Looking over the rim of his fine china cup, Elmo Debakky studied Charissa for a moment, then remarked, “It’s amazing how men can make fools of themselves, when they really set out to do the job.”
Charissa and Debakky had lingered after breakfast, and now Charissa looked steadily at the physician. “I suppose you’re referring to Jeff.”
“Yes. He and Depard are making fools of themselves, chasing after Damita. They’ve provided a mint of entertainment for the upper crust of New Orleans. People don’t go to the opera anymore; they just gather to watch those two circle around each other.” He sipped his coffee, then shook his head and said more soberly, “I hate to see Jeff chasing that woman.”
“I’m just thankful he and Depard haven’t had another stupid duel.”
“Maybe it’s just a matter of time. I don’t know what makes men behave like that.”
“At least the cotton crop was good this year, so Damita’s safe from losing her plantation.”
“That was good news, all right.” Debakky glanced out the window and shook his head. “What’s the date?”
“December twenty-eighth.”
“It seems as if 1835 just sped by.” He glanced at Charissa. She was wearing the simple gray dress that she always wore to work at the hospital. She seemed subdued. Debakky had learned long ago her secret, that she loved Jefferson Whitman, and had considered shaking Jeff to make him realize what he was missing. But he was not a man to interfere. Now he said, “I’ll tell you what we ought to do. The society of New Orleans is getting up a New Year’s Eve ball. The governor will be there, the mayor, and all the bigwigs. Why don’t you let me take you?”
Charissa glanced up from her coffee and studied the doctor. He was not handsome in the least, but he was intensely masculine and one of the wittiest and smartest men she had ever known. “That would be nice, Elmo,” she said. “I’ll look forward to it.”
Elmo grinned at her. “Why don’t you fall in love with me, Charissa? It would make your life a lot simpler.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, you could stop mooning around about Jeff. The man hasn’t got good sense. He can’t even see you.”
“No, he can’t. He never could.”
“Not your fault. He’s one of the best doctors I’ve ever seen. Too bad he’s not as smart about women as he is about medicine.” He saw that Charissa did not want to discuss it and said, “If you’d just fall in love with me and we got married, you wouldn’t have to worry about anything.”
“I’d have to worry about you.”
“No, you wouldn’t. Tell you what: Just give me a list of all the things you want in a husband.”
Charissa laughed. Elmo always had the ability to lift her out of her mood. “And what would you do with such a list?”
Elmo looked at her with mock surprise. “Why, I’d convince you of how you could get along without all those things.”
Yancy poked the fire and watched the sparks fly in myriad, tiny fragments up the chimney. He kicked a large chunk of firewood with his boot, and Damita said, “One of these days, you’re going to catch yourself on fire. Take your foot out of there. You’ll ruin your boots.”
Yancy put the poker down, turned, and backed up to the fire, soaking in the warmth. “I love fires. I love everything about them—cutting down the trees, splitting the wood.”
“You don’t like carrying out the ashes all that much, I noticed.”
Yancy grinned at her. “You’re right about that. But for every pleasure, there’s always a penalty to go with it.”
“Is that some more of your deep philosophy, Yancy?”
“Oh, yes, I’m going to write a book one day. I’ll call it Yancy Devereaux’s Guide to Perfect Living.”
“That’ll solve a problem for a lot of people,” Damita said. She was sitting in an overstuffed chair directly across from the fire, sewing. Her hands moved nimbly.
Yancy asked, “What’s the nicest dress you have?”
Surprised, Damita looked up. “What are you talking about?”
“Tomorrow’s the fancy New Year’s Eve ball. I’ve decided we’re going.”
Damita shook her head. “I told Jeff and Lewis I wouldn’t go.”
“Don’t you want to go?”
“To tell the truth, I’m a bit tired of their attentions.”
“I thought a woman liked that sort of attention.”
“Oh, Yancy, it’s foolish! I don’t care for either one of them—not for a husband, at least.”
“We’re going to take in that ball. We’ve worked hard, and we deserve a break.”
“I’d rather not.”
“I’m not asking, Damita,” Yancy said. “I’m telling you we’re going to do it. Don’t you remember? When I agreed to come here, you agreed to do everything I commanded.”
Damita was so surprised she poked her finger with the needle. “Ow!” she said and stuck her finger in her mouth. “I didn’t promise to go to balls with you!”
“Yes, you did. You said I could make every decision. My decision is that we need some foolishness.” He pulled up a chair opposite and faced her. “I haven’t mentioned it, but you’ve done a wonderful job of adjusting to this life.”
