Broken Pledge Read online

  “Can’t be done,” said John, “Dulane says nothing frightens him.”

  “Except war,” Steven added.

  Adam got to his feet, “Well, best I see to my wife. If I know Rose, she’s promised my dancing services to every lady in the house. We’ve a serious shortage of men, you know.”

  As soon as Adam was gone, Clifton made sure the coast was clear, and then slipped into the vacant chair. He ignored John’s stare, quickly refilled Adam’s glass and downed two swallows. “I say we push him off a cliff.”

  “We?” John asked, his mouth agape. “And has your English suddenly improved?”

  “Clifton and I are old friends,” Steven half whispered, keeping an eye on the door. “He enjoys his slavery more than most. Tell me, have you a cliff at Mahala?”

  “Regrettably, no. Besides, Maralee would never forgive us. I’m afraid there is simply nothing to be done.”

  “Sir, your cousin deserves far better,” Steven said.

  “Aye, but she loves him.”

  “She cannot...or at least will not for very long.”

  “I agree, sadly.”

  “Miss Elizabeth has a fine elixir. She gave it to poor Henry and made him sleep two whole days,” Clifton muttered, finishing off his rum before standing up. “I spec she’s still got it.” He straightened his jacket, grabbed the glass, added it to his tray and went inside.

  John stared after him. “I cannot think when I’ve ever been more shocked. He’s an old friend, you say?”

  “The heat in Savanna became too much for him. He is happy here and he likes your family, but you’d best stay on his good side.”

  “Wise council indeed,” John said. Then he grew serious. “Do you love her?”

  “Hester? Very much,” Steven answered, getting to his feet. “Well, we might as well go in. It will take the two of us to make sure Clifton doesn’t poison Dulane.”

  “Now there’s a happy thought,” John said.

  CHAPTER 4

  John danced, enjoyed the music, ate the food and sipped the drinks. He chatted with people he hadn’t seen for months, and occasionally he glanced at Hester, who looked happier than he’d ever seen her. Then his body grew tired. Spotting an empty wooden chair near the wall, he moved it behind a tall plant, sat down, and rested. Before long, he found himself unintentionally eavesdropping on private conversations.

  The youngest twins wore the same style gown, only different shades of green. Their best friend Katie wore white, with frilly pink lace at the bodice and sleeves.

  “He’s the most disagreeable man of my acquaintance,” Effie said to Katie, while Abby nodded her agreement. “He sniffs!”

  “And can you believe it?” Abby asked. “He claims he would never kiss an unsightly girl.”

  “But with a propensity to sniff, who would want to kiss him?” Katie asked, wrinkling her nose.

  “My point precisely,” Effie said. “They’ll not have men like that in the Kentucky Territory. Wilderness men learn to blow their noses quite young.”

  “Girls, have you seen Adam?” Rose asked, walking up behind them.

  “Well, no,” Effie answered. “Come along, girls, we must keep moving or we might miss something.”

  “Perish the thought,” Rose mumbled, watching them walk off. She slowly looked around the crowded room, but Adam was nowhere to be found. Still hidden behind the plant, John brought both hands up and lightly rubbed the temples of his aching head. For a moment, he thought he heard Polly singing.

  “Not according to Charles,” he heard one older man say to another. “If a man hopes to marry, he must do so in the East and then go west.”

  John laid his head against the wall and closed his eyes.

  Next, a group of women slowly strolled by. “My dear, Europeans are landing in our ports like migrating birds,” one said. “In a year or two, they’ll outnumber us.”

  “Well then, I say we tempt them west. Let the Europeans rid the land of Indians – and the sooner the better. My Walter always said...”

  John painfully lifted his head and began to rub his neck. “Can’t they speak of anything but Kentucky?”

  Then suddenly, Rose was standing in front of him. “What have you done?”

  “What?” he asked, quickly hiding his misery.

  Rose found another chair, pulled it close, sat down beside him, and covered her mouth with her hand. “Mama is drunk!”

  “Not drunk, Rose,” John said, covering his own mouth, “simply contented.”

