Secret Tides Page 8

  “He’s right, though,” said Marshall Tessier. “Can’t whip Obadiah without the law involved.”

  Trenton threw the bust on the floor. “1 want this thing burned!” he shouted.

  “He got your face fine,” his father said. “That ought to count for something.”

  Trenton eyed his father. “You want me to go to Mother?”

  “What if we don’t pay him for it?” Tessier asked slyly. “As much as he likes money, that’ll hurt Obadiah more than a whippin’.”

  York started to argue, to remind him that all the darkies would hear about it if he didn’t pay Obadiah and would no doubt find a way to take their revenge. But, not wanting to displease his master, he kept his mouth shut.

  Trenton kicked at the bust on the floor. “Okay,” he finally said. “Don’t pay him.”

  Tessier turned to York, his palms up. “See to it,” he told York.

  So he had. Obadiah had received no money for the bust. When The Oak Negroes learned of the injustice, they slowed their pace for two solid weeks, their low output their way of standing against the wrong Tessier, Trenton, and York had committed.

  Now York stood before the grown-up Trenton. He was still a slender man, never quite filling out as much as most his age. York tried to figure what to do. Should he go without seeing Mrs. Tessier? But she might see that as impolite, might wonder later why he hadn’t come to pay respects the minute he returned from Charleston. Yet what would happen if he insisted on visiting her and displeased Trenton, the elder son who now stood to inherit the power of his father?

  Although not sure, York decided to stand up to Trenton. If he didn’t, the boy might see him as weak, never a good trait for the overseer of a plantation.

  “I prefer to speak to your mother now,” he insisted, but politely. “To assure her I’ll take care of things, give her peace of mind about that.”

  Trenton glared at York but then relented. “Okay. But only for a moment.”

  York gave a nod.

  Trenton stepped back and let York enter. Mrs. Tessier lay on a four-poster canopy bed under a white cover up to her waist, her head propped on two pillows, her eyes glassy, a handkerchief in her right hand. She wore a light blue robe over her nightclothes. A servant stood on either side of her and waved fans the width of shovels to keep her cool. Trenton moved to a corner behind York and waited.

  York eased to the bedside. At first Mrs. Tessier didn’t seem to see him. He inspected her face. Skin a pale white, like flour in a skillet. Eyes brown with thick brows that almost touched in the middle. A light mustache, but not so you could see if you weren’t looking. A thick woman, but not overly so. Not a woman who would take your breath if you saw her standing in a parlor, but not unattractive either. Slightly above ordinary—nothing more and nothing less.

  “Mrs. Tessier?”

  She glanced at him, her eyes unfocused.

  “I’m sorry this has happened. But please know I’ll take care of everythin’.”

  She waved her handkerchief, as if none of that mattered.

  He knelt as she put her handkerchief to her mouth and sobbed softly. He glanced at Trenton, then back at Mrs. Tessier, pondering what he dared to say. “I know The Oak,” he said quietly, trying to speak properly. “I will make sure it continues to prosper.”

  Trenton took a half step his way. Mrs. Tessier nodded as if understanding. Without thinking, York lightly touched Mrs. Tessier’s hand. “I’m at your disposal,” he said quickly. “Anything you need, let me know.”

  Trenton moved again and York stood, his breath ragged. Perhaps he’d gone too far by touching her, but so what? The way he saw it, if Trenton and Camellia became husband and wife, his familiarity with Mrs. Tessier wouldn’t matter. If not, he needed another plan, and if it had any chance of succeeding, he needed to start now. Yes, it meant some risk, but given his situation, why not take it? Who knew whether Trenton and Camellia would ever marry? Whether Trenton might want a new overseer? Whether he would even keep The Oak? Lots of young masters got rid of property left to them by dead fathers. The way York saw it, he had few choices.

  He stood and faced Trenton. “Please know again of my sorrow,” he said, his words as formal as he’d ever used. “I’m here to serve you and your mother.”

  Trenton clenched his jaw but stayed quiet.