Damita stared at him. “Why—thank you, Yancy.” She never expected compliments from this man who had suffered so in his own life.
“I know it was hard for you. I was used to tough living, but you weren’t. And you’ve helped keep your mother from being miserable as well.”
“You’re the one who’s had to do all the hard things.”
“No, that’s not so. But let’s not argue about that.”
Damita felt warmth at his praise. Only rarely did he offer it, although she often felt his eyes on her. “All right,” she said. “Do you really want to go to the ball?”
“I think it would be fun. We’ll go late,” he said.
“What in the world for? I always like to go early.”
“Not me,” Yancy grinned. “I like to make a big entrance. Walk in about thirty minutes late, and people notice. You like that kind of attention yourself.”
Damita made a face at him. “You say the most awful things!”
“Put on your prettiest dress. We’ll show these New Orleans folks how it should be done. We’ll be the best-looking couple at the ball.”
“I really would like to go,” Damita said, smiling, and her eyes were bright.
“Good. Then it’s settled.”
Charissa was enjoying the ball, which surprised her. Jeff had been gloomy enough, and she knew that Damita had refused to attend with him. He had finally decided to accompany Debakky and Charissa, and he had asked Charissa for a dance. She had been having a fine time, dancing mostly with Debakky, but she had also observed that Jeff and Lewis had met and simply stared at each other, bowing slightly. After their dance, she stood beside Jeff and saw that he was glaring at the young Creole.
“How does it feel to have New Orleans laughing at you, Jefferson?”
Jeff turned, astonished. “That’s an unkind remark.”
Charissa was sick of Jeff ’s behavior. She had attended the dance for pleasure, and now the alienation between the two men annoyed her. “Jeff, you look absolutely foolish!”
Jeff glared at her. “I haven’t been ungentlemanly.”
“You two are chasing around after Damita like mindless dogs.”
Jeff blinked with surprise and reddened slightly. He looked down at her. “I wish you wouldn’t talk like that.”
“All right. I won’t.”
After their tiff, Jeff tried several times to make conversation, but Charissa answered in monosyllables. Then he asked, “Why didn’t you let that young Matthew Denton bring you?”
“You know we’re not seeing each other anymore. I asked him not to speak of marriage to me again. He’d be miserable with me.”
“Don’t be foolish! Nobody would be miserable with you. You have everything that a man needs.”
“But you don’t need me, do you, Jefferson?”
“Why, of course, I do. You know better than that.” He hated to quarrel.
Charissa heard a commotion and turned to the entrance of the ballroom. Jeff followed her glance and watched as Yancy and Damita entered. “She told me she didn’t want to come tonight!”
“They make a fine-looking couple, don’t they?”
“Yes, I suppose so.”
Damita had spotted Jeff and knew that Depard also was there. “I wish I hadn’t come, Yancy,” she whispered. “Lewis and Jeff will work themselves up into some sort of a disagreement.”
“No, they won’t. I have a plan.”
Damita looked up at Yancy. “What kind of plan?”
“A plan so that you won’t be bothered by Jeff or Lewis or any other fellow. You’ll dance only with me tonight. Come on.”
He pulled her to the floor, and they began to swirl amongst the other dancers. Yancy noticed all the eyes upon them and was pleased. “Everybody’s here, and they’re all looking at us.”
“You have no humility at all, do you?”
Yancy tried to look hurt. “What do we have to be humble about? We’re a handsome couple. By the way, I didn’t tell you: You look beautiful tonight.”
Damita smiled. “So do you. Yancy, how are you going to keep men from asking me to dance?”
“I can’t keep them from asking,” Yancy said with a grin, and humor flashed in his eyes as he added, “I can stop them from dancing with you, though.”
“Men are touchy—you know that, Yancy. Don’t forget that dueling is common around here.”
“That’s not my problem.”
Damita remembered how his first encounter with Lewis Depard had led to the threat of a duel with broadaxes. “Be careful,” she said. “Some of these men won’t take jokes lightly.”
“I’m not responsible for their deficiency of humor. Now, let’s just enjoy the dance.”
They swept around the floor, and as soon as the music came to an end and the couples applauded, a voice said, “I request the pleasure of the next dance, Miss Madariaga.”
Damita and Yancy turned to see a tall man smiling at them.
“Oh, hello, Anthony.”
