Ten
Even Cort had to admit that Page was a beautiful child. But he would never permit himself to touch her, which suited Anne just fine, especially since she had caught her brother and her husband naked in the same bed in Ross’s home. There had been no big screaming scene. Anne had known for several years that Cort and Ross were having a homosexual affair, and during those years, she had planned and schemed and done it very well indeed.
While Cort had been busy scrambling for his clothes and her brother laughing at the whole situation, Anne had told her husband how it was going to be and would brook no argument unless Cort wanted his reputation ruined.
The upshot of it was Anne was now probably the richest woman in all of Virginia . . . and it was all going to be in writing. With Cort’s parents now deceased, the entire plantation, the small town not far from the plantation, the saw mills, grist mills, horses, cattle, everything now was split right down the middle. Anne and Page would never want for anything.
Cort had, unbeknownst to Anne, seen to it that the second baby, adopted by Georgia and named Ben Franklin Washington, was cared for . . . and cared for well. He had quietly shifted Georgia and her husband Rufus to easier work and better quarters. The boy might well be a nigger, but to Cort’s fair mind, he was his nigger . . . the phraseology something only a Southerner of the time would understand.
It scared Georgia and Rufus half to death to know that Master Cort knew the boy was his own, but Cort, in his gentle way, quickly put them at ease. Cort also felt that war was looming in the not too distant future, and he was realistic enough to know that when it erupted, the south would lose. Cort had traveled extensively in the north and was awed by the population, the factories, and the spirit of those above the Mason/Dixon line.
Cort had matured much since the death of his parents and the shock of knowing he had married a half-breed. But he also knew what he was and had accepted his sexuality. Anne’s brother had not done so and because of his indecision was in no small degree of constant torment.
“You watch my sister, Cort,” Ross had warned him. “She’s a viper. If you’re not careful, she’ll strip you bare and leave you without a penny.”
“I am well aware of that, Ross. More than you realize.”
“What about your quarter-breed son?”
Cort looked at his friend and lover. “He’ll be taken care of.”
“Would you like him on the railroad?”
“Beg pardon?”
“The underground railroad to freedom up north.”
Cort sat down on the edge of the bed. “What do you know about that, Ross?”
“Oh, a bit.”
“I couldn’t have anything to do with it.”
“You wouldn’t even know when it happened.”
“Then do it.”
“You’ll never see the boy again,” Ross said.
“That would probably be a blessing for all concerned.”
“Then consider it done.”
* * *
Sparks had not visited Valley for almost a year, and Jamie was beginning to wonder if anything had happened to the man when early one morning he rode in. He was tired and so was his horse. He swung down from the saddle and gratefully took the cup of coffee Kate handed him.
“I’ll bring out a plate of biscuits and a bowl of gravy,” she told him.
“Obliged, Kate.” Sparks took a swallow of coffee and said, “We been riding relays to get here, Jamie. What do you know about a man named Louis Layton?”
Jamie shook his head. “I never heard of the man.”
“He’s a lawyer.”
“Lawrence Laurin,” Jamie said.
“Beg pardon?”
“That’s the true name of the lawyer who was all tied in with that big shot rich man from New York, Maurice Evans, the one I killed in San Francisco. Lawrence Laurin, Louis Layton. If I had to take a guess, I’d guess it was the same man. Why?”
“Well, word I get is that he’s now a wealthy and powerful man in Washington, D.C. He’s in cahoots with some fancy-pants politician out of Louisiana name of Jubal Olmstead. They’ve contested your right to claim these valleys. The fellers I talked to who just come out here from Washington say that Layton and Olmstead don’t have a leg to stand on, but it’s going to cost you a lot of money to defend your claims. They aim to bankrupt you and ruin you that way. And if they can’t do it that way, they’ve bankrolled a gang to try to kill you—again.”
Jamie smiled and then chuckled. Sparks looked up from his biscuits and gravy. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and asked, “You know something I don’t?”
“They’ll never bankrupt me, Sparks. I could probably buy and sell the both of them and damn sure wouldn’t miss the money. What gang?”
“John Wilmot and his bunch.”
“Names from the past, honey,” Kate said, taking a chair on the porch.
“Yes. I thought we’d seen the last of that crew. Which way you heading, Sparks?”
“East. Over to the army post on the Arkansas.”
“Take a message to be posted to St. Louis?”
“You bet.”
“What do you know about this gang?”
“It’s big. Wilmot brung together a lot of small outlaw bands operatin’ out of the wilderness, usually preyin’ on small wagon trains and the like. I know some names. The Biggers Brothers, Buford Sanders, Pete Thompson, Rodman, Barney Saxon and some kin of his, and a big thug called Tiny. You know them boys?”
“Every one of them,” Jamie said with a sigh. “Well, this time I end it. Once and for all time it’s going to be over. Once I do this, Kate and I will live in peace and never leave these valleys.”
Sparks smiled. “Don’t bet on that, Jamie.”
Jamie cut his eyes. “Now it’s my turn to ask if you know something I don’t.”
“War.”
“War? Out here. Who’s going to be fighting?”
