know all about how the first land for this whited sepulcher was acquired! It’s going to come down unless you stop thinking you’re the anointed of God, ruling the impious. Those black bucks and wenches are human beings! Dumb, dirty—but people nonetheless. Seth McLean understands that.”
“Seth McLean is a’ weakling and a fool. He owns a tenth of the land I do because he’s a tenth as canny.”
“A tenth as brutal!” Judson shouted. “A tenth as immoral!”
Angus Fletcher tried to strike his son. Judson caught the thin wrist, easily pushed it down. The old man was breathing heavily. For a moment Judson was worried. But he quickly recognized the raspy breathing as a sign of rage, not seizure:
“I’ve raised a liar, a drunkard, a lecher—”
“Who wishes to Christ—”
“You will not blaspheme in my presence!”
“—he’d never set eyes on this place.”
“Twenty-five years old and look at you! Dissolute—idle—your head full of sin and poisonous idolatries! Well, go chase after your painted whores in Richmond. Go follow your crazy friend George Clark who’s probably dead in the wilderness by now. Or go join your damned brother and the traitors in Philadelphia!”
Judson Fletcher was so full of fury, he was afraid he might hit his father and injure him. And the father would not be able to stay the son’s hand. To protect himself from launching an attack which he knew he’d ultimately regret, Judson fought for control, tried the Bible again, with a forced smile:
“‘Agree with thine adversary quickly, while thou art in the way with him, lest at any time the adversary deliver thee to the judge—’”
“Hold your filthy tongue! You have no right to quote our Savior!”
“If you understood your Savior, old man, you’d do something about Reuven Shaw.”
“I will. I’ll order him to enforce even stricter discipline. To search the cabins for a drum—and to give a hundred strokes to any nigger hiding one.”
Red-faced, Judson started away. “I’ll inform Seth McLean of your decision.”
“I’m sure you will,” the old man jeered. “So as to get another opportunity for lewd concourse with his wife.”
Judson stopped as if he’d been bludgeoned. For the first time, Angus Fletcher looked amused; master of the situation. He actually laughed as he resumed his seat:
“If I have secrets which are public, so do you. Do you think I don’t remember how you felt about the McLean woman? How you still ride by her house night after night? One more reason I brand your friend McLean a fool. If you came on my property feeling about my wife as you feel about his I’d put a ball in your head.”
With grudging admiration, Judson said, “You old bastard. Sometimes I forget how foxy you are. Figured me out, have you?”
“Aye, long ago. But I constantly find new examples of your sinfulness—to my everlasting disgust. It came as no surprise to me when the Ashfords finally refused to permit their daughter to see you.”
“Your faith in me is constantly overwhelming—!”
Angus ignored that; pointed a wrathful finger:
“What decent folk would want you as a son-in-law? For any woman you’d marry, there’d be naught to look forward to save anguish over your debauchery. And if she bore you a child, she’d go to her grave in despair because of the taint you’d lay on the babe—”
Thunderstruck, Judson gaped at the old man. “What taint? Your taint—if any!”
Angus Fletcher shook his head in dogmatic denial. “Something in yourself has ruined you, Judson. Better to shoot any child you’d father than let him live his life with your devil’s blood poisoning him and all his generations after hi—”
“Be damned to you, you sanctimonious hypocrite!” Judson fairly screamed. “If I’ve devil’s blood, you’ve only to look in a glass to see who’s the source!”
If the words affected Angus, he concealed it. His features hardened into that expression of smug piety Judson
“Seth McLean is a’ weakling and a fool. He owns a tenth of the land I do because he’s a tenth as canny.”
“A tenth as brutal!” Judson shouted. “A tenth as immoral!”
Angus Fletcher tried to strike his son. Judson caught the thin wrist, easily pushed it down. The old man was breathing heavily. For a moment Judson was worried. But he quickly recognized the raspy breathing as a sign of rage, not seizure:
“I’ve raised a liar, a drunkard, a lecher—”
“Who wishes to Christ—”
“You will not blaspheme in my presence!”
“—he’d never set eyes on this place.”
“Twenty-five years old and look at you! Dissolute—idle—your head full of sin and poisonous idolatries! Well, go chase after your painted whores in Richmond. Go follow your crazy friend George Clark who’s probably dead in the wilderness by now. Or go join your damned brother and the traitors in Philadelphia!”
Judson Fletcher was so full of fury, he was afraid he might hit his father and injure him. And the father would not be able to stay the son’s hand. To protect himself from launching an attack which he knew he’d ultimately regret, Judson fought for control, tried the Bible again, with a forced smile:
“‘Agree with thine adversary quickly, while thou art in the way with him, lest at any time the adversary deliver thee to the judge—’”
“Hold your filthy tongue! You have no right to quote our Savior!”
“If you understood your Savior, old man, you’d do something about Reuven Shaw.”
“I will. I’ll order him to enforce even stricter discipline. To search the cabins for a drum—and to give a hundred strokes to any nigger hiding one.”
Red-faced, Judson started away. “I’ll inform Seth McLean of your decision.”
“I’m sure you will,” the old man jeered. “So as to get another opportunity for lewd concourse with his wife.”
Judson stopped as if he’d been bludgeoned. For the first time, Angus Fletcher looked amused; master of the situation. He actually laughed as he resumed his seat:
“If I have secrets which are public, so do you. Do you think I don’t remember how you felt about the McLean woman? How you still ride by her house night after night? One more reason I brand your friend McLean a fool. If you came on my property feeling about my wife as you feel about his I’d put a ball in your head.”
With grudging admiration, Judson said, “You old bastard. Sometimes I forget how foxy you are. Figured me out, have you?”
“Aye, long ago. But I constantly find new examples of your sinfulness—to my everlasting disgust. It came as no surprise to me when the Ashfords finally refused to permit their daughter to see you.”
“Your faith in me is constantly overwhelming—!”
Angus ignored that; pointed a wrathful finger:
“What decent folk would want you as a son-in-law? For any woman you’d marry, there’d be naught to look forward to save anguish over your debauchery. And if she bore you a child, she’d go to her grave in despair because of the taint you’d lay on the babe—”
Thunderstruck, Judson gaped at the old man. “What taint? Your taint—if any!”
Angus Fletcher shook his head in dogmatic denial. “Something in yourself has ruined you, Judson. Better to shoot any child you’d father than let him live his life with your devil’s blood poisoning him and all his generations after hi—”
“Be damned to you, you sanctimonious hypocrite!” Judson fairly screamed. “If I’ve devil’s blood, you’ve only to look in a glass to see who’s the source!”
If the words affected Angus, he concealed it. His features hardened into that expression of smug piety Judson
Similar Books
