Free White Doves at Morning by James Lee Burke Page A

starboard and port sides; a roped gangway
extended from the deck to the bank.
    "The cook has prepared some
dinner for us. It's a beautiful evening. As I told you, I'm a widower.
It took me some time to learn it's not good to lock ourselves up with
our losses," he said.
    The dining room on the
steamboat was aft, and through the back windows, in the failing summer
light, she could see the boat's wake swelling through the cypress trees
and live oaks and elephant ears along the bayou's banks. Ira Jamison
poured a glass of burgundy for her.
    "I wasn't aware you were in
the army," she said.
    "I've taken a commission in
the Orleans Guards. Actually I attended the United States Military
Academy with the intention of becoming an engineer but after my
mother's death I had to take over the family's
business affairs," he replied .
    "Is it true you're instituting
some reforms on your plantations?" she said.
    "It hurts nothing to make life
a little better for others when you have means and opportunity. I wish
I'd done so earlier. No one has to convince me slavery is evil, Miss
Abigail. But I don't have an easy solution for it, either," he said.
    When he turned toward the
galley, looking for the waiter, she studied his profile, the lack of
any guile in his eyes, the smooth texture of his complexion, which did
not seem consistent with his age.
    He looked back at her, his
eyes curious, resting momentarily on her mouth.
    "You don't like the wine?" he
asked.
    "No, it's fine. I don't drink
often. I'm afraid I have no appetite, either," she replied.
    He moved her glass aside and
folded his hands on top of the tablecloth. They were slender,
unfreckled by the sun, each nail pink and trimmed and rounded and
scraped clean of any dirt. For a moment she thought he was going to
place one hand over hers, which would have both embarrassed and
disappointed her, but he did not.
    "Perhaps Lieutenant Perry is a
prisoner or simply separated from his regiment. I haven't been to war,
but I understand it happens often," he said.
    She rose from her chair and
walked to the open French doors gave onto the fantail of the boat.
    "Did I upset you?" he asked
behind her.
    "No, no, not at all, sir.
You've been very kind. Thank you also for ensuring that your employee
did not harm Flower again," she said.
    There was a brief silence. For
a moment she thought he had not heard her above the throb of the boat's
engines.
    "Oh yes, certainly. Well,
let's get our pilot to turn around and we'll dine another evening. It's
been a trying day for you," he said.
    She felt his hand touch her
lightly between the shoulder blades.

    THE next morning she went to
the small brick building on Main that served as stage station and
telegraph and post office. Mr. LeBlanc sat behind the counter, his
eyeshade fastened on his forehead, garters on his white
sleeves, sorting
newspapers from Baton Rouge, New Orleans, and Atlanta that he
would later place in the pigeonholes for the addressees.
    He had married a much younger
woman and their son had been born when Mr. LeBlanc was fifty-two. He
was a religious man and had opposed Secession and had dearly loved his
son. Abigail imagined that his struggle with bitterness and anger must
have been almost intolerable. But he held himself erect and his clothes
were freshly pressed, his steel-gray hair combed, his grief buried like
a dead coal in his face.
    "I'm sorry for your loss, Mr.
LeBlanc," Abigail said.
    "Thank you. May I get your
mail for you?" he said, rising from his chair without waiting for an
answer.
    "Have you heard anything else
about casualties among the 8th Louisiana Volunteers?" she said.
    "There's been no other news.
The Yankees were chased into Washington. That brings joy to some." Then
he seemed to lose his train of thought. "Are you a subscriber to one of
the papers? I can't remember."
    He hunted through the pile of
newspapers on his desk, his concentration gone.
    "It's all right, Mr. LeBlanc.
I'll come back later. Sir? Please, it's all