Brides of Arizona, page 44
The mules being talked about still stood in sleepy ignorance outside the smithy, the twitching of their long ears the only indication they were awake.
“I remember Papa talking about one of the blacksmiths at Wild Oaks who didn’t do his work right. I never quite understood what Papa meant, but he said the wrong fit could ruin a horse.”
“That’s right.” Josiah pulled a stool close enough to the bench so they could talk and she could see, but far enough to be away from the danger of flying sparks. “Here, sit down. I need to work on this shoe so I can finish by the time Mr. Hernandez returns.” Josiah picked up the iron bar with a shorter pair of tongs, frowned at the red-orange glow of the heated portion, and thrust it back into the coals.
“I’m sorry to interrupt your work. Did that cool off too much?”
“Yep. In order to work it the way I need to, the metal has to be white hot. Otherwise it won’t bend or flatten properly.” Josiah strode across the shop and picked up a packing crate with one meaty hand. Placing the wooden box beside Lavette’s stool, he sat down, the lower crate putting him eye to eye with her.
“While we’re waiting for that bar to reheat, I want to hear about your talk with Mrs. Sawyer.” His gaze bored into her, making her want to squirm. She felt like she’d been hiding something from him. “I want to know why Mead thinks he has a hold over you. What did he mean about owning you?”
Lavette fidgeted with the string around the package from the mercantile, which she held in her lap. Josiah extracted the parcel and set it up on a bench lined with rows of tools. He took her hands in his, bringing warmth to her cool fingers.
“Lavette, I don’t know how you feel, but I care for you a lot. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. If there’s any way possible, I want to help you.”
Her breath caught as she saw the look in his eyes. He cared for her as much as she cared for him. Was this love? She hesitated to give the emotion a name, not wanting to admit the depth of her feelings.
“I told you about the contract Mrs. Sawyer has on me.” She paused as Josiah nodded. “Well, she’s considering staying in Tucson with her daughter and son-in-law. They have no room for me, so she’s thinking of selling the remainder of my contract. Paul is the one who recommended Mr. Mead.” Lavette’s throat ached with the need to cry. “After talking with Mrs. Sawyer, I can’t see any way you can help me. Soon I’ll belong to Mr. Mead, and he can do with me as he pleases.”
“What about us?” Josiah’s hands tightened on hers.
“There is no us. There never can be.” Bitterness made her spit out the words.
“Do you care for me?”
“What does it matter?” She couldn’t meet Josiah’s gaze.
“It matters to me. Do you care for me?” The heat of his gaze drilled into her. She wanted to deny her feelings for him. All she had to do was to say she felt nothing, then he would leave her alone and be safe. If she admitted her feelings, Josiah might do something foolish that would only end up hurting him. She would never be free, and he had to understand that.
“You are special to me. A friend.” Coward! She berated herself. “Josiah, don’t worry about me. You know what it’s like to be a slave. We have no choice in this.”
Holding Lavette’s small hands in his, Josiah stared at the contrast between his dark coffee skin and her lighter, milkier tones. Her fine bones gave her a delicate appearance, while his large frame sometimes made him feel like a lumbering bear. Right now, he felt as stupid as an animal. He didn’t know what to say to her. Lavette seemed to be shutting him out when she needed him most. He knew she cared for him. When she looked at him wide-eyed, the longing and love shone like a lantern on a dark night. Being a friend wasn’t what he wanted anymore, and he was sure friendship wasn’t what God wanted for them.
“Don’t you remember the story of Joseph? Conlon talked about it yesterday—how Joseph’s brother sold him into slavery and all the bad things that happened, but God was there watching over him. God made good things happen.”
Lavette sat back, tugging at her hands. “God doesn’t care whether I’m a bondwoman or free. I can’t count on Him for anything.”
“But, yesterday—” Josiah was stunned.
“Yesterday I felt a measure of peace, that’s true. I’ve thought about it, though. What I felt was because I was with a bunch of folks who’ve never been enslaved. They don’t understand the horror like you and I do.”
