River Bend Page 17

  She gave String a smile. I could almost hug him for interrupting this conversation.

  “Splendid,” Burcham said. “I see you both ate well. These dishes could ’bout wash themselves.”

  After Belle helped Mrs. Burcham clean up the hotel’s dining room and kitchen, she went outside to spend time with Johnathan and the Burcham boys who had kept her son under their watchful eyes.

  Later, she sat in the parlor with her small, quilting hoop in her lap. Planning to enjoy an afternoon of quilting while Johnathan played nearby with his wooden soldiers, she relaxed. The soft, tapping rhythm of her needle and thimble brought her peace until the two sisters burst into the room.

  “We need more information,” Catherine said, her voice bold. “Tell us more about the men.” She and Amelia plopped down on the floor in front of Belle like little children settling in to hear a favorite nursery rhyme.

  “They will be a pretty rough crowd,” Belle said, “loud and rambunctious. But when they see a lady present, they find their manners and show respect.”

  The sisters looked like they had stars in their eyes.

  “During rendezvous,” Belle said, “a wagon or two of fancy women come into town, but they spend their time in the saloon.”

  “That would be the soiled doves,” Catherine said.

  “Sometimes called that,” Belle said. “They stay long enough to entertain the men before they load up and head to another town. That’s what I’ve been told.”

  Catherine lost the starry look in her eyes in exchange for a flash of anger. “Better not get in my way of getting the man I want.”

  Belle wished she could laugh but reconsidered. Catherine was not a woman to get on the bad side of.

  They talked for a long time about the grizzled trappers who would soon crowd into the settlement. The high-quality furs and pelts they would bring with them would be traded for money and supplies before being loaded for shipment on Trader Jake’s vessel.

  Belle wondered what it would be like to sail over the high seas but dismissed the thought. I can’t imagine spending months aboard ship with that man with only miles and miles of water separating me from land.

  “Ouch!” She put her finger in her mouth and bit down to stop the bleeding and laid her needle aside. I haven’t poked myself in years. That man causes me so much discomfort.

  Amelia jumped up. “May I do something?”

  “No,” Belle said, feeling embarrassed. “I’m fine. I was talking too much and not paying attention to my stitching.”

  String walked in. “Sorry to break up your little tea party, ladies,” he said. “The captain wants to fill you in on the proper conduct for the rendezvous.”

  “No man tells me how I should act,” Catherine said.

  “Me neither,” Amelia said.

  Belle was thinking the same thing but chose not to voice it because Trader Jake shuffled into the room. Noting his weakness and pale color, the women appeared to forget their indignation and helped him sit.

  “Thank you, ladies,” he said. “Rendezvous can be a dangerous time for women. Most of these men haven’t even laid eyes on a woman for a year or more. If they decide they’d like to take you back up into the mountains with them, they might kidnap you.” He looked from one woman to the other.

  “I see you’re not taking me seriously.” He leaned forward, and his voice became stern and loud. “I mean it. You could be here one minute and gone the next. And,” he paused for effect, “we might never find you. I don’t want to frighten you.” He settled back into the chair. “Your safety is my concern, and it needs to be your concern as well.”

  “What do you suggest for a woman of my stature?” Catherine taunted him.

  “Touché,” he said. “I remember our first meeting.” He smiled but returned to his stern look. “No matter how strong a person is, he or she can succumb to a blow on the head or comply with an order when a knife is held at his throat. Some of these men are desperate for a wife and will try anything to get one.” He paused and Amelia sat straighter in her chair.

  “One man chose a Pawnee woman for his helpmate,” Jake said. “Watched her for months until he caught her alone in a berry patch. Snatched her right out from under the tribe’s lookout. Of course, the man had to find new territory to trap in, but he said she was worth the risk.”

  Amelia leaned forward. “Has anyone ever been taken from here?”

  “Years ago,” Jake said, “the old timers say a woman disappeared close to rendezvous time. She was a school marm on her way to Santa Fe.”

