San Antone. V. J. Banis

if this was the night her husband wouldn’t make it home, her resolution on that point had grown stronger. That was the price it was going to cost the world for bringing her here, for asking this of her: If she was going to start a new life, it wasn’t going to be on the old terms. She didn’t know yet what the new terms would be, but they would be better than the old ones, about that she was determined.

      “And,” she added spitefully, “his skin is no redder than your own at this moment.”

      The lieutenant handed them wordlessly into the brougham beside a frostily silent Alice Montgomery; he got in after Joanna and slammed the carved door violently, making the little gilt cherubs tremble. In the distant sky, the thunder grumbled its disapproval.

      William Horse remained where they had left him, staring after the carriage even when it had long since disappeared into the distance.

      He was thinking of hair, red and gold—the color of a sunset sky over the great wide plains of Texas.

      * * * *

      It had begun to rain by the time they reached the house, and the wind that managed to find its way into the brougham was wet and cool.

      Joanna would have followed the others into the house without speaking—she and the lieutenant had not exchanged a word on the ride home—but he stopped her on the front walk.

      “Mrs. Harte....”

      “Yes?”

      “If the weather should get nasty, it would be best to keep your family inside.”

      Joanna glanced skyward. It seemed surprisingly dark for mid-afternoon. “Will this be one of those bad storms?” she asked. They’d had hurricanes in South Carolina, but Eaton Hall was too far inland to have suffered any real damage beyond some occasional flooding from the river and a few shutters or shingles blown loose in the wind.

      “I doubt it. The really bad ones don’t come all that often. But you can never be certain. Mrs. Montgomery will know what to do, of course. I’d promise to look in on you, but if things get really bad, I’ll have plenty on my hands. And if there’s flooding, just getting across town can be difficult. I don’t mean to frighten you—just a word to the wise.”

      “Thank you, lieutenant.” She smiled then and extended a gloved hand—the same hand she had extended to William Horse earlier, but if the lieutenant was afraid of “catching” anything, he gave no sign of it. He took her hand gladly and gave her one of his rare, slow smiles. “And forgive me,” she added, “for being so churlish earlier. I realize you were only thinking of my well-being.”

      “I’m the one who should apologize. It’s not my place to tell you how to behave,” he said. He held her hand a fraction longer than was proper. “Well. Good day. And remember to be careful if it gets to storming.”

      “Lieutenant.” He paused halfway down the walk and looked back. “You will be careful, too, won’t you? Please?”

      “You needn’t worry,” he said, looking altogether happy. “I’m not a careless man.”

      * * * *

      By five o’clock the sky had turned black, punctuated by an occasional flash of lightning.

      Inside the house, the lamps had been lit and the shutters closed, giving Joanna the uncomfortable feeling she always got being cooped up. The air was stifling, while outside the howling of the wind rose to a fever pitch and the rain sounded like pebbles flung against the windows.

      The tension among the house’s occupants seemed to rise with the storm. They sat down to dinner as usual, but Alice Montgomery trembled visibly with every flash of lightning, and a loud thunderclap caused one of the slaves to squeal and drop a bowl of mashed potatoes on the floor, earning her a string of curses from Clifford.

      Lewis had been drinking steadily from the time they had come in. He looked, Joanna thought, like an overwound clock about to explode.

      When the slave girl had been sent from the room in tears, Lewis suddenly jumped up from the table. “Ah,” he said disdainfully, “all these nervous women! This is worse than the storm itself. I’m going out.”

      “Do you think you should?” Alice ventured to ask, her own eyes fearful.

      “Balls of fire, woman,” her husband said with a growl of a laugh, “you think a little thunder and lightning will scare the man? Go right ahead, Harte—take the carriage if you’ve a mind. This’ll all blow over in a couple of hours if I know anything about it. I’d go with you but I already got wet once seeing the house was closed up proper. Don’t fancy another bath.”

      So far as Joanna had seen, his only contribution to the shutting up of the house had been swearing at the slaves, but she kept that observation to herself.

      She followed Lewis into the hall, where he was tying a scarf about his throat. Here, the sound of the wind was ominously loud.

      “Do you really think you should go?” Joanna said. “Lieutenant Price said—”

      “Far too much, as usual,” Lewis interrupted her. “He’s not wet-nursing me, Joanna, though I fear he might be you. I’m beginning to think that young man pays you altogether too much attention.”

      “You might better be grateful for all he’s done,” Joanna said sharply.

      Lewis took a step closer, looking down at her with red-rimmed eyes as if he’d been crying. “Maybe you’d better tell me, what all has he done? Things I don’t know about?”

      “Don’t be disgusting,” she said, turning away from his liquor-heavy breath.

      He laughed. “Yes, I am disgusting—you’ve always thought that, haven’t you?”

      Joanna lifted her eyes then. “Not always,” she said. “Lewis, I’m sorry, let’s not quarrel. It’s just—the storm does sound like it’s getting dangerous. Wouldn’t you be more comfortable—”

      “I’ll decide for myself where I’m comfortable. It’s been a great many years, I might point out, since you’ve made any effort to make your company pleasant for me. It’s a little late to be concerning yourself with my comfort now, my dear. Or my safety. Truth be known, wouldn’t you just as leave a lightning bolt got me? You can’t say you wouldn’t be grateful, now, could you?”

      “Is that what you want, Lewis? A lightning bolt to solve everything for you?”

      He leaned down, his voice little more than an angry whisper. “If I thought they came in pairs, by God, I’d take you with me tonight, Joanna,” he said.

      She was too startled by his vehemence to think of a reply, and before she could make one, he had gone out, letting the front door slam violently back against the wall.

      Joanna ran to the door, but he had already disappeared into the darkness. In the few seconds she stood peering out, she was soaked from the driving rain.

      She stepped back inside and struggled to close the door. The wind made it almost impossible. Then, startling her, Clifford Montgomery was there at her side, reaching over her shoulder to help push at the door. Between them, they forced it shut.

      Joanna leaned against it for a moment, water dripping from her hair and clothes, trying to catch her breath. Montgomery’s hand was still over her shoulder, on the door. She became aware of the touch of his arm, resting lightly against her shoulder, and looked up, to find his eyes on her.

      “If you’ll excuse us,” she said, brushing past him, “I think the children and I will go upstairs.”

      Chapter Six

      The wind rose to a deafening pitch, the house creaking and groaning as if in pain.

      Alone in her room, the children finally asleep, Joanna tried to read, and found her nerves too taut. At length she decided simply to go to bed. Lewis would not be back before morning; at least she hoped he had sense enough to stay where he was.