Brides of Arizona, page 36
Anger burned through Josiah as he watched the dandy stride from the restaurant. He felt so helpless to stop him. What Mead planned for Miss Johnson shouldn’t be done to any woman. Taking advantage because she was a servant was despicable.
“Josiah, ease up.” Quinn spoke low, but with a firmness that caught Josiah’s attention. “If Miss Johnson is a respectable person, she’ll turn him down no matter how lucrative his offer is. If she’s the woman God has for you, then she’s a decent person.”
The swell of noise from the chattering diners wrapped around Josiah once more. He didn’t know if they’d all quit talking or if he’d been so focused on Mead that he’d shut out everything else. For a moment, he wondered how so many people could be going about their business like nothing had happened when he’d been so shaken.
A soft touch on his hand startled Josiah. He looked down to see Kathleen’s small hand covering his larger one. Lifting his gaze to meet hers, he knew she hurt with him.
“Josiah, if this were Quinn or Conlon, what would you tell them to do?” Kathleen’s soft words were almost lost in the cacophony around them.
Letting out the deep breath he hadn’t realized he held, Josiah gave a tired smile. “I’d tell them to pray.”
Kathleen smiled and patted his hand. “And I’ll bet your mama would have said to finish your supper. Then you can go home and spend time in prayer. God knew this would happen, and you’ll have to trust His plan even when you can’t see it.” She picked up a forkful of beans. “Tomorrow I’ll get Glory, and we’ll go by to visit Miss Johnson. You come for supper tomorrow night, and I’ll tell you what we find out. This young lady won’t be able to resist your charms with all of us praying for her and praising you.”
Quinn shook his head. “I don’t know who to feel sorrier for, Josiah or Miss Johnson.”
Smiling, Josiah picked up his fork. Thank You, Lord, for friends like these. Please protect Lavette from Mead. You know he’s up to no good. The rest of the meal flew by. Between Quinn’s stories of his day’s adventures and Kathleen’s tales of the Sullivan twins’ escapades, Josiah didn’t realize he’d finished his food until he looked down to find his plate clean. Standing, he thanked his friends and excused himself. He wanted to get home, spend some time with Jesus, and maybe even dream a little about expressive cinnamon eyes and wiry curls around a heart-shaped face.
“My Father, how long, my Father, how long, my Father, how long, poor sinner suffer here?” Lavette’s heart ached as she sang. When she closed her eyes, she could still see the line of slaves marching to the fields, shoulders stooped from years of bending over plants, their voices lifting up this sad song. So many times, she’d felt guilty that her physical burden was lighter than theirs. She didn’t have to suffer the hard labor they did. As she grew older and garnered the attention of Miss Susannah’s father, Lavette often wished for the chance to be a slave in the fields, rather than one in the house.
Sprinkling the bread dough with a little more flour, Lavette folded and pushed the mass as if this were someone she had a grudge against. She tried to recall her mother’s face or voice, but only a vague idea came to mind. She couldn’t clearly see her family’s faces anymore. Once in awhile, she could hear her mother’s voice, but those times were getting fewer as the days went by. Oh, how she missed them all.
A light knock rattled the kitchen door. Shaking the excess flour from her hands, Lavette wiped the rest on her apron. Wishing she could check her hair, but having no time, she crossed to open the door. Two young women stood on the porch. One of them had red hair, the other had a star-shaped birthmark on her cheek. Each held a young child on her hip.
“May I help you?” Lavette smoothed her floury apron.
“Hello.” The dark-haired woman held out a luscious-looking cake. “I’m Kathleen Kirby, and this is my cousin, Glorianna Sullivan. We heard someone had moved into this house and thought we’d drop by to say hello.”
“Thank you. My mistress is sleeping right now. I don’t know when she’ll be ready to receive callers. She hasn’t been feeling well for some time.” Lavette stared at the ground. One glance told her she didn’t deserve to look at these women. They might be like Miss Susannah.
“Maybe we could come in and visit with you for awhile. Then, if your mistress is still asleep, we’ll come by another time.”
