A Time for Everything (42 page)

Beau couldn’t help smiling as well
when he started putting their plan into words. “Well, first we’ll
need an Irishman and a great many bottles of whiskey…”

~~~~

Beau didn’t sleep
a wink at night in his bed, where he kept
imagining Lydia lying there wearing even less than she had on the
other night. He managed a couple of cat naps in the barn, but then
he dreamed of Portia and how good she felt in his arms and how
sweet her lips tasted when they kissed. He was in this
sleep-deprived state on day three after his visit to Amelie. He
heard a rider approaching, and with hay in his hair and stubble on
his chin, he sat up and blinked into the sunlight.

“
Top o’ the mornin’ to ya,
Mr. Stanford,” Reverend McKee called in an Irish brogue as thick as
mashed potatoes.

“
And to you,” Beau said,
brushing hay from his pants as he rose to greet the visitor.
“So…?”

“
It’s all here,” he said
with a wink, patting a leather satchel that hung at his side. “I
feel like a bloody leprechaun carrying this much
treasure.”

He handed the bag to Beau, who tucked
it under his arm.

“
Tonight, then? Are you
sure you can distract Oliver’s minions?”

“
Aye, and don’t worry. I’m
as gregarious as any Irishman you’ve ever come across.”

“
Actually, you’re the
first one I’ve met.” Beau laughed, but his mind drifted west, to
Brentwood and Portia. What was she doing right now?

“
Then it’s especially
true.” His cheery face turned serious. “You’re thinkin’ about the
other lass, aren’t you?”

Beau nodded.

“
Bring her back here and
marry her, then send her to me, because I could still use a good
teacher or two.”

Beau couldn’t help but
laugh that time. “If by some miracle she
would
come back, I don’t think I’d
let her go for anything.”

“
I understand. Now, I’m
off to procure some libations for the night’s
festivities.”

He rode away while Beau flipped
through the pile of cash in the bag. More than he’d seen in ages.
Certainly more than enough to compensate Oliver for Lucy and Tipp’s
departure. Yet even if tonight’s plan proved a success, he still
had little chance of Po coming back to him. Not after everything he
had done. At least McKee had promised to offer her a teaching
position when all this was over.

~~~~

Jonny slept soundly
in his bed. He held the handkerchief Portia had
embroidered with his name. Beau touched the expert stitching and
kissed his son’s forehead.

Pa caught him before he could get
downstairs. “Be careful, Beauregard.”

Beau stood there looking at him,
uncertain if he should agree or play dumb.

“
Isaac told me your plans
and why you were gonna marry Lydia. I’m sorry I doubted you,
son.”

“
It’s all right, Pa. I’ve
done plenty to make you doubt me. I just hope I can make some of it
right.”

“
You got your Colt, should
any trouble arise?”

Beau nodded. It hadn’t occurred to him
that if everything went completely wrong, it might be the last time
he saw Pa and Jonny. Or maybe he just didn’t want to think about
it.

Pa descended the steps until he landed
on the one where Beau stood. He hugged him and whispered, “I’m
proud of ya, son, and I love ya. Now go do what ya gotta do. And
when it’s all done, go fetch Portia and bring her back to
us.”

“
You remember what I told
you about Jake? She won’t come back, not after everything I’ve put
her through.”

“
You did the right thing
at the time. There was no way for you to know who he was or who she
was, and with everything else messing with your mind, it’s no
wonder you couldn’t put two and two together. Don’t underestimate
her, Beauregard. A woman like Portia don’t hold them kind of
grudges. And a woman like her don’t show up on your doorstep every
day. Don’t do what I did. Don’t let fear of gettin’ hurt hold ya
back from lovin’ again. I love you and Jonny more than anything,
but that bed of mine’s been a cold and lonely place for too
long.”

Beau took a deep breath and looked
down the stairs at the front door and the unknown future that
waited on the other side. “Watch over Jonny for me.”

“
I will, but you’ll be
back before mornin’.” His words were layered with worry and
warning.