  York licked his lips. “I’ll maintain the plantation as well as ever. With all you have on your mind, I don’t want you to worry about The Oak.”

  Trenton pulled up to his full height, setting his shoulders as far back as their round shape would allow. “You need not fret about The Oak.”

  “I always fret about The Oak,” York said. “Your father paid me to do so.”

  Trenton clicked his heels together. “I’m coming home to take care of The Oak just as soon as I finish school.”

  York decided to stay calm. “We’ll look forward to that. You can follow in your father’s footsteps.”

  Trenton snorted. “I plan to do much better than my father.”

  “It’s good for a man to have ambition. I’ll do all I can to assist you.”

  Trenton’s mouth edged up at the corners. “You are a careful man.”

  “I’m loyal,” said York. “Eager to do my job as best I can.”

  “You’ll care for The Oak until I finish school?”

  “I’ll do for you whatever you wish.”

  Trenton smiled widely. “We’ll bury my father as soon as we can get a parson. Then I’ll go back to Charleston.”

  “Will your mother go with you?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe she’ll go to Charleston, maybe Columbia. Time to decide that later.”

  York nodded. “Let me know what I need to do for the burial.”

  “I’ll talk with you later.”

  “Anything else I can do to aid you?”

  Trenton rubbed his chin. “One thing,” he finally said. “I’ve sent someone to the sheriff in Beaufort. He’ll want to talk to Camellia. Tell her to prepare for his coming.”

  “Certainly,” said York.

  “I’ll stop by to see her soon.”

  “As you wish. Some notice would give her time to make herself presentable.”

  “She is always presentable, at least to me.”

  York raised an eyebrow and let his mind linger again on the possibility of a match between Trenton and Camellia. He’d run The Oak forever if that happened!

  After Trenton pivoted and walked off, York headed down the stairs. When he reached the front porch, he stopped and looked out. The sun had completely set, but he could still see the outlines of the place. Close to thirty bunking houses for the Negroes sat over five hundred yards away and downwind to the left. Three different barns stood halfway between the manse and the bunking houses. Out of sight past all that lay the rice fields.

  York lifted his eyes to the moon. He’d worked for somebody else most of his life; had bent his ways over and over again to please them, to do their bidding, to make their plantations profitable. He’d accepted his place in the world. But now another change had come, and this one threatened everything. If Trenton turned against him, he’d lose his job and end up on the road with nowhere to go. After managing The Oak, anything else would feel like failure.

  York remembered the money in his saddlebags. If he wanted, he could take that money and buy some property. Not much, but a little. But if he got anything close by, people would be real suspicious about where he’d gotten enough money to go out on his own. Most would figure he’d stolen it from Tessier, probably after his death. They’d think he’d taken advantage of Tessier’s widow to line his own pockets. Young Trenton might even come after him and demand he return the money.

  York put in a new chew of tobacco. If he kept the money, he’d have to leave the lowlands to spend it, no question about that. That notion didn’t appeal to him, but what choice did he have? He thought of Josh and wondered what he’d do. He’d give the money back. But to whom? Young Tessier? That made no sense. T
o the sheriff in Beaufort? But what about the dead man? They’d surely accuse one if not both of them of killing him. That would lead to all kinds of problems.

  As he stepped off the porch, York knew he needed time to think. For now he’d keep the money, run the plantation, and try to please Mrs. Tessier. After young Trenton returned, who knew how things would unfold?

  Set on his course, York let his mind run. Trenton seemed mighty concerned about Camellia. What did that mean? Better yet, how could he use that to make sure he protected what he had worked so long to attain?

  Chapter Six

  Josh met York on the front steps of his house, where he’d waited for the last few minutes. Dark had completely fallen, but he could still see the worried look on York’s face as he walked up and shook his hand as if he hadn’t seen his half brother in a long time.

  “An eventful day,” he said, noting York’s saddlebags across his shoulders. “Your arm okay?”

  “Yep. Stella got me this shirt.”

  “Hard to think how fast things can shift on a man.”