Not knowing what else to do, Lavette opened the door. As Glorianna stepped past Lavette, the little boy in her arms leaned back until his face was under Lavette’s. He chortled, reaching his pudgy hands toward her. Bright blue eyes, full of mischief, stared at her.
“Andrew, come back here.”
The boy disappeared from sight as the woman pulled him upright. Lavette chanced a glance at the other baby. The little girl had a thumb in her mouth, her wide green eyes taking in everything in the house. Red hair, a shade lighter than the other woman’s, surrounded her head in a halo of curls.
“Oh, you have fixed this little place up so nice.” Kathleen turned so Lavette could no longer see the baby, only the woman’s back. “Are you making some bread?”
“Yes, Ma’am.” Lavette followed the two women into the kitchen where her unfinished bread dough waited for more kneading. If she didn’t get back to it soon, the whole batch would be ruined.
“You go right ahead and finish.” Kathleen seemed to read Lavette’s mind. “We don’t want you to have to start over with this.”
“Do you mind if we put the twins down?” Glorianna’s question caught Lavette off guard.
“No, Ma’am. They won’t hurt anything.” Lavette watched as the twins were put on the floor. Andrew began to take hesitant steps across the room, stopping to give his mother a toothy grin. The little girl plopped down on her padded bottom, one hand twined in Kathleen’s skirt as she examined the room from there. Lavette began to knead the bread, feeling a little uncomfortable. Should she go in and wake Mrs. Sawyer to let her know the ladies were here? Mrs. Sawyer was gaining strength, but Lavette didn’t want to tire her.
“Mrs. Sawyer needs a lot of rest. She takes several naps during the day. Would you like me to wake her?” Lavette squeezed the bread, hoping to keep her hands from shaking. She never felt right around white folks she didn’t know, and she hated the way she couldn’t seem to stop from chattering. “Would you like to wait in the parlor where the chairs are nicer? We’re only here for a short time, so the house isn’t very fancy.”
“We heard about you visiting Gretta and Paul. My husband is the lieutenant over Paul at Fort Lowell.” Glorianna had a smile in her voice. “We do want to visit with your mistress, but we also wanted to call on you.”
Lavette’s hand stilled. Her gaze flitted up, catching both women looking at her. She dropped her gaze and continued to work the dough. “I’m not sure why you want to see me. I didn’t do nothing wrong.”
“Miss Johnson, we heard about you from a friend. He told us so much about you, we had to come and meet you for ourselves.”
Lavette paused, trying to think who would be talking about her. “I don’t know anyone here.”
“You met Josiah Washington at the blacksmith shop yesterday. He speaks very highly of you.”
Andrew toddled over to Lavette and wrapped his arms around her leg. Her skirt bunched up as he leaned against her, giving her the same charming grin he’d given Glorianna. She smiled and winked at him. He rested his head on her leg and stuck a finger in his mouth.
“I met Mr. Washington.” Lavette didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want to admit that she’d been thinking of the man all day. Last night she’d had trouble falling asleep remembering the warm smile he’d given her as he left the house. She’d never heard of a black man being friends with whites. How could this be?
“Josiah is a wonderful man, don’t you think?” Glorianna seemed to be the one doing all the talking. “He sure is taken with you.”
Glorianna’s comment sent a rush of pleasure spiraling through Lavette. Did Josiah think about her as much as she thought about him? He must be considering her some, to have told his friends about her.
“He seems like a very nice man, but I won’t be here long enough to get to know him well. My time is taken with caring for Mrs. Sawyer.”
“Josiah said you like the desert.” Kathleen spoke up, and Lavette wondered at the change in subject.
“Oh, I do.” She couldn’t keep the enthusiasm from her voice. “I’ve heard the weather is very hot in the summer, but I’d rather face the heat than the ice and snow of the East. I grew up in the South and have never adjusted to the colder climate.”
“So why don’t you stay here when Mrs. Sawyer returns home?” Glorianna sounded pleased about the chance to ask the same question Josiah had asked. “Do you have someone special waiting for you?”
