White Doves at Morning by James Lee Burke

nothing to warrant being treated in
such a frankly disgusting fashion," she said.
    Ira Jamison was framed in the
light through the window, his expression obscured by his own
silhouette. She heard him clear an obstruction from his throat.
    "I see. Well, I'll have a talk
with Mr. Atkins. I should see him in the next week or so," he said.
    "Let me be more forthcoming.
The young woman's name is Flower. Do you know her, sir?" she said, the
anger and accusation starting to rise in her voice.
    He sat down in a chair not far
from her. He pressed one knuckle against his lips and seemed to think
for a moment.
    "I have the feeling you want
to say something to me of a personal nature. If that's the case, I'd
rather you simply get to it, madam," he said.
    "I've been told she's your
daughter. It's not my intention to offend you, but the resemblance is
obvious. You allow an employee to sexually harm your own child? My God,
sir, have you no decency?"
    The skin seemed to shrink on
his face. A black woman in a gray dress with a white apron appeared at
the doorway to the dining room.
    "Supper for you and your guest
is on the table, Mr. Jamison," she said.
    "Thank you, Ruby," he said,
rising, his face still disconcerted.
    "I don't think I'll be
staying. Thank you very much for your hospitality," Abigail said.
    "I insist you have supper with
me."
    "You insist?"
    "You cast aspersions on my
decency in my own home? Then you seem to glow with vituperative
rage, even though I've
only known you five minutes. Couldn't you at some point be a little
more lenient and less judgmental and allow me to make redress of some
kind?"
    "You're the largest slave
owner in this state, sir. Will you make 'redress' by setting your
slaves free?"
    "I just realized who you are.
You're the abolitionist."
    "I think there are more than
one of us."
    "You're right. And when they
have their way, I'll be destitute and we'll have bedlam in our society."
    "Good," she said, and walked
toward the door.
    "You haven't eaten, madam.
Stay and rest just a little while."
    "When will you be talking to
Captain Atkins?" she asked.
    "I'll send a telegraph message
to him this evening."
    "In that case, it's very nice
of you to invite me to your table," Abigail said.
    As he held a dining room chair
for Abigail to sit down, he smelled the perfume rising off her neck and
felt a quickening in his loins, then realized the black woman named
Ruby was watching him from the kitchen. He shot her a look that made
her face twitch out of shape.

Chapter Five
    AFTER Willie reported to Camp
Pratt and began his first real day of the tedium that constituted life
in the army, he knew it was only a matter of time before he would
empower Rufus Atkins to do him serious harm. One week later, after an
afternoon of scrubbing a barracks floor and draining mosquito-breeding
ponds back in the woods, he and Jim Stubbefield were seated in the
shade on a bench behind the mess hall, cleaning fish over a tub of
water, when Corporal Clay Hatcher approached them. It was cool in the
shade, the sunlight dancing on the lake, the Spanish moss waving
overhead, and Willie tried to pretend the corporal's mission had
nothing to do with him.
    "You threw fish guts under
Captain Atkins' window?" Hatcher said.
    "Not us," Willie said.
    "Then how'd they get there?"
Hatcher asked. "Be fucked if I know," Jim said.
    "I was talking to Burke. How'd
they get there?" Hatcher said. "I haven't the faintest idea, Corporal.
Have you inquired of the fish?" Willie said.
    "Come with me," Hatcher said .
    Willie placed his knife on the
bench, washed his hands in a bucket of clean water, and began putting
on his shirt, smiling at the corporal as he buttoned it.
    "You think this is funny?"
Hatcher said.
    "Not in the least. Misplaced
fish guts are what this army's about. Lead the way and let's straighten
this out," Willie said. He heard Jim laugh behind him. "I can have
those stripes, Stubbefield," Hatcher said. "You can have a session with
me behind the saloon,