Josh met York on the front steps of his house, where he’d waited for the last few minutes. Dark had completely fallen, but he could still see the worried look on York’s face as he walked up and shook his hand as if he hadn’t seen his half brother in a long time.
“An eventful day,” he said, noting York’s saddlebags across his shoulders. “Your arm okay?”
“Yep. Stella got me this shirt.”
“Hard to think how fast things can shift on a man.”
York took off his hat and led him inside the house. Camellia stepped from the kitchen. York dropped his saddlebags on the floor. “Rough couple of days, huh?” he said to her. “You doin’ okay?”
Camellia looked at her feet. “I’m upset.”
“Where are the boys?” York asked, his attention already shifted.
Josh’s hands tensed. York needed to pay more attention to Camellia! She needed a time to sit down, to tell everything that had happened to her.
“They’re still working, I guess. I saw them midday, when they stopped at the cookhouse for food.”
York shuffled, and Josh wanted to smack him. Camellia needed somebody to listen to her, somebody to get her a cup of coffee and pat her hand and give her comfort. But York did nothing of the sort, and Camellia glanced back up, her face sad.
Josh caught her eye and smiled as warmly as he could. “Anything I can do for you?”
She nervously wiped her hands on her apron and shook her head.
“You let me know if I can help in any way,” he said. “Any way at all.”
Camellia smiled thinly. “You two need something to eat. Go on and sit down. I’ll fetch you a bite.”
Josh wanted to argue, but she left before he could say anything. Although the two of them didn’t do a lot of talking, they saw each other almost every day. He respected the way she took care of her family at the same time she labored on The Oak. No telling what York and his boys would do when Camellia took on a husband, and surely that would happen soon. Every eligible man within twenty miles seemed sweet on her. He suspected that the only thing that had kept her from marrying already was the dream of Trenton asking for her hand.
York pointed to a chair by the fireplace, and Josh took a seat. York threw a log onto the low fire that was already burning, then fell into a seat across from Josh.
“Anna told you about Tessier, I reckon,” York began.
“Yes, soon as I got home. It’s an unpredictable world, that’s for sure.”
York took off his hat and hung it on his knee. “I saw Mrs. Tessier.”
“She heavy-eyed?”
“Not as bad as I thought.”
“She’s not your typical plantation lady, for certain. It’s a wonder the manse runs as smoothly as it does.”
“Stella keeps it in order. That’s the only way.”
“When do you think we’ll bury Tessier?”
York picked up a spit cup from by his chair. “Soon as the parson can get here. A body won’t keep long this time of year. Anna tell you how it happened?”
“Said Tessier was in the cookhouse, slipped on some spilled potatoes, hit his head. Curious, if you ask me.”
“How so?” York spat into his cup and stared at him, his face wrinkled.
“Well, I don’t mean to raise any questions if none should get raised, but what’s Tessier doing in the cookhouse? Cooking isn’t exactly the responsibility of the master of a plantation.”
York stroked his beard. “That’s a mystery, for certain. But only Mr. Tessier would know, and he’s dead and can’t tell us.”
Josh shrugged. “Just curious, that’s all.”
“What else?” asked York.
“Anna said he cut his hand on a knife.”
“Yep. When he fell, he grabbed on to one.”
Josh stared into the fireplace. A single flame darted up, flickering against the stone. He wondered what more to say, pondered whether to mention what he’d been thinking. “You remember what you told me a few weeks ago?”
York stayed quiet.
“You told me that Mr. Tessier had made some advances toward Camellia,” continued Josh. “You tell that to anybody else?”
York’s face darkened. “That had nothin’ to do with this!” he growled. “How could it? You thinkin’ maybe he come at her, she cracked him on the head?”
“No,” soothed Josh. “Nothing like that. Just want to make sure you didn’t tell the story to anybody else. Cause anybody to get suspicious.”
York spat into his cup. “My mind ain’t thinkin’ straight right now. But you’re the only one I told. I know that for a fact.”
“Look,” Josh said, “a lot has happened today—more than we can handle real easily. Just stay steady, okay?”