  “Contented is it? Well, I’ll not be to blame when her contentment sobers up.”

  “At least she stopped crying.”

  “Aye, but she’ll never forgive us if she embarrasses herself.”

  “All right, I’ll see Clifton takes her some tea,” John said.

  “Well, aren’t you two a sight,” Suzanne jeered, peeking around the plant, “sitting there with your hands over your mouths.”

  “We have a horrible pestilence,” John said.

  “You are a horrible pestilence,” Suzanne giggled.

  Just then, a young man tapped Suzanne on the shoulder. “Miss Rachel, may I have this dance?”

  “Richard Musgrave, you have known me for years, and for years I’ve been telling you I am not Rachel, I am Suzanne!”

  “Well, how am I to tell?”

  “I’m taller,” Suzanne answered, taking his arm and walking him toward the dance floor.

  Rose laughed, “By less than half an inch. By the way, have you seen Adam?”

  “Not lately,” John answered.

  “Where can he be? And Papa is missing as well.”

  “They’re no doubt off together talking of furs.”

  “Furs? Oh well, perhaps I’ll try the study. I never think to look in there,” Rose said, hurrying off.

  John rubbed the back of his neck again and slowly got to his feet. He looked around for Hester, found her laughing at something amusing Steven must have said and rolled his eyes. At length, he wandered back toward the front door, where Clifton had retaken his favorite position. Not far away, he could hear his father talking to several men.

  “Her name is Shining Woman and she makes sand paintings. I tell you, never have I see anything more glorious. I had hoped to buy one, but...”

  John whispered something to Clifton, waited until he disappeared behind the crowd, and then slipped out the door.

  THE AIR HAD CHILLED considerably by the time Rose opened the backdoor and stepped out on the verandah. African drivers, warming themselves by the fire, instantly stopped talking. She glanced at their faces, and then looked beyond them to the barn. There were no lights. No one was in the horse corrals, she saw no sign of white faces in the well-lit slave quarters, nor detected any movement around the buggies. At last, her eyes fell on a faint glow in the schoolhouse window. Pulling her shawl tighter, she walked up the hill and climbed the steps. But just as she reached for the door latch, she heard a woman’s voice. Softly, she laid her ear against the door. Again, she heard the muffled sounds of a woman...then a man.

  Rose eased down the steps, crept around back and peered through the window. Casting long silhouettes in the dim light, the man held the woman firmly in his arms. His kiss smothered her mouth and the woman did not resist.

  Taken aback, Rose quickly stepped away from the window. With her heart racing, her eyes wide and her mouth agape, she stared into the night for a moment. Then her eyes narrowed. “I’ll kill him.”

  At last alone, John walked to the far corner of the front verandah, leaned against a giant column and folded his arms. The pleasant music from the assembly room mingled with the familiar sounds of the rushing James River, and soon he was lost in the memory he wanted most to avoid—the memory of Polly.

  They were alone on a ridge in the woods of Kentucky, surrounded by the sweet smell of spring in the abundant forest.

  “I hate thee!” Polly said, wiping the tears off her cheeks. The noon sun glistened in her reddish brown hair, and her sapphir
e eyes were ablaze with anger.

  “I wish you did,” John said, holding her shoulders at arm’s length. “Have you hurt your foot?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Now, if you promise to stop kicking, I’ll release you.”

  “Does thou truly want to release me?”

  “Oh, Polly, love comes so easily when you are fifteen. I loved any one of a dozen girls at your age.”

  “Thou does not love me, then?”

  John let go and moved away. “I cannot imagine loving anyone more, but don’t you see? Suppose at eighteen or twenty, you find you made a wrong decision, a child’s decision?”

  “Loving thee could never be a wrong decision. I will love thee at eighteen, at twenty, at thirty, and at forty. I will love thee until the day I die.”

  John gazed long into her eyes. Still, he resisted the temptation to take her in his arms and finally, he looked away. “Polly, I’m taking Papa home to Virginia. When I come back...”

  “Thou will come back?”

  “Of course I will.”

  “Doth thou promise?” she asked, the gentle breeze moving strands of her long auburn hair.

