American Dreams (24 page)

"What is it, Temple?"

The vague apprehension in her mother's voice was nothing compared to the alarm Temple felt as she scanned the poster. It was a public notice of a council meeting to be held in New Echota on the third Monday of December for the purpose of agreeing to an acceptable treaty. Free blankets and subsistence money were to be distributed to all who attended.

"What is it, Temple?" Eliza rose from the piano bench.

"Nothing." She quickly folded the poster in half and ran her fingers along the crease, striving for nonchalance. "A notice about a runaway slave. Nothing that concerns us, Mama." She looked at Kipp, warning him not to deny it.

"But Kipp—"

"Kipp," Temple broke in quickly, "Kipp is an alarmist. I expect he thinks this runner stole the two milk cows you are missing. Isn't that right?"

For an instant, the muscles in his tightly clenched jaw stood out sharply. "It is possible."

"But hardly likely," she replied and turned away, releasing a long breath of relief when her father appeared in the doorway.

Will paused, his gaze slicing to the folded poster in her hand, then to her. With a slight movement of her head, she indicated that her mother was unaware of its contents.

"You all were sitting here when Kipp and I left," he chided lightly, walking the rest of the way into the family parlor.

"We have been visiting," Victoria explained and smiled at Temple. "We see each other so seldom we had a great deal to talk about."

"You promised you would rest this afternoon," he reminded her.

"I know—"

"That is my fault," Temple inserted. "I stayed longer than I planned, but now I must leave. Why don't you go upstairs and rest, Mama?"

"I will go with you." Eliza immediately went to Victoria's side.

Within minutes, Eliza had assisted Victoria from the room and Xandra had been sent to find her little brother, leaving Temple alone with her father and Kipp. She saw the question in her father's eyes, but it was Kipp who asked it.

"Did you know about this?"

"Of course not." She looked down at the poster in her hands. "The Blade tells me nothing unless I ask. And I didn't know about this to ask."

"Schermerhorn has to know that no one will attend." Will referred to the commissioner sent by Jackson to obtain a treaty with the Cherokees. "Not while John Ross is in Washington."

"Ridge and his traitors are behind this," Kipp accused. "All these lies of theirs that John Ross is not our chief because there have been no elections—no one believes them. They send delegates to Washington and sign provisional treaties. They seek to betray us all." He grabbed the poster from her and opened it up. "Do you believe this? They are trying to bribe people to come to their false council meeting with promises of blankets and money. Because they have sold themselves to Chicken Snake Jackson, they think others will. Then they dare to warn that any who fail to come will be counted as voting in favor of any action taken by the council."

"I saw that," Temple admitted, privately appalled and sickened that her husband had any part in this.

"They cannot truly believe it will give any credence to what they do," he jeered.

"I do not know what they think!" Temple was weary of his insinuations that she knew more of The Blade's activities and plans than she was telling.

"You had best warn them that they will pay with their lives for any deeds of treachery they perform."

Temple turned away to hide the whitening of her face. For the last two years, she had lived with these death threats against The Blade. Five—or was it six?—of his cohorts had been killed by those who took it upon themselves to invoke the Blood Law despite John Ross's constant appeals for restraint and peace.

When her father's hands settled onto her shoulders, Temple recognized the gentleness of his touch and relaxed. "I would not be greatly concerned about this council meeting, Temple. Both John Ridge and Stand Watie have accompanied John Ross to Washington. I doubt the treaty party will take any ... questionable action with two of their most notable members absent," he said. "I am certain this is just another attempt to gain more supporters."

"Yes, it is the only thing it could be." Relieved by his logical explanation, she turned to face him, loving him all the more for allaying her fears. Her father had never once allowed his disagreement with The Blade's views to become personal, never once treated him with anything but respect, and never once made Temple feel that she was being pulled between them. She doubted if her marriage could have withstood the conflict if it had been otherwise.