York nodded. “Camellia was just there. Nothin’ else to it. She and Stella said the same thing. Folks will believe them. No reason not to.”
“They send for the sheriff?” asked Josh.
“Yep, Trenton did.”
“Master Trenton is here?”
“Yep, he was in Beaufort, and Mrs. Tessier sent for him.”
Josh stood and moved to the fireplace. “You think Trenton had any notions about his father’s advances on Camellia?”
York quickly shook his head. “Not unless somebody else told him. And who would?”
“Camellia maybe?”
“No, she wouldn’t do that. Camellia’s a quiet girl, not one to bring out such a thing if she don’t have to. She wouldn’t tell Trenton such a bad thing about his pa.”
“I suppose not.” Josh rubbed his face and turned his thoughts to other matters. “You still got the money?” he asked softly.
York pointed to the saddlebags. “Stopped by the barn before comin’ here. It’s all right there.”
“What do you plan to do with it?”
“Don’t know. Too much happenin’ right now to give that much thought.”
“You could give it to the sheriff when he comes. Walt’s a good man.”
“No reason confusin’ one man’s death with another. Liable to make Walt real suspicious about both. We already made our decision over this.”
Josh clenched his fists. Although York held the money, he still felt responsible for it. “I think we ought to get shed of it. Feels like it’s got meanness on it … that it’ll bring us bad luck.”
York chuckled lightly. “There you go again, a man of the Lord talkin’ about luck. No such thing accordin’ to the parson, least what little I’ve heard from him. It’s all the Lord’s will, ain’t it? Everythin’ that happens?”
Josh refused to take the matter lightly. “This might not be the time for a religious talk.”
“You surprise me, Brother Josh,” teased York. But his voice had a slight edge to it. “Seems to me a man of the Lord should want to talk religion just about anytime.”
“And you surprise me, Brother York, raising questions about the Lord, you being a touch standoffish when it comes to matters of faith.”
“I can ask a question or two, can’t I?”
Josh tilted his head. Did York really want to talk about faith, or was he using the question to keep from focusing on the money? “Questions are good,” he said. “Talking and all. But I guess I like to do my religion more than just talk about it. Seems that’s the best kind of belief anyway.”
York stopped teasing. “So you don’t think all this is the Lord’s will? Us findin’ that money? Tessier dyin’ all of a sudden?”
“I found the money,” Josh said firmly. “Not we. And whether or not it’s the Lord’s will, I have no way to say. What I can say is this—it’s not the Lord’s will for anybody but the rightful owner to keep that money.”
“But what if we don’t know the rightful owner? Is it our duty to go lookin’ for him?”
“Don’t know the answer to that one either.”
Camellia stuck her head in the room. “Got food on the table. Come on back and wash up.”
“Give us another minute,” said York. “Be right there.”
Camellia turned back to the kitchen.
Josh moved to the saddlebags and lifted them from the floor. “The man mentioned a name,” he said, facing York again.
“So?”
“Mentioned the name Ruth, like it meant something to him.”
York dropped his eyes. “Maybe that’s his wife. Or a sister. Or maybe he was tryin’ to say one of your big words, like ruthless, but didn’t get it all said. Nothin’ we can do with any of that.”
“I thought maybe I’d ask around some, maybe in Beaufort or even Charleston the next time I’m there.”
“Good luck with that. What about Savannah? Maybe he came south to north. Then Columbia. Why don’t you just give up your work and your family and ride all over the state seein’ if you can find Ruth?”
“I know it’s unlikely,” said Josh, angry at York’s mocking tone. “But I have to try. Can’t just let it go.”
“Sure you can. You won’t find anybody anyway, I don’t expect.”
“I’m sure you’re right, but I need to try.”
“I’m sure you do.” York pointed out the room’s only window. “All this is up for grabs now,” he said, sweeping his hand across the expanse of the plantation. “Mrs. Tessier will surely marry again. Some new master will come in and take over this whole place.”
Josh moved to his side. “That’s beyond the two of us. We just work here.”
York spat into his cup. “It don’t have to be that way. Not if we play our cards right.”
“What do you mean?”