Anger swept through Lavette. How could these women understand her reasons? Had they ever belonged to anyone as a slave? Well, she had, and so had her family. In fact, she still belonged to someone. Freedom was something she would never experience, no matter how many wars were fought.
Smoothing the dough, Lavette covered the mass with a towel to let it rise. Stepping to one side, she waited for Andrew to let go of her skirt so she could move to the wash basin. She washed her hands, drying them on her apron. “I’ll go see if Mrs. Sawyer is awake yet. If you ladies will follow me, I’ll show you into the parlor where you can wait for her.” Lavette knew her tone held a chill that would leave Glorianna and Kathleen wondering what had upset her, but she couldn’t talk to them. They wouldn’t understand.
No white person would.
Wriggling her shoulders, Lavette arched her back to ease the ache as she settled into the porch chair, her basket of mending beside her. She’d finished giving Mrs. Sawyer a bath and getting her to bed. The work today had exhausted her. All the lifting was taking a toll on her strength. Not only that, but the tension of the last two days and the lack of sleep last night added to her distress.
Pulling a nightgown from the pile of clothing that needed to be repaired, Lavette broke off a length of thread. Soon she would have to go to the mercantile to get more sewing supplies. The constant lifting and moving of her mistress proved to be hard on the clothes, both hers and Mrs. Sawyer’s. Her needle wove in and out, repairing the tear as her thoughts strayed to last night on this same porch.
She could almost feel Josiah standing by the railing near her chair. He had such magnetism, it seemed to linger long after he left. The thought of his wide grin and deep voice set her heart fluttering. She stopped sewing a moment to fan her face. Never had a man affected her like this. Perhaps she should encourage Mrs. Sawyer to return east early so she could get away from Josiah’s influence before she lost her heart to him. Surely that hadn’t happened yet. How could she have fallen for him in such a short time? Inside, a small voice let her know that even if she left the man now, he’d already changed her life. She would never forget him.
“Evenin’, Miss Johnson.”
Lavette jumped. The needle slid smoothly into her thumb. “Ouch.” She jerked her thumb away, nursing the small wound. The man she’d run from at Josiah’s blacksmith shop yesterday stood in front of her, his hat tilted at a rakish angle. A black stick cane with a carved silver head stuck out from under his arm. Lifting his hat, he nodded at her.
She clutched the sewing to her breast, wanting to run. Since he stood between her and the door, there was no escape this time. The feral gleam in his eyes reminded her of Miss Susannah’s father. That’s why she’d fled yesterday, and that’s why fear paralyzed her today.
“I thought we could talk for a few minutes.” He leaned closer. She could smell the cloying scent of some lotion.
“I got to get back inside.”
“But you just came out here.” His lips tilted in a lascivious smile. “Why don’t you relax? I won’t hurt you.”
“What do you want?” Nausea burned Lavette’s throat.
“Why, I only want to make you an offer, Miss Johnson. Nothing more.” He took a step closer. She backed farther into the chair.
“I’m not interested.” She grabbed up her basket of sewing without taking her eyes from Mead.
“But you haven’t heard my offer.” He chuckled, a menacing sound that reminded her of the way a snake petrified its victims to catch them. “I heard you yesterday. I’d like for you to come and sing in my establishments. You will earn a good wage and have people wait on you for a change. That’s not a bad offer, is it?”
She stood so fast, the chair tipped back with a crash. “I can’t do that.” She eased past him to the door. “Leave me alone. I can’t work for you.”
“Oh, but I think you can, Miss Johnson.” His hand closed on her arm, and a foreboding chill raced through her. “You see, I’ve found out things about you already. I know the reason you’re here with your mistress, and I know how to make you mine.” Releasing her arm, he swiveled around and stepped off the porch. Whistling a jaunty tune, he ambled down the path to the street, leaving Lavette shaking with terror that he would be able to carry through on his threat.
