A Time for Everything (29 page)

But the old man said something as they
left that weighed harder on Beau’s conscience.

“
If you got coloreds, you
best keep an eye on ’em.”

“
We know about Clarence.
Is there more trouble?”

“
There’s been more talk
around here. That’s all I can say.”

And he’d hobbled back into his shack
before they could question him further.

Beau had expected there to be backlash
of some kind. You can’t have a war that robs the country of
thousands of good men and expect things to return to normal
overnight. There was a reason he slept with a loaded rifle by his
bed and now had two hired men patrolling the property every
night.

Darkness fell before he and Harry
returned, with Beau ponying the new stallion by a loose rope
alongside him. Would have been sooner if Harry hadn’t needed to
stop and give himself a shot of morphine. The shakes and cold
sweats were coming sooner between each dose.

“
You should just quit,”
Beau said when they arrived at the stable. “Be a man and deal with
the pain.”

“
Easy for you to
say.”

“
This shoulder of mine
hurts every damn day, and I got shot in the head yesterday. What’s
easy about that?”

Beau gritted his teeth and took his
time removing the saddle and bridle from Scout. It wouldn’t take
much for him to pummel some sense into Harry. Easy? Hell, no.
Morphine would be easy. For a while, anyway. He took it himself
after getting shot while saving Harry’s ass. Or rather, had it
given to him. Field doctoring consisted of little more than sawing
off appendages or injecting something to keep you quiet.

When he learned of Claire’s death, he
vowed never to touch the stuff again.

But his shoulder reminded him of that
vow when he lifted the saddle from Scout’s back and set it on the
rack. He winced and rubbed at the old wound.

Once he’d gotten Scout settled, Beau
led the new horse into a vacant stall and removed his bridle.
Luckily, he seemed to be just as even-toned and unflappable as
Scout. Never spooked once the whole way from Cainsville. This one
had promise — four white socks up to his knees, a splash of white
on his belly and face, and a fine stance.

Harry had already taken care of his
horse, and now he sat unusually quiet on a stool and chewed the end
of a piece of hay. “Randal said they caught the robber — poor fella
didn’t even get a buck,” he said, breaking the silence.

“
Why the hell are you
meeting up with Randal? It wouldn’t surprise me if he robbed the
bank himself.”

“
I know he ain’t the most
likable character, but… well… he’s cheaper than what they got in
Nashville.”

Beau huffed a laugh while
he bent over, horse leg propped on his knee, and picked debris from
one of the stallion’s hooves. “So
he’s
your supplier, huh?”

“
Don’t worry about it.”
Harry draped his elbows over the stable door. “Randal said the
banker pulled a gun on him first. Fella wasn’t too handy with a
gun, if you ask me.” He ended that last bit with a laugh and a
wink.

Beau’s head wound throbbed when he put
the horse’s leg down and stood up straight again. “You wish he’d
had better aim?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “God, Beau,
take it easy. If you were dead, where would I be, huh? Maybe you
should have left me there when my leg got blown half-off. I
wouldn’t be a problem for you anymore.”

Beau plopped his hat back on his head,
feeling half guilty for Harry’s outlook on life, and half annoyed.
He bent to clean out hoof number two. “I saved your life. You could
try being grateful for once.”

Harry slammed his fist into the stable
door. The stallion whinnied and reared, and Beau had to fling
himself backward into the corner to avoid the flailing hooves.
After a few shushes and gentle pats, the horse calmed down, and
Beau quietly exited the stable.

Soon as the bar fell across the door,
he whipped around, grabbed Harry by the shirt collar, and crashed
him into the opposite wall. Wood rattled, horses whinnied, and Beau
prepared to beat the stuffing out of Harry once and for
all.

Until he saw his face. Tormented, like
he’d never recover from all the pain in his life, no matter what
Beau said or did.

“
I didn’t ask you to save
me,” Harry said through his clenched teeth. “I’d have been better
off dead. Maybe I wanted it that way, did you ever think of that?
Maybe that’s why I crawled out of that trench too soon.”

