Wild Sweet Love by Beverly Jenkins
Chapter 14
The valet took their ticket then left to retrieve the buggy.
As the slightly swaying Teresa and the outdone Madison stood by the curb, she said, “Haven’t been drunk in a long time. Feels kinda good.”
“Oh really.”
“Yep. I’ll probably be sick as a dog in the morning, but right now, I don’t care.”
While they waited, she started softly singing a song in what he assumed to be drunken Spanish. He didn’t ask her to explain the song because he doubted she’d be able to tell him anything coherently.
Once the buggy arrived, he tipped the young man, poured her in, and drove toward his mother’s house. There’d be no lovemaking tonight. He was taking her home.
They were just about there when she looked his way and said, “If you mother finds out about this, she’s probably going to be very disappointed with me, isn’t she?”
“More than likely. She’s trying to turn you into a lady, and ladies don’t have drinking contests.”
“I keep telling you all, I don’t want to be a lady. I just want to be me. Teresa.”
He shook his head, “I tried tell her it would never work.”
Teresa spun, eyes flashing, and Madison knew instantly that he should have kept the comment to himself.
“You don’t think I can be a lady?” she asked sharply.
“You’re the one drinking men under the table, what do you think?”
“I think you stink.”
“And you’re drunk as a skunk.”
“I could be a lady if I wanted to be. How much do you want to bet?”
He chuckled at yet another bet on this subject. “I don’t make bets with drunken women.”
“Bet me, tinhorn!”
He looked her way. “No. If you want to fight, let’s do it tomorrow when you’re in your right mind.”
“Just because I’m drunk doesn’t mean I don’t know what I’m doing.”
He rolled his eyes heavenward.
“You’re afraid you’ll lose.”
“From what I saw back there, my money’s real safe.”
By then they were in front of his mother’s house. He didn’t see any lights on.
“You think so?” she asked pointedly.
“I’m pretty confident. Yes.”
“Well, you’re wrong!”
Madison couldn’t believe her stubbornness.
Leaving his seat, he went around to her side and put out his hand to assist her.
She ignored it. “Since you don’t think I can be a lady, why are you trying to act like I am one. Get out of the way!” Snatching up her wrap and bag, she stepped down and sailed past him.
Jaw set angrily, he followed her to the door.
Her inebriation fouled her efforts to fit the key in the door, so he took out his.
She told him, “I don’t need your help.”
“No. You need a keeper.”
“Just go home.”
He forced his key into the lock and pushed the door open.
She entered and promptly tripped over the threshold rug. She would have fallen had he not caught her arm. She shook herself free.
“Go to bed,” he told her.
“Don’t tell me what to do!”
“Somebody needs to!”
“Well, it won’t be you—tinhorn!”
“You’re about two seconds from me paddling your drunken behind!”
“Touch me, and I will sock you so hard you’ll think you’re Paula!”
Mrs. Nance’s voice rang out. “Stop it this minute! People can hear you in Pittsburgh!”
They stared over at her and Emma in shock.
Molly snapped, “Yes, I’m home. Emma and I came back early.” She turned up the lamp, and the soft glow illuminated Teresa and Madison glaring at each other angrily. “Now, what is this about?”
Simmering, Madison crossed his arms. “I’ll let her tell you.”
Mrs. Nance turned. “Teresa?”
“He thinks I can’t be a lady because I drank one of Paula’s friends under the table.”
“You did what?” Wide-eyed, she asked her son, “Where were you?”
“In the other room playing cards and minding my own business. The woman’s a menace.”
“I am not!”
Mrs. Nance studied Teresa for a moment. “Are you drunk?”
“As a skunk as your smug son so eloquently put it.”
“Teresa?”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Nance, but I couldn’t let that little bug Porter sass me like that. He was the one who threw down the glove, I just picked it up. Had to defend my honor.”
Mrs. Nance was staring at Teresa as if she’d never seen her before. Then she turned amazed eyes to her son.
“I’m going home,” he said firmly. “If you want to fuss, I’ll come by tomorrow. Right now, I’m in need of a drink.” He looked over at Teresa. “Good night, Miss July.”
“Good night,” she threw back crossly.
Shaking his head, Madison left.
