Sioux Slave (13 page)

She had a sudden sense of foreboding. “Judge Hamilton, what is it?”

He paused. “On second thought, I believe I will have that drink, Jon.”

The silence seemed as heavy as the hot, humid afternoon. They sat and watched the old man gulp the whiskey. Lenore exchanged puzzled looks with Vanessa, then Shelby.

Pierce Hamilton sighed and looked around sympathetically. “I don't know how to begin, although it's been my sad duty to call on families all during the war–”

“Rand!” Mrs. Erikson gasped and put her hand to her mouth. “My boy; you've finally had news of my poor, dear boy?”

“He's missing in action against the Indians,” Judge Hamilton said. “They may find him safe and sound–”

Mrs. Erikson collapsed in a faint and Vanessa began to shriek at the top of her lungs. Servants came running from everywhere in the ensuing confusion.

Missing. Lenore could only blink. Missing. She wasn't sure what she felt. Rand was probably dead. There wouldn't be any elaborate double wedding for all the other girls to envy. Now she'd be wearing black. Would etiquette allow her to substitute a dark gray?

It dawned on her suddenly that through the confusion and wailing, all three men were looking at her. With pity? Curiosity? She should be weeping, they all would expect that. She thought of the beautiful wedding she wouldn't have; how awful she would look in mourning clothes. She would never end up with both Carstairs Oaks and Randolph Hall. Missing. Big tears welled up in her eyes and ran down her face. Lenore buried her face in her hands and sobbed.

“Oh, my poor dear friend,” Vanessa clung to her, shedding sloppy tears all over her neck and face, knocking Lenore's perky hat askew.

She heard Judge Hamilton's voice trying to bring order to the confusion. “Great Caesar's ghost. I didn't say ‘dead.' There's always hope.”

Lenore dabbed at her golden eyes. If she wept too much, they would be red and swollen; not attractive at all. She looked appealingly at the judge in a way that would tug at his heart and cooed, “For pity's sake, tell us! Tell us everything.”

The judge pulled at his mustache. “He's evidently been missing several weeks in a skirmish against the Sioux–”

“Several weeks?” Mrs. Erikson began to wail again and a maid came running with smelling salts. “He's dead! I just know my dear boy must be dead!”

Rand's father looked pale but sober for a change. “For God's sake, Rose, hush and let the man talk!”

“Yes,” Shelby urged, “Sweet Jesus! Do tell us what you know. After all, he was going to be my brother-in-law.”

“Was?”
Vanessa wept, “you're already thinking of him as dead.”

“Please, everyone, be calm,” the judge implored. “It took a while to get the message from that isolated fort. Rand may turn up after all; maybe he's just wounded.”

Lenore had a sudden vision of herself mincing her way down the aisle on Rand's arm. The wounded hero. He would look wan but elegant in a snappy new uniform. His chest would be covered by glistening medals, far more than Shelby owned. All the other girls would be so envious ...

“Lenore, dear,” Mrs. Erikson said, “are you all right?”

“It–it's been such a shock and I'm tired,” Lenore gasped. “I think I'd like to go home now.”

Judge Hamilton came to his feet. “Great Caesar's ghost, but I'm sorry to bring such bad news. Maybe I should drive you home, Lenore.”

“No.” She stood up and dabbed at her eyes. Perhaps she would look brave and admirable in black after all. Everyone would comment on her impressive dignity. She had seen a bolt of the finest black silk just a few days ago in a shop.

Shelby stood up, limped over to take her arm. “Sweet Jesus! You're in no condition to leave here alone, Miss Carstairs.”

Vanessa clasped her hands together. “Oh, Shelby, you're so gallant! Would you see Lenore home?”

He looked around uncertainly. “But Vanessa, dear, you need me here.”

“Yes, he's right,” Lenore said, her chin coming up bravely. She recalled a riverboat melodrama which featured a particularly courageous heroine, and Lenore relived that part now, relishing being the center of attention. “You need Shelby with you, dear friend. I'll be all right.”

