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He was alone in a place he did not recognize. His mouth was dry and his eyes were hollow. Beard stubble hid his face, his hair was disheveled and his body was wracked with uncontrollable shivers, yet John forced himself up. He crawled to the creek, repeatedly dipped his hand and drank the cool, cleansing water. Less than four feet away, a cougar watched.
“Papa, where are you?” he called out, inching back to his bed. Spooked, the cougar darted away. Just before he fell asleep again, John looked for the horses. Both were gone.
When morning came, his horse was back but the packhorse wasn’t. His mind had cleared some. He grabbed hold of a tree branch, pulled himself up, got two apples out of his saddlebag, and quickly devoured them. Then he struggled to roll up his blankets. At last, he tied them to his saddle and glanced around for the other horse, but it was gone. He checked the direction of the sun and used all his strength to mount his horse and head north. But by noon, he could ride no more.
Again, morning came. This time John woke to find himself surrounded by Muskhogeans. “There are some days,” he incoherently mumbled, “when I’d not mind death.” He turned over and pulled up his blankets. By the next morning, he finally felt better. The fever and chills were gone and so were the Muskhogeans. He washed in a stream, changed his clothes, combed his hair, and managed to ride the whole day. But just as he was about to stop for the night, he saw rustling in the bushes.
Suddenly, a small black dog shot toward him, scurried up the side of a large rock and leapt into his arms. The whimpering dog licked his neck and then laid her head against his chest. John reeled back and jerked the dog away. Then his eyes lit up. “Sparky?”
Just then, the bushes began to move again and a man’s voice grumbled, “Confounded bloody dog!”
“Adam?”
Instantly, the movement stopped. At length, two tree limbs parted and Adam peeked out. “And who else would chase your bloody dog halfway round the world?”
“I don’t believe it,” John said, watching Adam limp to the rock, plop himself down and yank off his left boot.
“Nor do I,” Adam complained, shaking his boot until a pebble fell out.
“The next time I see Gideon, I aim to shoot him. ‘It’s an easy journey,’ Gideon said, ‘you’ll not mind it at all.’ But we’d been on this bloody road less than a week when—”
“We?” John asked, slowly dismounting and setting Sparky on the ground.
Adam dumped dirt out of his other boot, “You did not think I’d come without Rose and the boy, did you? Anyway, we were robbed. Two horses gone, both mine naturally. I tell you, there’s not a drop of civility left in the entire world. I’ve taken to carrying a pistol.”
“You? Is it loaded?”
“Of course it’s loaded. Your Mister Thomas Rodes kindly taught me to shoot straight. I cannot say I’m enjoying myself though. Guns make a considerable noise, you are aware.”
John sat down on the rock beside Adam, removed his hat and felt his forehead for fever. “Did you say Thomas Rodes?”
“Aye, Thomas Rodes. And he brings a gift for Gideon.”
John eyed Adam’s arm dubiously and then cautiously touched it. His arm felt real. “What sort of gift?”
Adam began putting his boots back on. “Well, it was MacGreagor’s doing. He could contain his curiosity no longer, so he sailed back to England. MacGreagor was intent on learning why Rodes had not restored your mother’s bedchamber. But when he arrived, Rodes showed him a scathing letter from a French mistress. The mistress had taken up the cause for an African woman, with a child, I intentionally add, who claimed to be the wife of a man Rodes sold into slavery.”
“Cesha? He’s found Cesha?”
Finally, Adam smiled. “I cannot wait to see the look on Gideon’s face. In fact, I’ve decided not to shoot him until after he sees her.”
“But Gideon’s gone south. It could be months before he returns.”
“I see. We are forced to wait then. Won’t he be taken aback to find he has a daughter? Her name is Reanie, and she’s not at all certain if she’s American, British or French. Cesha is a sight to behold. No wonder the man is beside himself. She is...” Adam paused to glance back down the path. “She is clearly the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, more handsome even than Hester.”
“Indeed?” John asked, touching Sparky’s nose to see if she was real. Her nose was cold. “Did MacGreagor go to France then?”
“He did, and Mister Rodes insisted on paying the expense. He means to make it up to Gideon, you see. Naturally, he’s freed Cesha and the child, and John, he brought the other two paintings. Wait until you hear what Rodes has to say. I’ve grown to like the man very much.”
“You mean he’s here – in Kentucky?”
“Didn’t I just say that?” Adam asked. “Rodes would have it no other way. I say, are both those horses yours? I’d very much appreciate not having to walk to Maryridge.”
When he looked, John saw the missing packhorse. Its reins were tied to the back of his saddle. “I wonder if it has been there all along?” he muttered.
“What?”
“The pack horse, I thought I’d lost it.”
“Are you all right? You do look a bit weary.”
Sparky sat on her hind legs near John’s feet, begging to be let up. At last, John noticed and patted his thigh. “I’m better for the sight of you. Have you come to call or do you intend to stay in Kentucky?”
