Talons of Eagles, page 22
"Yes, I'd best read it to you, since you've reached such an advanced age your eyesight is failing you."
Jamie had the eyes of an eagle.
Kate laughed at the retreating figure of Ellen. "Our kids still move along smartly when they think you and I are going to fuss, don't they?"
"That they do. Tell me about this girl that James William is in love with."
"Well, she's from an old Virginia family and is beautiful."
"What part of Virginia?"
"Around Richmond."
"Kate, does she have a name?"
"Yes." Kate opened the letter. "Ah, Page."
Jamie sat very still for a moment. "Last name, Kate?" he asked softly.
She cut her eyes to him. "What's wrong, Jamie."
"Last name, Kate?"
"Woodville."
"Kate, I think we'd better go inside and have us a little talk."
"Listen to me, you little fool!" Anne shouted at her daughter. "This boy is not right for you."
"Why, Mother?" Page returned the shout.
"Because I know, that's why. I'm your mother. I know what is best for you, and James is not the right boy."
“Name one thing that is wrong with him. I challenge you to name just one thing, Mother."
"I forbid you to see this boy!" Anne screamed at her daughter.
"Go to hell!" Page said, and started to walk out of the room.
Anne grabbed her by the arm and spun her around. Page broke free and shoved her mother. "Don't manhandle me, Mother! I won't stand for it."
"Page, for God's sake, listen to me. I — " Anne cut her eyes as her brother entered the room to lean insolently against the arch, that sarcastic smile on his lips. "What the hell do you want, Ross?"
"Why, I just came for a visit, sister. Did I arrive at a bad time?"
Page looked at her mother, then at her uncle. She could never understand why her mother did not get along with her brother. True, Uncle Ross was a fop, but everybody knew that. "You tell her, Uncle Ross," Page said. "Tell her that James is a nice young man. You've met him. You know."
"He's a nice young man, Page," Ross agreed. "But he's not the young man for you."
"Oohhh!" Page threw her hands into the air.
"Tell her, Anne," Ross urged. "Tell her. She's got a right to know. She has to know. Tell her."
"Shut your goddamn mouth!" Anne screamed at her brother.
"Tell me what?" Page asked, looking first at her mother, then at her uncle.
"Nothing, dear. Nothing at all." Anne faced her brother. "Get out of this house, Ross. Get out, and don't ever come back. Do you understand that?"
"Perfectly. Well, as they say in merry ol' England, ta-ta, all." Ross walked out of the great mansion.
"Tell me what?” Page shouted.
"I have no idea what your uncle was babbling about, Page." Anne willed herself to calm down. "He'd been drinking. Couldn't you smell the brandy? The fool is going to fall off his horse someday and break his neck."
Page narrowed her eyes. "What is going on, Mother? And don't lie to me. Something is very wrong. I've known it for years. Mother, I am a grown woman. Papa left me a lot of money and holdings. I am a very rich young grown woman. I can do what I damn well please, and I damn well please to marry James Haywood. With or without your blessings. Now that all that is settled, tell me this . . . secret that you and Uncle Ross share."
Anne shook her head. "There is no secret, dear. You're imagining things. . . . All right, Page. All right. Let's don't you and I quarrel anymore. Page, what do you know of this young man's family?"
"Mother! His grandfather is Colonel MacCallister! The famous war hero. The MacCallisters practically settled Colorado all by themselves. They own hundreds of miles of it. They have cattle ranches and sheep ranches and towns and mining and . . . God, who knows what else? James is a little rough around the edges, but he's a gentleman through and through. I simply cannot understand what you have against him."
Anne was thinking fast. She knew only too well how impulsive the young could be. She had to say this right, and do it right the first time. "I have nothing against the young man, Page. Nothing at all. James William is a fine young man. But from what you've told me he comes from a very large family, and you must remember what Doctor Benson told you."
Anne had bribed, and used a bit of blackmail, to force a local doctor — who was quite fond of young Negro girls — to impress upon Page that she must never have children; the labor would kill her.