“Oh, but I insist.” Vanessa said, “after all, we are very best friends and we were going to be related.”

Were.
All three women began to weep again.

Lenore took Mrs. Erikson's hand. “I have no words right now, I–I can't even think.”

The other woman patted her hand with her own plump one. “I understand, my dear. We'll let you know the minute there's more news.”

Shelby took her elbow solicitously. While the judge murmured condolences and hopeful comments, Lenore turned with a swirl of dark green skirts and minced her way around the house to the horses, the limping war hero by her side. Too bad she hadn't had a bigger audience, but she knew Vanessa would retell the scene of pathos and bravery over and over in the coming weeks. Without further words, Shelby helped her to her saddle, mounted his own sorrel gelding and they left Randolph Hall at a slow canter.

She would be the center of attention, Lenore thought, at least for a while. But what did this do to all her other plans? She had worked things out so carefully. Marriage would let her have her cake and eat it, too. Now it appeared Rand might have ruined everything by getting himself killed by Indians. For pity's sake, how inconvenient and thoughtless. No real Southern gentleman would do such a thing. This war had been such a mess; no one could make any plans and know for certain they wouldn't be spoiled.

Neither she nor Shelby said anything as they rode back across Shelby's newly purchased, imposing estate that had formerly belonged to a family financially wiped out by the war. Lost in her own thoughts, Lenore stared at the road ahead of her until she cantered up the oak-lined lane to the imposing house that Grandfather Carstairs had built for his bride just before his death.

She motioned that they would ride around to the glass conservatory on the east side of the house. She wasn't quite up to telling her grandmother that Rand was missing, although it occurred to her that the bad news might throw Elizabeth Carstairs into heart failure. Maybe she should tell her and see ...

For a moment, she almost smiled, then frowned and shook her head as she reined in. The old girl was as tough as boot leather; otherwise she might never have survived as a young, pregnant widow. Not only survived, but had made Carstairs Oaks prosper. Elizabeth Carstairs was a strong personality in spite of her age and all the adversities she had dealt with since her only son had taken his family and gone West sixteen years ago. Surely Daddy had meant for Lenore to have everything, but sometimes she despaired of Grandmother ever turning over control of the plantation and the wealth.

Shelby helped her from her horse. “Lenore! Are you all right?”

“Yes. Kind of you to bring me home. Do come in and have a drink.”

He limped over to tie both their horses up and they entered the conservatory through a side door. The steamy room was full of green plants and scented with flowers that even overwhelmed his macassar hair tonic. She headed to her favorite place, the wicker settee under the big camelia bush.

Faintly through the conservatory drifted the soft sound of grandmother's piano:

Lenore sat down on the settee and Shelby knelt by her side. “Perhaps I should call for some smelling salts.”

She shook her head. “For pity's sake, Shelby, I–I'll be all right.”

“Shouldn't you tell your grandmother what's happened?”

“Later; it will be such a blow for her. She doted on Rand, although she said he was spoiled rotten. She said eventually he had the makings of a real man. Let her play her stupid piano and be happy a few more minutes.”

He took her hand. “Suppose she saw us ride up and comes out here?”

“For pity's sake, stop worrying.” She withdrew her hand. “The old woman's getting deaf, half blind and crippled up with arthritis. Sometimes I think she runs on sheer willpower. If it weren't for Judge Hamilton, I'd slap her in an old folks home or an asylum so I could control her money before I'm too old to enjoy it.”

He frowned. “Don't talk so loud. Nero might be hanging around.”

“That big tattooed nigger? I'm not worried about him.” The black butler had been here forever and his allegiance was for her grandmother only.

“You appear to be back to your sweet disposition,” Shelby said a little caustically. “I take it you're now over the shock of your great loss?”

“How could Rand do this to me?” She reached out, pulled a green leaf off the camelia bush, and twiddled with it. “Such great plans and he's messed everything up.”

“How inconsiderate of him.” Shelby leaned back on the settee with a sigh. The light gleamed on his slicked down hair and the big diamond stickpin. Besides the strongly perfumed hair oil, he had the most atrocious taste in neckties, she thought.