He knew he had to set her straight, yet he hesitated. Would she equate him with all the others who’d been at the meeting? “Lavette, I’ve never been a slave.”
“What?” She drew back again, her eyes going wide. “But you’re black, and the war only ended nine years ago. How could you not have been a slave?”
“My father and mother were slaves. Right after they were married, their master’s son, Edward, decided to move north. He didn’t like slavery, didn’t agree that it was right. His father let him choose two slaves to take with him to care for his needs. He chose my parents. After they were settled in New York, he gave my parents their freedom. I was born six months later to emancipated parents and have always been free.” He smiled. “At least in that sense. I wanted to talk to you about the other kind of slavery, spiritual bondage.”
“I don’t want to hear any more.” Lavette jerked her hands free. “No wonder you don’t understand what I’m going through. You’ve never been there. You’re no better than one of them.” She jumped to her feet.
“Lavette, no.” Josiah reached for her. Tears filled her eyes. She turned away, rushing for the door. “Wait.”
Feeling helpless, Josiah watched as the girl of his dreams raced away from him. What now? How could he make her trust him again? Oh, Lord, what have I done? Head bowed and shoulders slumped, Josiah tried to think of a way to explain things to Lavette. His gaze fell on the parcel from the mercantile that she’d left lying on his tool bench. He touched the wrap with a finger, feeling the paper crinkle in the indention.
A bray from outside startled him. He’d forgotten the mules. Mr. Hernandez would be here shortly and expect his animals to be ready. Glancing at the forge, Josiah could see the iron bar glowing white in the coals. He picked up the tongs and drew the rod out. He would finish the shoes, then take the package to Lavette. By that time, maybe she would have calmed down and they could talk. She had to understand. Perhaps if he admitted his love to her, she would accept his help. There had to be a way to keep her away from Mead.
An hour later, Josiah strode down the street. Mr. Hernandez had taken longer than he thought to return for the mules. Waiting had proved impossible. All Josiah wanted to do was see Lavette again. At least no one else had shown up with more work. One good thing came of the waiting. He had a plan he thought might work. He only hoped Lavette agreed with it.
The sun was dipping toward the western mountains as Josiah hurried up the path leading to Mrs. Sawyer’s house. The porch boards creaked under his weight. He sniffed, wondering at the lack of supper smells in the air. Usually, he could at least enjoy the scent of Lavette’s cooking. His mouth watered at the thought.
Knocking on the door, Josiah began to shift from one foot to another as he waited. Where was she? The faint ding of a bell came from inside. He frowned. Hadn’t Lavette once mentioned Mrs. Sawyer calling to her by ringing a bell? Quiet enveloped him. He couldn’t hear talking or footsteps.
Josiah stepped off the porch and started around the house to see if Lavette was in the backyard. Perhaps she was taking down some laundry and hadn’t heard anything.
“Help me.”
The words drifted out of one of the side windows where Josiah assumed the bedrooms were. He turned and ran back to the front door and lifted the latch. Pushing the portal open he called, “Hello, anybody home?”
“Help.” Once more the shaky voice cried out. Josiah rushed in, following the sound. Mrs. Sawyer lay beside her bed, the covers tangled around her legs, a small bell clutched in one hand. Josiah eased her up enough to loosen the blankets, then lifted her gently into the bed.
“What happened? Where’s Lavette?”
Mrs. Sawyer closed her eyes, tears tracing a track down her wrinkled cheeks. “I sent her to town for some things while I napped. When I woke, she wasn’t here. I’ve called and called.” A hiccuping sob shook her. “I tried to get up myself and fell.”
“You mean Lavette hasn’t come home yet? She left my place over an hour ago and was headed here.” Josiah paused. He’d assumed Lavette was going straight home. Where else would she go?
“When I first awakened, that nice Mr. Mead stopped by. I hadn’t fallen then. He promised to find Lavette and see that she came home.”
A chill raced through Josiah. Mead was looking for Lavette? He didn’t want to think of what could have happened.
“I’ll go fetch someone to help you, Ma’am.” Josiah crossed the room before stopping to look back. “As soon as I do, I’ll go find Lavette. I’ll see to it that she’s safe.”