"I know what Doctor Benson said, and I know what three other doctors in Charlottesville told me. There is nothing wrong with me, Mother. All three have told me I can have as many babies as I like. To repeat what one told me: 'Miss Woodville, you are built for having babies."
"
Anne sat down in the closest chair and grabbed up a fan and started pumping. She felt flushed.
"What's the matter with you, Mother?" Page asked. "Are you ill?"
"I. . . ah . . . no! No. I'm fine. I just felt flushed, that's all. Page . . . ah . . . don't have children, Page. For your own sake, don't. I won't mention it again. But don't have children."
"Why, Mother? Why? Just tell me why I should not have children."
"Because . . . well, this is difficult for me to express. Page, darling, idiocy runs, ah, well, dark in our family."
"Idiocy, Mother?"
"Yes. We have some real monsters confined to asylums around the country. Or I should say had. They're all dead. But one." Anne's mind was humming now; she had the beat and wasn't about to stop singing the song.
"But, Mother. I am perfectly normal!"
"Your brother isn't." Anne kept piling one lie on top of another.
"My brother?"
"Yes. You have a brother. He's confined to an institution in New York State. He receives the very best of care; you know I would not stint on that. But there is no cure. He's a monster. Page, darling, you must never repeat any of what I just told you. That's what your Uncle Ross was trying to get me to tell you. Oh . . . I'm so ashamed, Page." She put her face in her hands and wept, a great actress playing a role.
Page came over and knelt down beside her mother, taking her hands into her own. "I never suspected, Mother. I swear I didn't. I thought you were just trying to run my life. I apologize for thinking harshly of you."
"Swear to me you won't have children, Page!" Anne lifted her tear-stained face to her daughter. "You've got to swear you won't. It's for your sake and the happiness of you and James William."
"Mother! You mean . . . we have your blessings?"
"Swear it, Page, and I'll give you the finest wedding Virginia has ever seen."
"Oh, I swear it, Mother. On the family Bible, I do swear it!"
That family Bible is full of lies, dear. I know. I put them there. "Then you and James William have my blessings. Page, you must never let on to your uncle that you know. Remember, it's common knowledge that he does have a loose tongue."
"Yes. I know that, Mother. It will be our secret. But . . ." The young woman frowned.
"James?"
"Yes."
"You . . . trust this young man, Page?"
"Yes, Mother. With all my heart."
"Is he strong enough to stand the truth?"
"I think so. Yes. Certainly."
"Then . . ." She sighed, once again thinking fast. "Let me tell him, Page. Let me soften the blow for you young people. I can scatter a few rose petals on the path before I tell him the bitter truth."
"Mother, you are the greatest mother in all the world. Would you do that for me."
"Darling Page, I would do anything for you. Just anything at all." Anything at all to keep you from birthing some goddamn nappy-headed pick ninny and ruining everything for me, everything that I schemed and fought for, you spoiled, pampered, hard-headed rotten little bitch!
"Page . . .?"
"Yes, Mommy?"
"Have you ever given any thought to living in Colorado?"
"Why . . . yes. As a matter of fact, James and I have discussed it. Would you mind terribly?"
"Well, of course I would miss you, dear." About as much as a toothache. "But I think a proper lady must go where her husband wishes. Oh, Page, it would be a grand adventure for you."
"Oh, Mommy! James will be thrilled!"
Not nearly as much as I will. Anne smiled sweetly at her daughter.
31
Kate sat in her chair in the living room of the home in shocked silence for a few moments. Jamie got up and went to the kitchen, stoking up the stove, and putting on fresh water for coffee. Then he stood in the doorway for a moment, looking at his wife.
"Maybe there is some mistake," Kate finally said. "Surely there is more than one family named Woodville in the Richmond area?"
"With a daughter named Page, who has black hair and black eyes and whose mother is named Anne, who lives on a plantation called Ravenswood?"
"You're right, of course," Kate said. "Well! This is somewhat of a problem. Not the fact that he is planning to marry a young lady with some Negro blood in her veins; but does he know about the girl's lineage?"
"Not likely, Kate. It's very doubtful the girl knows."
"So what do we do about it?"
Jamie shrugged his heavy shoulders. "Nothing. What can we do?"
