with England being blockaded from reaching Confederate ports by Federal warships. And if the Yankees won the war, nobody would have a dime—that much was clear to him.
Only chance I have, he thought just before falling asleep, is to marry some girl who’s got money. Then get it out of farms and plantations—out of everything here in the South. Buy land or a business in the far West, even in the North if necessary!
He did little the next day but stay in his room and read. At six he met Loren, and the two of them had supper, then proceeded to the Armory. The place was crowded, mostly by officers, for many units were stationed in Richmond. As for the women, there were plenty! “Looks like every woman in this part of the state is here,” Burke murmured to Loren as they stepped inside the huge ballroom.
“All out for a bit of fun,” Delchamp said, nodding. He gazed around with satisfaction. “They’ve done the old place up, haven’t they?”
“Yes. It’s pretty plush,” Burke agreed. Chandeliers threw their glittering lights over the crowd below, and the reds, greens, blues, and whites of the women’s gowns added splashes of color. The brass buttons of uniforms glittered as dancers moved across the floor to the music of the excellent band. The noise was terrific, for everyone seemed to be talking at the top of their lungs.
Suddenly Delchamp nudged Burke. “There she is! Belinda King. The one in the blue dress dancing with the major.”
Burke saw her at once and was impressed. She was petite, very pretty, and blessed with long blond hair that hung down her back. At the moment she was smiling up at her partner, revealing two charming dimples. “Not bad,” he said. “Let’s move in so you can introduce me.”
They maneuvered th
emselves so that when the dance was over, they were directly in the path of the pair. Loren appeared to be surprised as he said, “Oh, Miss King! How nice to see you!”
“Hello, Loren.”
Belinda King and her partner would have moved on, but Loren said quickly, “I don’t think you’ve met Burke Rocklin, have you? He’s been out of town on business for some time.”
Burke smiled and stepped forward. Before she could protest, he took her hand and bent over it with a graceful movement. He kissed it lightly and said in a low voice, “I’m charmed, Miss King.”
Belinda King was accustomed to fine-looking men, but this man before her was exceptional. He was tall, dressed in excellent clothing, and was handsome almost to a fault. His dark eyes were somehow magnetic, and when he said, “May I have this dance, Miss King?” she found herself in his arms without quite knowing how it happened.
“Really, Mr. Rocklin,” she protested mildly, “this is Lieutenant Baxter’s dance.”
“Well, we all have our disappointments in life.” Burke smiled down at her. “I’ve discovered that what’s bad for some is good for others. The lieutenant’s misfortune is my good fortune.”
He was, Belinda discovered, the best dancer she’d ever had for a partner. He made her feel as though she was floating weightlessly along and, at the same time, complimented her on her dancing skills. She was accustomed to being sought after—perhaps too accustomed, for she had grown weary of all the pretty compliments and accommodating young bucks who sought to please and win her. But as she gazed up into Burke Rocklin’s eyes, she became aware that he looked down at her with a smile that was charming but somewhat removed—as though he was letting her know that while he was glad she was dancing with him, he would not have been terribly upset had she refused! Her eyes widened at the realization that here was a man with a definite streak of independence—and the challenge that this presented her drew her more than all the pretty prose others had written, paying homage to her eyes or her delicate beauty.
Appomattox Saga Omnibus 2: Three Books In One (Appomatox Saga) Page 40