Anthony Rivera was a wealthy businessman Damita had known for a long time. He was a widower, now in his mid-thirties, and he was reputedly looking for Wife Number Two. She started to agree, as was customary, but Yancy said, “I’m sorry, sir, but that would not be possible.”
Rivera bristled. “And why not, sir?”
“Señora Madariaga asked me to chaperone her daughter. She made me absolutely responsible. I won’t allow the young lady to dance with anyone unless I approve of him.”
Rivera sneered, “You’re a Kaintock, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I am. And I’m proud of it.”
“And you don’t approve of me!” Rivera snapped. “May I ask why not?”
“I don’t like your mustache,” Yancy said. The people around the three had fallen silent and were listening carefully. “I never trust a man who wears one. Sorry.”
A murmur ran through the crowd, and Rivera said, “I’m afraid I must take exception to your remark, sir.”
“That’s your privilege.”
“I will have my man call on you.”
“Not until after the last dance, if you don’t mind.”
Rivera smiled coldly. “After the last dance it will be, then.”
Debakky had made his way through the crowd and listened to all this. “That’s a dangerous fellow, Yancy.”
“I’m afraid you’ll have to be my second, Doctor, if you don’t mind.”
“I think this dueling business is foolish.”
“It is, of course, but will you help me out?”
“I suppose so,” Debakky said seriously. Then his tone lightened, “Perhaps I’ll dance with Miss Madariaga.”
“No, I’m afraid not.”
“Why not?” He teased.
“You’re a physician. I never trust that breed with women.”
Debakky let out a belly laugh. The music started, and he found Charissa and repeated what had happened.
“He’s going to have a duel with that man?”
“I don’t think so. Yancy’s a clever fellow.”
“He’s going to get himself in trouble. You know how touchy these Creoles are.”
The music started, and Yancy put his hand out to Damita. She joined him in the dance and asked, “Have you lost your mind? What do you think you’re doing?”
“Looking out for you, Damita. You can’t be too careful in a place like this. Why, some of these men probably have impure desires in their hearts.”
Ordinarily, Damita would have smiled at this remark, but she was worried. “Anthony is a fine shot. He’s already killed one man in a duel and wounded several others.”
“Don’t ever worry about what’s going to happen tomorrow.”
“I’m worried about what’s going to happen after the last dance. He’ll be waiting for you.”
“Don’t think about that,” Yancy said cheerfully. The two finished that dance, and instantly, another gentleman asked for the next one. His eyes were fixed on Yancy, who looked him over and said, “I’m sorry, sir. I couldn’t possibly let Miss Damita dance with a man who wears foppish attire such as yours.”
Damita gasped, and the man’s face turned scarlet. “Very well then, sir. My man will call.”
“Won’t be necessary. After the last dance, we’ll settle this business. Dr. Debakky will act for me.”
“That will suit me exactly, sir.”
Yancy winked at Damita and said, “Nothing like a little drama to enliven a dance, don’t you think?”
Damita did not know what to think. She knew that Yancy’s antics had become known throughout the ball, so that after every dance several men came by, asking for the next one. Yancy refused them all, and in each case, the disappointed man challenged him. Yancy simply said to each, “See my man, Dr. Debakky, over there. He handles all my dueling business.”
Yancy’s behavior became the talk of the crowd. Everyone’s eyes were on him and Damita, and Jeff exclaimed to Debakky, “He’s crazy! Why, he’s been challenged at least ten times!”
“Don’t worry about it. Yancy’s a clever fellow.”
Jeff turned to Charissa and said, “I always thought Devereaux was a savvy man, but this is suicide.”
Charissa was smiling. “Look around you. Everybody’s laughing. It’s become a joke, which is exactly what he intended, I think.”
“After that last dance, he’d better have a plan,” Jeff said. “He’ll need doctors if he fights all of these men.”
“This is the last dance, Damita,” Yancy said. His eyes were bright, and he smiled. “I’m so glad we came. I’ve never had so much fun at a ball.”
“You have lost your mind, Yancy Devereaux.” Damita was worried. “Some of these men are expert duelists. I know you’re trying to make a game out of it, but that just makes it worse. Anthony Rivera has no sense of humor about these things.”
“He’s the first, is he? I get them all confused. Let’s see, there must be at least fifteen or twenty of them now. You know, it would be great if we could make a little money off of this.”
Damita stared at him as he whirled her around. “What are you talking about?”
