Concealing Grace (The Grace Series Book 1) (4 page)

Seeing them, Luther interrupted his conversation with the dashing newcomer and chortled, “Ah, at long last, here you are! Captain, let me present my beautiful daughter, Jessica, and her friends, Miss Emily Brooks and Miss Stephanie Dunn. Ladies, this is Captain Jonathan Kinsley, recently moved to the area from Virginia? Isn’t that correct, Captain?”

The captain nodded to her father and then turned to Jessica. As he took her hand, he said, “I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Miss Emerson.”

It took a little too long for Jessica to find her voice. From across the room she hadn’t been able to tell, but up close…
oh my
… the captain had the most striking, crystal blue eyes she’d ever seen! “It… it is nice to meet you, Captain.”

While he exchanged greetings with the giggling Emily and the eyelash batting Stephanie, Jessica took the time to study him more closely. He had a deep, Southern drawl with hints of French in his accent, and she found herself thinking he didn’t sound like he was from Virginia. Even so, he was very eloquent with his speech, obviously a true gentleman. He was certainly dressed as one, in a fine, wool suit with polished black boots. And he was taller than she originally thought, about the same height as Trent. The top of her head was just above the line of his shoulder. Looking at his face again, she noticed his skin was tanned, as if he spent considerable time in the sun. There were laugh creases beside his eyes, too. He didn’t wear sideburns, which was unusual, but this close she could see the faint shadow of whiskers along his jaw line. Based upon the way the ends of his hair twisted slightly, she guessed if he let it grow longer it would be curly. What she liked best about him, however, was his smile. He had the most intriguing, slightly crooked, smile.

Lost in her perusal, Jessica was slightly startled when he turned to her and asked, “Do you dance, Miss Emerson?”

Timidly, she nodded.

The captain directed his next comments to Emily and Stephanie. “I am afraid since I arrived so late I will have little opportunity to dance. All of your dance cards will be full.” Returning his attention to Jessica, he said, “If, by chance, Miss Emerson, you have an opening for the next number, I would be honored if you would consider accompanying me.”

“Yes, thank you, Captain,” Jessica murmured.

All too soon, it was time. She could only hope he wouldn’t feel her trembling as she placed her hand on his arm and he led her to the floor.

Right away she noticed what an excellent dancer he was, and he was easily able to converse without thought to the steps he was making. He started casually talking about the beauty of the season, and asking whether she was enjoying the party. He told her he was very pleased to meet her family, he was glad to be part of the neighborhood, he was looking forward to meeting more of its residents, and then he said, “I have purchased Bent Oak Manor. Do you know it?”

“Yes, I know where it is.”

“It is a lovely place, much better than I imagined. I purchased the property without seeing it first. I am quite lucky.”

“We didn’t know the family. Their name was McLean, I think.” Jessica was proud of herself for saying as much without stammering. Still, she was embarrassed by the heat rising in her face.

“I don’t know the previous owners. The property was abandoned. I bought it from the government,” he said. Then he smiled. “Perhaps there will be a day in the near future I can invite you and your family for dinner?”

“I’m sure my father and brother will be very pleased,” Jessica murmured.

“And you? Will you be pleased?”

Jessica smiled hesitantly.

He grinned, flashing straight white teeth and revealing dimple lines in his cheeks.

As the music came to its end, the captain bowed to her and said softly, “I have enjoyed the dance so well, Miss Emerson, I would be ever so grateful if you would consider another. Perhaps later in the evening?”

Jessica’s heart skipped several beats. No one, ever in her life, had asked her to dance a second time in one evening! “Thank you. I… I will look forward to it.”

He held his arm for her and she tucked hers around it. Silently they made their way back through the crowd to where her father stood. There, the captain’s attention was drawn by her father, and hers was taken by Stephanie and Emily. They pulled her aside and demanded in hushed whispers that she relay, step by step, every second of the dance.

Not long thereafter, Jessica saw Trent standing off by himself. Her brother had spent most of the evening thus far with her father. Several of his friends were present at the ball, but if he spoke to any of them, she hadn’t noticed. To see him alone was odd. She wasn’t too far from him, and she thought at first, he was looking at her, so she smiled. But he didn’t return her smile. Following his line of vision she realized he was actually looking at Emily, and not just looking. Trent was openly staring at her friend. Scowling would be a more apt way to put it. This wasn’t the first time Jessica saw him gazing at Emily. Over the last several months, she’d noticed it more and more, although his expression was not usually so disgruntled. Abruptly, as if being caught doing something he shouldn’t, he glanced at Jessica and then pointedly turned around.