  York took off his hat and led him inside the house. Camellia stepped from the kitchen. York dropped his saddlebags on the floor. “Rough couple of days, huh?” he said to her. “You doin’ okay?”

  Camellia looked at her feet. “I’m upset.”

  “Where are the boys?” York asked, his attention already shifted.

  Josh’s hands tensed. York needed to pay more attention to Camellia! She needed a time to sit down, to tell everything that had happened to her.

  “They’re still working, I guess. I saw them midday, when they stopped at the cookhouse for food.”

  York shuffled, and Josh wanted to smack him. Camellia needed somebody to listen to her, somebody to get her a cup of coffee and pat her hand and give her comfort. But York did nothing of the sort, and Camellia glanced back up, her face sad.

  Josh caught her eye and smiled as warmly as he could. “Anything I can do for you?”

  She nervously wiped her hands on her apron and shook her head.

  “You let me know if I can help in any way,” he said. “Any way at all.”

  Camellia smiled thinly. “You two need something to eat. Go on and sit down. I’ll fetch you a bite.”

  Josh wanted to argue, but she left before he could say anything. Although the two of them didn’t do a lot of talking, they saw each other almost every day. He respected the way she took care of her family at the same time she labored on The Oak. No telling what York and his boys would do when Camellia took on a husband, and surely that would happen soon. Every eligible man within twenty miles seemed sweet on her. He suspected that the only thing that had kept her from marrying already was the dream of Trenton asking for her hand.

  York pointed to a chair by the fireplace, and Josh took a seat. York threw a log onto the low fire that was already burning, then fell into a seat across from Josh.

  “Anna told you about Tessier, I reckon,” York began.

  “Yes, soon as I got home. It’s an unpredictable world, that’s for sure.”

  York took off his hat and hung it on his knee. “I saw Mrs. Tessier.”

  “She heavy-eyed?”

  “Not as bad as I thought.”

  “She’s not your typical plantation lady, for certain. It’s a wonder the manse runs as smoothly as it does.”

  “Stella keeps it in order. That’s the only way.”

  “When do you think we’ll bury Tessier?”

  York picked up a spit cup from by his chair. “Soon as the parson can get here. A body won’t keep long this time of year. Anna tell you how it happened?”

  “Said Tessier was in the cookhouse, slipped on some spilled potatoes, hit his head. Curious, if you ask me.”

  “How so?” York spat into his cup and stared at him, his face wrinkled.

  “Well, I don’t mean to raise any questions if none should get raised, but what’s Tessier doing in the cookhouse? Cooking isn’t exactly the responsibility of the master of a plantation.”

  York stroked his beard. “That’s a mystery, for certain. But only Mr. Tessier would know, and he’s dead and can’t tell us.”

  Josh shrugged. “Just curious, that’s all.”

  “What else?” asked York.

  “Anna said he cut his hand on a knife.”

  “Yep. When he fell, he grabbed on to one.”

  Josh stared into the fireplace. A single flame darted up, flickering against the stone. He wondered what more to say, pondered whether to mention what he’d been thinking. “You remember what you told me a few weeks ago?”

  York stayed quiet.

  “You told me that Mr. Tessier had made some advances toward Camellia,” continued Josh. “You tell that to anybody else?”

  York’s face darkened. “That had nothin’ to do with this!” he growled. “How could it? You thinkin’ maybe he come at her, she cracked him on the head?”

  “No,” soothed Josh. “Nothing like that. Just want to make sure you didn’t tell the story to anybody else. Cause anybody to get suspicious.”

  York spat into his cup. “My mind ain’t thinkin’ straight right now. But you’re the only one I told. I know that for a fact.”

  “Look,” Josh said, “a lot has happened today—more than we can handle real easily. Just stay steady, okay?”

  York nodded. “Camellia was just there. Nothin’ else to it. She and Stella said the same thing. Folks will believe them. No reason not to.”

  “They send for the sheriff?” asked Josh.

  “Yep, Trenton did.”

  “Master Trenton is here?”

  “Yep, he was in Beaufort, and Mrs. Tessier sent for him.”

