Legacy (14 page)

He had an envelope in his hand, the paper faded and yellow.

I shook my head, unable to cope with whatever it was. I wanted only to leave. I moved to the door.

'I'm not going to see you again, Steven,' I said at last. 'You've. . .'

He cut me off. 'I don't want to hear any more of your objections. You'll change your mind soon enough. Now, if you want to go, I suggest we leave.'

Too overwrought to give him the retort he deserved, I simply turned and opened the door.

When I reentered the ballroom, I saw Justin still dancing with Amanda Scott. Both were smiling and engaged in animated conversation. I felt as if I were fifty years older than either of them.

Chapter Six

Iwas still shaking inside as Justin led me out to the carriage and helped me climb up into that quiet, softly padded compartment where such a short while ago I had felt so strong, so confident. Now I was forced to confront my own desire for Steven and, more frightening, the power it could suddenly assert. Steven had recognized that, had used it to try to assert a claim on me. I had resisted his claim, but I had failed to conquer my desire.

Worse yet, I had to admit there was another desire I felt that was very nearly as strong. I wanted Legacy. Before he had taken me back to the dance floor, Steven had insisted on leading me through other rooms of the house, and I could not help feeling once again the powerful urge to call this mansion my own. We had walked quickly through the huge portrait gallery and the several sitting rooms, which were now being used for gaming on the third floor. Then on the first floor we had glanced in at the huge baronial library, with its great enameled fireplace, large enough to stand inside. Brad Graybar had been holding forth on the desirability of the land up here to the rapt attention of several guests. Distraught as I was over what Steven had just done to me, I felt a right to this mansion, a need to own it, to mould its grand but rustic splendor into the centre of a fine and spirited social circle that would dazzle even the jaded Grampian millionaires.

Steven had asked me, as we hesitated for a moment alone in the portrait gallery before going downstairs, how I would like to be mistress of the mansion. I had replied sharply, hurting him, I had hoped. 'Since this mansion is hardly yours to bestow, I fail to see any use in pursuing that question. And I meant what I said - I won't be seeing you again.'

'But you will,' he repeated. 'You can't change it any more than I can.'

I had ignored him then. He was so damnably arrogant!

Now, in the carriage with Justin, I tried to clear my mind of this whirlwind of emotions. All right, I did want Legacy. And Steven Graybar still had a hold on me. I could admit that. But I had vowed not to see him again. Couldn't I keep that vow? I stole a glance at Justin out of the corner of my eye as I pretended to look out the darkened window. He seemed relaxed, self-assured, as though he were perfectly willing just to ride down the hill in silence. He had been through fire, or so Mother had said, with his first marriage, and yet he sat perfectly composed and in control now. How had he done it?

I remembered his question during our ride earlier that evening. Was Legacy, and Steven Graybar, really what I wanted in twenty years? Steven wanted to dominate my feelings. Did I want that? I knew I wanted more than what I had received tonight.

I felt an inner strength and determination returning. Come what may, I vowed I would never allow Steven to take control of me as he had tried to do tonight. I would not allow him to be alone with me until I was absolutely sure I had somehow broken his hold over my feelings.

I rested my feet on the bolster of tufted velour that nearly covered the floor of the carriage. Turning from the window, I took a deep breath of the fresh night air of the forest. I glanced again at Justin. Perhaps I really could stay away from Steven Graybar altogether. Certainly my father would make that decision easier to abide by!

Justin saw that I had now come out of my daydream. Soon he was asking me about the patients at the clinic, and then about school, and about Europe, until almost before I knew it we were back among the houses of Grampian and on our way to Father's hotel.

Behind the oak trees of the park we could see the hotel's white arched porticos ahead of us, and the lights of Father's party. Then I heard the sound of another carriage and voices. We stopped and Justin got out, only to return almost immediately. His face was grim.

'There's been a serious accident. They want me to look in. We'll meet your father there.'

'Where?' The carriage had turned around and was gathering speed.

'It's at your father's mill. They think one man's dead, and there may be others.'

'But the mill's shut down tonight. I don't understand. There's no one even supposed to be near there except for the night watchman.'

'Exactly. No one working for your father was supposed to be there.' He grimaced, and I recalled the way he had looked when he had warned that the insane rivalry between our family and the Graybars would have poisonous results.

A crowd had gathered outside the mill entrance, but the big planked doors, large enough for a wagon to pass through, had been kept shut and there were two constables standing guard. As soon as they saw Justin, they waved their lanterns and called for the crowd to stand aside so that we could get through.

'Out of the way, you! Doctor's here, can't you see? Give him room, give him room!'

But as we passed I heard one of them say in a lowered voice, 'No rush with that one in there, Doc. Likely he's cold by now.'

The doors clattered shut behind us and we were surrounded by the huge interior of the mill. The walls and the wide, sloping roof, with piles of lumber stacked on the rafters, were all in shadow, lit only dimly with the lamps held by three men some thirty feet away from us in the centre of the mill floor. I recognized Father among them. They were standing between two of the large vertical disc saws, one about ten feet behind them. The teeth of the other saw blade, which was closer to us, made pointed black shadows and blocked our view of the figure that lay crumpled at their feet.