Adam sat up straight and smugly smiled. “I happily say I have given the last ounce of strength I can to the boundless, abominable, unthinkable madness of the Legislature. Can you guess what they intend? They think to tax whiskey.”
“So you said before.”
“Yes, well, they intend it much sooner than we thought.”
“Is there no way to stop them? What a man cannot pay in pounds, he pays in whiskey.”
“Precisely. They mean to tax the only profitable business in the Empire, and there is only one recourse,” Adam said with a mischievous grin on his face.
“Build our own distillery?”
“And hide it well. Tell me, have you learned the precious art of distilling?”
“No. Have you any more news?”
“Well, there is the bounty land,” Adam answered. “Congress thinks to close the land Virginia set aside in the Northwest Territory and wait until all the Kentucky land is spoken for. I’d not be surprised if Congress keeps the land for themselves.”
“But they promised us that land as payment for our service in the war. Surely, they’d not risk the ire of every Rebel in Virginia. Besides, they send no troops to rid the land of Indians.”
Adam smirked and began brushing dirt off the legs of his long pants. “No, but they will. They’ll send General Anthony Wayne to resolve the Indian situation.”
“Mad Anthony? Someone needs to warn the Shawnee. Speaking of Indians, we’d best move on. This is Muskhogean land and they do not easily take to settlers.”
“Good heavens,” Adam gasped, instantly getting up and hurrying down the rugged path.
John chuckled, remounted, waited for Sparky to jump on, and then followed. “Care for a ride?” he asked when he caught up.
Adam rolled his eyes, stepped on a log and clumsily pulled himself onto the second horse. He paused just long enough for John to untie the reins and hand them to him. Then he urged the horse forward.
“How far are we from Rose? I cannot wait to see her.”
“That depends on how far I had to chase your bloody dog,” Adam whispered.
“You need not whisper. If the Muskhogeans are about, they’ve long since spotted us.”
“How comforting. Are we far from Maryridge?”
John glanced at the sky. The bright orange sunset was turning to shades of coral and peach. “Three days perhaps.”
“Splendid,” Adam sarcastically grumbled. As they went, he repeatedly watched the bushes for Indians, turning his head from side to side and even looking back.
At last, the smell of smoke from campfires drifted toward them, making John remember his hunger. “Have you any food, have you had your dinner?”
“Aye, the children tire easily, so we are accustomed to stopping early. Frankly, we adults have yet to complain. Our bottoms hurt from the riding, our legs cramp from walking, and who can rest on the hard earth? Never have I seen ground so hard. And who have we to blame? Gideon! All I ask is one clear shot.”
Suddenly, John halted his horse.
“What is it?” Adam asked, his eyes wide as he twisted to look behind him.
“Hush,” John whispered.
Adam quickly drew his pistol and held it with both shaking hands. Then he heard a woman’s voice raised in song. “Great glory, I forgot.”
“Is it Polly?” John asked, turning in his saddle to watch Adam’s face.
“Aye, but John, there is something...” Adam started. But John was suddenly out of sight. “Wait!” he shouted, frantically kicking the side of his horse.
“I have waited long enough.”
“If you don’t stop, I’ll shoot.”
John pulled on the reins and turned in his saddle. “Put that away,” he said, looking down the barrel of Adam’s pistol.
“I will not let you hurt her.”
“Hurt her? Why would I hurt her?”
“She had no choice. She wed an Indian and had a child. The child died, I’m sad to say. John, if you cannot abide...”
John studied Adam’s face for a long moment and then sadly looked down,
“She is married?”
“Was... He was killed in a raid.”
“I see.”
“She fears you will reject her. Would you do such a thing?”
“Of course not,” John said, starting his horse again.
“In that case, I will not shoot you,” Adam muttered, lowering his pistol.
*
HER BACK WAS TURNED when John finally reached the Wilderness Road, slipped down off his horse and carefully moved closer. A white shawl covered her shoulders and her sky-blue dress glowed in the firelight. As usual, a crowd had gathered and children were huddled at her feet to listen as her exquisite voice filled the night air:
“In thy laughter is heaven’s perfect love,
Thine eyes a reflection of angels above.
Thy smile a reminder of God’s blessed grace,
His glory we see in each child’s face.”
When her music ended, a man abruptly shouted to her, “Marry me, Polly.”
Polly pulled her shawl tighter and folded her arms, “Carl Long, each night thee hath asked, and each night I have answered the same...”
“No!” the crowd shouted, bursting into laughter.
“She cannot,” another yelled, “she aims to marry me.”
John removed his hat, ran his fingers through his hair and inched closer.
“Choose me, Polly,” a third man cried out.
“Oh, leave the poor girl be,” Anna Wentworth, a stout, older woman shouted. “If I was her, I’d shoot the lot of you. You been pester’n her all the way from Virginny. Go to bed! We’ve another hard day acom’n and I’ll not spend winter with the likes of you. Now shoo,” she said, waving the back of her hand. At length they started collecting the children and heading for their bedrolls. Then, one by one, they noticed the tall stranger.