York faced him, his eyes bright. “You know how Master Trenton and Camellia grew up together.”
“Yes, they’ve been friends for a long time.”
“He may have leanin’s toward her.”
Josh glanced toward the kitchen, slowly shaking his head. When he spoke, he took care to make sure Camellia couldn’t hear. “Even if he does, it’s not likely they can end up husband and wife. You know how things work. A man of his station doesn’t marry down. It’s not proper.”
“No law against it.”
“Oh, there’s a law, all right. It’s just not on the books anywhere.”
“No punishment if it happens.”
“You’re wrong again. Plenty of punishment … for them and their kids. All the society people in Charleston, Beaufort—you know how they’d act. Oh, they’d speak nice to her face and all. The Tessiers hold too much money for them to do anything else. But behind her back they’d say awful things. No matter what she did, they’d look down at Camellia the rest of her life … and her children, too, when they come. They’d treat them like mongrel pups.”
“If she and Trenton love each other, they can get past all that.”
The conviction in his half brother’s voice, the tone that said this not only could happen but absolutely had to happen gave Josh pause. Although he didn’t want to think it, Josh suddenly realized that York wanted this marriage as much for his own purposes as for Camellia’s happiness. In fact, even if it might not end up best for Camellia, York wanted this anyway. A marriage between Camellia and Trenton guaranteed York’s position.
A bitter taste rose in Josh’s mouth, reminding him again of the thing he disliked most about his half brother: the extra dose of ambition that lay in his gut, the selfishness that put a hard edge on him. Part of Josh wanted to say all this to York, to lay it out plain and hope that by speaking it he could give York a chance to see it, to fight it, and to destroy it forever. But how do you say that to somebody you love? How do you tell a person that he’s got a heart of stone when it comes to wanting something even if it hurts someone else? Especially when that person has cared for you when you figured nobody else would?
“Maybe love can get past all that,” Josh finally said.
“I’ll run this place for them after they marry,” said York. “Make it the finest plantation in the South.”
Josh put a hand on York’s shoulder. “You shouldn’t get your heart set on this. What if it doesn’t come to pass?”
York stared at Josh with a shimmery look in his eyes. “I got no doubt it will happen. But even if it don’t, I’ll come up with some other notions.”
York shook his head. “I’ll keep those to myself for now. A man of the Lord like you might not think them too Jesus-like.”
“We don’t keep much from each other,” said Josh.
“That’s right, but maybe this time it’s for your own good.”
Josh tried to read York’s mind but failed. Sometimes York thought in ways that he couldn’t match.
“Let’s wash up,” said York. “After supper, we got a lot to do.”
“It’ll be confused around here the next few days,” said Josh.
“Yep. Got to get the old man buried.”
“What do you need me to do?”
“Don’t know yet. Just stay close.”
“Anna’s not feeling well, but I’ll do all I can.”
They walked toward the kitchen.
“Headaches again?” asked York.
Josh nodded. “Puts her in bed a lot of afternoons, with rags over her face to keep out the light.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
“You talkin’ about Aunt Anna?” asked Camellia, reaching for a coffeepot as they entered the room.
“Yes,” said Josh, taking the pot and setting it on the table. “Bad headaches.”
“Tell her I’ll check on her,” said Camellia.
“She’ll be glad to see you.”
Josh washed his hands in the wash pot by the back door, then took a chair, his mind on Anna. She held his world together. When she hurt, he did too. He thought of Tessier’s sudden death, the way everything had changed all at once. A chill ran through him. What if something happened to Anna? How would he survive? He pushed out the notion, took the coffeepot, and poured a cup. Footsteps sounded in the front room.
“Sounds like Chester and Johnny,” said Camellia, headed toward them. “I’ll tell them supper is on.”
Josh faced York as she left. “You best not hitch your wagon to Camellia and Trenton marrying up,” he whispered. “Nor to any other notion either. Nobody knows what’ll happen next.”
“I’m an optimistic man,” said York. “Nothin’ wrong with that.”
Josh poured York a cup of coffee. “You haven’t told her yet, have you?”