Mrs. Nance turned to Teresa and said frostily, “We’ll speak in the morning. To bed, young lady.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
In the dream, Teresa was in her cabin cooking beans on her small iron stove. When she turned away, she saw her mother seated at the table. “Tamar?” she said. “What are you doing here?”
Tamar was dressed in the old way. Bright colors and feathers. “Your brothers are gathering. Time has come.”
Teresa searched her mother’s face and saw that she looked older than she’d been the last time they’d seen each other. “Time has come for what?”
“He will give me strong grandsons. Treasure him.”
“Tamar?”
“My soul is almost gone but I had to see the daughter of my heart one last time. Stay with him, Teri. He has the silence inside that you need.”
Tamar rose from her seat and began walking away. As Teresa stared, her mother looked back one more time, then disappeared into a sparkling mist.
Teresa bolted awake. She was shaking, and covered with ice cold sweat. Is Tamar dying? A sense of foreboding filled every inch of her body. She had to find out. She needed to send a telegram to Neil and Olivia right away. She glanced at the clock. Seven A.M. Mrs. Nance and Emma were probably up by now.
Teresa moved to stand, but the searing ache in her head was like a kick from a mule and it forced her to sit back down. Gasping, she placed her pounding head in her hands. “Dios!”
Too much tequila. Way too much tequila!
She had to get up, though. Even though her head was screaming, she had to move. She had to find out what was happening with Tamar. Grabbing hold of the bedpost, she pulled herself to her feet and immediately felt her stomach churn ominously. Groaning with distress and alarm, she plastered her hand over her mouth and only sheer will propelled her to race from her room to the washroom so she wouldn’t foul Emma’s carefully waxed floors.
Teresa had no idea how much time had passed as she lay stretched out on the washroom floor. Her stomach seemed to be empty, but the misery had her by the throat. Her head was still pounding. Last night’s drinking had been a mistake. She shouldn’t have let herself be goaded into showing off. Now she was paying the price. Her mother may or may not have passed on to the Ancestors, and she was too hung over to see about it.
Some daughter I am.
She heard footsteps, then Mrs. Nance’s surprised and concerned voice. “Teresa! What’s the matter?”
“I have a Goliath-size hangover and I need to wire my family in Kansas.”
Mrs. Nance knelt at her side. “Come, let’s get you to bed. This is what you get, you know.”
“I know.” Teresa struggled to her feet with Mrs. Nance’s help. She was unsteady at best and her head still felt like someone was inside knocking down walls with a sledgehammer. “Dios, my head hurts.”
“Then I shan’t fuss. This is a far better punishment.”
They were slowly moving down the hall back to Teresa’s room. “Will you send a telegram to Olivia for me?” she asked. “I think Tamar is dying.”
Mrs. Nance stopped. “Why do you think that?”
“She was in my dreams last night. Said she wanted to see me one last time.”
“Are you sure this wasn’t the liquor?”
“Positive.”
They were by the bed now, and Teresa crawled in. “Please, send a wire to Olivia and ask her. Please.”
“All right, dear. I’ll send Emma first thing. Let’s get you comfortable first.”
“No! I’m fine. Just send the wire.”
Mrs. Nance nodded worriedly and hurried from the room.
Teresa didn’t realize she’d fallen asleep until she was gently shaken back to consciousness. Seeing Mrs. Nance sitting on the edge of the bed, she asked over her still pounding head, “Did you send the wire?”
She nodded. Her face was grim. “The response just arrived.”
Teresa tore open the seal, and read:
Tamar died last night. Come to Henry Adams if you can. Will wait to hear your plans before burial.
Neil
Teresa let the paper slip from her fingers. Turning her head away so Mrs. Nance couldn’t see, Tamar’s only girl child let the tears run freely down her cheeks, but she didn’t make a sound.
Even though it was Saturday and the bank was closed, Madison was seated inside his office going over the ledgers. He knew that Tate had been anxious to get to Boston for the weekend, but he wished they’d spoken before his assistant departed because it looked as if fourteen more people had withdrawn their money and closed their accounts.
But he didn’t blame Tate. He blamed himself. Had he not been so intent on spending time with Teresa, he would have been here, at the bank, and might have convinced those investors to keep their funds in place. He hadn’t been, and the ledgers reflected the results. The future didn’t look good. An infusion of cash from his own personal funds would make up the deficit, but he’d be left much poorer. Frustrated, he shoved the ledger in front of him aside and silently cursed Dawson Richards for bringing this about.
