Sadie's Secret: 3 (The Secret Lives of Will Tucker) (39 page)

The girl paused, one hand on the doorknob. Slowly, she turned around, her expression troubled. “Just a little fuss with the cook. Nothing of concern.”

“All right.” Sadie picked up the newspaper she hadn’t managed to read that morning and then noticed that Julia hadn’t moved from her place by the door. “Is there something else?”

The maid lifted downcast eyes. “Are you truly going to marry the mister?”

“I am not.”

Her face brightened. “Cook says she heard Dr. Trahan talking to your daddy and brothers, trying to convince them the mister isn’t who he claims.”

Sadie moderated her expression. “And just who is Mr. Tucker claiming to be?”

“I don’t exactly know.” She moved away from the door to settle onto the chair nearest Sadie. “But when Dr. Trahan told your daddy that the man who wanted to marry his daughter was a spy for a foreign government, well, you would have thought he had just told the funniest joke ever.”

“What did my daddy think?”

“Mr. Callum, he started laughing and Mr. Ethan and Mr. Aaron, they both joined in. According to Cook, there wasn’t a thing that came out of Dr. Trahan’s mouth that made sense.”

A spy for a foreign government. The statement was chilling in its accuracy and in the fact that somehow Gabriel knew this and tried to warn her family.

“Did Dr. Trahan say anything else?” she asked when she noticed Julia watching her closely.

“Just that if nobody would listen to reason he would have to show them. At least, that’s what the cook told us.”

“I see. And what do you think?”

She let out a long breath. “I think that a man who goes to that much trouble to keep a lady safe isn’t such a bad fellow.”

“Are we talking about Mr. Tucker or Dr. Trahan, Julia?”

The maid rose. “I suppose the same could be said for both, miss. Dr. Trahan, he does fancy you. But Mr. Tucker, well, he carried you all the way to the carriage and made sure I had proper instructions on how to care for you until I could get you home. I think if given the chance, either of them would make a fine husband.”

“Not you too! I wish you could have heard the speech I just gave to my family tonight about matchmaking.”

“Oh, miss, we all heard it.” A flush of bright red climbed into her cheeks. “What I mean is, it would have been hard not to hear, considering the pantry’s just on the other side of the dining room door. Now, if you’ll excuse me, miss, I thought I would go back to my sewing.”

“Yes, of course.”

Long after the door closed behind the maid, Sadie was still thinking about the girl’s words. Why was Gabriel warning her family about a man whose last employer was Scotland Yard?

And how did he know so much about Jefferson Tucker?

Twenty-Nine

J
efferson sat back in a comfortable leather chair, all eyes now on him. “How does this man know so much about me?”

None of the Callum males seemed willing to offer a response. For once, Jefferson was sorry that the tradition of after-dinner conversation didn’t extend to the females in the family.

While Sadie had obviously been delighted to leave him standing alone in the foyer, Mrs. Callum might have taken the same amount of pleasure in following the group into Seamus’s library to share what she knew of the man.

And he had no doubt she knew plenty.

“Come now,” Donovan said. “Aren’t the rest of you keen to tell this man just what Gabriel’s trouble is?” When no one responded, he continued. “That fool’s been in love with Sadie since they were kids. She’s oblivious to it, of course. Or at least she was. I believe Trahan made her an offer of marriage and she turned him down.”

“That’s how it looked to me.” Aaron shrugged when his father glanced over at him. “You know how Mama wants us to watch out for her. That’s all I was doing.”

Jefferson caught Brent and Cade watching him and decided now was the time to act. “These two know something.”

They exchanged glances and then Brent shook his head. “Don’t know a thing,” he said, though his sullen expression told Jefferson there would probably be a different sort of conversation later.

Penn rose from his place in the corner to move to the center of the group. While he reached for a cigar in the humidor on the corner of the desk, he made no move to trim or light it.

“You got something to say, Penn?”

Jefferson couldn’t help but notice the gruff tone with which Seamus addressed his brother-in-law. There appeared to be no love lost between the men.

If he had more time, he might have looked into the cause, if for no other reason than the fact that it always interested him when brothers—or in this case, brothers-in-law—found themselves at odds.

Penn Monroe lived in Mobile. That made finding out about him much easier, especially if he was acquainted with Grandfather Tucker, and possibly with his father.

However, time was short. Very short.

Penn tapped the end of the cigar against his palm and then directed his attention toward Seamus. “For reasons I’ll not go into, I do not trust Gabriel Trahan.”

Seamus snorted. “That’s it? You’re just going to make a statement like that and then say you won’t explain it?”

“That’s right.”

Apparently Seamus did not expect such a direct answer. He recoiled almost as if he had been hit. When he recovered, he shook his head.

“I’ve known that boy since his mama birthed him, Penn.” He gestured toward the north. “He was born in one of my employee houses just up beyond the mill. His daddy was one of the hardest workers I had. The boy just came back from Tulane. Gonna make a doctor of himself. And you’re going to say that you don’t trust him? Do you even know him?”

“That is a nice speech, Seamus.” Penn’s iron-gray brows gathered. “Do you? Know him, I mean.”

