there were things about Hendon that John didn’t know. As a young man he had graduated at the top of his class at the Harvard school of law and after studying hard for over a year, passed the Massachusetts bar exam and was employed by the firm of Solomon and Taylor located in Boston. With his sharp wit and persistence, he quickly gained the reputation as the most promising young lawyer in the state. With his success, came social demands and soon this promising young lawyer became engaged to Gloria Solomon, daughter of the founder of Solomon and Taylor. Like other men of wealth, Solomon felt like the government at times stood in the way of his financial success and if he could gain power in the state legislature, then laws could be adjusted to meet his needs.
As the family planned the wedding, Solomon already had plans to introduce Hendon to the Massachusetts elite and hopefully have him in office within the next two years. The only problem that Hendon faced was that Mrs. Solomon had become infatuated with the dashing young man who was engaged to her daughter and since she was a very attractive woman, he could not resist her advances.
An unexpected return by Mister Solomon one Sunday afternoon to an unlocked door brought Hendon’s bright future to an end. Not wanting to be embarrassed by the scandal and afraid that a divorce would ruin his standing in Boston, Solomon, not a man of violence, paid Hendon a large sum of money to remain quiet and leave the state. In addition, Solomon, wanting to expose Hendon as a womanizer, arranged for his daughter to catch Hendon with one of the local whores in the city. Once again Hendon received compensation and as planned, the engagement was broken.
Hendon often wondered why he had not received harsher treatment but later discovered that Solomon had lost interest in his wife years earlier and also had made visits to the red section of Boston on a regular basis. Hendon lost no time in leaving the city and with it he could see his future in the courtroom and politics vanish. Resounding in his ears was Solomon’s last statement, “You whoring son-of-a-bitch, if I ever hear your name called and if you say anything about my wife, I will deal with you permanently and I do have contacts all over this country. My family name will not be tarnished.”
With that in mind, Hendon had fled to Georgia and finally found a place of employment deep in the Mississippi wilderness as a teacher at Little Rock.
Thinking back, Hendon saw how foolish he had been. In Boston he could have married into one of the wealthiest families in the east, had a political future that could possibly have placed him in Washington, and he could have had an attractive wife.
In John Wilson, he saw the man he could have become.
Meanwhile, as Frankie was sitting on the side of his bed struggling to remove his boots, there was a light tap on the door. Frankie, was surprised to see his sister enter.
Dressed in a full white cotton nightgown with a light pink woolen shawl wrapped around her shoulders, Suzanne tipped into the room. Seeing that Frankie was having a problem with his boots, she took one of his boots and pulled, easing it off his foot.
Frankie chuckled. “Well, I see you’re good for something, but I thought you’d be asleep by now. You see ‘Fessor and John to their room?”
Suzanne pushed Frankie aside, crawled up on the bed, crossed her legs and made herself comfortable. In an excited voice she whispered, “Tell me what happened? What did the men think of him?”
Frankie glanced over toward the mantle to see what time it was and answered, “Can’t this wait?”
Defiantly, Suzanne crossed her arms. “I’m not leaving until you answer me.”
Knowing how persistent his sister could be, Frankie got off the bed, walked over to get his housecoat and slumped himself into a chair across from the bed. “Suzanne, at times you can worry the living hell out of me. First thing, I really don’t think John has a place in politics or in our family; our differences are too great. And if you do want him, you have got to take him like he is.”
“I have no problem with the way he is,” Suzanne said.
Reaching over for his pipe, he continued, “That’s the problem with you Suzanne, you can’t face reality. First, you wanted me to hire John to work for me, just to get him out of the field, and I knew damned well, feeling the way he does about me, that his pride wouldn’t let him do it. Now you’re hoping that a life in politics will give him the status and means that you want. You know what Suzanne, why don’t you just leave him alone. Woman, if he wanted you, he’d take you. Lord knows, you’ve thrown yourself at him. You had him under the covers yet?”
Feeling an anger beginning to burn inside her, Suzanne unfolded her arms, raised her eyebrows and replied, “John has more of a future than working as a common field hand, and it may just take someone like me to show him just what he can accomplish if pointed in the right direction. He might find being wealthy is not so bad, and I don’t plan to spend my life in no four-room shack. And as far as our sex life goes, that is none of your business.”
Frankie began to laugh, “That means you ain’t been too active in gloryland, doesn’t it?”
Agitated by his remark, Suzanne got off the bed and walked toward the door. “Gloryland! You’re crude and impossible, Frank Olliver, and I can describe every part of John’s body, if’n I wanted to. We have been intimate.”
Frankie laughed harder. “You may describe it, but that doesn’t mean he’s put anything to use, and I can see you right now out there in that hot sun digging them tators and sweating like a whore on Sat’day night. Just a pore ole country gal. You need to take him like he is, Suzanne. Nothing more, nothing less, and for intimate, you don’t have the vaguest idea what that means. And to answer your question, I think the men were impressed.”
Suzanne slammed the door so hard it rattled the windows throughout the house.
6
THE STORM ON THE HORIZON
A steady snowfall which had continued for four days finally became single snowflakes freckling the skies. Soon the clouds separated and brilliant flashes of light layered the countryside as the falling snowflakes twinkled like millions of tiny stars.
The horse snorted and shook his head sending clumps of snow in all directions. A couple wrapped in layers of blankets cuddled close in their sleigh and shivered as icy particles gently fell on their faces.
“Didn’t I tell you it would be spectacular,” Robert said, edging closer to Lucretia who was wrapped so snuggly that only her sparkling eyes and frosty red cheeks were showing.
“Not a soul, man or beast has disturbed a single flake. God doesn’t make it prettier than this, does He.”
Lucretia, almost too cold to speak, nodded and gazed down the slope to the valley below.
Earlier that day as the storm began to break, Robert had borrowed a sleigh and horse from one of his friends, Bob Taylor, and had no trouble coaxing Lucretia out of the house that had held her captive for the past days. She loved the outdoors and a chance to get outside was welcomed. Being a protective mother, Mrs. Caulder at first discouraged the venture, but knowing that Lucretia was a grown, headstrong woman, she ladened them with quilts and told them that if they weren’t back in a couple of hours, she would be coming after them.
Suddenly from down the way, Lucretia noticed a lone horseman making his way up the Emmitsburg road toward town and then for some strange reason, he reined his horse to a stop. Lucretia waved to the stranger,