  Catherine placed her hands on her hips. “I’m no little school marm, and I can take care of myself.”

  “In normal circumstances,” Jake said, “I’m certain you can. But some of these trappers have wrestled bears and lived to tell about it. You have yet to see the grizzlies in America. They stand much taller than you and I.” He pointed at Catherine. “You and your sister should never be separated while the men are here, and I’d like for you to limit the times you venture out. Make sure you have no pattern to your trips when you leave the hotel.” He held his hands out, palms up. “I would be pleased to escort you, but I have duties at the trading post. The trappers and my ship provide my livelihood.”

  “We understand perfectly,” Amelia said. “We will exercise caution at all times.”

  “Very good.” He tried to rise but lost his balance.

  All three women rushed to his aid.

  “That was unexpected,” he said. “Didn’t know I was weak enough to need a nursemaid. Must be near death if I need three.”

  Belle sat back down and resumed her quilting while Catherine and Amelia helped him back to bed.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Johnathan giggled and shrieked with joy when he rode atop the big man’s shoulders. Jake kept a secure grip on the playful child as he carried him, walking several miles with him each day. Jake had never considered himself a family man; however, he loved children. Realizing how much he enjoyed Johnathan’s cheerful company, he wondered if it might be time to settle down and sire his own sons.

  What am I thinking? Rendezvous is almost here, and I must set sail as soon as it’s over. After I purchase all those furs, I’ll need to get them sold.

  The long walks each day proved to work better than a tonic for his recovery. Most of his strength had returned. He knew he could never repay the group of sincere friends who unselfishly gave of their time and talents to nurse him back to health.

  He spied Belle on the path, coming to greet him and his charge and to walk back to the hotel with them for the last quarter of a mile. She had a habit of doing that, and Jake looked forward to her appearance. Although she came out to check on her son’s welfare, it was Jake with whom she talked, and he was thrilled she made the effort to be alone with him. He viewed it as her portion of the courtship between them, however he was unsure whether the young widow realized it or not. She was an intelligent person, but so unworldly. It was quite possible she would be surprised if anyone were to ask if she and Jake were actually courting.

  Interrupting his thoughts, he caught Belle’s puzzled look.

  “What are you thinking that makes your grin deepen so?”

  “Just thinking of you,” he answered and saw the corners of her mouth crease before she ducked her head. Chuckling at her shyness and unable to resist the gold and copper highlights crowning the young widow’s auburn hair, he reached out to her and ran his fingers through her long tresses, enjoying the softness and silken feel of it.

  She did not pull away as he expected. Instead, she looked up at him, and he was lost in her gaze. All of his dreams came rushing at him, those of the woman with eyes of dark jade or bright emerald, sometimes no particular shade of green. Also advancing were those dreams where the woman sat just beyond his reach and now, here she stood, close enough to touch. He feared he might push her away if he made the wrong move. Although wanting desperately to hold her and crush her body to his chest, he held tight the rein of de
sire fighting within him.

  Instead, he spoke, his voice husky. “Do you know how beautiful you are right now?”

  Searching his face, she said, “I don’t think I’m homely, but I’ve never considered myself a beauty.”

  “Truly, you are,” he said before catching his breath. He did so to keep from calling her “my love” for fear she would bolt. But when he caught his breath, the sudden intake of air made him choke. Immediately, he handed Johnathan down to his mother and bent over to make breathing easier. After Belle transferred Johnathan to her hip, Jake motioned for her assistance.

  He gestured for her to beat on his back with her free hand while he coughed and gasped until he took normal breaths again. He straightened and gave her an accusing look.

  “This is your fault,” he said and saw her genuine concern for him dissipate when she stamped her booted foot on the packed earth of the well-trodden path.

  “What do you mean? My fault.”

  “Why, your beauty took my breath away.”

  “How dare you,” she shouted, her face reddening. “You, you insufferable, rude man.”

