Legacy (10 page)

I cut them off with a wave of my hand and a hard look. 'That will be enough of that, or I will walk straight out of here and you'll not see me again. Do I make myself clear?'

Most of them sat back, respect in their eyes. But one burly, broad-shouldered man with a dirty black beard gave me a scowl.

'Don't start none of your goddamned high-toned talk, ya rich bi—'

His words were stopped suddenly by the ham-like fist of an even larger man, with curly blond hair, who swung quickly out of the next bed and delivered a crashing blow all in the same swift motion. Blood showed bright red on the mouth of the bearded man.

'Just watch that tongue o' yours there, Hoyt,' said the young blond-haired giant in an easy tone. He bent back Hoyt's arm, making him gasp. 'Ain't no way to talk to a lady. Now, ya behave yourself, or do ya want me t'take this here arm off your shoulder?'

Hoyt grunted, shaking his head no. The blood was flowing more freely.

'Has that man lost a tooth?' I asked, ready to call for the nurse.

'Oh, he's all right, ma'am. Just a nosebleed. Ain't that right, Hoyt?'

Hoyt winced and nodded yes, and the other man released him, looking at me as he sat back down on his own bed and eased the white plaster cast on his leg into position. His grey eyes were warm and friendly, and his casual, almost boyish, air was very appealing.

'Now, ma'am, it's Billy Joe Walker at your service. Let me welcome ya here and apologize for the fellas gettin' excited. They didn't mean nothing by it. Ya can be sure and certain of that.'

He grinned a little sheepishly at me, as if he had just then realized that what he had done to the man named Hoyt next to him was also not quite up to gentlemanly manners. Though he had the physique, especially the neck and shoulders, of a bull, Billy Joe looked surprisingly gentle. I wondered briefly what had prompted him to come to my defense with such sudden violence.

I smiled at the group. 'That's quite all right. As long as we understand each other, I'm sure we'll get along very well.'

And so began my afternoons reading to the men at Dr. McKay's clinic. It appeared that I was the only one, because Amanda did not arrive that afternoon. As I got to know the men a bit better the next day, I realized that most of them were dejected and unhappy. After an unexpected injury and illness, they genuinely needed cheering up as much as they needed medicine, and certainly more than they needed the poems I had brought. So the third time I came to the clinic, on a Wednesday afternoon, I came armed with some humorous tales and the novel I had bought for reading on the train.

As luck would have it, this Wednesday was the first time Dr. McKay looked in on us. When the doctor came by, the men were guffawing loudly over a story from Artemus Ward that I had just finished.

'Why don't you come in and join us?' I called out to him.

He took a step into the room, very tall and dignified in his white coat, but still looking quite young. His blue eyes fairly radiated crisp authority.

'I take it you gentlemen approve of Miss Rawlings,' he said with a smile.

The room fell oddly silent. I wondered if this was because these men knew my father's name, or simply because they were intimidated by the presence of the doctor, who was, after all, their employer, as well.

Then heads began to nod assent, and there were respectful voicings of 'Yes, sir.'

'Good. And I take it that you've found it agreeable so far?' He nodded at me, and again came the smile, though not quite as broad this time.

'This is my third time in three days.' I said, pressing my book close to my lap. 'I should hardly have come back otherwise.'

'Very good. I'll see you all later, then.' He was gone before anyone could reply.

Yet he was waiting for me downstairs after I had finished. Was it my imagination, or did I see interest as he let his gaze travel over my fitted blue riding coat and then back to look me in the eye? Could it be that I had the power to excite this enigmatic man? I told myself it did not matter. Steven was all I needed for excitement. But I could not deny that I was curious, and, to some degree, even attracted. Justin McKay radiated a magnetism different from the rough, hearty power of my father, and certainly different from the dark, romantic energy of Steven Graybar. Justin felt cooler, somehow, and yet very strong. When I saw him there waiting for me, I felt a tightness in my throat and an urge to quicken my steps.

For a moment I was frightened. I knew perfectly well what I had done with Steven Graybar and how I had felt when I was with him. I knew the softness, the vulnerable warmth, and the delight he had awakened in me. Could it be that someone so different could bring about the same feelings after only a few days? I wished I had been alone, for I needed the time to sort out my confused thoughts.

He was looking at the volume of Artemus Ward. 'The latest thing from the schools these days, I suppose?' His smile was cool but friendly.

'I understand President Lincoln used to read these to his cabinet,' I said. 'So I suppose they'll have them in the schools someday.'

'I heard that story, too,' he said, 'from Stanton, the Secretary of War. I think it's a fine choice. But, tell me, why have you come in three times in three days? I thought you and Miss Scott were going to take turns.'

'So did I. But I haven't heard from Amanda. I thought you had. When I didn't see her, I just came ahead.'

'You don't mind working the extra time?'

'Not for now, no.' I flushed slightly. I really didn't mind at all. In fact, I had been glad for the opportunity to keep busy, to keep my mind occupied so that I would not be thinking of Steven Graybar. I had heard nothing from Steven since I had last seen him on Saturday night. I supposed he thought it would be too dangerous to send a note.