At times she wondered if her father knew The Blade had intervened on his behalf and used his influence with the governor of Georgia to ensure that her father remained in possession of Gordon Glen, when all around, prime properties, including John Ross's plantation, had been claimed by lottery winners. Such concessions were usually granted only to those Cherokees who advocated the signing of a treaty to remove. As a treaty advocate, The Blade had managed to obtain the exemption for her family home. She suspected her father knew that.

"It is late." She gathered up her knitting "If I am to have supper on the table for my husband, I need to be leaving."

"How can you go back there?" Kipp demanded. "How can you stay with him?"

"Kipp, you will not speak that way to your sister!" The sharp reprimand exploded from Will in a rare show of anger.

"But she is living in a house of traitors," he protested in anger.

"And you live in my house. Which means you will respect my wishes. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir." Kipp gave in grudgingly.

"Kipp." Temple wanted somehow to heal this breach, but he turned on his heel and walked stiffly from the room. "I am sorry, Father."

"You have no reason to apologize, Temple. Your brother needs to learn tolerance."

"I know." But it didn't make her feel any less guilty that she had been the cause of the harsh exchange.

"Kipp has to understand that however much he disagrees with the stand your husband has taken, The Blade loves our nation and its people every bit as much as we do. I cannot call a man who loves his country a traitor to it, regardless of what his other beliefs might be."

"He does love it," she asserted forcefully. "He is shunned like an outcast, called vile names, and threatened with violence. I have seen it. Like you, I think he is wrong, but I know, too, that he deeply believes he is acting for the good of our people. I cannot hate him ... I cannot stop loving him for that."
 

"I know."

 

When Eliza descended the stairs to the great hall, a silence greeted her. She paused at the bottom to listen, slightly puzzled that Temple should leave without saying good-bye. It wasn't like her.

She crossed to the family parlor, but the chair Temple had previously occupied was empty, as were the others. Disappointed, she started to turn away, then she heard the soft plink of a piano key and turned back, ready to scold young Johnny for playing with the piano.

But it was Will who was seated at the rosewood piano. She stared, taking advantage of this unguarded moment to gaze at him, noting the way the dark material of his frock coat pulled across his wide shoulders, then tapered down his back. The afternoon light streaming through the window intensified the deep red cast in his hair and etched his finely chiseled profile in sharp relief. Just the fingers of his right hand were on the piano keys, lightly rubbing the ivory edges in a slow, circular motion. A tightness gripped Eliza as she imagined his hand caressing her that way. All those longings she had once told Temple were wrong to feel now consumed her until it hurt to breathe.

As if sensing a presence, he looked over his shoulder, his glance immediately locking with hers. After three years of practice, Eliza had mastered the skill of hiding her feelings. She calmly walked into the room.

"Temple has left?" she asked, saying the first thing that came to mind.

"Yes." He turned sideways on the piano seat. "She said to tell you good-bye."

"I hadn't thought she would leave so soon." She stopped to stand next to the piano. "She was upset."

"The poster," Eliza remembered. "What was it about?"

Briefly, Will told her about the special council meeting called for the stated purpose of agreeing on treaty terms. "It was done deliberately, knowing John Ross will be away in Washington." Her initial indignation quickly changed to pity for Temple, knowing how hurt she would be that The Blade was involved in such trickery. "Poor Temple."

"I told her not to attach too much importance to the meeting. Nothing will come of it," he said, then sighed heavily. "I only wish Kipp had not said some of the things he did. He has so much hate."

"Yes." Eliza was forced to agree. "Sometimes I think that instead of a heart, he was born with a fist tightly closed in anger." The instant the words were out, she regretted speaking so thoughtlessly about his son. "Forgive me. I should not have said that."

"No, you speak the truth. I only regret that Temple has to suffer the backlash of his anger. Her situation is difficult enough without Kipp adding more pressure to it."

"Temple can handle it. She is a strong woman."

"So are you, Eliza."

The simple compliment and the endearing warmth of his gaze combined were almost too much for her.