  Even though he was serious and paying her a compliment, Jake could not control the corners of his mouth as they inched their way upward. That proved to be his undoing, because Belle began to pummel his back with her fist. He laughed and, of course, that only made matters worse. When Belle tired of pounding on Jake, she turned without a word and marched toward the hotel, Johnathan bouncing along on her hip. Watching her, Jake was forced to release the big, belly laugh he had been trying so hard to contain.

  When he was strong enough, he began preparations at the trading post for the onslaught of trappers coming in for rendezvous. He wouldn’t have Stephen’s help, so he’d have to build up his stamina to put in long hours each day. As he stocked the shelves with bullets, molasses, coffee, flour, and cones of sugar, he wondered how his customers would respond to the tea he purchased in China.

  “It’s good to have something new,” he said.

  “What’s new?” String walked in, closing the door behind him.

  “Tea,” Jake said. “A poor substitute for coffee, but it might be a nice change.”

  “Speaking of change,” String said, “how you gonna explain your partner’s absence?”

  “My half-brother is no longer a partner in my trading post.”

  “Or, in his mercantile, as he called it?”

  “Correct.”

  “How do you explain his disappearance, Captain?”

  “What did I say when I was out of my mind with a fever?”

  String tapped his foot. “Well, you said plenty to me, but I’m thinking no one else made sense of your ramblings.”

  “Good.”

  The door burst open, and a man the size of a grizzly bear stepped in. “Trader Jake,” he said, “Pleased to see you’re up and about.”

  Jake shook hands with the man. “Samuel, it’s good to see you, too. Have a successful season?”

  “Sure did. Plenty of furs to trade, but that’s not why I’m here.”

  Jake cocked an eyebrow. “Oh?”

  “The Red River coughed up a body,” Samuel said. “Don’t know how high up it came from or how long the river kept it submerged. You need to come see it.”

  The three men hurried out to Samuel’s wagon where Benjamin waited. He uncovered the remains. “Looks like Mr. Owens, don’t it?”

  “Could be,” Jake said. “Wearing his clothes, for sure.”

  “Ain’t no bullet hole,” Benjamin said. “I searched for one.”

  “Looks like he might have drowned,” Samuel said.

  “I’m sure that’s what happened,” Jake said. “Please take him over to Doc’s so he can tell us what to do to prepare him for burial.”

  “We’ll take care of it,” Samuel said. “I’ve never seen a body in this shape before.”

  “Neither have I,” Jake said. “I’ll ride out to River Bend and let them know.”

  String stepped back from the wagon. “I’ll finish up here, Captain.”

  “Appreciate that, String. Be sure to lock it up. We’re not open for business yet.”

  Jake left the men to their duties and walked to the livery to saddle his roan. Riding out to Stephen’s plantation gave him time to deal with his muddled thoughts.

  So, it wasn’t a dream. My brother is dead. He shot me, and that loud crack I keep hearing in my nightmares was that old tree breaking and taking Stephen with it to drown in the river.

  Jake spurred his horse.

  “You should have had sons,” he said aloud, “to inherit River Bend and keep it running. I wonder what will become of it.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  The door of the plantation house opened before Jake had time to knock.

  “Why, Old Bailey,” Jake said. “How in the world are you?”

  “Jest fine, Masta Jake. Jest fine.” The servant moved aside for Jake to come in.

  Jake stepped into the foyer and frowned. “What did I tell you about that master business?”

  “Yas, suh.” Old Bailey closed the massive door without a sound.

  Removing his hat, Jake handed it to the faithful servant. “Have you heard from Stephen lately?”

  “No, suh. Haven’t seen his shadow since he rode to the river the last time you were here.”

  “I was afraid of that, Old Bailey. It looks like your master drowned in the river. The body is at Doc’s now.”

  “Oh, Lordy, suh. We’ll get a grave dug, and we can make a box, but wouldn’t he want a fancy cast… cats…”

  “Casket,” Jake said. “I think you’re right, but it will take months to get one carved and transported way out here. Not sure what we’ll do, but let all the servants and field hands know about his death and tell them not to worry. Ask them to continue their duties as usual.”

