Brides of Arizona, page 43
“You have no hold over Lavette, Mead. Leave her alone.”
“Or what?” Mead’s lip lifted in an expression of contempt. “You gonna call on your deputy friend to cover for you? There are some things he can’t do. When I own Miss Johnson, everything will be legal.”
“Mrs. Sawyer won’t do that.” Lavette’s voice shook. “I’ve been with her for eight years. She can’t sell me off like a piece of furniture, especially to someone like you.”
“Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong, my dear. Your employer is considering staying with her daughter, Gretta, rather than returning home. If she does that, she’ll need to get rid of you. Gretta already has help, and with the size of the house, they’ll have no room for you.”
She would never let someone like you have me. Lavette wanted to scream the words at him, but terror kept her silent. She knew Mead could read the fear in her.
“In case you’re wondering, Mrs. Sawyer’s son-in-law, Paul, believes me to be a fine, upstanding citizen. You see, he put in a good word with her today. I believe we’ll have everything worked out within the next few weeks.” He chuckled, and the sound sent a shiver of dread through Lavette. “Keep practicing that singing, my beauty. Soon you’ll have an audience who will appreciate your talents.”
Mead lifted his hand to touch Lavette’s cheek. Josiah caught him by the wrist. His grip must have been tight because a flicker of pain crossed Mead’s face. His eyes narrowed.
“Let me go, Boy. This is not your business.”
“I believe it is.” Josiah moved more in front of Lavette without releasing her or Mead. Mead’s expression tensed as if Josiah were adding more pressure to his arm.
“You don’t have any say over what I do here. I’ll see to it you regret interfering. Let me go.” Mead’s voice sounded tight with anger.
With a slight shove, Josiah released the man. Mead stumbled back, then caught himself. He rubbed his wrist, anger giving his face a ruddy tint. “You’ll pay for this.” He snarled the words, gave Lavette a look that made her skin crawl, and strode past them down the path.
Lavette’s heart pounded so hard, she wondered if Josiah could feel the beat. What was happening? Would Mrs. Sawyer sell her contract to Bertrand Mead? Did she intend to live with her daughter instead of returning home?
“You okay?” Josiah’s low voice in her ear startled, and comforted, Lavette. This man felt like a solid wall of strength. Somehow, being near him made her feel protected from all the wickedness that could erupt around her.
“I’m fine, just a little shook up.” She pushed away from Josiah’s warmth. “I need to get inside and see to Mrs. Sawyer.”
Josiah guided her to the door, his hand a comforting touch on the small of her back. “I want to know what your employer has to say about this. I don’t understand why Mead thinks he can buy your contract.” He studied her, his eyes full of concern. “Right now, I think you’re too tired to explain. If you have the time tomorrow, you’re welcome to stop by my shop in the afternoon. Usually, business is a little slower then.”
She nodded, her throat aching from the tension. “I’ll see if I can get there.” She slipped through the door and listened to his footsteps clump across the porch and recede down the path. Lord, I don’t know what’s going on in my life. Something changed in me today. Help me to understand what. Maybe tomorrow she could bring herself to talk to Josiah about her confusion. Perhaps he could help her understand.
“Lavette, is that you?” Mrs. Sawyer’s voice trembled as it did when she was very tired. She’d been gone since early morning. Even if Gretta tried to get her to take a nap, her grandsons were too noisy for her to rest much. Lavette couldn’t help wondering how they would manage if Mrs. Sawyer chose to stay here with Paul and Gretta.
“I’m right here. Have you been home long?” Lavette tried to make her voice light so her employer wouldn’t guess the turmoil brewing inside. Judging from the lines of exhaustion on Mrs. Sawyer’s face, her efforts weren’t needed. She appeared to be beyond caring about anything but rest.
The next two hours felt like weeks to Lavette. She hadn’t been able to get any information from Mrs. Sawyer before the older woman fell asleep. Lavette worked around the house, catching up on some of the little chores. She wanted to sit and pray or read, but uncertainty kept her from relaxing enough to do that. Where had all the peace gone that she’d felt this morning? Memories of the horror from her childhood rose up to haunt her. Could she share all of her past with Josiah? He was a godly man. Would he turn his back on her when he found out what Miss Susannah’s father had done? Maybe I’m a fool, she thought, but I can’t see Josiah doing something like that. Lord, help me to trust Josiah with the truth, if that’s the right thing to do.