“I just said I did,” he sputtered.

“I would submit that you do not. You know who he was. Do you know who he is now? He has been away. Is it possible he has changed?”

This could go on for quite some time. And unless Jefferson missed his guess, it might spiral out of hand quickly. He thought carefully about what he wished to say and just how he might best say it. Finally he cleared his throat. “May I interject something?”

All eyes turned toward him.

“I believe the question was in regard to how Dr. Trahan came to know so much about me. Can anyone in the room enlighten me on why he would tell you that I am a spy for a foreign nation?”

Seamus’s eyes narrowed. “How did you know he said that?”

“I told him.” Ethan pointed at Jefferson. “He needed to know what has been said about him so he could answer for it.” The youngest Callum male looked to his father. “It’s what you’ve taught us to do. Go to the horse’s mouth and let it talk to you.”

Seamus nodded. “Indeed I have.”

“And yet you do not believe Trahan,” Jefferson said to Seamus.

He crossed his arms over his chest. “How do you know this?”

“Because if you did, you would not approve of your daughter marrying me.” Jefferson held the planter’s gaze. “And if you did not approve, you had ample opportunity to say so at supper tonight. In fact, I would go further and say that if you did not approve of me, I would not have been sitting at that table at all.”

Seamus grinned but said nothing.

“He approves because I’ve vouched for you, boy,” Penn said with a broad smile of his own. “I told him all about your granddaddy the judge and what a fine family you come from. Doesn’t hurt that your daddy and I had somewhat of an association before he headed out on that last mission of his.”

Jefferson’s attention whipped toward Penn. “How did you know—”

“Don’t waste your time trying to figure it out, son,” Penn said with a chuckle. “Suffice it to say that Mobile was a much smaller town during wartime.”

“What he’s trying to say is that he’s a spy,” said Seamus. “Or was. I can’t decide if he still is or not, and the old goat will not tell me.”

Penn chuckled. Apparently this line of conversation had a lengthy history.

Seamus returned his attention to Jefferson. “I also can’t decide if it is his fault that my Sarah went to work for Henry Smith up at Allan Pinkerton’s operation in Chicago or if that was her idea alone.”

The Callum boys began speaking at once, all but Donovan voicing an opinion on why their father couldn’t possibly be correct. Jefferson noticed the middle brother’s silence and met his gaze.

“You’re not disagreeing.”

Donovan paused only a moment before grinning. “Actually, I am hoping it’s true.”

“Oh, it’s true,” Seamus continued. “Why do you think I tolerated those trips she made with Penn here? And that picture in the
Picayune
with Agent Russell? I wasn’t pleased, I’ll tell you, but my concern was for her safety and not her reputation.”

“Then why put up with it at all, Daddy?” Ethan said. “If it’s dangerous, that is.”

“Son, do you think I would let my baby girl go off with a Union spy if I hadn’t already made my peace with the fact she was doing something important?”

Again, the brothers called out protests. “Uncle Penn,” Donovan said above the din. “What do you say about this?”

Penn surveyed the group and then smiled. “I say very little. That’s why I am good at what I do. And if I have any response, it’s this: It takes one old goat to know one.” When the laughter stopped, Seamus’s included, Penn continued. “However, I believe Mr. Tucker may have more to say on this topic.”

Jefferson acknowledged Penn’s statement with a nod and then returned his focus to Sadie’s father. “I do, but if you don’t mind, I need to speak to Mr. Callum alone.”

Seamus looked around the room and then stood. “Come on with me, then. I don’t figure we’ll get privacy any other way.”

A few minutes later, Jefferson found himself astride a black bay gelding riding along a path that wound along the Mississippi River. With Seamus in the lead, he was left to take in the beauty of the evening and the vast expanse of the plantation where Sadie was raised.

Glancing back at the house, now small and barely visible in the distance, he thought of the lady Pinkerton and what she might have been like as a little girl. He found it hard to believe she’d run free through this property as a barefoot child, but then he could barely imagine the elegant woman as anything but who she was now.

Thick stalks of sugarcane rattled in the evening breeze, their green leaves swaying as far as Jefferson could see. An open expanse of land came into view ahead, and Seamus slowed his pace to motion that Jefferson come alongside him.

At one end of the clearing, a dirt path trailed off and circled around, presumably to end at the cottages whose rooftops were visible in the distance. Thin plumes of smoke indicated the homes were occupied, as did the shrill laughter of children at play.

“Most of my employees live back there,” Seamus said as if anticipating the question. “A few more live in town. Not as many as we used to have before we mechanized, though. Until we start cutting, I don’t need more than a few dozen men.”

Seamus looked off in the direction of the cottages. “You’re wondering if I kept slaves out there?”

“My grandfather raised cotton in Alabama before the war. I figured you must have.”

Seamus turned back to Jefferson and then lifted his hand to shield his eyes from the sun. “Yes, I did, though I found it an unpleasant business altogether and something I couldn’t reconcile with what I learned from the Good Book. My wife threatened to go home to her mama and daddy the day I freed them all and then offered the best of the lot a salary. Said she might as well because we’d be losing the house and land soon anyway.”