“Don't be sarcastic, Shelby.” She tucked her large feet under her skirt. Even having her shoes made too small didn't help them look more petite, they just ached. “I had such plans.”

“Okay, so you won't get the Erikson money, but I'll have that, so between us, we'll control it all if something should happen to Vanessa and your grandmother. You are the only heir, aren't you?”

Lenore nodded. “You ask too many questions, Shelby. A few months ago, you were asking all sorts of things about the Eriksons. Surely you know quality folk don't do that.”

“I forgot myself,” he said.

“For pity's sake, we don't have any other secrets. Yes, I'm the only heir.”

Shelby cocked his head, listening. “Grandma's stopped playing. Is she liable to come out here?”

“Probably gone upstairs to take a nap.” Lenore unbuttoned the top button of her green riding coat.

“Don't sell the old lady short,” Shelby said. “She looks a hellava lot smarter than you may think.” He put his hand on her shoulder, fumbled with her collar.

“She's a stern old dragon, despite that patrician demeanor,” Lenore complained. “I don't think Grandmother and my mother got on well.” she thought a minute, simpered. “Mother. It sounds strange to call her that, even now. She was beautiful and quite vain. Even I had to call her by her first name.”

“No one ever heard from your folks after they left?”

“Is that so surprising? Lots of women don't get on well with their mothers-in-law and I think those two disliked each other very much. Maybe Mother never wrote out of sheer spite, or something tragic happened later, or maybe they just decided to close the door on the past and make a clean break. Look on the bright side,” Lenore cooed. “After sixteen years, I'm not too worried about having anyone claiming a share of the inheritance.”

He fiddled with the lace on her collar. “Honey, you're all heart.”

Lenore nodded absently, struggling to remember the hazy details of that long ago stormy night. She knew it had stormed because the faint thunder had awakened her.

The next morning, Lenore had been delighted to discover her family had already left before she awakened. Now she had everything at Carstairs Oaks all to herself and didn't have to share anything with that baby.

After six months of no news, Grandmother began to make inquiries. But there were thousands of people going West and she couldn't find anyone who had seen the Carstairs in any wagon train on the Oregon Trail. After a year Elizabeth Carstairs stopped running to the door when a rider would appear, and no letters arrived. Lenore didn't miss them much; especially her little sister, Laurel. It meant more of everything for herself.

“Lenore?”

“What?” She jerked, startled, and realized Shelby Merson was staring at her.

“Sweet Jesus! Are you all right? Has the shock of the news about Rand been too much for you? Perhaps I should get you a big drink of whiskey–”

“For pity's sake, don't take on so. I'll be fine.” She took off her perky hat slowly and stared at it. Her mother had been a reigning beauty who loved fine clothes, parties and excitement. It pleased her that Grandmother always said Lenore was the spitting image of her daughter-in-law.

Shelby leaned over and kissed her. “You think anyone suspects we're lovers?”

Lenore snickered and took a breath of his perfumed hair tonic. She did wish he'd stop wearing that, even though he was handsome. “Certainly not my best and stupid friend, Vanessa. It was going to be so convenient, Shelby, with us married to brother and sister. I'm the only heir now to Carstairs Oaks and the Eriksons can't live forever. Something might eventually happen to Vanessa. Maybe it's better this way; everyone will think it's so sweet that the two of us finally end up together.”

He unbuttoned the top buttons of her jacket, put his hand inside, and cupped her breast. “Honey, you think of everything.”

She lay her head in his lap.

“Sweet Jesus,” he whispered, “not here! Suppose someone should see us?”

“There's no one around and besides, who would think a couple would be brazen enough to make love in a glass conservatory?” She reached to unbutton his pants. The trouble with Rand was that he insisted on treating her like a lady when she wanted a man to do forbidden, undescribable things to her; make her do daring things to him; the kind of things she'd been doing to her friend's fiancee since a few weeks after she met Shelby.