The front door slammed hard enough to rattle the whole house as Josiah rushed out. He ran all the way to the Sullivans’ and banged on the door. Concern wiped away Glorianna’s smile as she looked at him.
“Josiah, what’s happened?”
“Lavette is missing. Mrs. Sawyer needs help. Can you go or send someone to help her while I look for Lavette?”
Glorianna barely had time to nod her head before he raced away. Where should he start looking? As he neared town, he could hear the faint sounds of revelry. The saloon. If Mead found her, he would take her there. As his footsteps turned toward the seedy establishment, Josiah didn’t want to think what Mead would do once he had Lavette in his grasp.
Chapter 16
Raucous laughter and the tinny plink of piano keys jarred Lavette’s already-frayed nerves. Cigarette and cigar smoke hung like a pall in the air. Two women, their lips and cheeks brightened unnaturally, sauntered about the room, hips swaying in a saucy rhythm. Lavette cringed, trying to draw away from the nauseating scene.
“I knew you would warm to me.” Mead’s breath brushed the hair by her ear. Lavette tried to pull away. His grip tightened. “What’s the matter? Think you’re too good for a place like this?”
“Please, I need to get home.” Lavette could imagine the malevolence in Mead’s eyes. The man had no heart or conscience. “My mistress will be expecting me.”
“Oh, that is true.” He seemed to be mocking her. “I visited with dear Mrs. Sawyer, Amelia, a short time ago. I promised I would find you and get you home.” He gave a wicked chuckle. “Of course, I didn’t say how soon I would return you.”
“But, she’ll need help getting up from bed.” Panic rushed through Lavette at the thought of the partially invalid woman trying to do things on her own and getting hurt. She jerked again, and Mead switched his hold, hitting a nerve that sent a painful tingle down her arm, numbing her fingers.
“The old biddy will have to manage. I brought you here so you could see where you’ll be working.” He gestured across the room with his free hand at the small platform with curtains around the back. “There’s where you’ll be performing for the crowds.”
Fear caught in her throat. The sharp scent of beer, along with the variety of noises and sounds, brought back too many memories. She could almost feel Miss Susannah’s father standing behind her. She tried to glance around, but Mead’s gaze caught hers. He pulled her closer. The cacophony in the background faded as terror gripped her.
“Of course, I’ll be expecting a private performance.” His beady eyes were filled with knowledge and lasciviousness. Turning her head, Lavette tried to remind herself that she was a slave and nothing could be done about that. Josiah’s face swam before her. No, I can’t think of you, Josiah, or I’ll never be able to live my life in peace. I’ve got to give you up. Agony tore through her at the thought.
“Come along, my dear. You’ll be the hit of the show, so to speak.” Mead began to drag her across the floor. Conversation halted. Men turned to stare. Muttered conversation fluttered about the room as she and Mead passed.
“You see, my sweet, they’re all amazed by your beauty, and they haven’t even heard your voice. I, at least, already knew of your dulcet tones before I found you here.”
Lavette stopped. She couldn’t breathe as she took in the implications of what he’d said.
Lifting her arm, Mead forced her to go up the steps to the stage. She felt the patrons’ eyes were boring holes in her back. Her stomach burned. She took shallow breaths to fight the nausea threatening her.
“You’re surprised that I knew of you.” Mead pressed her against his side, his mouth next to her ear. “You see, I was there when you sang as a young girl.”
Lavette’s heart pounded. Blackness seeped across her vision. He couldn’t have been there. He couldn’t know her shame.
“I visited a neighboring plantation, a distant relative. This gentleman took me to hear the girl with the marvelous voice.” Mead’s breath smelled of beer and cigarettes, but Lavette couldn’t turn away. “I loved your voice, my sweet, but I wasn’t blind. Even though you were so young, I could see the potential beauty you would become. Imagine my delight when I heard you singing in the backyard of Mrs. Sawyer’s house. I knew at that moment you would be mine.”
“Please don’t make me do this.”
“Oh, but the men want to hear you. I’ve told them all about how you sing. They’ve been clamoring for you. See how quiet they are?”