  “I promise it with all my heart.”

  Her eyes danced with love and he could resist no longer. At last, he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her passionately. “Oh, Polly, leaving you is by far the hardest thing I have ever had to do.”

  Polly clung to him and stroked the back of his hair, “Then stay.”

  “I cannot. Wait for me, Polly. Give me your pledge.”

  “I pledge it,” Polly whispered, again lifting her lips to his.

  “John...John?” an unfamiliar voice suddenly said.

  It took a moment to tear himself away from his memory and look into the eye of a different woman. “Hester, I...did not hear you.”

  “I have come to apologize. I tricked you, and I see now it was very wrong of me.”

  “Tricked me, how?”

  “Steven is my brother,” Hester blurted out.

  “Your brother? I wasn’t aware you had a brother. No wonder the two of you looked so happy together.”

  “We have not seen each other in months. I’ve missed him and I do love him so.”

  “I can hardly blame you for that, I like the man myself.”

  “Then you forgive me? I only wanted you to desire me.”

  “Hester, a man would be out of his wits not to desire you. And an hour ago, I would have...”

  “John, please hold me.” She threw her arms around him and nestled her head in the curve of his neck.

  Reluctantly, he returned her embrace. When she lifted her face, he studied her beauty and touched her black hair with his fingertips. He felt her warmth against him and watched her eyes close in anticipation.

  “I’ll make you a good wife,” she whispered.

  “I’ve no doubt you would. It’s just that...”

  “I cannot manage life without you. Please say we are engaged still.”

  Again, he looked upon her beauty and took in the sweetness of her perfume. The pain in his head had increased and words were confused in his mind, and the face he saw was Polly’s. At length, he closed his eyes. “Aye.”

  “Oh, John, you have made me so happy. I do love you madly,” she said, holding him even tighter.

  Just then, Rose raced around the corner of the house with her skirt hiked up high, “John, come quickly!”

  “What?”

  Nearly out of breath, Rose grabbed his arm, reached up on tiptoe and whispered in his ear.

  “With who?”

  “Nora Barclay – in the school. And Mama is on her way there.”

  “Oh no, she’ll kill him,” John said, heading off at a dead run.

  “Hopefully, not before I do,” Rose muttered through gritted teeth. Her eyes were cold when she turned her face toward Hester.

  KENTUCKY

  There was a slight chill in the air on the fifth of November. Nancy Lewis stoked the fire, tucked all the children under the age of six into beds and shooed the rest outside. Finished, she went back to kneading bread at the table. Polly wrapped a blanket around the crying newborn, put him on her shoulder, rubbed his back, and began to softly sing:

  “Rock of ages, cleft for me,

  Let me hide myself in thee.

  Let the water and the blood...”

  Before her song was finished, all the little eyes were closed.

  “Thou does a miracle again, Polly,” Nancy said, watching her gently lay the baby in the cradle. “Thou wilt be a good mother someday.”

  “Mama,” Polly started, quietly pulling a stool away from the table. She sat down and began snapping the last of the summer’s green beans, “doth thou think I should marry Jacque La Rue?”

  Nancy glanced at all the closed eyes, then leaned closer, “Did thou allow him to kiss thee, as I said?”

  “I did.”

  “And did his kiss inspire thee to kiss him back?”

  “It did not, Mama.”

  “Then thou should not marry him. Forever is a long time with uninspired kisses.”

  “But Papa ...”

  “I know, he can be as stubborn as thee. But Polly, he means well. He fears thou will marry a man who will take thee far away. Jacque La Rue loves this land and intends to stay.”

  “And if John promised to keep me close, would Papa give his blessing?”

  “John has no money and no trade. Even if he had horses, no one can afford to buy them. He can hunt, I suppose, but when the babies come, thou wilt need so much more. Even with inspired kisses, life is trying with a man who must struggle to survive.”

  “Mama, we struggle to survive, yet, thou art happy.”

  “I cannot argue with that. Very well,” Nancy said, draping a towel over the bread bowl, and then setting it aside to rise. “Wait for John Carson. Marry him, love him, kindly persuade him to stay near us, and chase after thy happiness with perseverance. And when thou hath accomplished it, I will thoroughly enjoy the look on thy father’s face.”