Beau shook his head. “I don’t believe
that.”

“
Of course you don’t.”
Harry lifted a hand and gestured to their surroundings. “Look
around you, Beau. You had a reason to come back. You still do —
hell, you’ve even got
two
women wanting you now, and what do I have? A
little room under the stairs. Same place I’ve been since your daddy
took me in as your pretend brother. But we all know who the real
prince is, don’t we?”

Jaw clenched tight enough
to crack a walnut, Beau released Harry, letting him slide down the
wall to land on his feet. He paced far enough away so that he
couldn’t choke him. “This jealousy is ridiculous. You’ve been
friend
and
brother to me my whole life. What else do you want? More
money? That ain’t happenin’. A house of your own? A wife? I can’t
give you any of that.”

“
Let me have
Portia.”

Those words froze Beau on
the spot.
“Let me have Portia.”
Like she was livestock to barter with. But his
statement had carried much more weight than that. Harry knew Beau
felt something for her. Giving him his blessing to court her would
be a sacrifice on Beau’s part. It would prove once and for all that
Harry meant more to him than just another mouth to feed.

But he couldn’t. Because
Portia
also
meant
something to him. And he cared about her too much to decide her
fate there in a barn without her knowledge. Beau didn’t look at him
as he headed for the door, but he did say one thing, though he
figured it wasn’t the answer Harry wanted to hear.

“
She’s not mine to
give.”

Light spilled from
the parlor window, throwing long yellow
rectangles across the ground as Beau walked back toward the house.
He could see Portia’s profile inside, concentrating on a book or
maybe knitting. If she ever found out Harry had just tried to buy
her from him like a prized mare…

Isaac stood from one of the porch
rockers, wringing his hat in his hands. “Beau, could I have a
word?”

He was in no mood for interruptions,
but the man sounded distraught. “What is it?”

“
If you don’t mind, could
ya come out to the house?” This meant Isaac and Bessie’s house, of
course, but they didn’t ask him to come there unless it was
something serious. Was Bessie sick? If she was, Isaac would have
already said so.

Worry threaded down Beau’s spine, but
he nodded. “Let’s go.”

He followed Isaac for a quarter mile
on the smooth-rutted wagon road to a row of clapboard houses. Once
slave quarters, most of them now served as temporary living for
hired farm hands. And there was Isaac and Bessie’s house — larger
and better furnished than the others. He and Harry had spent a lot
of time there as boys, playing with their sons Curtis and Virgil,
learning alongside them. He owed them beyond what he could ever
repay for helping Ezra raise him, and he owed them a safe home. All
this talk of violence, Clarence’s lynching, that dummy in the tree
— it rattled him so much his teeth chattered until he gritted them
tightly together.

Soon as he stepped in the door, he
knew why Isaac had asked him to come. Lucy sat at the kitchen
table, while Bessie daubed a poultice of some kind on her
cheekbone. Her eye was swollen almost shut. Sallie Mae was curled
up on her lap, sound asleep.

Bessie glanced over her shoulder at
him. “Sorry to bother you, but…”

“
Did Tipp do this?” Beau
asked, though he already knew the answer. The Tipp he knew from
before the war wouldn’t even swat a fly unless he had
to.

Lucy lifted her chin, looking defiant.
“Tipp ain’t never laid a hand on me.”

“
Oliver.” He guessed
nothing much had changed.

As though she’d read his mind, Lucy
added, “We ain’t nothin’ but glorified slaves. They got us under
contract, all for some made up offense.”

“
What offense?”

“
Does it matter?” she
asked with a sarcastic smile. “You shouldn’t have asked him out
here, Uncle Isaac.”

“
You can trust Beau,”
Isaac said firmly. “He ain’t never acted like a
Clemons.”

“
I took a switch to him
enough to make sure he never did,” Bessie added, smiling lovingly
at Beau. She turned back to Lucy. “Honey, you can trust him. He’s
like one of my own boys, and he went off to fight for the right
side.”