“
I’ll be back,” Beau said,
and he hoped to God he could keep that promise.

~~~~

He and Isaac
took the buggy out to Paradise Plantation,
thankful that Lydia and Polly were at a party in town. He didn’t
expect them back until at least midnight. In one of the barns close
to the big house, light spilled from the open doors and windows,
along with a rousing Irish jig on a fiddle. Oliver’s hooligans were
inside, whooping and hollering. A couple of them had linked arms
and danced around in a circle, holding tin mugs with liquid that
sloshed out onto the dirt floor.

Beau chuckled. McKee was good. No
wonder Amelie had partnered with him.

They drove the buggy around back,
parking by the kitchen door. They sat there for a couple of
minutes, listening and watching carefully to make sure there were
no guards lurking about. A short whistle preceded Tipp’s
appearance. He jogged toward Beau from the slave quarters. He
wasn’t allowed in the big house at night, but he’d instructed Lucy
to leave the door unlocked. Beau patted the pistol in his holster
and nodded to Tipp, who carefully and quietly opened the door. Lucy
and Sallie Mae would be waiting on their pallets in the
kitchen.

They dared not carry lanterns, so Beau
had to stand still a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim
light.

“
Lucy,” Tipp whispered.
“It’s time. Let’s go.”

Squinting toward the cold hearth where
the pallets should be, Beau could see only one lump. His doubts
flared — the plan was to sneak Lucy and Sallie Mae out to the buggy
where Isaac would take them to the designated ally house on the
road to Nashville to await Reverend McKee. In the meantime, he
would be offering Oliver that wad of cash and trying to sweet-talk
him into a peaceful submission. If he refused, Tipp, Lucy, and
Sallie Mae would still have enough of a head start to get
away.

But something wasn’t right. Tipp crept
over to Sallie Mae and shook her gently until she woke and sat up,
rubbing her eyes.

“
Where’s your mama?” he
whispered.

She looked around sleepily and then
shrugged.

Tipp picked her up, along with her
doll and a little bag of belongings. He carried her out to the
buggy, where he placed her in the back seat and kissed her
forehead. Beau followed him.

“
Where’s Lucy?” Isaac
whispered.

“
I’m about to find out,”
Tipp said. He walked back in the house, eyes flashing with
murderous anger that would get him killed if he wasn’t
careful.

Beau kept his hand on the Colt as they
crept through the dark house. No one stirred in the great hall or
any of the adjoining rooms. They sneaked up the stairs; thankfully
the carpet muffled their steps and the creaking wood. They had
almost reached the top when they heard a woman
screaming.

“
Lucy!” Tipp leaped up the
final two steps and ran toward the sound.

Shit.
Beau pulled his pistol and ran behind him to a door with a
tiny sliver of light underneath. A woman — it had to be Lucy —
screamed and yelped on the other side, along with a
repeating
thwack,
thwack
.

Tipp tried the knob then banged on the
door. “Lucy!”

She screamed again. “No, Tipp, get out
of here! Get Sallie Mae and go!”

“
Lucy! I’m coming!” Tipp
backed up to the wall and ran toward the door, ramming his shoulder
against the thick oak slab. It shuddered but didn’t
budge.

“
Stand back,” Beau said.
As soon as Tipp stepped aside, Beau lifted his leg and threw all of
his body weight into a wood-splintering kick.

The door surrendered, swooshing open
to a horrendous sight. Oliver, in a rage, stood over Lucy. She
crouched on the floor, her arms crossed over her head in an attempt
to shield herself. Oliver was shirtless. Suspender straps hung
loose at his sides, flopping as he struck her again and again with
a riding crop. Lucy was naked from the waist up. Bloody welts
striped her back and arms.

“
You don’t tell me no, you
useless nigger whore!” He kept beating the shit out of her and in
his blind fury, didn’t seem to notice the interruption.

Oliver raised the riding
crop to strike again. Tipp stepped forward and caught it right on
the palm of his hand with an agonizing