“I had hoped you would marry me,” he said finally.
At the sound of his voice, Polly caught her breath and turned. Her eyes sparked in the glow of the fire and her smile widened at the sight of him. For a long moment, she stared deep into his eyes. “Art thou truly asking?”
John reached for her hand, “Truly. I’ll not lose you again...not ever.”
Adam finished tying the horses to a tree, slipped up beside Rose and put an arm around her waist. “It is not polite to watch,” he whispered.
“I’ll look away if you will,” Rose giggled. Neither looked away, nor did Thomas Rodes, Cesha, and the beautiful African child, Reanie.
Polly’s smile faded. “Thou doeth not know...”
“I do know, Adam told me.”
“And thou wants me still?”
He brought her hand up to his lips and gently kissed it. Then he wrapped one arm around her and leaned close to her ear. “It is I who must beg forgiveness. Marry me, Polly; please say you will marry me.”
At last, she took a forgotten breath. She pulled back a little, touched a lock of his raven hair and then put her hand on the side of his face. “John, thou art feverish.”
“I was afraid of that; tell me this is not a dream.”
It was Adam who answered, “It is not a dream.”
Embarrassed, Polly glanced around at the crowd. All eyes were on her, so she playfully put her hands on her hips. “Doest thou promise not to beat me?”
“Papa would have me hung if I did.”
“Wilt thou love me, even when I am old?”
John reached for her hand again. “I will. I will cherish you above all else, hold you more precious than the memory of my mother, and honor you, even unto the head of my table.”
Neither of them had noticed the circuit rider, who was suddenly standing next to them. He wore black trousers, a long black coat and a wide-brimmed black hat. “Well now, by my calculations, you are half married already. For a small but necessary fee—”
“Naturally,” Adam said, digging into his change pocket. He withdrew a single coin and handed it to the preacher.
“A six-pence, is that all?” the circuit rider asked.
“And be glad of it. I could pay in Virginia dollars if you like. We all know what they’re worth,” Adam shot back.
“Then I’ll have your gold pocket watch.”
“You’ll what... You will not.”
“Gentlemen, please,” Thomas Rodes interrupted, handing a pound and three farthings to the circuit rider. “I for one would like to see the wedding.”
“You tell ‘em, Brit,” Anna Wentworth yelled. “Quiet everyone!”
Polly’s eyes danced as she spoke, “I, Polly Ann Lewis, take thee, John Carson, to be the husband I have longed for all my life. To thee I pledge constant prayer for thy health, as many children as the Lord will allow, understanding when thou art angry, and patience when thou art wrong.” She hesitated and then wrinkled her brow. “John, must I take a vow to obey thee?”
John grinned. “It wouldn’t do any good.”
The circuit rider cleared his voice and began to dig a piece of paper out of his inside jacket pocket. “And will the two of you forsake all others, until death do you part?”
“I will,” Polly answered.
“As will I,” John said.
“I believe that’s it then. Let’s see, love, honor, obey, forsake... Yes, sir, that’s it.” The circuit rider finally got the paper out of his pocket and reached in the other side of his jacket for a quill pen and a small bottle of ink. “All that’s necessary now is to write the certificate.”
“When’s he gonna kiss her?” a man shouted.
“That’s what I forgot,” the parson said. “I now pronounce they are husband and wife. What God has joined, let no man separate. Go on, kiss her.”
John beamed at his new wife and at last lowered his lips to hers.
“And to think,” a redheaded boy of seventeen muttered, “she was nearly mine.”
Mister Wentworth stepped forward with a scowl on his face. “It’s not right, Parson! The Good Lord meant for wives to obey their husbands.”
“Sherman Wentworth,” his wife Anna yelled, “if I obeyed you, I’d have rid my horse off a cliff back at the Blue Ridge.”
At that, the crowd roared.
Little Reanie tugged on Polly’s skirt. “Mademoiselle Lewis, you forgot these,” she said, handing her three wilted flowers. Her thick long hair was in a lopsided bun, her short red frock was wrinkled, but her big brown eyes were ablaze with excitement.
“Oh, Reanie, they are beautiful. I thank thee,” Polly said, taking the flowers.
As soon as John turned, Rose rushed into his arms. “Imagine our delight when she found us. Oh, John, she’s glorious.”
“I agree,” John smiled, his arm still around Polly. “Wait until Papa sees her...and all of you.”
“You mean me?” Thomas Rodes asked, sharply bowing first to Polly and then to John.
“He’ll most likely shoot you, Mister Rodes,” John said, politely nodding.
“Oh, do call me Cousin Thomas. We are cousins, you know.”
“Are we?”
“That we are. My, but you are the image of our grandfather. Can you ever forgive me for staring at you that night? I confess, I believed you were his ghost come to haunt me. I was quite frightened, you know,” Thomas said. “Oh my, I’ve forgotten Mrs. Ross. Do allow me to present Mrs. Gideon Ross, and her daughter Reanie.”