The tinkling of a bell roused her from her reverie. Mrs. Sawyer was awake. Oh, please let her tell me what she said to Mr. Mead. Lavette hurried in to find Mrs. Sawyer struggling to sit up in bed.
“Here, let me help you.” She slipped her arm around the woman’s shoulders.
“Thank you, Dear. I get so impatient these days. I want to be able to do everything on my own.” Mrs. Sawyer sighed and let Lavette help her dress. “Old age isn’t much fun at times, but I wouldn’t miss being here and seeing those babies of Gretta’s.”
“Did you have fun with them today?”
“Oh, my goodness, yes. The boys put on a wild animal show for me.” She chuckled. “They read somewhere about a man putting his head in a lion’s mouth. Imagine that.”
Lavette gasped. “That can’t be true. Why would anyone do something so dangerous?”
“Oh, you know these men. Always trying to find something to do that no one else has ever done.” Mrs. Sawyer stayed quiet for the walk to the parlor. Lavette put her in the chair by the window and opened the latch to let fresh air inside.
“Marcus was the animal tamer, and Winston and Harold were the beasts.” Her eyes crinkled with humor. “Winston growled and acted so fierce. He even tried to bite Marcus a couple of times. I’m afraid Marcus will have to get a friendlier animal to tame.”
Lavette couldn’t help giggling at the picture of the boys and their show. “I’ve heard the men who work with wild animals in shows use big whips to control them. I hope Marcus didn’t have one of those.”
“Oh, no. He wanted to, especially when the tiger tried to bite, but his papa said no. Paul gave the boy a feather and said tickling would be a better torture for his beast. The next thing we knew, all three boys were rolling on the floor, cackling like a bunch of chickens.” Her eyes twinkled. “Now, don’t you tell those fierce beasts I compared them to something so tame.”
“Never.” Lavette adjusted a shawl around Mrs. Sawyer’s shoulders in case the evening air was too fresh. She tried to keep the strain out of her touch and voice. “You’re going to miss that family when we leave.”
Mrs. Sawyer tensed. She gestured to a stool on the floor near her. “Sit down, Child.” She stayed silent until Lavette was seated. “I’m not sure I’ll be going back to Virginia like we planned. Gretta and Paul want me to stay here. Paul seems to think he wouldn’t have much trouble making me a small private room at the back of the house.”
“But the children. Would you be able to rest enough with them there?” Lavette didn’t want to discourage Mrs. Sawyer from staying with her daughter, but the thought of being sold off terrified her.
“As long as I have a room of my own where I can retreat when the melee gets too intense, I’ll be fine.” Mrs. Sawyer paused, studying Lavette. “The main problem with my staying here is what to do with you. Gretta has two girls who work for her already, and she doesn’t have the room for another. I can’t send you back home by yourself.”
“Maybe I could share a room with the girls who work for her.”
“I’m afraid that would never work. Their room is very small. I’ve talked to Mr. Mead. Paul knows him. He’s a fine, upstanding businessman here in Tucson. He’s willing to buy the last two years of your contract. You would work for him for that length of time, then be free to do as you choose.”
Bitterness rose like bile in Lavette’s throat. She stared at the floor, afraid to look up lest Mrs. Sawyer see the emotion in her eyes. “You can’t sell me off.” The words came out as a hoarse whisper.
“This man, Mr. Mead, will take good care of you. He’s quite a gentleman.”
“He’s not what you think.” Lavette couldn’t look up. It took all her willpower to get the words out.
“Are you suggesting Paul doesn’t know what he’s talking about? He said some good things about Mr. Mead. You would be a great asset to him in his business.” Mrs. Sawyer’s tone held a note of dismissal. Lavette stood.