“Nope,” York answered. “Never saw reason.”
“She’s old enough to know.”
“That’s the truth,” York replied. “But it just don’t seem right, least not now.”
“You’re afraid of telling her, that’s the thing.”
York nodded. “I know what you’re figurin’. You think I’m holdin’ back because I’m hopin’ for her to marry Master Trenton. That I’m just watchin’ out for myself.”
Josh wiped his hands on his pants. He knew his agreement with York was written plainly on his face.
York spoke again. “You’re some right, but I ain’t afraid just for me. I’m fearful for her too—what she’ll feel when she finds out that her mama bore her out of wedlock. That she …”
As York’s words trailed off, Josh saw the hurt in his eyes. Josh knew that despite his faults, York truly loved Camellia and her brothers.
“Camellia’s not your real daughter,” said Josh. “No matter how much it hurts her, she needs to know that someday. She needs to know you stepped in and married her mama, even though she already had Camellia and came up expecting a second baby by another man after you married her. You took care of Camellia and Chester like you had sired them, even when her mama didn’t stay true to you.”
“I don’t know how that will do any good for anybody. You’re not plannin’ on tellin’ her, are you?”
“It’s not my place,” said Josh.
“I reckon it’s not.”
Camellia came back, her brothers stomping in behind her. They were tall boys, like York, with dark features, loud voices, and ready tempers. Also like York, they worked hard and didn’t like anybody who didn’t. Josh wondered how Camellia’s softer temperament managed to mix with such a rowdy group. Somehow she managed it.
York drank his coffee. Josh hung his head, his emotions torn over York’s dilemma. Although he’d not been with York when it all happened, York had told him the secret story. Camellia’s mama had not lived a virtuous life. A finely featured young woman, she’d grown up an orphan and had taken to living with a man after she got out at the age of sixteen. Camellia had come out of the union with that man before marriage, Chester after her. Sadly for her mama, though, that man hadn’t done well making a living for them. So when she met York, she left Camellia and Chester’s father and took up with York. He loved her, he said, when he got on his knees to ask for her hand in matrimony. It didn’t matter to him that she’d fallen short in the realm of chastity. So long as she stayed true to him after the marriage, he wouldn’t hold her past against her.
The marriage lasted almost two years, just long enough for them to have York’s boy, Johnny, but not much more. Camellia’s mama had run off in April that year, 1844, without warning or explanation. Nobody ever knew where. York tried to find her for a while, but she never showed up. Most figured she’d run off somewhere out of state, a long way from The Oak. Just over two years later, after Josh’s arrival at the Oak, York heard from her one final time when a box reached him in the mail. The box contained her last belongings: a pair of earrings, a Bible, the red dress she wore the day they wed, and a navy blue cape. A short letter, written in a scraggly hand, came with the other things.
Hampton, I am sick with the typhus. Will not make it, I expect. Sorry I was not a good woman for you, not a good mother to my children. I am a sinner. May the Lord forgive me. If you see fit, give Camellia my things and tell her and the boys I have sought to mend my ways. Asking mercy …
Then she had signed her name.
After showing Josh the letter, York had torn it up and burned it in the fireplace. As for the rest of the things, Josh didn’t know what had become of them. Knowing York, they were probably destroyed long ago.
“We will not speak of her ever again,” York had told Josh a couple of days after burning the letter. “She is gone forever.”
They had pretty much kept true to that decision. Only when Camellia or one of the boys asked did York ever say anything about her. Even then, his words were sparse. “Your mama died of typhus,” he said simply. “She was a beautiful woman. Camellia looks like her.”
All that was true. Why York left out the fact of her unfaithfulness, Josh didn’t quite know. Was it to spare the children the hurt of knowing their mama was a tart … or to protect York’s own pride? With York, a body could never really know.
Josh wiped his face. Was York right? Was it best to keep from Camellia the secret that she’d come from a mating between a pa and a mama with no virtue? Or should York tell her the truth?
Josh shook his head. Too many secrets, he thought. Too many unsaid truths. Somehow, he figured, the secrets would get out. And when they did, who knew what unexpected things they might shake loose?