In the morning’s paper had been a story detailing Richards’s own woes. It seemed now two other women had stepped forward with their own certificates of marriage to him, bringing the number of total wives to three and the clamoring for his resignation seemed to be rising. A growing number of Republican Party politicians were trying to distance themselves from the scandal by calling for a full-fledged investigation, but under the best of circumstances, such things took time, and Madison knew he didn’t have time. Even if Richards was forced to resign, there was no guarantee the defecting investors would return.
Madison hated to think what this meant. He was going to have to cease operations, and when that happened, the remaining fifty or so investors were only going to get a portion of their money back. The loans he had given out to businesses, homeowners, and entrepreneurs were still out there, and most weren’t scheduled to come due for months. Ben Norton had stored some of his funds with his bank too, but most of his friend’s fortune was downtown in the White banks, so Ben would undoubtedly shrug off the closure and tell him not to worry about it. But he knew that people like Charles Watson couldn’t afford to lose even a dollar. And having to face the old chef wasn’t something he was looking forward to. Of course, he could go to Ben for a loan to make up the difference and then owe Ben his firstborn, but he had never failed at anything in his life, and this was sticking in his craw.
At a knock on the door, Madison looked curiously out of the window. His curiosity turned to anger at the sight of Dawson Richards’s smug face. “What the hell does he want?” Madison asked the silence around him.
He was sure that Richards had come to gloat. Going to the door, he undid the lock and opened it. “We’re closed.”
Richards smiled, showing off his perfect teeth. “Closing permanently, from what I’m hearing. Too bad. You’re such an influence in the community.”
“What the hell do you want?”
“Came to watch you weep.”
Madison waited.
Richards grinned. “Now that you’re headed to the poorhouse, maybe that little outlaw of yours will want to change horses. I’d love to watch her swallowing my dick.”
The first punch knocked out two of Richards’s perfect teeth, and before he could react, Madison was on him.
When it was over, Madison was staggering and breathing hard. He had a black eye that was already beginning to swell and blood was pouring from his nose, but he was still on his feet. Looking worse, Richards was lying at Madison’s feet and out cold in the middle of the street. For the first time, Madison noticed the raucous crowd ringing them. Like a man waking from a dream, he stared around at all the eager faces. Seemingly out of nowhere, Charles Watson appeared. He was grinning, and when he reached Madison, he quickly raised his arm to signal the winner, and the crowd roared. The weary Madison grinned too.
Later, when Madison entered his mother’s parlor, Molly’s and Teresa’s eyes went wide, and his mother’s hands went to her mouth. “My lord, son! What happened!”
Out of his one good eye, he viewed the concern on their faces then said to his mother, “I took exception to something Dawson Richards said, and so…His voice trailed off as if no further explanation were needed.
Molly went to his side. “Are you all right? That’s a senseless question, I know, but—oh my goodness, Madison. Sit down, please. Emma! Bring some ice!”
“I’ve already done that, Mother. I’m fine.”
Emma came in the room with ice in a bowl, but upon seeing Madison, she said, “I thought you wanted ice for a drink. Goodness. Look at you. What happened?”
“Fight.”
“I hope the other person looks worse.”
He nodded. “He does.”
Satisfied, Emma went back to the kitchen.
Teresa was glad to hear he’d whipped Richards, but her heart had jumped into her throat when he first appeared. She’d been so mad at him last night. Now she felt only concern. “Are you sure you’re okay? Did you break your hand?”
He looked at his heavily bandaged right hand and said, “I don’t think so.”
“What did Richards say?”
“I won’t repeat it.”
Teresa studied him. She had to be content with that for now. His entrance had momentarily distracted her from her grief, but now it was back and she needed to let him know that she’d be leaving on Monday’s train. “Mrs. Nance, may I speak to Madison alone for a few minutes?”
The concern for her son was still on Molly’s face, but she nodded. “Take all the time you need.” She departed and closed the door softly.
For a moment silence reigned, then Teresa said, “I’m sorry about last night. I was drunk.”
“Yes, you were.”
She swallowed her retort and said instead, “Tamar died last night. I have to go home.”
Madison felt that blow much harder than any of the punches thrown by Richards. “When are you leaving?”