“Let’s keep Trent company,” Jessica suggested to her girlfriends.

Trent rolled his eyes as they surrounded him, but at least he didn’t walk away. Jessica was glad of that because right then Captain Kinsley came to escort Stephanie to the floor. Emily was giggling almost the entire time they danced, perhaps because she would stand up with the captain next. Stephanie had another partner after her turn with the captain, and that left Jessica alone with her brooding brother.

“Why don’t you ask Emily to dance?” she suggested.

“I can’t dance with one arm,” he said flatly.

“Not true,” Jessica chided. “To dance you only need legs and you have two of those.” To further her point, she named three men from town who also lost an arm in the war. She’d seen all of them dancing.

“I don’t have any desire to dance with Emily,” Trent said. “She’s too flakey and she laughs too much.”

“Flakey or not, Trent, you have to admit you like her. I see the way you look at her.”

“Excuse me, Jessica. I’m going for more punch.”

Trent using her full name was a clear indication he was perturbed with her. He almost always called her Jessie. Shaking her head at his retreating figure, Jessica’s thoughts again turned to the dashing captain. She was waiting with baited breath for their second dance, but that wouldn’t be for a while.

After the captain returned Emily, the only thing Jessica could do was follow him with her eyes, and she did until eventually she lost him in the crowd. Reverend Nash was there, however. Because of his height and pale hair, he was hard to miss. Jessica had noticed him on the dance floor occasionally, but only with women who were already married. Stephanie, she saw, was two steps behind him, trying to get his attention, and Jessica couldn’t help feeling a little sorry for her friend. Not much later, she saw Captain Kinsley with a very pretty young woman she didn’t know. Trying not to let the sudden pang of jealously bother her, she focused on Emily. “If Trent asked you to dance, would you dance with him?”

“Trent doesn’t dance, Jessie. He never does. I have hinted to him many times, but he either has no desire to dance with me or he’s a little on the slow side,” Emily said blandly. “He seems like a pretty intelligent man, that brother of yours, so it must be me.”

“I told him he should ask you, but he got upset with me and left the ballroom,” Jessica admitted. “I think Trent has a crush on you.”

Emily’s already large eyes grew even larger, and she giggled. “On me? Jessica your brother is too handsome to pay any attention to someone like me.”

Emily had a round face, pudgy cheeks, and light brown hair that tended to frizz uncontrollably when the weather was humid. What made up for her so called flaws were her overly generous, round blue eyes. Coupled with her button nose, Jessica thought Emily looked like a treasured baby doll. Emily might not have confidence in her appearance, but Jessica thought she was very attractive and she said as much. This wasn’t the first time they’d talked about this, albeit previous discussions had nothing to do with her brother.

“I guess we are all our own worst critics.” Emily grinned and giggled. “Maybe I shall be brazen and go ask Trent to dance. If he turns me down we’ll know for sure whether my theory is correct.”

“If he turns you down, you will think nothing of the sort. He’s too worried about his missing arm to realize how rude and foolish it would be for him to say no to you.”

“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard,” Emily said. “Nobody cares that he’s missing an arm. It certainly doesn’t bother me.”

Jessica had forgotten that Emily didn’t know what Christine did to Trent. Emily’s family was fairly new to Mount Joy. They’d moved to the area after the war. By then the gossip about Trent and Christine had died down. Jessica was ready to fill Emily in on the sordid details, but she didn’t get the chance. The captain was approaching and she was struck dumb. Desperately she wished she had some of Emily’s ability at conversation. Emily may laugh altogether too much, but she always knew exactly what to say.

As in their first dance, the captain did most of the talking. When the inevitable, awkward silence intruded, Jessica urgently tried to think of something witty. Not one thing came to mind. She began to feel crushed, knowing without a doubt, this captivating gentleman would never want to speak to her again.

Then, out of the silence he said, “Isn’t it nice sometimes to just listen to the music?”

It didn’t dawn on Jessica until she was home and comfortably tucked in her bed, but from the moment she met Captain Jonathan Kinsley, she hadn’t thought of Harry Simpson once.