  “Yas, suh. Is there anything I can do for you, suh?”

  “Thank you, Old Bailey, but no. I’m going to search through Stephen’s papers to see what provisions he made in the event of his death.”

  “Yas, suh.” The old servant handed Jake a key. His slippers made no sound as he left the foyer.

  After searching through Stephen’s papers, Jake leaned back in the desk chair. “I will say this for you, brother, you did keep a full accounting of the finances for your plantation. You documented everything—one of the main reasons you’ve been successful.”

  He leafed through a leather-covered journal, its binding worn from years of use. “This trial-and-error history of native crops and tropical plants would impress Thomas Jefferson, especially since you don’t list as many failures as he did in his Farm Book.” With head in hands and elbows on his brother’s desk, the big man took time to mourn.

  Later, he removed the large blotter pad from the top of the desk and discovered the will Stephen had contemplated. “So, you thought this much of Strong? Thinking about making him an heir? Interesting.” Deciding to burn the incomplete document, Jake strode to the fireplace. He stopped short of lighting a fire when something caught his eye.

  “Old Bailey!”

  “Yas, suh.” The servant appeared in the doorway.

  Can he move that fast, or was he standing at attention all this time on the other side of the door?

  “What have you been burning in here?” Jake motioned to the interior of the firebox.

  “Not a thing, suh. Masta likes to make his own fire in his office.”

  “Hasn’t anyone cleaned in here?”

  “No, suh. Masta locked the door when he left.”

  “But you have keys.”

  “Yas, suh, but I never uses ’em. If Masta locks a door, it stays that-a-way.”

  “All right,” Jake said, “but as I retrieve these pieces that didn’t disintegrate, tell me if you’ve ever seen them before.” He handed charred pieces of leather and parchment to Old Bailey who studied them for a moment.

  “Suh, the Bible that belonged to Missus Strong’s pappy had a cover lik
e this. Cain’t say for sure, suh.”

  “Thank you, Old Bailey. I’ll look into it further. You may go now.”

  “Yas, suh.” Before he closed the office door, Old Bailey grinned. “Your supper’s served in the dining room when your belly tells you it’s time to eat.”

  The old man disappeared before Jake could respond that he hadn’t planned to stay long enough to eat. Stephen’s paperwork needed review, but the charred remnants from the fireplace commanded Jake’s attention.

  He laid out his find on a small table and pulled up a swivel chair to sit in. “Aha,” he said. “Stephen did order one. After finding out Jefferson created a chair that swiveled, my brother had to have one.” Jake turned around in it like a child with a new toy. “I like this.”

  Settling down to his task, he removed as much of the blackened corners of the brittle paper as he dared. A lady’s fine hand had penned words on the ash-covered pages—words that jumped out at him and pulled him in. Belle Strong must have kept a diary. These few scraps of paper held part of her history. Piecing together what he could and guessing at missing words, Jake deciphered part of a day in the young widow’s life—quilting outside under a shade tree, opening a mysterious package of fabric, cooking game silently left at the door of her dugout, and playing with her child.

  Why were these burned? How did Stephen acquire them?

  “What a loss,” Jake said. “She labored to record everything important to her. It was private unless she chose to share it. This should have been kept for her—and by her.” He paused for a moment. “Stephen’s rage must have culminated in this. He was jealous, not of a man having a good wife, but jealous of a man because he took a wife.”

  Deciding not to mention anything about the diary to Belle, Jake left the office to eat in the formal dining room. Treated to a meal of baked ham, fried catfish, sweet potato casserole, boiled greens, warm soda bread with fresh butter, and a peach cobbler floating in cream, he felt like a king—a fat king.

  “Old Bailey,” Jake said, “prepare one of the guest rooms, and I’ll stay the night since it’s late. Have the overseer, Mr. James, meet me at daylight in the greenhouse.”