Kate stood up and walked to a window, looking out toward the cemetery, her eyes on the graves of Moses and Liza. The Negro couple had been very nearly middle-aged when Kate and Jamie had first met them, back in the Big Thicket country of East Texas. They had lived a good long life. Liza had died within a few weeks of her husband. Their children, Jed and Sally, still lived and worked in the valley; they were both grandparents.
"Moses would have known what to do," Kate said. "I miss them both."
Jamie came to stand beside his wife, his gaze following his wife's eyes. Titus had died while Jamie was off in the war, but he had been buried Indian fashion, high up in the mountains. His widow, Moon Woman, and their children had gone back to their tribe. Jamie had not seen any of them in years. After Robert's death, his widow had taken their children, all of whom were grown, and vanished without a trace.
"Jed and Sally have no idea what happened to Anne and Roscoe," Jamie said. "The past is dead and, in most cases, buried. All we can do is hope for the best for James William and Page."
"What are the chances of her delivering . . . well, you know?"
"I don't know, Kate. I'd say very slim. But I'm no doctor."
Jamie and Kate fixed their coffee and returned to their chairs on the front porch.
Jamie looked up the street and spotted a cotton-headed little boy running barefoot toward the house. He knew it was one of his grandsons or great-grandsons, but damned if he could remember which son or daughter or grandson or granddaughter the boy belonged to. Kate would know, but he wasn't about to ask her; every time he did she got a big laugh out of it and made some sarcastic comment about his failing memory. Jamie knew his memory was just as good as it was twenty years back; it was just that women seemed to have a knack for remembering birth dates and names and the like.
"Grandpa!" the boy hollered. "Men's a comin'. Two of them. Pa says it's somebody called Preacher."
"Well, I'll be damned!" Jamie said. He had not seen Preacher since before the war.
Preacher looked like death warmed over; but Jamie knew that the man's looks were very deceptive. Preacher was still a very dangerous and very quick man on the shoot or with a knife. Jamie cut his eyes to the young man riding with the famed mountain man. A gun-slick if Jamie had ever seen one. Young, too. Maybe twenty at the most.
Wore two guns, one of them butt forward and high up on his left side.
"Howdy, you old reprobate!" Jamie called to Preacher. "Light and sit."
"Howdy, there, Colonel!" Preacher hollered. "Miss Kate. You still puttin' up with this mangy, beat-up ol' coot?"
"I've sort of gotten used to him after forty-five years," Kate replied, as Preacher and the young man swung down from their saddles.
"This here is my pard," Preacher said. "He ain't dry behind the ears yet, but he's a good boy. He'll do to ride the river with. Name's Jensen. I call him Smoke."
"You hungry?" Kate asked.
"Ain't I always. But me and your man got to palaver first. Then we'll eat. Let's us take a walk, Bear Killer. Smoke, you hep Miss Kate."
Falcon rode up, and he and Jensen sized each other up very quickly. Both had the stamp of gunfighter on them. Falcon was a good eight or ten years older than young Jensen. Kate introduced them.
"Howdy," Falcon said.
"Howdy," Jensen said.
"Heard of you," Falcon said.
"Heard of you," Jensen said.
"So far that's the most borin' conversation I ever did hear," Preacher remarked. "Give 'em a year or two and they might say somethin' worth hearin'. Come on, ol' hoss. We got to talk."
On the way to Louie's saloon, Preacher said, "Do you recall a run-in you had with some damned Easterner name of Grover Ellis?"
Jamie thought about that. "Yes. I remember him. Slightly. But it wasn't much of a run-in. I told him to git and he got. Why?"
"Well, he got all right. What he got was kilt over yonder on the west side of Bearpaw. But he lived long enough to tell one of his boys that it was you who done him in and then lifted his poke."
"That's nonsense, Preacher!"
"Oh, I know that. But Ellis come from West Virginee — feudin' and fussin' and fightin' folks. He's got a whole passel of kin on the way out here to avenge him."
"Damn!" Jamie said. "How much time do I have?"
"Oh, couple of weeks, I reckon. Maybe three. They was provisionin' up at Fort Dodge last week and a pard of mine heared them talkin'. He rode hard to git to my camp with the news. Me and Smoke yonder come over this way to hep out."
