“Charlotte saved my life, and in doing so, she almost lost hers and Jack’s.”
“Ye can be grateful without leaving home.”
Braham set his glass on the end of the desk and scrubbed his face with his hands. “Ye don’t understand, do ye? She did it out of love. Not love for me, but love for her country, for Virginia, family, and tradition. She put everything at risk, and she almost lost it all. It’s why we fought a war. But I didn’t want to fight. I didn’t go to Washington for lofty ideals. I went because I’d given Sherman my word.”
“Ye made the promise to Sherman because of me.” Cullen reached out and squeezed Braham’s shoulder.
“Charlotte is the most honorable, fearless, and loving woman I’ve ever met. And I don’t want to spend another day without her. She’s calling me, Cul. Ye want to know why I can walk away from my law practice, the governor’s office, and possibly the White House? The answer is simple. Because I want Charlotte more.”
Cullen returned to his desk chair, picked up Braham’s last will and testament, and leafed through the pages. “What will ye do in Charlotte’s time? Ye can’t practice law.”
“Since the Mallorys still own the plantation, I assume they will continue to own it in Charlotte’s lifetime. I’ll have money to build her a house on the property, and I’d like to start a winery and breed horses.”
Cullen folded the will and tucked it into his top drawer. “What if she’s married?”
Braham’s brows shot up, and he looked at Cullen, shrugging slightly. “Then I’ll be a part of her life in any role she’ll allow me to play.”
“How are ye going to pull this off?”
“I’m going to MacKlenna Farm, and I’ll die either by accident or disease. When ye have all the gold, bury it in my casket.”
“What are ye going to tell Stanford and the other members of the party?”
Braham rubbed a hand across his mouth, wiping away a drop of liquor. “I have business in the east to settle, and when I return, we’ll make an announcement.”
“And Melissa? What about her?”
“I’ll tell her the same thing. I wish I could make it easier on her, but I can’t, Cul.”
“Ye’re giving up everything for a long shot.”
“I’m giving up this life for the one I truly want, and I’m willing to bet Charlotte still loves me. And hasn’t married.”
Cullen opened his calendar and thumbed through the pages until he reached the present month. “When are ye going to Kentucky?”
“Next week.”
“Now that the railroad is completed, it won’t take months to get there.” Cullen dipped his pen into the ink then scratched a note on the calendar. “Kit and I are going with ye.”
“Ye don’t need to do that.”
“Yes, we do. If ye’re going to die, we’ll want to attend yer funeral.”
98
MacKlenna Farm, Lexington, Kentucky, 1869
Two weeks later, the train carrying Braham, Cullen, and Kit from Cincinnati approached the Lexington depot. Kit hadn’t visited her uncle since the summer of 1853, and she had never met her aunt. For the last hour, Kit had primped and paced up and down the aisle of the train, moving about in an unfocused sort of way, quite unlike her usual decisive strides. The swishing of her skirt and bumbling movements had disturbed other passengers. Finally, Cullen grabbed her around the waist and plopped her into her seat.
She shot him an angry glance. “Why’d you do that?”
Cullen merely smiled, not bothered by her tone. “The man across the aisle was about to do the same. Be thankful it was yer husband who manhandled ye and not a stranger.”
She pursed her lips in speculation, looking from Cullen to the man across the aisle. Then she shrugged and fiddled with her clothes, ironing the front of her dress with the flat of her hand.
When they reached the depot, Braham immediately spotted Sean and Lyle Ann waiting on the crowded platform. Kit’s aunt, a woman in her mid-forties, appeared as anxious as Kit, patting at the hair at her nape. What was it about women that made them afraid having one hair out of place or a wrinkle in their clothes would somehow make them unacceptable?
They disembarked and Kit almost tripped as she hurried to her uncle.
“Kitherina.” Sean grabbed her in a bear hug and swung her around, swishing her skirts. “I’m so glad to see ye, lass. How’re those bairns of yers?” He set her down, beaming with excitement. “Oh, excuse me. Kit, this is yer aunt, Lyle Ann.”
Lyle Ann’s wide eyes stared at Kit, obviously baffled by her unorthodox behavior. Then finally her face brightened, and her small pink mouth reversed her lips’ downward droop and she beamed.
Braham pressed the crook of his finger against his lips to contain his smile, but his shoulders trembled with suppressed laughter.
“I haven’t seen Kit this spirited since I met her at Fort Laramie in ’52,” Braham said, low-voiced, to Cullen.
Something moved in the backs of Cullen’s eyes. Surprise? Acknowledgement? “I’ve had glimpses, but mostly I see spirit play out in our wee lassies.”
“For yer sake, I hope they don’t race Thoroughbreds or jump into swollen rivers.”
Cullen slapped Braham on the shoulder. “I can only hope.”
When they reached the farm, the ladies went to visit the nursery, and the men found their way to Sean’s office for whisky and cigars.
“Yer telegram said ye’re on yer way to Washington, but didn’t say why. Is this in preparation for a presidential campaign?” A broad grin creased Sean’s face.
Braham puffed on his cigar. “No. The trip is only to provide a reason for my absence. We let it slip to the press we were going to Washington for business and on to New York on a shopping expedition.”
“What are ye really planning?” Sean watched Braham closely.
Braham made a quick glance behind him to be sure no one was coming in. “I’ve