Lucy still regarded him with some
skepticism. “We appreciate ya goin’ to fight and all, but ain’t
nothin’ changed. We’re still in bondage, and when the contract’s
done, there’ll be somethin’ else come up. I stole Miss Lydia’s
dress or Tipp looked at Ms. Polly wrong. If we run and get caught,
we’re thrown in jail or hung. No trial, no nothin’. No sir, ain’t
nothin’ changed. Unless we can get out of that contract, we’re
still slaves and always will be.”

Beau pulled out a chair. He removed
his hat and brushed invisible dust from the rim. “Did you ever try
to run when you were in Philadelphia?”

Lucy hugged Sallie Mae closer and
rocked from side to side. “He’s got eyes everywhere. Owns half the
city and a bunch of politicians. We tried once, right after we
heard the war was over. Me, Tipp, and Sallie Mae packed our bags,
told the boss we was leavin’, and hitched a ride. Didn’t get a mile
down the road until a band of white men surrounded us and pointed
guns at our heads. They told us we best be gettin’ back home before
somethin’ bad happened. If we hadn’t had Sallie Mae, we might have
fought ’em, but… when we went back, the boss said he’d protect us,
said he’d give us a nice plot of land once we got back here. All we
had to do was sign a paper sayin’ we’d work for five years and give
him a portion of our crops.” Sallie Mae stirred, and Lucy kissed
the top of her head. Her eyes met Beau’s. “He promised me he
wouldn’t come at my girl, and he ain’t yet.”

“
Son of a bitch.” Beau
rested his elbows on his knees, and pointed to her eye. “Tipp know
about that?”

“
No. And he ain’t gonna
know about it. He swore he would kill the boss if he hit me again.”
Lucy took in a shaky breath, and her voice broke. “I know we
shouldn’t have signed no papers, and we should’ve found a way to
escape. But I was scared for my baby girl, and I wanted Tipp and me
to have some land of our own. We ain’t never had nothin’, and my
Tipp’s a good man. He deserves it.”

“
I know he does,” Beau
said. “Where is he now?”

“
He’s out workin’ on the
big house. I can’t let him see me like this. You know what would
happen if he did somethin’ to the boss.”

Bessie laid a hand on Beau’s shoulder
and whispered, “She’s got another one on the way.”

“
Aunt Bessie!” Lucy’s
harsh whisper roused Sallie Mae slightly before she settled back
into sleep.

Bessie turned to her niece
and gave her
that look
— the one that silenced Beau into submission as a child. It
still worked, apparently, because Lucy surrendered and looked
away.

Isaac stood watch at the door, while
Bessie pulled up a chair beside Beau. “Tipp don’t know it, but the
baby might not be his,” she said.

Had Beau’s hat been Oliver Clemons’
neck, he would be choking the life out of him. “What can I
do?”

Eyes scanning outside, Isaac said,
“Maybe you can talk him into releasing the contract. Trade him back
that high bred horse or somethin’. You’re the only one around here
that’s got a chance of making him listen. We’ve got to get ’em away
from that devil.”

No question, Beau knew he had to act.
These folks were his family, whether he could admit it freely or
not. They didn’t deserve such treatment. Nobody did.

“
I’ll go right now,” he
said.

~~~~

Lydia answered the
door after Beau’s third round of knocking.
“Beau?” Her blue eyes grew wide, and she blinked as though he might
not be real. Fitting, since Beau thought this whole situation felt
like one horrible dream after another. “Wh-what are you doing
here?”

“
I need to speak to your
father.”

“
Oh… really?”

Lydia’s presence didn’t make him feel
any better. She had hosted a small party there at her family’s home
and had decided not to stay at Beau’s house tonight, of all nights.
At least she was easy on the eyes in a white silk dressing gown
splashed with a pattern of roses. Her blond hair hung in loose
waves down her back and over her full breasts.