“I’ll fix you something to eat before you retire.” She managed to hold back the tears until she got to the kitchen. There she grabbed a towel, held it over her face, and sobbed. What would become of her? She knew what Mead wanted to happen. Two years with him would be like a lifetime. “What am I to do?” She whispered the question to no one in particular. Josiah’s face flashed before her. She could almost hear his low voice and feel the touch of his hand. Tomorrow afternoon while Mrs. Sawyer napped, she would talk with Josiah. Maybe he would understand and have an idea how to help her.
Cottonball clouds dotted a brilliant azure sky as Lavette made her way downtown the next afternoon. Her eyes burned, and her head felt fuzzy from lack of sleep. Every time she’d fallen asleep, she’d dreamed of Mead dragging her off to a noisy saloon where she was forced to sing in front of drunken men who shouted lurid taunts. She would wake covered with sweat, the blanket tangled around her like a shroud, only to fall asleep to a variation of the same dream. Lavette shuddered despite the warmth of the day. Had her dream been a portent of her life to come?
An Indian woman trudged down the street, a giho on her back, carrying baskets for sale. A strap running around the woman’s forehead held the giho in place so the large carrier wouldn’t tip as it hung down her back. Lavette had heard about the woven goods the Tohono O’odham Indians sold in Tucson. Their baskets, mats, and sandals were made from desert plants. Gretta had given Lavette one to hold her mending and a larger one for the laundry. Lavette watched as the barefoot woman plodded down the street, her burden swaying with her steps.
The few minutes watching the basket seller helped Lavette forget her destination. Mrs. Sawyer once again sent her to purchase items they needed from the mercantile. Dread tugged at Lavette’s feet, moving her slower as she neared the store. What if Mead were there again? What about that awful man from yesterday’s meeting? She wiped her clammy hands on her skirts. The mercantile stood across the street, its tall facade staring at her with glass eyes.
She pictured Josiah’s big frame and wondered if she could ask him to accompany her on her errands. No, I can do this. I can’t depend on someone else to protect me. The last time was an accident. Like Mrs. Sawyer said, Mr. Mead is a businessman. He’ll be working this afternoon, not engaging in idle conversation here. Lavette squared her shoulders and crossed the street.
The murmuring of men’s voices ceased as Lavette stepped inside. After the brightness of the sun, the tomblike darkness blinded her. Her heart thudded. She clutched her bag with the money and the list in fingers that trembled. Hushed whispers began before her vision cleared enough for her to locate the counter. The curtain to the back room fluttered as the man who helped her before strode to the front.
“May I help you?” He smiled and nodded. Lavette forced her feet to carry her forward. She didn’t look away from the scarred countertop as she fished the list from her bag.
“We need to have these things, please, Suh.” She put the scrap of paper down and watched the man’s stained fingers as he picked it up.
“This will only take a minute.” The owner must have noticed Lavette’s nervous glance at the back of the room. “I won’t be leaving the front for this order. You’ll be fine. I’ll see to it.”
Lavette tried to smile. The man’s voice sounded vaguely familiar. Her brow tightened as she tried to recall where she’d heard it before. A sudden recollection of the testimonies at the meeting yesterday eased her trepidation. This man had been one of the ones to speak. She hadn’t recognized him since he’d been all fixed up then, and here he wore work clothing. She wondered if he was the one who told the truth of what happened between her and Mead here at the mercantile.
Chairs scraped against the floor. Lavette gripped the counter with shaking hands. Hurry, please hurry. She could hear footsteps coming her way. She squeezed her eyes shut. Oh, please don’t let Mead be here.
“Here we go.” The owner plunked the items she’d ordered down with a thud that made her jump. “Let me get these wrapped up, and you’ll be all ready.”
Her fingers shook as she fished some coins out of her reticule. One dropped to the floor and rolled a few feet, coming to rest beside a booted foot. Lavette thought about ignoring the money, but it wasn’t hers to waste. She glanced up to see the owner of the boots. Bertrand Mead, a superior smile creasing his face, watched her. Keeping his gaze locked on her, he stooped and picked up the coin. In two steps he stood close enough for her to catch the residue of pipe tobacco clinging to him.
“I believe you dropped something, Miss Johnson.” He held out the money. She couldn’t move, but only stared at his hand.