“There’s gonna be a war ’tween the states, Jamie—north against south.”
“Slavery?”
“That’s part of it. States’ rights, mostly, ’way I hear it.”
“States’ rights?” Jamie said softly. “What the hell is that, Sparks?”
“Durned if I know. But a lot of folks in the southern part of the country is right upset about it.”
“What does it have to do with Jamie?” Kate asked.
“Well, there was a big shot officer come out to Fort Laramie a couple of months back. I disremember his name right off. Plant or Gant or Grant or something like that. He wants Jamie to be a part of the United States Army . . . in case the States go to war agin each other.”
“I’m not interested,” Jamie said quickly.
“That’s what Morgan told him. But this officer said you’d hear the call of freedom when and if all this happens and come flyin’ to hep on wings of eagles. He was a right poetic feller, when he wasn’t drinkin’ whiskey or smoking the most terriblest smellin’ cigars that ever stunk up a room.”
“I’m still not interested. I don’t hold with slavery, but the federal government’s got no right to tell states what they can or can’t do. You let that happen and in a hundred years this nation won’t be fit for a decent man to live in. Besides, slavery won’t last much longer. Fifteen, twenty years at the most and it’ll be gone. The government doesn’t need to start a war over it. That’s the problem with government. You let it get too big, and before you know it, it’ll be in everybody’s lives.”
Kate patted Jamie on the arm and smiled. “I have an idea. Perhaps you should be in politics, honey. You do turn a nice phrase.”
“Good God, no, Kate. I’m too honest and too blunt to be a politician. Well, if a war comes, it won’t touch us out here. Now then, Sparks, let’s talk about this gang.”
* * *
It had to be one of the most disreputable gatherings of the dredges of humanity to ever congregate west of the Mississippi River. There was not one spark of decency in the whole bunch. John Wilmot felt he had chosen well. He looked over his motley crew and smiled; there were the Saxon boys, and kin of Jack Biggers, Buford Sanders and Pete Thompson had brought their gangs in, Tiny Bates, the huge oaf who cursed the name of Jamie MacCallister daily was there with his sinister-looking band of brigands and cut-throats. When the call went out along the hoot-owl trail, a man named Rodman had answered it, bringing with him a half dozen thoroughly disgusting bits of jetsam and flotsam of what might pass for humanity.
All in all, John thought with pleasure, it was quite a nice gathering.
* * *
“I didn’t think we was leavin’ so soon, Pa,” Falcon said, watching his dad snug down the ropes on the pack frame.
“We’re not leaving,” Jamie replied. “I want you here with your mother. You know Morgan can’t come home. He’s up in the Dakotas for the Army. Ian’s got his hands full with nursin’ that busted leg of his. He can’t even get out of bed. Matt’s got to tend his fields and his cattle and horses. That leaves you to take care of your mother. And I’ll brook no argument, Falcon.”
“You won’t get none, Pa. I’ll take care of Ma right and proper.”
“Your Ma and me said our goodbyes, boy,” Jamie said, sticking out a big hand. Falcon shook it. Jamie swung into the saddle and picked up the reins. “I’ll see you when I get back.” He rode off toward the northwest without a glance back.
Kate stepped out on the porch to watch him ride away. Falcon turned to look at his mother. She was still beautiful, although there was a touch of gray now among the gold and maybe a line or two in her face. But her figure would still match that of any woman in the village, of any age. “Don’t you ever worry about him, Ma?”
She smiled. “Of course, I do. Just like I worry about you and Ian and Morgan and all the rest of my children. That goes with having a family. Someday you’ll see. But for you, I think, that’s years in the future.”
Kate studied her youngest chick. Falcon looked so much like Jamie at that age it was scary. Strong as a grizzly and not an ounce of back-up in him. And like his dad, Falcon wore his pistols like they were a natural part of him.
For awhile, she was afraid that it would be Ian who would turn out to be a gun man, or “gunfighter” as some eastern writers were now fond of. But Ian had settled right down after marrying Caroline. Matthew had never taken to the high lonesome like his pa or his brother Falcon.
Falcon caught his mother looking at him. “You go on about your business, Ma. There ain’t nobody goin’ to bother you long as I’m here.”
Kate turned quickly, hiding her smile. How to tell her youngest that long before he was born, back on the trail in Arkansas and many times in the Big Thicket country of Texas, she had stood alone or beside Jamie with rifle and pistol and defended hearth and home? Chuckling, she walked into the house and into her kitchen and put on water for fresh coffee.
“What’s Ma laughing about?” Ellen Kathleen asked, walking up holding her latest in her arms.
“Durned if I know,” Falcon replied. “I just told her that she could go on about her business. That nothing was goin’ to happen to her as long as I was here.”
Ellen Kathleen stared at her younger brother for a moment and then burst out laughing. Ellen was twenty-nine years old and had vivid memories of how fierce her mother could be in a fight. She had personally witnessed her mother chase off curious bears with a broom and had seen her back down a swamp panther. She had also seen her mother kill several men. She was still laughing as she climbed the steps and entered her parents’ cabin.
Falcon stared in disgust at his sister. “Damned if I’ll ever understand women!” he said.