“We could sell tickets. Yancy Devereaux’s Famous Dueling Extravaganza! Ten dollars a ticket. Why, all of New Orleans would come out to see me get punctured by these hotheaded young fellows.”
Damita shook her head. “I don’t think it’s funny, Yancy.”
“You’re too serious, Damita. Forget about it. Enjoy this last dance.”
Damita tried to focus on the dance. She studied her partner. He’s really enjoying this, she thought. How could he? Doesn’t he have any nerves at all? “Please, Yancy, let’s leave before it’s over. Let’s get away from here.”
“Why, we couldn’t do that. We’d disappoint all of your admirers.”
“They don’t admire me. They just want to shoot somebody or stick him with a sword.”
“I’ll have to give them a chance.”
The music stopped, the danced ended, and the crowd began to whisper, every eye on Yancy Devereaux and Damita Madariaga.
Yancy said to her, “Come along. I see my foes are gathering around Debakky.”
He offered his arm, and she took it. As they walked over, she noticed Lewis Depard staring at her, disbelief on his face. Jeff was standing back in the crowd with Charissa.
“Dr. Debakky, have you made the arrangements?”
Debakky’s eyes were sparkling. He had a small piece of paper in his left hand. “I think I’ve got them all in order. I believe, Mr. Rivera, you are the first.”
Yancy said, “Suppose we all retire outside, where such business as this is usually conducted. Will that satisfy you, sir?”
“Perfectly,” Rivera said. His face was pale. He knew that Yancy was making light of something important to him. “Laugh while you can, Devereaux.”
Yancy grinned at him, then asked Damita, “Will you wait here, dear? I have a few engagements.”
Damita said, “No, I’m going with you.”
“Why, ladies don’t attend such things, Señorita Madariaga!” Rivera exclaimed.
“Then maybe I’m no lady, but I insist on going. I’m ready, Yancy.”
Almost everyone who had attended the ball crowded outside to watch the spectacle. It took some doing to get a space cleared away for the duelists to carry out their business.
The night was bright and clear, with the stars and a full moon overhead. “Good night for shooting, eh, Señor Rivera?” Yancy asked cheerfully.
Rivera glared at him. “I’m willing to accept your apology.”
“I’m sorry, but your mustache still offends me.”
Laughter rose from the crowd.
“Dr. Debakky, I am acting for Señor Rivera,” said a man named French, who often served as a second in duels. “We’ve chosen our ground, and I have the weapons here, if they would suit you.”
“Let me see,” Debakky said. He stepped forward and examined the leather case that French held open.
“These look very nice,” he said. “What do you think, Yancy?”
Yancy was standing alone, but his eyes were scanning the crowd. He saw Damita watching him, her face pale in the moonlight, and he winked at her. “Just a minute,” Yancy said. “I’m the challenged party. I have the choice of weapons.”
“There’ll be no duels with axes, sir,” French said coldly. “We’ve heard of your frivolousness.”
“No, firearms will be fine with me, but I’ll choose which firearms.”
“What did you have in mind?”
Yancy said, “Wait right here. I have them in my buggy.” He strode to his buggy, which was parked nearby, and threw back a canvas cover.
“What’s he got in there?” Charissa asked Jeff.
“Can’t see. It looks like rifles.”
Yancy brought back not rifles, but shotguns. Holding one in each hand, he said, “You may take your pick of these, sir. Both of them are in working condition, and your man may do the loading himself.” He thrust one of the shotguns at French and another at Debakky, then reached into his pocket. “Here, this ought to do. Double-ought buckshot.”
“What do you mean by this foolishness?” French demanded.
“Why, this is my choice of weapons. What we will do is this: You gentlemen will load the guns. Mr. Rivera and I will stand ten feet away from each other, aim, and at the count of ten, we’ll fire.”
A silence fell over the crowd. Yancy stared at Anthony Rivera. “I’m sure you wouldn’t want to take advantage of a man, sir. You might be a better shot than I am, but with shotguns, accuracy is not a problem.”
“This is foolishness!” Rivera cried out.
“Do you always have to have the advantage? Neither man has it with these. I’m the challenged party. These are the firearms. Let’s get at it.”
Rivera stared at him. “You jest! You wouldn’t dare do a thing like that.”
“Try me,” Yancy said grimly, and the crowd murmured in disbelief.
The pressure was on Anthony Rivera. He could not believe that any man would suggest such a thing. Neither man could possibly survive the encounter. He challenged Yancy again. “You’re bluffing.”
“Try me,” Yancy repeated.