"Thank you." Conscious of her racing heartbeat, Eliza somehow succeeded in responding casually to him. "Unfortunately, I have neglected several of my duties while Temple was here. I must be about them."

With Victoria's declining health, Eliza had taken over the bulk of her chores. One of the blessings of running an extended household the size of Gordon Glen was that there was always something to be done. Occupied by work, she had little time to think about herself.

"Maybe tonight you will play the piano for me," Will said as she started to walk away. "Until I heard the music this afternoon, I had forgotten how long it's been since I sat and listened to you."

"Perhaps." She wouldn't commit to it until she was certain she wouldn't be playing for him alone. That was a situation that was neither proper nor wise.

 

 

 

19

 

 

Dismounting, Temple passed the reins to the stableman holding the mare's bridle. As he led the horse away, she turned to the house, then paused, her glance unwillingly drawn to the motionless figure partially hidden by the chestnut tree on the far side of the lawn. The man was one of a half dozen that ringed the main house, keeping a sinister watch over its occupants.

Their faces were always hooded by the blankets they wore wrapped around them, making recognition nearly impossible. They never spoke or made any menacing gesture; they simply stared, letting their presence be a warning to those traitors within.

As if to assure her that he meant no harm to Will Gordon's daughter, the man nodded once to her. Temple hesitated, then nodded back, still chilled by the sight of him.

The mysterious figures had first appeared soon after John Ridge and the other delegates had returned from Washington with the provisional treaty they had signed. She tried to convince herself that she should be used to them by now, but it didn't help.

As she approached the front door, Phoebe opened it. As if reading the silent question in Temple's eyes, she said, "Master Blade hasn't returned yet."

Without replying, Temple handed Phoebe her riding crop and began stripping off her gloves. The Blade had left early that morning without saying where he was going or when he would be back. She hadn't asked. It was an unspoken agreement they had.

As she untied the ribbons that secured her riding hat, she heard the clump of Shawano's cane in the hall. She removed her bonnet and handed it to the waiting Phoebe, then turned to face the sound. She caught the flicker of disappointment in his expression when he saw her. She knew Shawano was as anxious as she was to see The Blade return safely from wherever he had gone. There was too much animosity in the air, too much talk about enacting the Blood Law, too many rumors of assassination for her not to be concerned. She needed distraction. That was half the reason she had decided to visit her family today—to distract her mind from worrying over him.

"Did you have a pleasant time with your family?" Shawano stopped and leaned heavily on his cane.

"Yes, I did."

"How is your mother?"

"She is better, I think." Temple hesitated, then asked, "Should I expect The Blade to be home for supper this evening?"

"Yes," he replied, not volunteering his son's whereabouts. Although not as active as The Blade, Shawano had come to share his son's views favoring a treaty. Thus he was also a participant in the conspiracy of silence.

She turned and started up the stairs. She completely forgot Phoebe was behind her until she reached the bedroom and the girl said, "Don't worry, Miss Temple." She swung around with a start. Phoebe smiled sympathetically. "He'll be all right. My Deu is with him. He'll look after Master Blade the same as I look after you."

Belatedly, Temple remembered that, as always, Deu had accompanied her husband. Phoebe's man was out there too, indirectly exposed to the same danger. Phoebe had to know that, or she wouldn't have bothered to try and reassure her about The Blade.

"They both will be all right, Phoebe." Temple smiled, briefly bridging the gap between mistress and slave to clasp the colored woman's hands. Releasing them, she turned away. "Now, help me change out of these clothes so we can have some hot food waiting for them."

"Yes'm."

 

An early mist swirled near the banks of the creek and rolled silently onto the narrow road, hovering close to the ground like thin white smoke. With the half shadows of twilight playing their usual tricks, there was an eeriness to the scene.

The Blade let his horse pick its own pace while he scanned the undergrowth ahead of them and the area where the road dipped down to ford the creek, now shrouded by the enveloping mist. Everything was still. He glanced at his horse. Its ears were pricked in the direction of the invisible ford, its entire attitude one of alertness.