Her smile was genuine and her features delicate. She was dressed in green and wore the latest Paris fashion, with a wide row of lace on the cuffs of her puffed sleeves. Cesha Ross drew nearer, slowly curtsied, and lifted her eyes to John’s.
“I am pleased to make your acquaintance,” John said, “Gideon’s gone off again to find you, I’m afraid. But he’ll be back. He’s not given up, not for one moment in all these years.”
*
URIAH SLEPT LONGER than he intended. He’d stayed up late the night before fraught with worry. The full moon had long since come and gone and still John was not back. Cranky, he grabbed a cup and saucer out of the cupboard and plopped them down on the kitchen table. Then he banged the teakettle three times against the stone hearth, before he managed to get a firm grip on it with the leather potholder.
Lilly scrambled into the kitchen, whipped around and closed the door softly behind her. “Hush, Massah.”
“What do you mean hush?” Uriah growled. “‘Tis my own house and I’ll be as noisy as I like.”
“Massah John be home.”
“Praise be,” Uriah said, setting the hot kettle down hard on the iron plank.
He instantly headed for the door, but not before Lilly raced to get in front of him. “What is the matter with you?”
“You’s can’t go up there. Massah John, he’s done brung a wife.”
“A wife?” he said, starting to wave her aside. Suddenly, he stopped. “You are mean it? Who?”
“They’s done snuck in, in de night and they’s be in every room in de house.”
“How many wives did the boy take?”
Just then, the backdoor opened and a woman entered. She hung her shawl on a nail and walked to the cupboard to find a teacup. “Good morning,” she said, “I was afraid Reanie would not be warm enough, so I took an extra blanket. John said to say he is sorry for not returning when promised.”
“Who are you?” Uriah asked.
Polly stopped pouring tea, studied his blank expression and smiled. “I am John’s wife.”
“I see,” he muttered, sinking into the nearby chair and pretending not to notice as Lilly quietly left the room.
“Tea?”
“If it is not a bother,” he pouted.
“No bother at all.” She brought two cups, poured the water and then took a seat directly across the table. Her smile had not faded, but he held his eyes down, and worry lines were deep in his forehead when Polly gently took his hand. “Does thou truly not recognize me?”
Slowly, Uriah looked up. “You are Quaker?”
“Thou once sent me a letter from Virginia. Sadly, it was two years before it reached me.”
“Are you...” Instantly, Uriah’s eyes lit up. “Great glory, it is you,” he blurted out, quickly taking her other hand. “And my son has had the good sense to take you to wife?”
“He has.”
“In that case, welcome home, daughter. But how...where did you come from? Oh, never mind, you can tell me all about it later. Never have I been so happy. The truth be known, I have always favored you.”
“Indeed?” Rose asked, walking into the kitchen. She barely gave him time to stand up before throwing her arms around him. “And all these years I thought you favored me.”
“Where the devil have you come from?”
Rose giggled and hugged him again. “Mahala naturally. Mama and Papa send their love. Adam vows to sleep for a week and Christopher’s not moved a muscle since we got here. Uncle, Adam has given up his position, we’ve come to stay.”
“Oh, Rose, how sorely we have missed the family. Are there more of you, Lilly said...”
Thomas Rodes casually leaned against the doorframe. “Well, there is me. I’d bow, sir, but I’ve been warned it might be unwise.”
“And who might you be?”
“Your nephew,” Rose answered.
Uriah’s smile quickly faded and his eyes narrowed. “Thomas Rodes. I should kill you and be done with it.”
“Yes, you should,” Thomas said.
“Uncle, please, he’s a guest,” Rose countered.
“Aye, he’s been a guest in my house for forty-two years.”
Thomas walked in, pulled a chair away from the table and waited for Rose and Polly to sit. “Not so, I am only forty-one. I was not yet born when my father sent you away.”
“Uncle, please,” Rose tried again. “Sit down and have your tea. He means us no harm and he has brought Gideon’s wife and a daughter Gideon doesn’t know he has. Oh Uncle, can you not find it in your heart to wait? I promise when you have heard Cousin Thomas, you’ll have the answers to all your questions.”
“Well, I...” Uriah started.
“Please,” Polly grinned, “he has been most kind to me.”
Adam carried a sleepy Christopher in and handed him to Rose. Following close behind, John quickly kissed Polly on the cheek and headed for the water bucket.
“Well...” Uriah started again. Suddenly, his eyes widened. “Great glory, Emiline!”
“Who?” Adam asked, finding a seat at the table.
“Our neighbor,” John answered, dipping water into a glass. “She’s the finest neighbor a man could ask for. And if I am not mistaken, she has spent considerable time here while I was away.”
“A good neighbor, do you call it?” Uriah shot back. “She is the most annoying, hateful, distracting woman... How do you know about her constant intrusion while you were away?”
“I arranged it. After all, when a man has a father like you, he must keep him under careful regulation.”
“I should have guessed. Treachery, and from my own son,” Uriah grumbled. Suddenly, his expression changed. “But you will allow me a little sport in her regard?”
“What do you have in mind?”
