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CHAPTER TWELVE Upon the bank, she stood In the cool Of spent emotions. She felt, among the leaves, The dew Of old devotions. She walked upon the grass, Still quavering. The winds were like her maids, Fetching her woven scarves, Yet wavering. A breath upon her hand Muted the night. She turned-- A cymbal crashed, And roaring horns. Wallace Stevens
There was fire in the old woman's eyes as she stared down her grandsons. "This is not acceptable," she snapped. Her furious attention flicked from Brendan to Leland to Conor then back to Leland, where it settled with growing rage. "Well?" Leland shrugged. Nothing bothered him all that much of late and especially not his grandmother's ire. "I don't know what to tell you, Granny, he………" "DO NOT CALL ME THAT DESPICABLE SOBRIQUET!" Grace Vivienne shouted so loudly the crystal pendants in the chandelier overhead tinkled. Tina lowered her head, her lips pursed tightly together to keep from laughing. She found her grandmother-in-law's anger high entertainment since it was rarely directed her way. She cast her eyes to the side as Conor slipped his hand in hers and squeezed: a good indication her husband was on the verge of laughter, himself. "My most humble apology, Grandmother," they heard Lee muttered. "Get up from this table right this minute and go out to his cabin and find out why he did not appear for either breakfast or lunch!" Grace Vivienne demanded, her enraged glower locked on Leland Brell as though he were a magnet and her fury, the iron filings. Leland nodded without speaking. He pushed his chair back from the table, stood unsteadily beside his place for a moment, then turned and walked with as much dignity as the bottle of good Kentucky bourbon he'd consumed during the day would allow. "I don't suppose that woman will be down for supper, either," the old woman stated, a gleam of pure spite now warring with the fury in her rheumy stare. "No, Ma'am," Tina answered for everyone. "She has had a particularly bad case of the……….." She looked to her husband. "What did Lee call it?" "The Quick-Steps," Conor replied, his lips twitching. His hold on his wife's hand tightened almost painfully. Grace Vivienne gave a rather unladylike snort. "Must have been something she ate." "Or drank," Tina said quietly and lifted her head so that she looked directly into the old woman's vengeful gaze. Although there was no guile in the younger woman's face, there was no doubt in Grace Vivienne's mind that Christina knew precisely what had given the Hardy woman a severe case of diarrhea. "I hope it isn't something that is going around," the old woman said pointedly, her eyes narrowing as she glared at her granddaughter-in-law. "I hope not, too, Ma'am," Tina replied respectfully. "Tina's been a bit under the weather since we got home from…………" Conor nearly yelped as his wife's nails dug into his hand. He turned a surprised face to her. But the damage had already been done. Grace Vivienne pounced on her grandson's words. "Under the weather in what way, Conor James?" she demanded. Tina swivelled her head and gave Conor a look that would have quelled the staunchest warrior and he blinked, wondering what on earth he could have said to cause such a venomous look from such an accommodating lass. "Answer me, boy!" his grandmother commanded. "How has she been ill?" Tina's pursed lips were no longer clamped together from humor: they were pressed together with high annoyance. Before her husband could reply, she looked at his grandmother and lifted her chin. "I think you know very well, Ma'am, but this was neither the time nor the place for the cat to be let off the rolling stone." Conor sighed at the mixed metaphor. Where did she come up with these things, he wondered? "And pray tell why not?" Grace Vivienne wanted clarified, but Tina was not easily cowered. "Considering Ivonne's tragic circumstances, I thought it inappropriate," Tina replied with a little sniff. The old woman stared at her for a good long while, then slowly, thoughtfully nodded. "I see." She lifted the linen napkin from beside her place, shook it out and laid it daintily in her lap. "I do believe congratulations are in order." "Thank you," Tina said and placed her own napkin in her lap. "Congratulations for what?" Brendan asked, his head swiveling from his grandmother to his sister-in-law. "For not telling Ivonne that Tina was sick," Conor said with annoyance. At least he thought that was what his grandmother and wife were discussing. "Oh," Brendan stated. He looked at Tina. "I suppose that was a good idea, Wiseacre." Tina smiled slowly as she avoided looking into the knowing face of her grandmother-in-law. Sometimes men could be so dense, she thought.