“Soon as your mother hears back from the parole board agent, Singleton, I’ll see about getting a train ticket. I don’t think I can leave without him knowing. I’m hoping he’ll say it’s okay, but even if he doesn’t, I’m going anyway.”
He understood. “I’m very sorry for your loss, Teresa.”
“Thanks.” She took in his bruised face again. “Glad you got to whip Richards.”
“Me too. He’s been threatening some of the people with money in my bank and they’ve all closed their accounts. I’ll have to shut down.”
“Oh no.”
He nodded.
“I’m sorry.”
“No sorrier than I. I talked to my friend Ben after the fight. He’s going to loan me the money I need to cover the rest of my clients’ losses, but after that?” He shrugged.
Teresa shook her head sadly. It had been a bad day for them both. Two days ago their world had been filled with passion and light. Now? “I’m going to miss you, Madison.”
“I’ll miss you too.”
There was a knock on the door.
“Come on in,” Teresa called.
It was Mrs. Nance. “I finally got a reply from Mr. Singleton. You may go to Kansas, but you are still under court supervision, so I have to accompany you.”
“Will you?”
“Of course, but I’d feel safer if Madison went with us.”
Teresa didn’t care who tagged along just so she could go. When she turned his way, he was watching her out of his battered face. She asked him, “Well?”
“Why not? It’s not like I have a business to run.”
His mother’s face reflected her curiosity.
He told her the story.
She appeared both angry and heartbroken. “Oh, Madison. I’m so sorry. That Richards is a snake. What are you going to do?”
“For now, escort you to Kansas. After that? We’ll see.”
“You’ll land on your feet,” his mother said. “You always do.”
He gave her a small smile. “In the meantime, I’ll go to the station and get tickets. I assume you want to go as soon as possible,” he said to Teresa.
She nodded. “Yes, and after you get the tickets, I’ll need to wire Neil so he’ll know we’re coming.”
“I’ll take care of that too. Just tell me where to send it.”
Teresa was grateful for his assistance. She had no idea where they stood on a personal level, but was glad to have him at her back. The future would be what it would be.
They boarded the train on Monday morning. Ben had graciously donated his private car so Madison and the ladies wouldn’t have their journey impacted by Jim Crow. He’d also driven them to the station to make sure there were no problems accessing it, and now that they were inside the sumptuously appointed car, Teresa gave him a big hug. “Thank you, Ben.”
“You’re welcome, Miss July. Sorry for your loss.”
“Thanks.”
He shook hands with Madison. “See what it looks like out there. Land. Business. I trust your instincts. If you see anything interesting, wire me.”
“Will do.”
They embraced, and after a good-bye to Mrs. Nance, the big man left.
As the train chugged west, Teresa was sure Tamar was with them on the journey because none of the problems that could have delayed the trip—like cars coming off the tracks, accidents with other trains, or blown boilers—occurred. The ride from Philadelphia to Chicago went well, as did the transfer of their private car to the Kansas Pacific Railroad at the station near Kansas City, Kansas. Molly spent the journey reading and watching the landscape change, Madison spent most of his time in the smoking car playing cards, and Teresa silently mourned her mother.
Now, standing outside on the small observation deck on the back of the train, she looked up at the night sky. She’d never envisioned a life devoid of the magical Tamar. Teresa had always believed Tamar would live forever. The magic in her crackled like lightning sometimes. Supposedly, Tamar was the last in a line of shamanlike women that stretched back to Africa, and whether she was frying tortillas or walking in her children’s dreams, life seemed brighter with her around. Now she was gone, along with her lore and wisdom. In the July family, she was one of the last remaining Old Ones who had been born in the lush tropics of Florida, only to be forced to survive on the dusty and unforgiving soil of Indian Territory by the President of a country that never kept its word.
Tamar, I will miss you.
Teresa would miss her singing, her wisdom, and the arms that always held her when her brothers became too much, like the time they tied her to a post and used her for bow and arrow practice, or when they cut off her long hair to make false whiskers. She’d hated them all, all the time, it seemed, but Tamar would always punish them, and afterward would let her stay up late and tell her stories of the old times, and they’d look up at the night sky and count the stars.