“I hope to surprise her with Polly. Just once, I’d like to be the one with all the shocking news.”
“Done,” John said.
*
CAREFUL TO STAY OUT of the widow’s view, John took Polly’s hand and led her up the path to the ridge. The fall air was not yet crisp and the leaves had only just begun to turn.
“Thou promised to rest,” she protested halfway up.
“I will, but not until you see it. I have dreamed of bringing you here and I’ll not wait another day,” he said, holding back a tree branch until she passed. When he neared the top, he let her walk ahead and then watched her face light up.
“Thou remembered,” she said, her eyes feasting on the rolling hills below bright with color. In the distance, the shiny Kentucky River wound its way toward the west. A flock of migrating birds flew north to south, and Polly delighted in all of it.
John wrapped his arms around her. “I could hardly forget. It was here you nearly broke my leg.”
Polly lightly kissed his lips and then cocked her head to one side. “Thou deserved it.”
“How so?”
“Thou should not have made thy presence known until I stopped crying.”
“I hadn’t the luxury, Papa was waiting. As it was, it took most of two hours just to find you. And what reward for my trouble? A firm kick in the shin.”
She did not laugh. Instead, she tightened her arms and laid her head on his chest. “I did not want thee to see me cry. I so wanted thee to stay. I wanted thee to love me, to marry me, to hold me in thy arms forever.”
He kissed the top of her head and closed his eyes. “Oh, Polly, how can you ever forgive me? I stood right here and promised to come back.”
“I forgave thee long ago.”
“I missed you so. I built a house and then cursed its emptiness. I filled it with people, and then resented their inability to console me. At night, I thought I would go mad for want of you. And now, now that I hold you in my arms, the words seem...”
Suddenly, her arms were tight around him, her lips were on his and her breathing was insistent. Captured by the ecstasy of her passion, he kissed her longingly until he could bear no more, took his wife’s hand and led her into the forest.
*
ALL DAY URIAH KEPT watch and his pacing began to annoy even him. People were everywhere, eating constantly, taking much-needed baths, washing clothes and chatting. They scurried up the stairs, then down again. They went out the doors only to come back in, and everyone seemed to be going in different directions at once.
Everyone, that is, except Adam, who sat in the sitting room soaking his feet and watching Uriah pace. “Is she coming?” he asked, watching Uriah peek once more out the window.
“At last! And right on schedule. A man could easily set his clock by her.”
Uriah let the curtains close and headed to the foyer. “Here she comes,” he shouted, his voice echoing through the house.
In a flurry, Uriah moved a chair to the center of the sitting room and appointed places for John, Polly, Thomas and Rose to sit as they entered the room. Twice, he changed his mind and moved Polly. “Try not to breathe. I tell you, the woman can hear a sigh at twenty miles.” He hurried back into the foyer, pulled the sitting room doors shut and then turned with his back to them. Whistler took hold of the doorknob, waited for Uriah to count the footsteps and then opened the door just as she was about to knock.
“You quite enjoy that, don’t you?” Emiline sneered, glaring at Uriah while she handed her musket and hat to Whistler.
“Indeed I do.”
“I’ve baked a pie,” she said.
Uriah put his hand out and started to take it from her. “How thoughtful.”
“Not for you, for Polly.”
Behind the sitting room doors, the family burst out laughing. “Polly?” he asked, ignoring them.
“Yes, Polly. Now, are you going to let me in?”
Uriah rolled his eyes, pushed both doors wide open and stood aside. “How did you know? Do you now admit to peeking in our windows?”
“No, I don’t,” she shot back. “You are never so clever as you think, Uriah Carson. You lent me Isabelle to help in my shop. Then you sent Seth to fetch her. Seth said John had a wife and her name was Polly.”
“Good heavens, I forgot to warn Seth,” Uriah groaned.
Emiline handed the pie to Uriah and walked straight past. “Dearest Polly, and John, aren’t the two of you a handsome picture.”
“Thank you,” John said. “Allow me to introduce...”
“Dear me,” Emiline interrupted, looking at Adam’s feet. “Do sit down, sir, you look in terrible pain.”
“Blisters,” Adam answered, taking his seat and then easing his feet back in the washtub.
“I’ve just the thing for blisters. I’ll go and get it right after tea.”
“Indeed?” Uriah asked. “You offered no such relief when I suffered new shoes.”
Emiline sarcastically grinned. “That’s because I enjoy it when you suffer.” Next, she turned her attention to Rose. “John, who’s this?”
“My dear cousin, Roselee, her husband, Adam, and their son, Christopher. And this is Thomas Rodes of Shrewsbury, England.”
“I am charmed, Mrs. Puddifoot,” Thomas said, curtly bowing. He took the chair from the center of the room and put it next to his. “Do sit by me, I’ve so anticipated our meeting.”
“Have you?” Emiline asked, taking a brief moment to glare at Uriah. “Tell me, are you related to him?”
Thomas quickly lied, “Not in the least.”
