rope.
"Talbott always gets his man," Jeremy told Delgado. "Usually brings them back in this condition."
"That must cost Horan dearly," observed Delgado. The dead man had been young and muscular, a prime field hand.
"Mistuh Horan don't mind," said Talbott. "Serves as a warnin' to them other darkies."
One of the hounds was snarling as it mauled one of the dead Negro's dangling arms. Cursing, Talbott kicked the dog in the ribs. The dog slunk away, baring bloody fangs.
"Come on, Jeremy," said Delgado, disgusted. He turned the bay with a sharp pull on the reins.
As they rode back the way they had come, Delgado looked over his shoulder once. Talbott was leading the corpse-burdened horse in the other direction, surrounded by his dogs. Delgado felt sick to his stomach.
"My God," he said. "I've seen enough of your peculiar institution to last me a lifetime, Jeremy."
Jeremy nodded. "It is a brutal business."
"You don't approve. You couldn't possibly."
Wearing a troubled frown, Jeremy did not reply.
"Why don't you do something?" persisted Delgado.
"Such as?"
"Well, I don't know . . . "
"If there is no cure," said Jeremy grimly, "one can only endure."
He kicked the sorrel hunter into a gallop, and Delgado quickened the bay's pace, and was glad when they emerged from the gloomy old woods into the sunshine of the clearings.
Chapter Three
"I will always cherish this acquaintance."
1
D elgado spent much of his free time exploring St. Louis. Gateway to the frontier, the city pulsated with life, and proved fascinating to a young man with Delgado's highly developed curiosity. But he was present at the Bledsoe house on the morning of Sarah's arrival, as any good guest would be—and he was forever glad of it.
She had come by coach from Philadelphia to Cincinnati and taken passage aboard an Ohio River packet at the city they called the Queen of the River. Twenty years earlier the Falls of the Ohio, located near the town of Louisville, had posed in certain seasons an insurmountable obstacle to riverine traffic, but a canal had been recently excavated around the falls on the Kentucky side. This was the route that Delgado would have taken to reach St. Louis from New York City, had he not opted for a succession of coastal steamers in order that he might experience the unique ambience of legendary New Orleans.
Since his arrival in St. Louis, Delgado had been chafing at the bit to embark for Santa Fe and Taos, but when he saw Sarah Bledsoe, that sense of urgency immediately melted away. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her eyes were limpid pools of hazel, her lips as shapelyand red as the blossom of a rose. A heart-shaped face was framed by chestnut brown curls. Her figure was petite, but well-rounded. She wore a gray serge traveling outfit consisting of a long skirt and a short jacket over a pale yellow muslin blouse, pleated and tight. Her hat was adorned with a wide yellow silk band and peacock feathers. She wore pale gray kid gloves on her delicate hands and high laced black shoes on her tiny feet.
Jeremy had gone to wait for her boat at the levee. He had invited Delgado to accompany him, but Delgado had declined, not wishing to impose upon the reunion of long-separated siblings. Now he stood unobtrusively to one side as Sarah greeted her father, who had just returned to the house from a day of business. If anything, Sarah's reunion with Clarisse was the most touching of all. The two women embraced and wept with joy. Only when Sarah had composed herself did Jacob Bledsoe introduce his daughter to his guest.
"Sarah, may I introduce Mr. Delgado McKinn. Del, my daughter, Sarah."
Delgado took the proffered hand and, with a very supple, continental bow, brushed her glove-encased fingers with his lips.
"Miss Bledsoe," he said almost reverently, "I will always cherish this acquaintance."
She smiled, both flattered and amused by his suave gallantry. "Mr. McKinn, I am thoroughly delighted to meet you." Her hand
"Talbott always gets his man," Jeremy told Delgado. "Usually brings them back in this condition."
"That must cost Horan dearly," observed Delgado. The dead man had been young and muscular, a prime field hand.
"Mistuh Horan don't mind," said Talbott. "Serves as a warnin' to them other darkies."
One of the hounds was snarling as it mauled one of the dead Negro's dangling arms. Cursing, Talbott kicked the dog in the ribs. The dog slunk away, baring bloody fangs.
"Come on, Jeremy," said Delgado, disgusted. He turned the bay with a sharp pull on the reins.
As they rode back the way they had come, Delgado looked over his shoulder once. Talbott was leading the corpse-burdened horse in the other direction, surrounded by his dogs. Delgado felt sick to his stomach.
"My God," he said. "I've seen enough of your peculiar institution to last me a lifetime, Jeremy."
Jeremy nodded. "It is a brutal business."
"You don't approve. You couldn't possibly."
Wearing a troubled frown, Jeremy did not reply.
"Why don't you do something?" persisted Delgado.
"Such as?"
"Well, I don't know . . . "
"If there is no cure," said Jeremy grimly, "one can only endure."
He kicked the sorrel hunter into a gallop, and Delgado quickened the bay's pace, and was glad when they emerged from the gloomy old woods into the sunshine of the clearings.
Chapter Three
"I will always cherish this acquaintance."
1
D elgado spent much of his free time exploring St. Louis. Gateway to the frontier, the city pulsated with life, and proved fascinating to a young man with Delgado's highly developed curiosity. But he was present at the Bledsoe house on the morning of Sarah's arrival, as any good guest would be—and he was forever glad of it.
She had come by coach from Philadelphia to Cincinnati and taken passage aboard an Ohio River packet at the city they called the Queen of the River. Twenty years earlier the Falls of the Ohio, located near the town of Louisville, had posed in certain seasons an insurmountable obstacle to riverine traffic, but a canal had been recently excavated around the falls on the Kentucky side. This was the route that Delgado would have taken to reach St. Louis from New York City, had he not opted for a succession of coastal steamers in order that he might experience the unique ambience of legendary New Orleans.
Since his arrival in St. Louis, Delgado had been chafing at the bit to embark for Santa Fe and Taos, but when he saw Sarah Bledsoe, that sense of urgency immediately melted away. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her eyes were limpid pools of hazel, her lips as shapelyand red as the blossom of a rose. A heart-shaped face was framed by chestnut brown curls. Her figure was petite, but well-rounded. She wore a gray serge traveling outfit consisting of a long skirt and a short jacket over a pale yellow muslin blouse, pleated and tight. Her hat was adorned with a wide yellow silk band and peacock feathers. She wore pale gray kid gloves on her delicate hands and high laced black shoes on her tiny feet.
Jeremy had gone to wait for her boat at the levee. He had invited Delgado to accompany him, but Delgado had declined, not wishing to impose upon the reunion of long-separated siblings. Now he stood unobtrusively to one side as Sarah greeted her father, who had just returned to the house from a day of business. If anything, Sarah's reunion with Clarisse was the most touching of all. The two women embraced and wept with joy. Only when Sarah had composed herself did Jacob Bledsoe introduce his daughter to his guest.
"Sarah, may I introduce Mr. Delgado McKinn. Del, my daughter, Sarah."
Delgado took the proffered hand and, with a very supple, continental bow, brushed her glove-encased fingers with his lips.
"Miss Bledsoe," he said almost reverently, "I will always cherish this acquaintance."
She smiled, both flattered and amused by his suave gallantry. "Mr. McKinn, I am thoroughly delighted to meet you." Her hand
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