Chapter 6
Two days had passed since Josiah had visited Lavette. He hadn’t been able to stay away any longer. The excitement of seeing her again made him feel like a little boy with a secret so big, he couldn’t stay still with wanting to tell someone. He wanted to run and shout with the sensation. The grin on his face must be showing everyone he passed exactly what he was thinking and feeling.
The bag dangling from his hand rattled with his movement. He glanced down, hoping this offering would make Lavette more receptive to him. Maybe she wouldn’t run away this time. Perhaps they could sit down together, and he would find out why she feared getting to know him. He knew this was too soon to consider touching those slender hands of hers, but the thought made his heart race anyway.
Last night Josiah ate supper with the Kirbys and the Sullivans. The resulting conversation proved very enlightening. Glorianna and Kathleen told him all about their conversation with Lavette, but the best part came from Conlon and the talk he had with Paul Ashton about his mother-in-law and her servant. Paul said Lavette had no beau waiting that he knew about.
Whistling his favorite hymn, Josiah turned up the path that led to the Sawyer house. He wiped his damp palms on his pants, glad he’d taken the time to bathe and change before coming over here. Working a forge wasn’t the cleanest job, but it was honest labor. Josiah could remember all the times he worked alongside his father, learning about horses and shoeing. He’d never regretted learning the blacksmith trade.
Tapping softly on the door, Josiah waited. He didn’t want to wake Mrs. Sawyer if she was resting. No one answered, and he couldn’t hear any movement from inside. He knocked a little louder, then tilted his head to one side listening. From somewhere he could hear the sound of an angel singing. The music drifted in and out on the breeze, tantalizing the senses and leaving him wanting to hear more.
Stepping off the porch, Josiah walked around the corner of the house. The singing got louder, although it still seemed faint. The angel must not want anyone to hear. At the back of the house he halted, amazed at the vision that greeted him.
Lavette stood with her back to him, pulling laundry from a clothesline. As she folded a heavy sheet, a soft melody issued from her—a slow, sad tune about suffering. The song made him want to weep and beg for more at the same time. Her voice brought to mind butterflies in the summer sun or birds soaring in the heavens. Never in his life had he heard anything more beautiful.
The tune and the words were simple enough. Josiah didn’t know how long he stood there before he found himself humming along. As Lavette started on another verse, he caught the idea and joined his bass to her lovely voice. He couldn’t have stopped himself if he tried. The music seemed to be drawn out on its own free will without asking his permission. For a moment, their voices blended in a beautiful harmony as if God created them for this express purpose. Lavette stopped midnote. She whirled around. The nightgown in her hand almost dropped to the dirt.
A silly grin stretched Josiah’s cheeks. He could stand here all day watching her. Lavette was taller than most women, although she was still several inches shorter than he. Lithe and willowy, she moved with the grace of one of those ballerinas he’d seen when he lived back East as a boy. Of course, he’d never seen them dance, but he remembered the time he and his father were driving Mr. Bellingham somewhere. Those dancers seemed to flow.
“Whatever are yah doin’ heah?” Lavette’s Southern accent seemed more pronounced now, when she was upset.
“I didn’t mean to scare you.” A clink from the bag at his side reminded Josiah of his excuse. He lifted the bag in the air. “I brought you some things I thought might be useful.”
She stared at him, suspicion appearing to make her cautious. After folding the nightgown, she placed it in the basket at her feet. “I don’t recall us needing anything.”
“The other night you mentioned wanting another knife. You didn’t give me the one you wanted repaired, so I brought a couple of new ones for you. Cooking can be a mite difficult when you only have one.” He reached into the bag and pulled out a poker. “I also brought some utensils and tools I thought you might use. Since you’re only here for a short time, I thought maybe you wouldn’t have all you needed. You can return them before you go home.” His heart clenched as he added the last.
Brushing a mass of curls from her forehead, Lavette reached for the last piece of clothing on the line. The wayward curls landed back on her brow before she had time to lift her hand away. They gave her a sweet look that somehow reminded him of his own mother when she worked with her hair frizzing in mad disarray.