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Leland nearly fell off his horse four times before the gelding finally arrived at Sinclair's front door. Grumbling to himself as he climbed down painfully from atop his mount, he consigned Rory Sinclair McGregor to the farthest reaches of the Pit for making him have to ride all the way out here. Arming the sweat from his brow, breathing hard in the high humidity of the hot August evening, he had no intention of knocking on Sin's door, but as he reached the closed portal, he was taken aback as it came open with a snap. "I was beginning to think no one up at Willow Glenn gave a rat's tail what had happened to Sinclair," Leonie Emerson snapped. "Did you people just now realize he was missing?" Lee Brell blinked. Blinked again, then his eyebrows drew together over stormy blue-green eyes. "What are you doing here at this time of evening?" he demanded. "Why didn't someone come out here yesterday to check on him?" she countered. "He's a grown man," Leland grunted. "Why are you here?" "He's a hurt man," she responded. "What good is family if no one cares if someone nearly beats you to death?" Leland stared at her. "What are you talking about, woman?" Leonie's mouth tightened and she snaked out a hand, snagged Lee's shirt sleeve and pulled him into the cabin. "I reckon you don't know," she answered. "Know what?" he grated, but the woman he'd loved almost his entire life was walking down the small hallway right into Sin's bedroom as though she had made herself perfectly at home there. With a mighty scowl on his handsome face, Leland stomped after her. "Your cousin is here," Leonie said softly, putting a gentle hand on Sinclair's shoulder. She smiled as he came awake and looked up at her quizzically. "Lee's here," she repeated, then straightened and turned up the flame on the lantern. Sinclair turned his head toward the doorway and saw Lee standing there. From the look on the older man's face, he was neither pleased with the gentleness in Leonie Emerson's voice nor her presence in Sin's room. As Lee's angry gaze finally snapped from Leonie to him, Sin saw Brell's eyes widen with shock. "Lordy be, Sinclair! Who the hell put you through a meat grinder?" Lee gasped as he ventured into the room, his mouth agape. "I'll give you one guess," Leonie answered for her patient. Lee glanced at her, then turned back to Sin. "Delacroix did this?" "Three of his men," Leonie corrected as she bent over Sinclair to adjust his covers. Lee snapped his mouth shut with an audible click, then--with hands on his hips--turned to Leonie. "How long you been here, Miss Leonie?" "Since yesterday at noon," she replied and ignored the sharp intake of breath her scandalous admission invoked. "There didn't seem to be anyone else interested enough to come check on his whereabouts and…….." "We didn't know this had happened!" Lee defended himself and his family honor. Leonie stopped fussing with Sin's covers and gave Leland an accusatory look. "And I suppose it didn't occur to a single, solitary soul at Willow Glenn when this man, worried sick as he is about Miz Delacroix, didn't come back there last evening to check on her condition and didn't show up for either breakfast or dinner to see how she was?" "Well, we……." "He could have died out there on the roadway, Colonel Brell," she declared. "That was certainly the intention of his attackers. Had his horse not ran off and had he been able to mount the beast and ride on here to his home, he could have lain here in this bed and succumbed to his injuries had I not been here to care for him." "I understand that, but…….." "And not one of you came out here to see how he was." Her chin lifted. "Not a one of you!" "Miss Leonie, I told you………" "And another thing……." Sinclair was following the exchange with a great deal of amusement. If he didn't feel so bad and if doing so wouldn't hurt like hell, he would have laughed. Leonie was shaking a chubby finger in Leland's face and Leland was opening and closing his mouth like a large mouth bass as he tried to get a word in edgewise. "So now you can take over while I go home and clean up!" Leland watched her gather up her hat and, for the first time, became aware of the gun belt she had also snatched up. All he could think to ask was if she knew how to handle the Colt nestled inside the worn leather holster. "I can hit a possum dead center on a moonless night," she quipped, pushing past him to exit the bedroom. "The devil you say!" Leland grunted. He turned and followed her and their angry voices drifted back to Sinclair as the two of them headed outside. Since Leonie's horse had ran back to town, he figured she'd be taking his. When Leland came storming back into his room, the first thing out of his tight mouth was a vehement curse. "That goldarned woman took my gods-be-damned horse!" he seethed. He glared down at Sinclair. "Said mine was already saddled and she didn't want to wait around for me to saddle that nag of yours!" Sinclair grinned at him, wincing as his torn lips broke open. "She was right, Lee. I know she's tired." Leland didn't say anything for a moment, then reached out and dragged the rocking chair up to Sin's bed. "Who was it done this?" 'I didn't know them, but you and I both know who paid 'em," Sin answered. "Describe what they looked like," Lee snarled. "Let that go for now," Sin said and weakly held up a hand as Leland would have protested. "How is Ivonne?" he needed to know more than he needed to have the men found who'd nearly killed him. "She was doing okay when I went down to supper," Leland replied. "I checked in on her and she asked where you was." Sinclair closed his eyes. "She must think I'm the worst kind of bastard not to have been there." "She'll understand," Lee reminded him. He hunched forward, his clasped hands dangling between his spread thighs. "The baby's gonna be buried tomorrow at WindLass and she ain't up to traveling over there, Sin. It's gonna be a rough day for her." "I know," came the quiet reply. He held Lee's gaze. "I want to be there for her, Leland." Leland sighed. "I figured as much." He stood up, hitched up his trousers, and turned to leave. "I'll go get the buckboard and me and Conor and Brenny will come back for you." He looked around the room. "Where's your gun, brat?" "I haven't worn one since I came home," Sin replied. He knew why Lee had asked. "But there's a Winchester in the cabinet by the front door. Shells are in the kitchen drawer." "It won't take us long to get back here, but I want your tail protected just in case," Lee said unnecessarily. He stalked out of the room and came back shortly with the loaded weapon.
