Agatha said to the table at large, “It’s nearly September. Do you think Brent and Byrony will be home soon?”
“The Hammonds,” Saint said to Jules. “Brent owns the Wild Star and he and his wife went to Mississippi to take care of the plantation he inherited.”
“Brent is a handsome devil, and usually quite charming,” Agatha said. “I have a feeling, though, that Byrony has him well in hand by this time.”
“He was out of hand?” Jules asked. “I thought you said he was quite charming.”
“Let’s just say, love,” Saint said, “that Brent Hammond was like a fish wriggling on the line, and Byrony . . . well, she’s got spirit, that girl.”
“And grit,” added Horace.
The talk continued for a while about the Hammonds, and Jules chewed thoughtfully on her baked chicken. She was very aware of her husband, the way he used his hands when he spoke, his long, blunt fingers, the deep, full laugh. She remembered Wilkes talking of Mich
ael and all the women he’d slept with. It wasn’t true, she knew it wasn’t.
You should tell him about meeting Wilkes. She shook her head at her own thought, and felt miserable.
After dinner, Chauncey brought Alexandra downstairs to be admired. Jules held the baby, such a beautiful child, and her eyes met Michael’s.
“I love babies,” she said softly.
Saint felt his guts twist. He watched her as she spoke soft, meaningless words to the baby, watched her eyes light up with pleasure when Alex grabbed her finger and held it tightly. And he laughed when Jules blinked and said, “I think I’m wet, Chauncey.”
“Oh dear, indeed you are. Come with me and we’ll make sure your gown isn’t ruined. Del, do take Alex up to Mary for repairs.”
When Jules followed Chauncey from the room, Saint joined Tony Dawson. “I should have told you, but I forgot. It isn’t for publication, of course.”
When he finished, Tony Dawson whistled softly. “Jesus, Saint, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass her.”
“You didn’t know. Forget it, Tony.”
“That poor girl. Thank God you were here, Saint, and put a stop to it.”
Del joined them shortly thereafter, laughing a bit. “The joys of fatherhood,” he said. “Ah, I see you’ve told Tony. There is something else, Saint. Wilkes is entrenching himself quite thoroughly here. One sees him everywhere. Are you worried that he will try to make things difficult for you and Jules?”
Saint said without thinking, “If he knew she was still a vir—” He broke off, appalled. “I think I’ll have some of your whiskey, Del. Excuse me.”
Tony started to say something to Del, but Del shook his head and said very softly, “Shit.”
16
Brent Hammond, Jules thought, was probably the most beautiful man she had ever seen. He was tall, lean, and his incredible dark blue eyes glistened with pleasure and pride as he listened to his wife, Byrony, telling the Saxtons and Michael about Wakeville.
“So you see,” Byrony concluded, “not only are we shortly to be real parents, but we’ve also got an adopted family of about four hundred former slaves. And that’s why it’s taken us so long to come home.”
“Wakeville, huh?” Del Saxton said. “It has quite a ring to it. Now, my dear Mr. Hammond, I have a feeling that we need to talk of finance, don’t we?”
Brent Hammond grinned. “Well, maybe just a bit, Del. Many of our people are quite skilled, but I’m afraid I’ll need a loan to buy seed and machinery and lumber. Buying all the land, and tents to keep everyone out of the rain, about wiped me out. The land is so rich—Lord, I think you could grind any kind of seed in the world into the earth with the heel of your boot, and you’d end up in three months with—”
“The largest tomatoes,” Byrony continued, “the largest cabbages, heavens, every kind of food! We’ll be self-sufficient in no time at all—”
“And of course we’ll need to build houses and stores and a church,” Brent finished.
“That’s quite an act you two have,” Saint said, grinning back and forth between Brent and Byrony Hammond. “I even forgot to buy a ticket.”
Jules found herself simply staring at the couple. They’d actually transported former slaves to California and were planning their own town! “I wish I had some money to donate,” she said to Byrony. “But I do have a lot of time and I could do something to help.”
Byrony patted her hand. “I appreciate that, Jules, and you may be certain that I’ll be knocking on your door.” Suddenly Byrony blinked, then broke into surprised, bright laughter. “Brent, he moved!”