The Founding Father

John gritted his teeth. “Sir, my mother and sisters and I worked on a farm outside Atlanta,” he said, almost choking on memories despite the years between himself and the memory. “Only rich planters could afford slaves. My people were Irish immigrants. You might recall the signs placed at the front gates of estates in the North, which read, No Colored Or Irish Need Apply.”

Colby swallowed hard. He had, indeed, seen those signs.

John seemed to grow another inch. “To answer your question, had I been a rich planter, I would have hired my labor, not bought it, for I do not feel that one man of any color has the right to own another.” His green eyes flashed. “There were many other small landowners and sharecroppers like my family who paid the price for the greed and luxury of plantation owners. Sherman’s army did not discriminate between the two.”

“Excuse me,” Colby said at once. “One of my laundresses back home had been a slave. Her arms were livid with scars from a mistress who cut her when she burned a dress she was told to iron.”

“I have seen similar scars,” John replied, without adding that one of the co-owners of his ranch had such unsightly scars, as well as his wife and even their eldest daughter.

“Your mother and sisters live with you?” Colby asked.

John didn’t reply for a few seconds. “No, sir. Except for a married sister in North Carolina, my people are all dead.”

Colby nodded, his eyes narrow and assessing. “But, then, you have done well for yourself in Texas, have you not?” He smiled.

John forced himself to return the smile and forget the insults. “I will do better, sir,” he said with unshakeable confidence. “Far better.”

Colby chuckled. “You remind me of myself, when I was a young man. I left home to make my fortune, and had the good sense to look toward trains as the means.”

John twirled his hat in his big hands. He wanted to approach Colby about his spur, which would give him the opportunity to ship his cattle without having to take the risk of driving them north to railheads in Kansas. But that would be pushing his luck. Colby might feel that John was overstepping his place in society and being “uppity.” He couldn’t risk alienating Colby.

He shifted his weight. “I should go,” he said absently. “I had no intention of taking up so much of your time, sir. I wanted only to offer you the freedom of my ranch for hunting, and to inquire about the health of your daughter after her unfortunate accident.”

“Unfortunate accident.” Colby shook his head. “She is the clumsiest woman I have ever known,” he said coldly, “and I have found not one single gentleman who lasted more than a day as a suitor.”

“But she is charming,” John countered gallantly, his eyes dancing. “She has a sense of humor, the ability to laugh at herself, and despite her companion’s rudeness, she behaved with dignity.”

Colby was listening intently. “You find her… attractive?”

“Sir, she is the most attractive woman I have ever met,” John replied without choosing his words.

Colby laughed and shook his head. “You want something,” he mused. “But I’m damned if I don’t find you a breath of fresh air, sir. You have style and dash.”

John grinned at him. “Thank you, sir.”

“I may take you up on that invitation at a later date, young man. In the meantime, I have accepted the other offer. But you could do me a favor, if you’re inclined.”

“Anything within my power, sir,” John assured him.

“Since you find my daughter so alluring, I would like you to keep an eye on her during my absence.”

“Sir, there would not be adequate chaperones at my ranch,” John began quickly, seeing disaster ahead if the old man or his daughter got a glimpse of the true state of affairs at the Jacobs’ ranch.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, man, I’m not proposing having her live with you in sin!” Colby burst out. “She will stay here at the hotel, and I have told her not to venture out of town. I meant only that I would like you to check on her from time to time, to make sure that she is safe. She will be on her own, except for the maid we have retained here.”

“I see.” John let out the breath he’d been holding. “In that case, I would be delighted. But what of her companion, Sir Sydney?” he added.

“Sir Sydney will be with me, to my cost,” Colby groaned. “The man is an utter pain, but he has a tract of land that I need very badly for a new roundhouse near Chicago,” he confessed. “So I must humor him, to some extent. I assure you, my daughter will not mourn his absence. She only went to drive with him at my request. She finds him repulsive.”

So did John, but he didn’t want to rock the boat.

“I’m glad you came, young man.” Colby offered his hand, and John shook it.

“So am I, sir,” he replied. “If you don’t mind, I would like to take my leave of your daughter.”

“Be my guest.”

“Thank you.”

John walked toward the open door that contained a maid, Miss Ellen Colby and a very mad wet dog of uncertain age and pedigree. It was a shaggy dog, black and white, with very long ears. It was barking pitifully and shaking soapy water everywhere.

“Oh, Miss Colby, this doggy don’t want no bath,” the maid wailed as she tried to right her cap.

“Never you mind, Lizzie, we’re going to bathe her or die in the attempt.” Ellen blew back a strand of loose hair, holding the dog down with both hands while the maid laved water on it with a cup.

“A watering trough might be a better proposition, Miss Colby,” John drawled from the doorway.

His voice shocked her. She jerked her head in his direction and loosened the hold she had on the dog. In the few seconds that followed, the animal gave a yelp of pure joy, leaped out of the pan, off the table, and scattered the rugs as it clawed its way to the freedom of the parlor.

“Oh, my goodness!” Ellen yelled. “Catch her, Lizzie, before she gets to the bedroom! She’ll go right up on Papa’s bed, like she usually does!”

“Yes, ma’am!”

The maid ran for all she was worth. Ellen Colby put her soapy hands on her hips and glared daggers at the tall green-eyed man in the doorway.

“Now see what you’ve done!” Ellen raged at John.

“Me?” John’s eyebrows arched. “I assure you, I meant only to say goodbye.”

“You diverted my attention at a critical moment!”

He smiled slowly, liking the way her blue eyes flashed in anger. He liked the thickness of her hair. It looked very long. He wondered if she let it down at bedtime.

That thought disturbed him. He straightened. “If your entire social life consists of bathing the dog, miss, you are missing out.”

“I have a social life!”

“Falling into mud puddles?”

She grabbed up the soaking brush they’d used on the dog and considered heaving it.

John threw back his head and laughed uproariously.

“Do be quiet!” she muttered.

“You have hidden fires,” he commented with delight. “Your father has asked me to keep an eye on you, Miss Colby, while he’s off on his hunting trip. I find the prospect delightful.”

“I can think of nothing I would enjoy less!”