  “Thank you.” Polly quickly walked around the table to hug her mother. Nancy hugged her back, scattered more flour on the table, and then reached for another bowl of bread dough.

  “Mama, I want to sell the corn cob dolls. Every little girl needs a doll, and I’ve made several.”

  “Does thou have a special reason?”

  “I want French silk from New Orleans. Mister La Rue said he would make the purchase next time he takes furs to market. I want a dress, Mama, a silk dress for my wedding.”

  VIRGINIA

  On Saturdays, the little log church served as a meeting house. It was built at the foot of a small hill surrounded by enough cleared land to park several buggies. On weekdays, thirty-one children in different grades attended school there. But on Sundays, hellfire and brimstone preachers walked to the pulpit and then scoured the faces of the congregation – looking for him, Uriah was convinced.

  Apprehensively, Uriah went in, removed his hat, and made a point of sitting in the back next to Adam. The church was nearly filled. Elizabeth, her head occasionally swaying with the pain of her hangover, sat alone on the front pew. Seated near his pulpit, the parson lightly tapped his right foot, while Mrs. Claiborne played soft music on the harpsichord.

  “You look a bit tired,” Uriah muttered. “Up all night, were you?”

  “You don’t look so fit yourself,” Adam whispered. “And don’t pretend you slept through the worst night in Mahala’s history. Even the Africans look a fright this morning.”

  Outside with Dulane and John watching, Rose paced between the buggies. Her pale green bonnet sat lopsided on her head, her matching dress fluttering in the breeze, and she held her arms tightly around her waist. Even now, her eyes were still narrowed with fury.

  “What’s the matter with her?” Dulane asked, fidgeting with the folds of his white neck scarf. Forgetting the scarf for a moment, he checked the buttons of his coat sleeves.

  “A slight alterca
tion, I believe. She’ll get over it in time,” John answered. But when Rose abruptly marched straight for him, his eyes widened.

  “Now!” she said, pointing toward the church.

  “Now? With the weddings so close at hand?”

  “Aye. Now! Mama is miserable – when she can lift her head. She thinks it was Papa who put spirits in her drink.”

  “Oh, very well,” John said, heading for the door. Just before he entered, he paused and took off his hat. He quickly walked down the aisle, bent near his aunt’s ear, reeled back at her comment, and then hurried out again.

  Uriah watched him rush past, and then leaned closer to Adam. “I do believe he has just absolved my brother of all guilt.”

  “Would that all men could be absolved so easily. Not one word did Rose allow me to speak the entire night.”

  “My boy, it is up to you to save the lot of us. I suggest you enjoy Mrs. Claiborne’s medley with your mother-in-law. We’d not want Rose foraging the guests in search of you.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” Adam said, reluctantly getting up.

  Outside, Dulane watched the road. Rose kicked at rocks and John straightened his best jacket for the third time.

  “Where can they be?” Dulane snapped. “I do hope tardiness is not in Maralee’s character.”

  “It is no doubt my bride who delays them,” John answered. “I hardly gave her sufficient notice.”

  “And when has Hester been timely, even with sufficient notice?” Rose barked.

  “My dear cousin, do calm yourself. It will not do...”

  “There they are, at last,” Dulane said, pointing at two approaching coaches. Quickly, he went inside to await his bride.

  John smiled at Rose and offered his arm. “At last,” he said. He walked her up the steps to the church and started in. Suddenly, he stopped.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “How very odd, I thought I heard Polly singing.”

  “Polly who?”

  John did not answer. Instead, he rubbed his forehead until the wave of pain eased and then smiled and guided Rose inside.

  CALEB HELPED HIS DAUGHTER climb out of the carriage and left her standing there while he cautiously went to the church door, peeked in and located his wife. Elizabeth was smiling, Rose had taken her seat next to Adam and all appeared well. But Caleb did not fully relax until his brother nodded. At last, he breathed a sigh of relief, opened the church doors wide and rushed back to get Maralee.