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Evangeline smoothed her skirt as she started down the stairs. She had spent the entire day in her boudoir and had missed all three meals. Her belly was rumbling and despite the loose feeling in her nether region, she intended to find something in this inhospitable place to quiet the hunger pangs. Not wanting to run into the elderly bitch from hell, Delacroix's sister had waited until she thought everyone had retired for the evening before making her way down to the kitchen. When she heard the voices coming from the front parlor, she quickly crossed the hallway and was about to retreat back up the stairs, but Edward's name spoken with a good deal of venomous spite caught her attention. Being as quiet as she could, she stepped over to the parlor and hid behind the tall potted palm flanking the archway. "And you are positive it was him?" the old woman was hissing. "As sure as the sun rises in the East, Grandmother," Leland Brell replied. "Sonofabitch!" Grace Vivienne's explosive curse lifted Evangeline's delicate brows into the gold of her carefully-plaited hair. "I'm sure they thought he was dead or they wouldn't have just ridden off," Leland remarked. "No doubt Delacroix paid them a goodly amount and they reported everything taken care of." Evangeline frowned. Who were they talking about, she wondered? She had been so ill during the entire day, she was barely conscious of the comings and goings taking place outside her closed bedroom door. For the most part, she had been ignored by the staff, but once or twice one of the darkie women had come in to empty the chamberpot, but she had not deigned to speak to the hired help so Evangeline was unaware of anything of import having taken place. "He'll kill him for sure now," someone said and Evangeline was fairly sure it was the middle son, Conor. "That woman will be the death of my grandson yet!" Grace Vivienne grumbled. "Would you care?" That was Leland's droll voice. There was a long moment of silence, then the old woman's steady, acid-filled voice. "Go to bed, Leland," she commanded. 'It's all you can do to stand up as drunk as you are!" Evangeline had to plaster herself tightly behind the palm as Brell came hobbling angrily from the parlor. He didn't turn his face toward her, but there was no need. Evangeline had seen the utter contempt and self-loathing on the man's set profile and hadn't missed the fists tightly clenched at his sides. "You two might as well go on up to bed, as well," she heard the old woman say on a long, tired breath. "There's nothing can be done until Sin's recovered from this cowardly beating." "He'll kill him for sure," Conor Brell repeated his prophesy. "He will have every right to!" their grandmother proclaimed. "Does Ivonne know?" Brendan asked. "I'll tell her in the morning," the old woman replied. "No sense in waking her this evening and getting her all upset." How thoughtful, Evangeline smirked. ""Don't stay down here too long, Grandmother," Conor advised. Once more Evangeline had to hide behind the palm until the two brothers had passed by her and gone up the stairs. She stood where she was, chewing on her lip, then drew in a long, steadying breath, and pushed aside the palm fronds to make her way into the parlor. The surprised look on the old woman's face pleased her. "What are you doing down here this time of night?" was the bitter query. "I was hungry," Evangeline answered without a bit of remorse. "How badly was the Captain injured?" Grace Vivienne's face hardened. "Eavesdropping is not the way to repay your hostess' hospitality," she snapped. "The extent of the hospitality shown to me in this backwoods shanty would fill nothing more than a thimble," Evangeline muttered. Without being asked, she went to one of the settees and sat down, fanning her brocade skirts around her legs. "Is there something I can do for you, Mrs. Hardy?" Grace Vivienne spat. "I hate my brother," came the reply. The old woman's left eyebrow crooked upward. "Is that so?" Evangeline inclined her head. "Yes, it is. I have hated Edward since the day I was introduced to him." She primly smoothed the material of her skirts, brushing away imaginary lint. "And I have despised that guttersnipe of a wife of his since the day I arrived in Savannah." The old woman leaned back in her chair. "Why do you feel the need to tell me this?" Evangeline smiled and Grace Vivienne recoiled a little for it was a smile of pure evil and filled with a deadliness she had only seen once before in her life. "You loathe Edward, too," she heard the Hardy woman saying. "And Ivonne……….." The smile turned deadlier still. "Well, let's just say you would not have grieved had she succumbed at the same time as the brat she carried." The great clock in the hallway began to chime the eleventh hour and both women sat staring at one another, listening to the elegant bongs until there was only a reverberating through the otherwise quiet house. At last, Grace Vivienne spoke. "What exactly is it you want, Mrs. Hardy?" "Please call me Evangeline." "What is it you want?" the