The flames pirouetted from the engulfed wooden cross and illuminated the surrounding yard well. Forty yards or so away, hidden in the trees at the top of the hill, from horseback, a man dressed entirely in black looked down upon the unfolding scene.

He’d been waiting in the darkness, keeping watch on a modest, single story, clapboard house. He’d been there long enough to see the two dozen, white robed riders arrive. Their costumes included hoods with high, pointed tips. With the exception of two round holes cut out for their eyes, their faces were completely covered. A few of them carried rifles, but the majority appeared unarmed. They’d dismounted, erected their cross and set it aflame. That accomplished, they maneuvered into position, flanking their burning emblem. With their white skirts billowing in the breeze, they all turned to face the small, whitewashed house.

The horse ridden by the man in black snorted and side stepped impatiently. Lightly pulling the reins with one black gloved hand, he leaned forward to pat the black stallion’s neck with the other. “Shhh, Midnight,” he whispered. “Not yet, boy. All in good time.”

One of the costumed figures picked up a rock and threw it at a window. The sound of shattering glass was followed by a shrill human scream from inside. Another of the sheeted men shouted, “Come out,
boy!
”

Even from the distance, the man in black could hear the creaking hinges as the front door of the house opened. Three rifles were suddenly raised and aimed at their colored target. The man strode out onto the porch, while a woman’s voice cried out, “Don’t go, Joshua! Don’t go!” The woman’s wailing sobs were still audible after the colored man closed the door behind him.

“Joshua, come down here. Let’s talk,” a rifle bearer hollered above the din.

“We ain’t got nothin’ ta talk ’bout,” the colored man said. “Let us be. We done nothin’ ta ya.”

“Boy, get your black ass off that porch or I will shoot you where you stand!” At Joshua’s hesitation, the costumed man sneered, “Now, nigger!”

Joshua took the two steps from the porch to the ground. From his place in the trees, while silently applauding Joshua’s bravery in the face of his inevitable fate, the man in black drew one of his four Smith and Wesson revolvers, cocked it and held it at the ready. There he remained, motionless, waiting.

It didn’t take long. Four of the ghostly figures jumped Joshua, roughly pulling and shoving him farther away from the house. When the blows began, the man in black moved. Jamming his heels into Midnight’s flanks, he whispered, “Now, boy! Let’s fly!”

Howling out a raucous rebel yell, he tore through the woods, purposely keeping to just inside the tree line where the fallen foliage was dense. He knew the rowdy disturbance of leaves and brush under Midnight’s hooves would sound like several horses, not just one. The burning cross was to his advantage, too. Its light would make it impossible for the clowns to see anything but blackness in the distance. All the while he sporadically fired into the night.

In the sudden confusion, the white-draped men danced about, blindly pointing, trying to figure out where the shots were coming from. With all the rounds in one revolver expended, the man in black drew his second. Still riding swiftly, circling back through the trees, he took careful aim at one of the costumed men and fired. The ground inches from the man’s boot split.

“Let’s go! Now!” one of the clowns shouted.

They ran, scrambling, toward their panicking horses. In the chaos, one of them tripped on his robe and fell. With a smirk, the man in black took aim again. As the earsplitting pop resounded, a small cloud of dust rose from the ground near the pointed tip of the man’s hood. The man in black’s amused grin increased while he watched the man attempt to untangle himself within the obnoxious garment and regain his footing.

Continuing his tirade in the trees, the man in black let loose several more rounds. Soon enough, the festooned men were clambering up onto their horses—not such an easy thing to do wearing long-skirted, ghost costumes. In minutes, they were racing away, kicking up dirt and dust in their wake.

Steady now, the man in black continued to survey the area until he was certain the white clad group was long gone and would not return. In the firelight he saw Joshua stagger to his feet. Inch by inch the door of the house opened, and a woman, presumably Joshua’s wife, crept out onto the porch.

The man in black tugged at the black kerchief hanging loosely around his neck until it was secure over his nose. Then he barreled down the hill and brought Midnight to an abrupt halt in front of the house and the frightened, clinging couple.

“Joshua,” he said sternly, “you have been targeted by the Ku Klux Klan and they intend to lynch you. What happened here tonight will not deter them. They will return. Gather your family and go north along Whisper Creek about three miles. You will come to a large oak tree marked with an ‘X’. Turn east into the woods and you will see three small cabins. You will be cared for and given further instructions there. God be with you.”