Rivera said huskily, “Give me that shotgun!” French loaded the shotgun, handed it to him, and Debakky did the same for Yancy. Rivera said, “I’m ready.” His voice was defiant, and he moved into position.
Yancy took the shotgun Debakky handed him and moved until he was ten feet away from his opponent. “I’m ready, too.”
“French, start the count,” Rivera said and lifted the shotgun, aiming it at Yancy.
Yancy coolly lifted his own shotgun. “I’m ready,” he said. “You may begin, Mr. French.”
The spectators hushed. Damita was having difficulty breathing. She cried out, “Don’t do it! Don’t do it, Yancy!”
Yancy paid no attention, nor did anyone else. He was taking aim with the shotgun, his eyes locked on his target.
French continued to count, “Three, four, five—”
Anthony Rivera was a man of cool courage. He had engaged in many duels with sword and pistol, but always he had a good chance of surviving. He still could not believe this crazy Kaintock meant what he said, but the cornflower-blue eyes stared at him down the length of the shotgun without blinking.
When the count reached eight, Rivera cried out, “No! Stop!” He found that his hands were trembling. He laid the shotgun down and said to Yancy, “This is murder! It’s not dueling!”
“It’s about as close to it as most duels are.”
Rivera glared at Yancy, then turned and walked away, declaring, “I will have nothing to do with this foolishness. It does not follow the code.”
Yancy called out, “Come again if you change your mind, Anthony.” Then he asked, “Who’s next?”
“I believe Mr. Leslie Thornton is next.”
Leslie Thornton, however, quickly spoke up. He was a short, heavyset young man who immediately said, “I don’t believe that I will engage in a shotgun duel with anybody.”
“Number three. Franklin Towns.”
Debakky continued to call off the names, but the mood of the crowd had changed. Obviously, no man in his right mind was going to stand up to a crazy Kaintock and exchange shotgun blasts from ten feet. Finally the doctor said, “That’s the last. I guess we can all go home now.”
Yancy handed the shotgun to Debakky, who whispered, “What would you have done if somebody had taken you up on it?”
“I’d have run like a rabbit, like any sensible man!”
Damita had been silent all the way home. Yancy drew up at a small creek that overflowed the road. “The horses are probably thirsty. We’ll give them a drink.”
Damita said, “Yancy, I don’t understand you at all. I don’t understand men. You could have been killed.”
“Not much chance of that.”
“Why, one of them might have taken you up on it.”
“I didn’t think so. Not much of a risk, really.”
She said again, “I don’t understand you.”
“I like to have a little mystery about me. It’s provocative to women.”
The moon was round and silver overhead, and as they sat in the buggy, the only sounds they heard were the horses nuzzling in the water and far-off the cry of a bird.
Damita said quietly, “I was afraid.”
“Afraid for me?”
“Why, of course. You could have gotten killed—I don’t care what you say.”
“But you were really afraid for me. I find that hard to believe.”
“Why should you?”
“Why, we have done little but fight since we met.”
“I know. But I owe you so much. You saved my life once, and now you’ve saved my home and my family.” She turned to face him fully. “You’ll never know how much gratitude I have for you.”
He said, “We’re good friends, then?”
“Yes,” she said, smiling. “Very good friends.”
“Don’t you think good friends should express their feelings in a more tangible way? Something more than just words.”
Damita felt the fear and the tension leaving her. She decided to play along with Yancy’s unpredictable sense of humor. “What did you have in mind, sir?”
“Something like this.” Yancy put his arms around her and drew her close. Then he bent his head and kissed her.
Damita returned his kiss. His lips were firm on hers, and his arms pulled her near him with strength. Something timeless brushed them both at that moment, and it somehow frightened Damita. Yet she held the kiss longer than she had intended.
He broke away first and said huskily, “You are all woman, Damita!”
“You make me afraid, Yancy.”
“Afraid of me? You shouldn’t be. You should know that by now.”
“I don’t trust—” She could not finish.
“You don’t trust me, Damita?”
She laughed, reached up, and put her hand on his cheek. “No, I don’t trust myself. Take me home, Yancy.”
He laughed then and turned, speaking to the horses. “Get up, boys. This lady doesn’t trust herself.”
The horses picked up the pace, and Damita sat so close beside Yancy that she could feel the warmth of his body, and from time to time she stole a glance at him. She had never known a man like this. As they moved along under the bright moon, she could not help but wonder how she would handle him in the days to come.