old woman repeated. "Well, as you know I am a widow……….." "A state of being attained, no doubt, by very careful planning," Grace Vivienne interrupted. "Extremely careful planning," Evangeline conceded. "Then I suppose you would not consider fratricide beyond your abilities." "Oh, certainly not!" Evangeline laughed. "Especially since I do not consider Edward true kin." "I was referring to your sister-in-law." "Oh, her," Evangeline sighed, waving a hand as though to dismiss the woman completely from this world. "I will see to her all in good time." "The sooner the better," was Grace Vivienne's reply. "Perhaps," Evangeline agreed. "Perhaps." "You have not told me what your intentions are, Mrs. Hardy. Surely you know that should something happen to Edward, Ivonne would inherit WindLass and all of his properties." "Should she survive him, yes," Evangeline responded, "but I intend to see she predeceases him, Mrs. Brell." A slow smile began to form on Grace Vivienne's face. "Am I to take it you are in your brother's will?" A slow, delicate incline of Evangeline's head was the only reply. "And that if and when your brother shuffles off this mortal coil, you will become the owner of WindLass?" Another slow, graceful nod. "And you want precisely what from me?" Evangeline sat forward, her beautiful face intent, her eyes locked on Grace Vivienne. "I want you to do nothing, Mrs. Brell. Absolutely nothing." She lowered her voice. "I will rid this world of that whorish bitch upstairs; Edward will meet an untimely end a few weeks later; and I will inherit WindLass." "I don't see how that helps me beyond getting the two of them out of Rory Sinclair's life once and for all," Grace Vivienne stated. "WindLass belongs to the Brells, yet it is in the hands of our enemy at the moment. What good will it do us to have it in your hands, instead?" "I want that house," Evangeline said, her mouth set with hard lines of possession. "I have wanted it from the moment I set eyes on it and I intend to have it. When I decide to move on, I will sell it back to you, at a reasonable price, of course." "Of course," the old woman muttered with disbelief. Evangeline's face took on a look of ungodly spite. "Don't interfere with my plans, old woman, and I'll see your family home is once more in your possession. Cross me and I swear to you, you will regret it for as long as I allow you to draw breath on this earth!" Grace Vivienne shocked the younger woman as she threw back her head and laughter peeled from her wrinkled throat. "I see nothing humorous about this conversation!" Evangeline snapped and was further shocked when the old woman leapt to her feet and with one graceful move that belied her many years, was in Evangeline's face, nose to nose with her. "This is the way it is going to be, dearie," the old woman growled. "Get that bitch out of Rory Sinclair's life and I'll see to it that he kills Edward for you. If you do it, the law may become suspicious. There's already talk about the untimely deaths of your husbands. In exchange for my cooperation in all this, you will marry Sinclair……….." "WHAT?" The gasp even stopped the crickets outside the windows from chirping. "You will marry Sinclair and produce an heir for him." There was a firm shake of the old woman's head. "I don't care if it's a boy or girl so long as there is issue. As soon as the child is born, you will deed WindLass over to him or her and leave this city." "Are you out of your mind, you stupid old crone?" Evangeline snarled. "I have no intention of being shackled to that scarfaced……….." "Once the child is born and WindLass is once more in the possession of the Brell family," Grace Vivienne continued, "Rory Sinclair will have outlived his usefulness and you may dispatch him as you did your other husbands. I don't care one way or another." She stood up, her thin hands on her bony hips. "All I ask is that he not suffer unduly." Evangeline sat there, her mouth open, staring up at a woman who had just given a virtual stranger carte blanche to do away with her own flesh and blood. "What's it to be?" Grace Vivienne inquired. "If I say no?" Evangeline countered, vying for time to think over this shocking proposal. Grace Vivienne smiled hatefully. "You are not the only one who knows how to use arsenic, my dear, and unless you do as they did in medieval times and have someone taste every morsel of food you cram into that greedy little mouth of yours, how will you know that what you are eating hasn't been laced with an extra spice or two?" Evangeline shuddered delicately. She lowered her head, thinking feverishly, going over and over the pros and cons of the situation and didn't see how she could possibly come out on the bad end of all this unless she crossed this vindictive old bat. Sinclair wasn't entirely unattractive and just knowing she was getting what Ivonne desperately wanted, was too rich a sweet to pass by untasted. At last, she looked and smiled sweetly. "Do you prefer to be called Mother Brell or Grand Mama?"
THE LEGENDS BEGIN WITH THE KEEPER OF THE WIND
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