"How many men in the group?"
"Not many — twenty-five or thirty, is all. You take five or six. I'll take five or six. Smoke'll take five or six. And Falcon can have the rest. There won't be much to it."
Jamie laughed at that. "Preacher, I don't know whether you've noticed this or not, but, ol' hoss, we're not as young as we used to be."
"I have noticed that I ain't quite as spry as I used to be, Bear Killer. Howsomever, Smoke'll take up the slack for me, and Falcon can take up the slack for you — I got it all figured out. What we'll do is just ambush 'em over near Well's Crick and just blow 'em out of their goddamn saddles. Leave 'em for the buzzards."
Jamie had to chuckle at Preacher's words. In the vernacular of the West, Preacher was a very bad man to fool with. And Jamie had heard of Smoke Jensen. The young man was supposed to be the fastest gun west of the Mississippi River.
They entered Louie's saloon, and Jamie spoke to one of Louie's boys, who was tending to the bar. Louie's wife ran the little eating place that was partitioned off, in case the bar talk got rough, which it seldom did.
"Whiskey for me, boy," Preacher said. "And a beer for the colonel."
Taking chairs at a table, Jamie asked, "Where is Audie and his partner?"
"Lobo? Well, Lobo is probably still holed up in a cave like a damn bear, and Audie done got hisself a whole crate of books. The collected works of Shakespeare, I think they is. He's been readin' to them goddamn heathen Blackfeet all winter. I stayed for about a week, but me and them Blackfeet just don't gee-haw. But they like Audie. They 'bout half skirred of the little bastard; think he's a god of some sort. 'Sides, 'bout a week of him forsooken and harkin' and lo yon maiden in the medder and the like was all I could take. That Shakespeare feller was a strange one, you ask me."
Jamie grinned at the mountain man. Preacher was probably in his late sixties or early seventies, still spry and as full of crap as he ever was. "Where'd you hook up with young Jensen?"
"Kansas. Him and his pa was headin' west. His pa had bad lungs. I kinda took to the lad. Say! I forgot. They was a feller askin' 'bout you last year up north of here in one of them fly-by-night minin' towns. He never did mention his name, but he was a regular gentleman, he was. All of us could tell it. Soft-spoken and all. Said he knowed you durin' the war. He's got him a place up to Goldtown."
"I know where that is. What else did this fellow say?"
"Said he first seen you sitting under a tree by the side of the road readin' a newspaper. Somebody in the place called him Cord, I think."
"Cord could be Cort," Jamie said. "I thought he was dead."
"Well, he ain't. And he's lightnin' fast with them guns of hisn. He's a gambler, and a damn good one, too. I think he's kinda funny — if you know what I mean — but he shore ain't no man to mess with. I think he's a man ridin' a panther, ol' hoss. He's on the prod with a hair-trigger temper and the gun skill to back it all up. He drinks a lot, and when he drinks, he's twicest as dangerous."
"Do me a favor, Preacher?"
"All you got to do is ask."
"You and Jensen stay here and help protect the town against Ellis' kin, should they come here after me. It's very important that I see this Cord person."
"Consider it done, Bear Killer."
"You think this Cord person is Anne's husband?" Kate asked, as Jamie was putting together a few things.
"Yes. And he needs to know what is happening. Not that he can do anything about it, but as the girl's father, he has a right to know."
“You be careful, Jamie. Discounting Ellis, there are still a lot of people out there who would like to make a reputation by killing you."
Jamie smiled at her. “I'm like an old wolf, honey. What I've lost in spryness I've gained in deviousness. I'll be back."
Jamie saddled up one of Horse's distant offspring and rode out. Lightning was a dusty color, with a jagged white streak running down from the top of his head to near his nose, hence his name. If anything, Lightning was meaner than Horse and a hand or two taller. Lightning had the disposition of an angry puma around anyone other than Jamie; but with Jamie, he was as gentle as a pup.
Lightning started to bow his back when Jamie swung into the saddle. "Don't," Jamie said, and the monster horse settled right down.