snap
.

He didn’t even flinch.

The madness in Oliver’s eyes turned to
bewilderment. Tipp wrenched the riding crop from his hand and
struck it across the old man’s face. Oliver stumbled back. A nasty
red welt made a diagonal stripe on his wrinkled cheek.

Tipp roared, “I’ll kill you!” and
sprang at his prey, knocking Oliver to the floor.

His fist pounded into Oliver’s face
once, twice, three times.

Beau holstered his pistol. He sped
over to Tipp and hooked one arm around his neck. Grabbing the
bedpost for leverage, his boots fought for traction on the
rug-covered floor. But he might as well have been fighting a
goddamn solid wall of muscles. Grinding his teeth, pain knifed
through his wounded shoulder. Finally he managed to pull Tipp off
Oliver. Beau dragged him far enough to get between them.

He spread his arms as far as he could
in the hopes of keeping them separated. “Tipp, get Lucy out of
here! He ain’t worth it.”

Oliver writhed on the floor, groaning
like a dying bear. His hand covered the right side of his face.
Beside him lay a couple of tobacco-stained teeth with bloody roots.
Beau scanned the area around the bed and rug for more weapons but
saw none.

“
Tipp, you have to go,”
Beau said, lowering his voice to the calm, even tone he used on his
most stubborn horses. “Don’t be like him. You’re better than
this.”

Blood dripped from Tipp’s clenched
fist. Chest heaving, his upper lip curled over his teeth. He glared
down at Oliver as though he could murder him with one blow if Beau
gave him the slightest chance. Finally he tore his attention from
the beaten old man and focused on Lucy. Rage melted into anguish as
he knelt beside her and took her face in his now-gentle
hands.

Arms crossed to cover her bare chest,
she whispered, “You came for me.”

He nodded and wiped her tear-streaked
cheeks with his thumbs. “I’ll never let nobody hurt you again. Come
on. I’m gettin’ you and Sallie Mae out of here.”

He yanked a quilt or shawl or
something from nearby — Beau didn’t take his eyes off Oliver to see
exactly what — and threw it over Lucy. He helped her to her feet
and led her out the door.

Oliver rolled to his knees, held to
the footboard of his bed, and stood on shaky legs. Nose swollen and
mouth dripping blood, he turned to Beau. “You’ll regret
this.”

“
No more than I’ve
regretted ever knowing you in the first place.”

Beau pulled the money bag from his
coat and threw it down at Oliver’s feet. Crisp new dollars flew
out, scattering on the floor around them. “Here’s your thirty
pieces of silver. Enjoy it while you can.”

“
Where’d you get
that?”

“
None of your damn
business.” God, how he wanted to tell him he would likely be
rotting in jail very soon, but he bit his tongue and said, “I came
here tonight with more than enough money to buy their contracts,
hoping we could resolve this in peace. Instead I come here to find
you breaking your end of the contract over Lucy’s back. We’re done,
Clemons. You don’t own me or anyone else.”

From the corner of his
eye, Beau caught light glinting through Oliver’s window. Coach
lights.
Shit, Lydia and Polly.
He’d have to tell her tonight if he could figure
out where and how.

Oliver wiped his mouth with his bare
hand, smearing blood and spit across his chin. “I don’t think you
understand…”

“
I understand plenty.”
Beau couldn’t resist any longer. “You’re a power-hungry bastard and
you’re gonna be brought to justice any day now. The U.S. government
doesn’t take kindly to those who conspired with Booth.”

“
Bullshit,” Oliver spat,
returning the dangling suspender straps to his bony
shoulders.

“
They also don’t take
kindly to arson. I recall hearing about a terrible fire at a
warehouse owned by Blackburn and Company in Philly. Last February,
wasn’t it?”

Oliver’s rage-red face turned
gray.

“
All those barrels of coal
oil gone up in flames, incinerating everything within three or four
blocks. How many children died? A dozen? Three dozen? Not counting
all the men, women, and firemen and those they never found in the
ashes. And all because you had a score to settle with
Blackburn.”