The man behind the counter cleared his throat, and Mead tossed the coin down. Within a minute, the owner handed her the change and the package. Lavette moved back toward the door, the parcel clutched tightly to her chest. All noise seemed to be suspended as she fumbled for the latch. A well-manicured hand closed over hers.
“Let me help you with that. I want to speak with Mrs. Sawyer again, so I’ll walk you home.” Something sinister oozed out in Mead’s voice. “We wouldn’t want anything to happen to you, would we?”
Chapter 15
Heart pounding, Lavette jerked her fingers from beneath Mead’s. The door swung open. She darted out. Behind her she heard the shopkeeper shout something, but she didn’t stop. Her slippers made little sound as she hurried away, her ears straining for the sound of footsteps following her.
At the corner, Lavette glanced behind to see Mead standing outside the mercantile watching her. His stance suggested cockiness, making him appear so sure of his hold over her that he didn’t need to push. She groaned. A tremor raced through her. Moving out of Mead’s sight, Lavette sagged against the wall of a building. The shaded adobe bricks were cool on her back. Sweat-drenched, she welcomed the chill.
A horse whinnied. A freight wagon rumbled past. The vibration in the ground ran up her legs, echoing the quivering in her knees. Her breathing slowed. The moisture on her forehead dried. Relief that she hadn’t been followed made Lavette weak. Pushing away from the wall, she glanced back before heading for Josiah’s smithy.
A brace of mules dozed in the shade outside Josiah’s place. Their tails twitched. Long ears jerked back and forth. Their expressions of utter boredom made them appear to be half-asleep. Flies swooped through the air, buzzing from one beast to the other with an annoying drone.
Josiah stood near the forge, outlined by the glow of the fire. In one hand, he held a pair of tongs, which he used to move an iron bar heating in the coals. Lavette stepped out of the sun into the dimness of the shop. She knew Josiah didn’t hear her. Peace seemed to settle over her. Merely being in the presence of this man filled her with a calm she’d never felt before. Her heart ached to be close to him. Why can’t I be free? When so many are able to have freedom, why am I still a slave? Sorrow welled up inside her. Maybe yesterday slavery hadn’t seemed so real, but today she knew she would always live in chains. No matter how she craved what others had, she must learn to live with her lot in life, and Josiah would never be a part of that.
He lifted the iron bar from the coals. The end glowed white hot. As he swung around, he glanced up and saw her. His face split in a wide grin. She could see the joy sparkling in his eyes. He beckoned her to come inside.
“Afternoon.” Josiah’s voice rumbled over the whoosh of the bellows as he pulled the cord. “I was beginning to think you might not come.”
“I had to wait until Mrs. Sawyer went down for a nap. Then I had some errands to run.”
He frowned. “Did you go to the mercantile?” She nodded, and his brow creased further. “Mead is always there this time of day. Did he bother you?”
She looked down, digging her toe into the dirt floor of the smithy. She shrugged. “He didn’t follow me today.”
“Did he bother you?” Josiah’s stern tone made her glance up.
“Not really.” She shrugged, unable to meet his gaze. “I think the mercantile owner said something.”
Josiah wiped his hands on a rag lying on the bench beside his anvil. In one step, he stood beside her. She could feel the warmth he exuded and the comfort. She wanted to lean toward him, but made her body stay upright and still. Josiah wrapped one of her wiry curls around his finger.
“If you have to go there again, why don’t you come here first? I don’t mind walking over with you. Mead won’t try anything with me around.” His dark eyes glittered in the light from the forge. His bulging muscles flexed. Lavette drew in a deep breath, forcing her thoughts away from how wonderful it would feel to have Josiah wrap her in his arms and hold her tight. To her, he represented safety—a safety she would never be able to have.
“What are you making?” She gestured to the hot metal, hoping to distract him from thinking about Mead and her situation. Josiah couldn’t do anything about her predicament. No one would be able to help her. Lavette knew she should leave now and not risk losing her heart further to this giant of a man, but like a moth drawn to a flame, she couldn’t go.
“I’m working on some shoes for those mules. One of them has a peculiar hoof and needs a special fit. He went lame when he was shod poorly. I’ve been trying to adjust the shoes, and he’s doing better.”