Father saw us and took charge immediately. 'How do, Justin. Sorry we had to bring you down here like this. Catherine, you stay with me. I'm taking you home just as soon as we get squared away here. Come stand behind me and don't look.'

I did as I was told while Justin briefly examined the body. A hollow-eyed, thin man named Denver, who was the watchman for Father's yard across the street, told us what had happened. He had been making his rounds, had heard a terrible scream from within the mill, and he came in to find his friend lying here lifeless, his head smashed by a lumberman's short pike that still lay beside the body. Denver's untrimmed mustache shook as he finished his tale.

'Then I ran out in the doorway and saw the constable going by, and he went for help. That's all I know, but, by God, I want to get the man what done this to poor Blake. I want to see him hanged!'

'All right, that's enough,' said Father. 'He's dead, then, I take it?'

Justin nodded. 'But just a moment, Denver. You say you've been here since you heard the scream? You just went outside the door to call for help?'

'I . . stayed in the doorway and waited until the constable came back with ... ah ... Mr. Rawlings, here, just a few minutes ago.'

Justin was looking around, silent. Outside we could hear the soft rippling of the current as the river flowed past the entry chute and along under the stout wooden beams that held the floor of the mill high above the water.

'Let me have that light,' said Father. 'I see what you're driving at, Doc. The son-of-a bitch could still be in here.'

He held the lamp so as to cast its beam on the far end of the mill, the upriver end, where the wide hatchway doors opened through the floor, leading to the loading chute below. The doors were shut.

'Oh, my God,' said Denver, 'that's the only other way he coulda got out, ain't it? And he didn't open them doors, not while I was here.'

'He wouldn't have closed them from outside, either,' said the constable, taking out his gun.

Father put a hand on my shoulder and began to walk me past the big saw and slowly back to the door to the street, where we had come in. 'All right, just easy does it now. Goddamn, I was a fool to let you in here in the first place.'

Justin spoke up, hard and quick. 'Up, Sam, he's on the rafters!'

There was a noise in the timber directly above us and we looked up. High overhead on the edge of a pile of timber the beam from the constable's lantern shone on a lanky, thin figure crouched low, straining to lower himself down into the shadows where he could not be seen.

'You, there!' The constable's voice quavered slightly as he drew his pistol while trying to keep his light steady. 'Get down here before I shoot!'

'It ain't me, I tell you! It ain't me!' The voice echoed hoarsely down to us, and suddenly I knew I had heard that voice somewhere before.

Then the boards overhead rattled with another movement, and the thin, lanky figure, now lit in the glare of Father's lantern, lost his balance and pitched forward off the beam. With a dreadful, drawn-out shriek he came sailing down head first. The terrified white eyes seemed to stare directly at us, though they were rolled back in fear. Mouth gaping, he spread his long arms apart as if to engulf us in a final embrace before he crushed us to the ground. I screamed, and Father pushed me away so that I nearly fell beside the iron base of the great disc saw. And then I heard a horrible wet crackling sound above me. I looked up. There, impaled lengthwise on the teeth of the circular steel saw blade, was the body of Shaw. The eyes stared lifelessly at me. A little trail of red froth began to issue from his nose and mouth. My hand, as I pushed up from the floor, felt something warm. When I stood up and saw that there was blood on my glove, the room grew suddenly dark and I lost consciousness.

I awoke, sitting up with Father and the constable beside me, aware that I had just been moaning something about Shaw, for I could remember the sound of the words as the faces above me came slowly into focus. 'I'm all right,' I said, and I took a deep breath.

Then from the far side of the mill came the echoing sound of gunfire. 'Look out, Justin!' yelled Father, and he quickly shielded me with his body. The constable turned. I heard the rattling of a chain pulley suddenly let loose, and then the creaking of the wooden hatchway doors followed by the crash as they fell open. The constable fired once and, cursing, he began to run towards the loading chute. More gunshots followed and then silence, and Father let me sit up.

'There was another one up there,' said Father. 'Looks like he got away.' He helped me to my feet and called out, 'Hey, Justin! You all right? Get a look at him?'

There was no answer from the other side of the room. We could see the glow of a lamp behind some machinery, but we could hear only the voices outside and a scuffling along the stones of the river beneath us, where the constable had gone.

'Justin!' I broke away and ran to him with Father close behind. He lay at the edge of the circle of light thrown by his lantern, his face in the shadow. And beside his head I could see a dark stain widening over the floor.

I was shaking with fear for him as I knelt by his side. Then as Father held the lantern over his head, I saw that the bullet had grazed the scalp over his temple, knocking him unconscious and causing the blood to spurt forth, bright red, even as we watched. I knew what I had to do, and quickly, if Justin was to live. Without hesitating, I took off one of my long cotton gloves and folded it quickly into a pad. Then I pressed it against the wound and held it there with all my strength to stop the flow of blood. The cloth grew wet, and I pressed harder. Father set down his lantern beside me and took out a small silver flask from his pocket. The odor of whisky mingled with the blood and the night air from the river, and for a moment I thought I would not be able to keep from fainting. Hold on! I bit down hard on my lip and pressed harder, cradling Justin's head in my lap as I knelt there. I steadied him with my left hand as I kept up the pressure with the pad in my right hand. His thin face looked strangely serene.