Jade Star (Star Quartet 4)

“All this in six months,” Saint said. Thackery turned the carriage off Village Street and pulled to a stop in front of a two-story white house with a wide veranda across the entire front. There were trees and flowers everywhere.

Brent Hammond came out of the front door at that moment, a very pregnant Byrony on his heels. An ancient black woman followed closely behind Byrony as if she expected her to keel over like a small ship.

“Ah,” Brent said, grinning as he shook Saint’s hand, “we’ve got the greenhorns from the big city.”

“I’m afraid you can’t get any closer,” Byrony said, laughing as she tried to hug Jules. “This child is going to be born declaiming lines from a play! He certainly is dramatic enough in his movements.”

Byrony saw Jules’s eyes move behind her and said on a mock sigh, “This is my keeper, Mammy Bath. Mammy, this is Mrs. Morris.”

“Just look at that hair, little missis,” Mammy said, reaching out gnarled fingers to touch Jules’s hair. “And all that pretty white skin. Now, you two little ladies come inside and rest.”

Byrony said behind her hand to Jules, “And the big strong men will ensure the running of the world. Don’t argue, Jules, it’s no use.”

Soon the little ladies and the strong men were seated at a huge dining table, plates of sausage, eggs, and toast piled in front of them.

“This isn’t nirvana by a long shot,” Brent was saying, “but we’re working through the problems as they arise. We have few fights, fortunately, and no thievery except for a month ago when some drifters came into town. They saw all our black people and decided to help themselves.” Brent shook his head, grinning.

“He enjoyed himself immensely, Saint,” Byrony said. “He was itching to bang some heads together and got his wish.”

Saint watched Byrony with a professional eye. The child was large and it worried him. And Byrony, despite her smiles, looked tired. He heard her speak to Jules about their school.

“Little Tony, bless his heart, practically taught himself how to read and do figures. He’s now in charge of deeds, births, deaths, and all the rest of the record-keeping.”

“Yes,” Brent said with a wry grin. “Little Tony—the fellow’s nearly as big as you are, Saint.”

It wasn’t until that afternoon that Brent managed to get Saint alone. They were walking in the garden behind the house, Brent explaining what crops they were planting and how it was decided who did what. He broke off suddenly. “Well, what do you think, Saint?”

Saint didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “She needs to be tied down,” he said.

Brent cursed softly. “Lord knows I yell at her enough, but she’ll turn those big eyes on me and say, ‘But there’s so much to be done,’ and I always fold. Some gambler I am.”

“Tie her down,” Saint repeated. “The child has dropped, Brent, which means that she’ll go into labor in, say, three or four days. She needs to stay in bed now. I won’t lie to you. The child is large, even larger than I’d expected it would be. She needs to have all her strength because her labor will probably be long.”

Brent turned white.

Saint put his hand on Brent’s shoulder. “I don’t mean to scare you. Byrony will be all right, I swear it. But I don’t like to tempt fate.”

“I’ll tie her down,” Brent said. “Excuse me a moment, Saint, and I’ll do it right now.”

“Better yet,” Saint said, “let me examine her now. I’ll give her the orders. You’re only her husband, Brent, I’m her doctor.” Saint paused a moment, then said, “You haven’t seen any strangers about, have you, Brent?”

“As in Wilkes, you mean, Saint?”

“Yes, as in Jameson Wilkes. I really don’t know just how extensive his spy system is, but—”

“Yes, but,” said Brent. “Try not to worry. I’ll ask about.”

Saint said nothing more, but Brent knew he was worried. Hell, all his friends were worried and would be until the vermin was destroyed.

They found Jules and Byrony in the parlor laughing and drinking tea. Byrony was busily sewing something. Brent said firmly, “Hello, Jules. Byrony, come along now, Saint’s going to take care of you.” He held out his hand to his wife.

Byrony grumbled a bit, but allowed her husband to help her out of the chair.

“Jules,” Saint said, “would you please see to Brent here? Byrony, at last I’ve got you to myself. Let’s go upstairs, Mrs. Hammond.”

Brent looked as if he would follow, but instead sighed and flung himself down in the chair Byrony had just vacated. “Damn,” he said. “Excuse me, Jules,” he added.

“You’re worried, Brent. I don’t blame you, but Michael is the best doctor in the whole world.”