Emiline smoothed her skirt and sat down. “Then I’m pleased to make your acquaintance. Now, I don’t suppose anyone is interested in the latest news from Harrodsburg. It is Monday, you know.”
Uriah set the pie down, closed both doors, crossed his arms, and leaned against the wall. “If you must, I suppose.”
“There’s been more than one wedding in Kentucky. Mister Dawson has himself taken a wife, and who do you think it is?”
“Who?” Thomas asked.
“The Widow Purdy, and the sheriff not cold in his grave these four weeks.”
“Sheriff Purdy died?” John asked.
“I’ll tell you later, John,” Uriah said.
Emiline smirked and lifted her chin. “Well, I’ll tell it now. Mister Chester called La Rue out, and La Rue shot just as the sheriff stepped between them. Bang, he was dead, shot in the heart. Polly dear, will you come on Sunday and sing for us? We’ve greatly missed your singing.”
“Thee honors me, Mrs. Puddifoot,” Polly said.
“I say, Mrs. Puddifoot, might I be allowed to come?” Thomas asked.
“Well, of course, Mister Rodes. We might have another duel. Mister Chester has not yet shot Jacque La Rue, you see.”
John glanced at his father then winked at Polly. “Emiline, will you stay for dinner?”
“Now he’s done it,” Uriah mumbled.
“Oh please do,” Thomas said. “I so enjoy your manner of speaking. It’s so very...”
“American?” Uriah asked.
Suddenly, both sitting room doors flew open and Jacque La Rue burst in.
“Mademoiselle Lewis,” he said, stopping dead in his tracks.
Startled, the men quickly got to their feet—all except Adam, who merely peeked around Thomas Rodes. Nevertheless, he put his hand nearer to the pistol he’d placed on the floor beside his chair.
“Mister La Rue, will you not take tea with us?” Uriah asked, noticing his odd appearance and wrinkled clothing. La Rue’s hair was uncombed beneath the hat he’d not yet removed.
La Rue did not answer, his wild eyes shifting from Polly to John and back to Polly.
“Mister La Rue?” Uriah tried again.
“Why are you here, mademoiselle?”
“She is my wife,” John answered.
La Rue’s anger was fierce and unchecked when his eyes met Polly’s. “You married the Brit?”
“Here, here now...” Thomas started, taking a step forward.
Uriah quickly moved to stand between them. “He means no offense, I assure you. Everyone knows the French and British have set aside their mutual hatred in America. Is that not so, Mister La Rue?”
La Rue turned his bloodshot eyes on Uriah, “Oui, monsieur, hatred.”
“Why, Mister La Rue, you’re drunk,” Uriah said. “Good heavens, you look dreadful. Has something happened to our dear Eleanor?”
“She is with child,” La Rue answered, his expression unchanged.
“But how glorious,” Uriah said.
“Oui, glorious. She will fill the territory with French La Rues, no?”
Uriah brought a hand up to rub his forehead. “Oh.”
Again, La Rue turned his hostility on Polly. “This, I do not forgive,” he said. He turned and stormed out of the house.
Uriah rushed to the window and watched until La Rue mounted his horse and rode swiftly down the lane. “He’s gone. I’ve never seen the man so enraged. He must love Polly more than I thought. Why did he come, do you think?”
“He came to take thy land,” Polly said, “I have seen that look before.”
“Impossible, we’ve a proper deed.”
“So did my father,” Polly said.
The men sat back down just as Lilly came in with tea. Uriah returned to his place at the door and watched as Adam started to stand up, then thought better of it.
“It is Mister La Rue who has a worthless deed on the Lewis land,” Adam said.
“Truly?” Polly asked.
“My dear Polly, I’ve not spent my valuable time in the Land Commission without some advantages. Before I gave up my wig, I saw the deed to Maryridge duly sworn by men of considerable influence. Furthermore, I did some checking. Mister La Rue bought the Lewis land from Mister Gannon, who bought it from one George Brown. Mister Brown is a speculator who neither settled on the land nor set foot on it. As Virginia so rightly upholds, deeds held by settlers take precedence,” Adam said.
“Then my father yet owns it?” Polly asked.
“Indeed he does, I have seen to the papers myself.”
Uriah’s face was all aglow by the time Adam stopped talking, “And now that Polly is a Carson, La Rue builds a house for Eleanor on Carson land!”
“Papa, what are you up to?”
“Nothing...at the moment.”
*
THE SWEET AROMA OF baked chicken, fresh-baked bread and buttered squash filled the dining room at Maryridge.
“But without his knowing, Mama was following.” Rose said, dabbing the corners of her mouth with a cloth napkin.
“Do you mean my brother, himself, led her to the rum?” Uriah asked, intentionally seated at the opposite end of the long table from Thomas Rodes.
“Aye,” Rose giggled. “And in Mama’s hand was a hammer with which to smash every bottle. Fortunately, he discovered his indiscretion just in time.”
John sat across from Rose. He finished his meal, laid his napkin in his plate and reached under the table for Polly’s hand. “What did he do?”
