In seconds, Shay was by Xander’s side, hands full of linen. His eyes were wild with worry. “I’ve brought this from the warehouse to bind up your wounds, which I pray are not mortal.”
“Not mortal, nay.” Xander stood still as the lad beganbandaging him, gaze never leaving Laurent as he was heaved to shore.
A weighty silence ensued as the onlookers roused themselves out of their frozen stances and slowly surrounded the man lying on the sandy bank.
Xander bent his head. Waited for what he sensed was to come.
God forgive me.
“Stone-cold dead,” someone shouted.
Xander turned toward the stunned group. Over the wails of the nurse he gave orders. “Take Laurent to James Towne for burial. Factor McCaskey and Nurse Lineboro shall accompany the body and explain to the governor and officials how things stood betwixt the three of them.” He looked toward the man in irons, head still bent as if he was uncertain of his fate. “Leave the African to me. With keys.”
Nary a murmur of dissent. One of Laurent’s indentures came forward with the keys as others readied the shallop. Laurent’s body was bound in a sheet from the warehouse. His sword and hat had been swallowed by the river.
Xander stood, breathing easier, till the shallop departed. As he took a step toward the waiting wagons with their load of hogsheads, his whirling head overtook him. He collapsed like a felled tree atop sandy soil.
46
Selah looked about the dining room table in the late September twilight. Her heart was so full she could barely speak. A husband on the mend. A child found. A brother and mother near at hand. Only one place remained empty at table, but Widow Brodie had set it just the same. Oceanus would come home in time, Lord willing.
A fortnight had passed since the duel, when Xander had returned to Rose-n-Vale in a wagon bed, frightening them all out of their senses. Selah looked to him now, hale and hearty and home from a day’s trip to James Towne. And bringing news more fair than ill, she hoped.
“You look no worse for wear despite your journey.” Candace smiled at her son-in-law as he carved a roast goose brimming with juices. “I suppose I should let you finish your supper before pestering you with questions.”
Xander gave a mock glower as he finished carving.
Widow Brodie harrumphed, her gout making her testy. “Perhaps you can eat with haste.”
To his left, Watseka smiled at him sweetly, her voice awhisper. “Bring sweets?” She’d not forgotten that Ustis once filled her pockets.
He winked. “The shallop nearly sank from the surfeit.”
She giggled, taking a bite of meat with a fork and eyeing Widow Brodie, who’d nearly given up reminding her to use utensils. Shay began passing dishes and reported on the fieldwork, the remaining barn to be rebuilt, and how Ruby and Jett had treed a bear cub near the mill.
Selah listened and savored her meal, thinking of her own busy hours stripping the geese of their feathers for quills and coverlets, then picking bayberries alongshore with Watseka ahead of candle dipping. But her every thought while at her tasks had been of Xander and how he fared in James Towne.
Once Izella served dessert, the barrage began. Xander pushed back his plate and opted for a pipe instead, giving his serving to Shay.
“You’re no doubt wondering about McCaskey and Nurse Lineboro.” He drew on his lit pipe for a few seconds, leaving them on tenterhooks. “They remain in gaol on charges of thieving and whatnot. The governor’s council will decide their fate.”
“What of the African?” Shay asked the question closest to Selah’s heart. “Can he stay on here? He’s a fine hand alongside your bound men.”
“He’s to remain at Rose-n-Vale, though I’ll not enslave but indenture him.”
“Praise be,” Selah breathed, for that had been her very prayer.
“And Helion Laurent?” Widow Brodie remained the most vocal in her condemnation of the man and his misdeeds. “I suppose the miscreant’s been given a proper burial.”
“His casketed body is on a ship bound for France.”
“Ah, his homeland. ‘It is joy to the just to do judgment: but destruction shall be to the workers of iniquity,’” she quoted with no small satisfaction. “I suppose all Virginia is aflame with talk of his demise, though such tragedies are almost commonplace.”
Selah didn’t miss the shadow that settled over Xander’s countenance. He’d told her of the duel in detail. How Laurent refused to yield at the last and live. But would her husband ever escape the harrowing memory? His sword he’d since hidden away.
“Let us talk of more pleasant matters,” Selah said, summoning a smile. “A letter came from Cecily this very day—”
“Your tobacco bride?” Widow Brodie interrupted. “Goodwife Wentz?”