She didn’t think her legs would hold her up any longer. They shook worse than a leaf in the fall wind. Lavette gripped the sides of her skirt, clenching the material tight, trying to draw strength from the fabric.
“You may think you can beat me, my sweet.” Mead’s thumb rubbed the outside of her arm in a way that sent a wash of revulsion through Lavette. “If you can’t bring yourself to sing today, then perhaps we can go straight to the private performance for me. I’ll be happy to show you to my room.”
“No.” Lavette gasped. The subdued noise in the room bothered her more than the din when they first entered. She felt every man in the saloon watching and listening to what Mead was saying to her.
“Ready?” She could hear the triumph in his voice and looked up. He smirked at her. He knew she wouldn’t be able to do anything other than what he asked.
“I can’t think of anything to sing.”
“I’m sure you remember some of the music you learned as a child.”
Her face warmed. She’d all but forgotten those horrible ditties she’d been forced to sing. At that age, she hadn’t understood the bawdiness of the lyrics. Even now, she didn’t fully understand, nor did she want to.
“That was so long ago.” She hoped he’d think she didn’t recall them.
“I could join you. The men would love that—unless you can think of something else to perform.”
She nodded. Mead released her arm, turned her to face the crowd, and stepped to one side. Lavette opened her mouth. Nothing came out. She’d never been this frightened. Oh, God, did Joseph have to do things like this when he was a slave?
“Sing now, or you’ll regret your silence.” Mead’s low-voiced threat startled her, and a song popped into her mind.
The saloon doors swung open, but she didn’t look up. Lavette closed her eyes and began to sing. Utter quiet enveloped the crowd. As she moved into the refrain, she could feel Mead near her, his anger a palpable thing. At the end of the chorus, she stopped. She only knew the one verse and wasn’t sure what to do now. Applause and cheers broke out from the patrons. Mead’s fingers clenched on her arm, then eased.
“Only that voice saved you. If they had booed instead of cheering—”
“I believe we’ll show the lady out now, Mr. Mead.”
Lavette almost collapsed at the sound of Josiah’s voice. He stood at the edge of the platform, his face a study in conflicting emotions. When he looked at Mead, she saw the anger held on a tight rein. When he looked at her, she could see concern and love. Behind Josiah stood Quinn, his hand resting on the butt of his pistol.
Mead’s fingers dug deep into the flesh of her arm. Lavette gasped.
“The young lady was entertaining the boys. I’m sure she didn’t mind.” Mead gave them a contemptuous smile.
“Now that she’s done, why don’t you let Josiah walk her home?” Quinn took a step closer.
Mead released her arm. Lavette started to move to the steps, but Josiah reached up, grasped her waist, and swung her down beside him. Although his huge hands were gentle, she couldn’t help wincing when he bumped the arm Mead had abused. Josiah seemed to notice and took care to stay away from that side. He slipped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to him as he led her out of the saloon.
She didn’t know which helped the most, the warmth of the day or the warmth coming from Josiah, but the chill began to fade as they walked away from the downtown area. Quinn strode beside them, his hand still hovering near his gun. Lavette understood Josiah’s wisdom in bringing the lawman to the saloon with him. On his own, Josiah wouldn’t have had the power to get her out of there without a fight.
“I must say I’ve never heard that song sung better or in a place that needed it more.” Quinn began to chuckle. “Did you see the look on Mead’s face, Josiah?”
A low rumble began in Josiah’s chest. He still had his arm around her, and Lavette could feel the vibrations. “As my mama would say, ‘You could have knocked him over with a feather.’ I think I should teach Lavette the other stanzas, and she can sing for them on a regular basis.” Josiah and Quinn both laughed, although the sound still held a note of tension. “What made you sing that anyway?” Josiah gave her shoulder a light squeeze.
“I couldn’t think of any songs. He threatened me with—with—Anyway, I asked God if Joseph ever had to face anything like this, and then that hymn popped into my head.”
“I’m heading back to the office before I have to get home.” Quinn waved at them and turned down the next street.