“What he always does in situations such as these. He kissed her. And he kept on kissing her until she relented the hammer. Then, when he had taken her safely away to their bedchamber, the rest of us moved the rum.”
“Well done,” Thomas said, clapping his hands and grinning at Emiline in the seat next to him.
Uriah rolled his eyes and reached for the last biscuit. “I don’t suppose any of you thought to bring a bottle or two.”
“Three actually,” Adam said. “Unfortunately they were on my horse.”
“I might have guessed,” Uriah mumbled, reaching for a small bowl of freshly churned butter.
“Adam, hard as I try, I cannot imagine you as a farmer,” John said. “What do you think to do?”
“I think to stay as far from Assembly men and legislators as possible. I will open a shop.”
“A general store,” Rose added, “he has a barge already arranged.”
John chuckled. “Filled, no doubt, with British shoes. Adam, you are aware the people have no money.”
“I am, but they will someday. In the meantime, I’ll trade for livestock and the food I don’t intend to grow. I will go happily along my merry way without a congressman in sight.”
“My love,” Rose said, “I do admire your restraint. But if you do not immediately tell them, I fear for your health.”
“Tell us what?” Uriah asked, half a biscuit in one hand and a knife loaded with butter in the other.
“It is about Kentucky, I am sad to say. The old Congress has left the duty of granting statehood in the hands of the new Congress.”
“But we have no new Congress,” John said.
“Precisely. Nor will we for quite some time if the Federalists have their way. If the constitution is ratified, it will be months before new congressmen are elected. And if the constitution is not ratified, we’ll most likely go to war.”
“War, oh my,” Emiline gasped, bringing her hand to her chest.
Uriah slapped the butter on his biscuit. “Imagine that, the woman’s become faint-hearted.”
“Then General Wilkinson may be right. We would do well to separate from the Union completely,” John said.
“Wilkinson aligns himself with the Spanish,” Uriah scoffed. “And he has more in mind than just arranging trade through New Orleans. Not that he’ll admit it.”
“You think we are better off aligned with the Federalists?” John asked.
Uriah shrugged. “At least we speak the same language.”
Emiline was still in shock. “Have we no other choice?”
“Aye, we can pray the constitution is not ratified,” Adam answered. “I tell you, we will rue the day it is.”
“What precisely are you saying?” John asked.
“To begin with, this constitution contains no laws for our individual protection. In fact, they have slighted the matter altogether,” Adam answered, his excitability growing with every word. “They intend complete control of the militia and they make no law forbidding the search of our homes. They neglect our right to bear arms and do not grant fair and just hearings. They have not even done away with debtor’s prison. They state no law protecting a man’s right to speak freely and...it does not mention slavery at all. Oh, they promise to abolish it, but not until the year 1800.”
“But that’s another twelve years,” Polly said.
“Twelve more years of this madness,” Uriah put in. “Slavers will bring thousands, perhaps millions in another twelve years.”
Adam wiped his mouth with his napkin and then spread it back on his lap. “They say Virginia put up a good argument against slavery at first. But once accused of wanting only to increase the worth of their own slaves, they gave up the fight.”
“My love,” Rose sarcastically grinned, “now tell them the benefits of this constitution.”
“There are scant few, Rose, as you are well aware.”
“Tell them anyway, and do get hold of yourself. We are out of Virginia now.”
Adam finally smiled and laid his hand atop hers. “Promise you will continue to remind me.”
“Happily,” said Rose, returning his smile.
Adam took a quick sip of tea. “We will have an army, a navy, and we retain the right to vote. We...”
“He means men can vote...white men owning land,” Rose interrupted.
“Splendid,” Uriah said. “Here, a man cannot be certain from day to day whether he owns his land or not.”
Adam watched his wife’s face, then cautiously went on, “Congress will be empowered to impose tariffs, collect taxes, build proper roads, maintain a competent postal service, and set about seeing to national money – made of silver and gold, of which we have little. But without these benefits, we’d have thrown their constitution out immediately,” Adam went on, his voice rising again. “I tell you, they do not trust us. We are Rebels, you see. They fear we will rise up against them and they make laws to prevent it. They find themselves in the same unhappy situation as the king, with millions of people to carefully regulate and no pleasant way of doing it. Therefore, they resort to trickery.”
“Adam, what are you saying?” Uriah asked.
“Uncle, they hold out the right to vote with one hand while stripping us of the same right with the other. They intend a president, a vice-president, a senate, a house of representatives, and judges empowered with final say on all laws. This I ask you - for which of these fine men will we be allowed to vote?”
Uriah broke off another half biscuit. “Which one?”
“We will be allowed to vote for one legislator per thirty thousand men, women and children...and that is all!”
“We are not to vote for president?” Uriah asked.
“They will empower an electorate for the cause, an electorate not of our choosing. We would do better to have a king, you see. The one representative we are allowed to elect will join others, and the lot of them will be divided by three, one-third up for reelection every two years.”
“I see no problem with that,” John said.