Without another word, the man in black spurred his horse around and disappeared into the night.

* * *

Luther Emerson followed his son into their home and shut the door behind him as quietly as he could. Trent wasn’t being as considerate. The boy stomped his way down the hall and into the study. In the foyer, Luther stared up the darkened staircase, wondering whether Trent’s overly loud footfalls awakened Jessica. He waited a minute, but when he heard no movement on the upper floor, he went after his boy.

Trent hadn’t bothered to light any lamps in the study. He was already at the sideboard, in process of downing a shot of whiskey. In the darkness Luther couldn’t see very well, but he could hear the bottle clink against the rim of the glass as Trent filled it for a second round.

By the time Luther had two lamps burning, Trent was downing a fourth shot. His son wasn’t normally one to imbibe so liberally, leaving Luther somewhat stumped as to why he was putting on such a show. At least, he thought, if Trent ended up reeking of alcohol, Jessica wouldn’t have any reason to question their lie. They’d told her they were going to the tavern in town. This wasn’t unusual. It was the excuse they used whenever they went out after dinner. Lately however, they’d been going out more frequently. Jessica was naïve, but she wasn’t stupid, and Luther was fairly certain his daughter’s suspicions were raised. Of course, sometimes they weren’t lying to her. Sometimes they really did go to the tavern. This night, however, was not one of them.

Focusing on Trent, who moved on from pouring whiskey into a glass and was now upending the bottle directly into his mouth, Luther chortled, “Save some for me, son!”

Trent didn’t verbally respond, but he set the bottle down, grabbed another glass from the shelf and proceeded to fill it. There was no mistaking his tremors as he handed the glass over. A second later, Trent was swigging directly from the bottle again.

“Slow down, son,” Luther snorted. “If you keep drinking like that, I’ll have to carry you to bed. At least sit before you fall down.”

Trent shrugged his armless left shoulder, and spat, “I don’t want to sit!” Still with the bottle in hand, he began to pace. In the small room he reminded Luther of a caged panther he saw once at a fair. Back and forth, back and forth, his boy wouldn’t quit.

The only thing Luther could think to do was try to placate him. “Hughes will get word to Stone first thing in the morning. We’ll figure out who they are. Don’t worry. Will you be still? You’re making me dizzy.”

Thankfully Trent stopped. He just stood there, scowling at nothing, gripping the neck of the bottle as if his life depended on it.

“Tomorrow we go back and finish what we started,” Luther told him. “That thief will hang. Hughes is determined and so am I.”

Trent set the bottle down and swiped his mouth with his sleeve. “Count me out.”

“What? Don’t tell me you’re afraid to go back?”

“If you’re not afraid, Pop, you’re a fool.”

“Tomorrow we’ll be prepared. We’ll be armed. Whoever they are, if they show up again, we’ll shoot back.”

“I’m not going tomorrow and I don’t think you should either,” Trent said. “I think we should lay low for a while. I’m tired of it all anyway. What happened to having fun? What happened to getting together for a drink and a game of cards? All we do anymore is raid.”

“Trent, what are you saying?” Luther said severely. “The colored folk we go after are criminals. Justice must be served. That boy tonight is a known thief. He needs to be punished. They all do!”

“We should be turning them over to the police,” Trent said tersely.

“We’ve been through this many times. The police ignore our complaints. They do nothing. That’s why we do what we do. I’m surprised at you, son.” Trent’s silence prodded Luther to continue, “You are a member of the Sovereign Sons of the South, whose sole purpose is to defend our rights and our nation. We are brave men and we must protect our citizens.”

“Brave? Idiots would better define us.”

“I can’t believe what I’m hearing from you! You were a soldier in the army. You fought in the war, for goodness sake.” Bemusedly, Luther added, “I’ve never seen you carry on this way.”

“Did you ever fight in a battle, Pop? Do you have any idea what it’s like?” Trent’s voice rose.

“You know I haven’t. You know how proud of you I am—”

“I’ve been shot at enough in my life!” Trent interrupted. “I won’t do it anymore.” As if to grind his point home, he rolled his armless left shoulder around in its socket, an exaggerated, easily noticeable, and slightly nauseating motion to watch. “I’m going to bed.”

With furrowed brow, Luther stared after his beloved, crippled son.