Justin was saying something about the Graybars and Saturday night, and for a moment I had the uncomfortable feeling that he had read my mind. Then I realized that he had just asked me to attend the ball at the Graybars with him.

'You hesitate. Are you afraid of your father? That's a surprise, from what I remember.'

'No, it's just that ... ' I did not know what to say about Steven.

'You don't want to break the family boycott? Sam Rawlings stays away, so everyone stays away? Come on, don't be foolish. It's time your two families dropped this war of yours. It doesn't help the rest of us in this town one bit.'

Suddenly I felt lighthearted. What a fine joke on Father! If Justin McKay was taking me, Father would be hard put to make any objection.

I said, 'You haven't told Father about the mill yet, have you? Whether you'll sell it or not, I mean.'

He nodded, as if he were pleased with the way I recognized his position of strength with Father. 'Not yet. Perhaps next week sometime I may make up my mind. I've already told your father that, but you might mention it to him again - if you decide that you're going with me on Saturday.'

'I think I shall. Thank you for asking me.' I gave him a pleasant smile and a nod as I walked past him and out the door to the waiting carriage.

That night at the supper table I told Father and Mother about Dr. McKay's invitation. Father immediately forbade me to accept. The cold fury in his voice and the blaze of hate in his eyes made me frightened once again, and I shuddered to think of what would have happened had he discovered Steven and me in the garden while he had that pistol.

When Mother tried to stop his tirade, it only seemed to inflame him all the more. 'You!' he raged. 'I'm not going to listen to a single word from you in defense of the Graybars! You're not going to ...'

'I'm not going to defend them,' said Mother quietly from her end of the table as he shouted at her. 'I'm not going to defend them. I'm simply pointing out what a fool you are on the subject after twenty years.'

'What did you say?' Father fairly bellowed out the words. His eyes widened in anger and he half-rose in his chair. 'I ought to come down there and ...'

'A fool. Twenty years. A fool.' Mother repeated the words in that same quiet tone, and they finally had their effect. Father suddenly was standing over her chair, and as I watched, horrified, he slapped her across the face.

'No!' I cried out at him and tried to pull him away, my chair toppling over and my feet slipping on the carpet. 'No!' He seemed barely to notice me. I could not budge him as he stood over her, his hands upraised to strike where already an ugly red flush had appeared on Mother's cheek. I had never seen her frightened before, but now there was cold fear in her green eyes as she gazed up at him, helpless.

Father's face had become a mask. I saw his muscles tense for another cruel blow, and without thinking I flung myself against his arm, trying to hold it back. But he only pushed me aside with a force that made me gasp. I stumbled back against the chairs against the wall and sank down sobbing on to the carpet. For a long moment I waited, watching my tears turn tiny circles on the carpet into a deeper crimson.

The blow would fall any second. And I would probably be next.

But there was only silence, and then footsteps on the carpet, and then the doors were shut. I looked up. Father had gone and Mother sat pale and shaken, numbly smoothing one of the silken sleeves of her tan dinner dress.

'Ashamed,' she whispered, 'he ought to be ashamed.'

Later that evening I tried to get Mother to tell me why Father hated the Graybars, but she was as impervious to my questions as usual. 'You'll know someday, child,' she said with a faraway look. 'That'll be soon enough. Meanwhile, you stay clear of your father when he's wrought up like that.'

She was sitting in her dressing gown, a pale yellow that tonight made her look frail. We were in her room. I was helping her brush out her hair.

'But I just don't understand why. Father's not usually like this. I've never seen him so ... I don't know . . . crazed, as if he weren't really himself!' I watched her face in the vanity mirror as I brushed her hair, but she did not change her expression, except to appear a trace more sombre and tired. The flesh under her chin no longer looked firm, and her eyes, bright under heavy lids, looked sadly up at me so that I wished I had not even brought up the subject.

'You'll know soon enough,' was all she said. Then she took a deep breath and drew herself up before the mirror, visibly brightening.

'Well!' Another deep breath, and then she turned around to face me. 'We're certainly not going to get you ready for Saturday night sitting here this way. What are you going to wear?'

'You mean you think I should go? I thought . . . '

'When your father comes to his senses, he's going to realize that you're too old for him to stand in your way. And Dr. McKay is too valuable a friend to lose - especially as a prospective son-in-law. Have you ever thought about that?'

The question took me by surprise, and I blushed. I felt a sudden impulse to tell her of Steven Graybar, but I quelled it. Even if I never saw Steven again, our days and nights of magic could not be taken away, and to speak of it now would invite sympathy that I did not need or want.

'I can see you have,' said Mother knowingly. 'Well, it's good to be thinking about these things. You're certainly going to have your share of proposals until you finally say yes - unless Dr. McKay wins you over first. And that might not be a bad thing at all, from what I've heard of him.'

'Oh?' I was curious. 'I really haven't heard anything, except that he's become quite wealthy here in Grampian.'

'Not many have heard anything beyond that,' said Mother. 'It was only last fall when I was in Philadelphia that I learned he'd been married before. Naturally, I kept the story to myself, for I don't believe in gossip.'