It occurred to her that had she not been in prison, she might have been there when she died. But as it stood, Teresa didn’t know if Tamar had been ill for some time or if she’d died suddenly. Some daughter I am, she said to herself again. The guilt was bad, real bad, but she knew Tamar wouldn’t want her to feel that way. Tamar rarely looked back because it wouldn’t change the present. So Teresa resolved to look forward, and to do that she would have to break things off with Madison. She was pretty sure she was in love with him and had been for a while, but the two of them would never be one. Continuing to enjoy his company was going to leave her with a broken heart when he moved on, and she knew he would because they came from different worlds, so it was best to end things now, cleanly and finally, and with her dignity and her heart intact.
Over the past four days, the bruising and swelling on Madison’s face had diminished considerably, but traces of his altercation with Dawson Richards remained. Also remaining was his desire for Teresa, not just physically, but for her companionship as well. She’d been polite to him on the trip, but he sensed her distancing herself. Most of it had to do with her grief, but there was something else in her sad eyes, something deeper. He knew he hadn’t been cheery himself, if the truth be told. It could be she was simply reacting to his own distancing, which was rooted in the mess Richards had made of his life.
That evening when he joined her outside on the observation deck, he asked, “Want some company?”
“Sure.”
He came and stood next to her and, like her, leaned over the rail. The train chugged beneath their feet.
Teresa told him, “Your mother’s gone to bed, she said to tell you good night.”
“I think she’s enjoying seeing the country.”
“I think so too. How was the game tonight?”
“Small pickings, but I enjoyed myself.” He had won quite a bit of money playing poker while crossing the country. “How big is the town we’re heading to?”
“By back East standards, not very, but for out here, it’s big enough.”
Madison knew the town was named Henry Adams because he’d sent the wire to alert her brother and sister-in-law of the time and date of their arrival, but he didn’t know what to expect. The newspapers back East gave the impression that in western towns cowboys and outlaws rode up and down the streets shooting and raising Cain, and that there were saloons and loose women on every corner. “And your sister is the mayor?”
“Yes.”
“How’s that possible, when women don’t have the vote yet.”
“In some of our communities women can vote in local elections. In fact, women do have the vote in Wyoming, and have had it for a while, from what Olivia says.”
Madison was surprised by that. “Is your sister-in-law White?”
Teresa stared. “Why would you think that? No. We’re heading to a town full of people who look just like you and me.”
Now he stared.
“Didn’t I mention that?”
He smiled and shook his head.
“I’m sorry. Henry Adams is an all colored town. Folks from back East founded it back in the seventies.”
“I’ve heard of the towns, just never thought I’d get to see one.”
“Well, you will. Folks are real nice. It’s where my brothers’ trial was held.” Teresa looked his way. Her desire for the two of them to go back to the way they were before was so strong she ached, but the fairy tale was over. Abruptly, she said, “I don’t think you and I should be doing any more passion things together.”
The night hid Madison’s bittersweet smile. His head agreed with her words, but his heart was another matter. “I think you’re right.”
Teresa did her best to ignore the sadness creeping over her, but it was difficult. “We had fun, and I want to thank you for all you did, like taking me to the theater and on the boat ride, I’ll never forget them. But when we get back to Philadelphia, you should get on with your life and I’ll get on with mine. That way you can find that lady that you want so much.” He will give me strong grandsons. Tamar’s words from the dream echoed inside, but Teresa knew there weren’t going to be grandchildren of any kind. “Besides, we went into this with our eyes open. No commitments or attachments. Correct?”
“Correct.” But Madison didn’t want the mythical lady she was referring to. In spite of their pledge of no commitments, he was as attached to her as he knew her to be attached to him. Being from different worlds was making this complicated. Add to the fact that he now had no visible means of income outside of what remained in his bank account and his poker winnings. Even if they were able to return to the couple they once were, he had no way to support her or take care of her. Not that she needed that. She was, after all, the indomitable Teresa July. But he was a man, and any man worth his salt wanted to be able to provide for the woman in his life. “When do you think we’ll arrive?” he asked.
Teresa was glad for the change in subject. “Noon tomorrow. Hopefully.”
“Good.” He looked at her. “We did have fun.”
“Yes, we did.”
“I’m going on to bed.”
“Okay.”
They stared at each other in the dark.
“Good night, Teresa.”
“See you in the morning.”
Alone now, Teresa knew she’d made the right decision. So why did she feel like she’d been shot in the heart?