“Be patient, you will. They will require only two-thirds to pass a law, you see. Therefore, should we hate the law and vote away one-third of the legislators, the required two-thirds will remain...enough to pass the law.”
“I see,” John said.
Rose took a deep breath and fiddled with a button on her skirt, “Since you are already in an uproar, tell them about the taxes.”
“They will collect a national tax from each state, which they sorely need. Our debt to the French has increased twofold.”
“Ten million pounds?” Uriah gasped, his uneaten biscuit still in his hand. “Great glory, they have borrowed.”
“And from the moneylenders as well.” Adam nodded. “I cannot imagine how we will ever repay it.”
“And if we don’t, do the French threaten war?” John asked.
“Fortunately for us, they have their hands full with the British and rumors of their own rebellion.”
Thomas thoughtfully pondered what Adam was saying. “If the states do not agree to this constitution, what then?”
“They’ll agree or suffer the same fate suffered since the war began—abominable, unbearable confusion. Before, we needed all thirteen states to pass a law, but again they have been quite clever. The constitution only needs a majority of seven.”
“But what if a state refuses?” Emiline asked.
“Congress will be empowered to force them.”
Uriah’s mouth dropped. “You mean attack?”
Rose gently took her husband’s hand again. “My dearest Adam neglects to mention that there is no other solution to consider just now. The Federalists are well aware they may be hung for their boldness, our own militiamen would never search our homes, nor would they fire upon another state.”
“She’s right, you know,” Uriah said. “After all, we are thirty thousand to one. On the other hand, who can say what these men might do once they taste power?”
Rose smiled. “I say we wait. If we find this constitution intolerable, we can simply rebel again.”
“If we are allowed to keep our guns,” John put in.
Thomas Rodes stroked his neatly trimmed beard. “We might do well to build a hidden reserve just in case.”
“We?” Uriah asked.
“Yes, we. I intend to stay in America.”
“Abandon the house in Shrewsbury?” Uriah asked.
“Even restored, it is a cold and empty house in need of a family. A family which, in my bitterness and resentment, I neglected to acquire. What would you do with it?”
Uriah lowered his gaze and wrinkled his brow. “I had not thought what I would do with it.”
“I would gladly give it back,” Thomas said.
“Indeed?”
The room grew suddenly quiet.
“And would you also gladly give back the painting of my father?” Uriah asked.
“I already have, it is at Mahala,” Thomas answered. “Before you came to the house in Shrewsbury, I hung it in my bedchamber because I feared you would come and go in the night without my hearing you. I thought when you found it gone, you would search the other rooms.”
John stared at Thomas. “It was in your bedchamber?”
“You lit only the candles near my bed. The painting hung at the other end of the room, the dark end.”
“My memories overcame me. I could stay in the house no longer,” Uriah mumbled.
“I see,” Thomas said. “An odd thing, memories, particularly when you are in lack thereof. I had possession of my grandfather’s portrait all those years and never once cared to look at it.”
Suddenly, Uriah’s rage overcame him, “He was not your grandfather.”
“I’m afraid you are mistaken, he was my grandfather and you are my uncle.”
“Impossible! That would mean your father was my brother, and no brother of mine would send away four helpless little children!” Uriah abruptly threw his biscuit in his plate and stood up. “I’ll not hear another word!”
“Go on,” Thomas said, his voice rising to meet Uriah’s, “hate your brother if you must, I cannot fault you for it. God knows I hated him myself, but do not take your rage out on me. I did not know what he had done for many years. While you enjoyed a wife and a family, I had nothing.”
“Nothing,” Uriah shot back, “you had all I owned.”
“What I had, Uncle, was an inheritance I could not spend, a father without the good sense to die, and a mother who would have sold her soul to be mistress of your house. In the end, she hung herself.”
Uriah stared at Thomas. Long seconds ticked away before he bowed his head and sat back down. “I am sorry to hear that.”
“Thank you.”
Emiline leaned closer to Rose. “Are they truly related? They don’t look a thing alike.”
“Aye, but they are equally forceful, don’t you agree?”
Emiline nodded.
“Shall I tell you about the storybook?” Thomas asked, still watching Uriah’s face.
John waited, but his father did not answer. “Well, I’d like to hear it.”
“Very well then, we did not live in the main house. I grew up in the gardener’s cottage at the back of the house. As I grew, I began to notice an old woman who often peeked in our windows and skulked about the grounds. It was not until years later that I learned her name. It was Glenna.”
“My mother’s maid servant?” Uriah asked.
“Aye. From the day she was born, no one loved Mahala, your mother, more than Glenna.”
John studied Thomas’ face. “Was it Glenna who told you about the rock and the cushion Mahala was sewing?”
“It is all in the storybook, every detail. My father was indeed your brother. Glenna wrote it and I believe it.”
Uriah stared at his plate, considering the words Thomas said. “Glenna would have no reason to lie. But how could a real brother send us away, and why don’t I know him?”
“Papa, perhaps we might have tea in the sitting room,” John said.