  Josh stood and moved to the fireplace. “You think Trenton had any notions about his father’s advances on Camellia?”

  York quickly shook his head. “Not unless somebody else told him. And who would?”

  “Camellia maybe?”

  “No, she wouldn’t do that. Camellia’s a quiet girl, not one to bring out such a thing if she don’t have to. She wouldn’t tell Trenton such a bad thing about his pa.”

  “I suppose not.” Josh rubbed his face and turned his thoughts to other matters. “You still got the money?” he asked softly.

  York pointed to the saddlebags. “Stopped by the barn before comin’ here. It’s all right there.”

  “What do you plan to do with it?”

  “Don’t know. Too much happenin’ right now to give that much thought.”

  “You could give it to the sheriff when he comes. Walt’s a good man.”

  “No reason confusin’ one man’s death with another. Liable to make Walt real suspicious about both. We already made our decision over this.”

  Josh clenched his fists. Although York held the money, he still felt responsible for it. “I think we ought to get shed of it. Feels like it’s got meanness on it … that it’ll bring us bad luck.”

  York chuckled lightly. “There you go again, a man of the Lord talkin’ about luck. No such thing accordin’ to the parson, least what little I’ve heard from him. It’s all the Lord’s will, ain’t it? Everythin’ that happens?”

  Josh refused to take the matter lightly. “This might not be the time for a religious talk.”

  “You surprise me, Brother Josh,” teased York. But his voice had a slight edge to it. “Seems to me a man of the Lord should want to talk religion just about anytime.”

  “And you surprise me, Brother York, raising questions about the Lord, you being a touch standoffish when it comes to matters of faith.”

  “I can ask a question or two, can’t I?”

  Josh tilted his head. Did York really want to talk about faith, or was he using the question to keep from focusing on the money? “Questions are good,” he said. “Talking and all. But I guess I like to do my religion more than just talk about it. Seems that’s the best kind of belief anyway.”

  York stopped teasing. “So you don’t think all this is the Lord’s will? Us findin�
� that money? Tessier dyin’ all of a sudden?”

  “I found the money,” Josh said firmly. “Not we. And whether or not it’s the Lord’s will, I have no way to say. What I can say is this—it’s not the Lord’s will for anybody but the rightful owner to keep that money.”

  “But what if we don’t know the rightful owner? Is it our duty to go lookin’ for him?”

  “Don’t know the answer to that one either.”

  Camellia stuck her head in the room. “Got food on the table. Come on back and wash up.”

  “Give us another minute,” said York. “Be right there.”

  Camellia turned back to the kitchen.

  Josh moved to the saddlebags and lifted them from the floor. “The man mentioned a name,” he said, facing York again.

  “So?”

  “Mentioned the name Ruth, like it meant something to him.”

  York dropped his eyes. “Maybe that’s his wife. Or a sister. Or maybe he was tryin’ to say one of your big words, like ruthless, but didn’t get it all said. Nothin’ we can do with any of that.”

  “I thought maybe I’d ask around some, maybe in Beaufort or even Charleston the next time I’m there.”

  “Good luck with that. What about Savannah? Maybe he came south to north. Then Columbia. Why don’t you just give up your work and your family and ride all over the state seein’ if you can find Ruth?”

  “I know it’s unlikely,” said Josh, angry at York’s mocking tone. “But I have to try. Can’t just let it go.”

  “Sure you can. You won’t find anybody anyway, I don’t expect.”

  “I’m sure you’re right, but I need to try.”

  “I’m sure you do.” York pointed out the room’s only window. “All this is up for grabs now,” he said, sweeping his hand across the expanse of the plantation. “Mrs. Tessier will surely marry again. Some new master will come in and take over this whole place.”

  Josh moved to his side. “That’s beyond the two of us. We just work here.”

  York spat into his cup. “It don’t have to be that way. Not if we play our cards right.”

  “What do you mean?”

  York faced him, his eyes bright. “You know how Master Trenton and Camellia grew up together.”