Hawaiian Crosswinds Page 19

“Hello, Zachary. Is Grandfather Ainsworth coming this evening?”

  “He was invited, but had to turn it down.”

  It was obvious to Candace that her cousin wished he could have done the same.

  “He’s at Kea Lani, resting up for the voyage on Sunday,” he concluded.

  “Come, Zachie, we need to talk,” Claudia insisted, taking hold of his arm. She ushered him across the hall into another sitting room.

  The weather had cleared after the big storm of two days ago, and the evening was typically Hawaiian, the moon reflecting on the calm sea, and the breezes refreshing. Candace moved toward the outer screened lanai that stretched down toward Waikiki beach. The other guests were arriving and beginning to congregate before dinner in the parlor. She could hear their voices exchanging pleasantries, and now and then someone laughed.

  I need a few minutes before I can face them, and Oliver, she thought wearily.

  She walked along the lanai in the direction of the beach and stepped through the door, keeping to the walkway and avoiding the sand on either side.

  The sea was a mere sigh, its low tide inching onto what would be in daylight sugary white sand. A lone cloud, lonely like her own heart if she even for a moment allowed her mask to fall, winged its way across the face of the moon.

  She stood staring out into the dark—out to where the crosswinds struggled for preeminence. Darkness settled in like a veil. A breeze swept past touching flowers and leaves with a gentle hand.

  Her eyes wandered to the poinciana tree where Oliver told her Keno had stood the other night before coming up to the window. She blinked hard. For a moment the scene was repeating before her eyes. A flare from a match sprang up. Someone was standing there. Almost in a dreamlike trance she started in his direction. Keno?

  “When can I expect the manifesto?”

  The British voice, low and articulate, shook Candace to her senses, and to an abrupt halt.

  “I was prepared to retrieve it from his desk the other night. Everything was arranged. I was foiled at the last minute. When I opened the folder it was empty.”

  Oliver’s voice!

  “Any idea who it might have been?”

  “Yes. Trouble is I can’t be certain,” Oliver said.

  The man with the British accent murmured something that blew past her. She grasped one or two of the words from the wind— “careful,” “much at stake.”

  “Who’d ever suspect the son of one of the strongest annexationists in Hawaii? Not my father, anyway. He’d back me to the bitter end.”

  She caught a glimpse of Oliver beneath the tree talking to someone whose back was toward her. He must be one of the assistants of the group who’d arrived with the British commissioner.

  “If Easton’s friend recalls having seen you come from there—”

  Oliver’s voice turned derisive. “After last night who’d believe him, if he did? They’d be inclined to think he was making it up. He wants revenge over my becoming engaged to Miss Derrington. His blundering arrival was a stroke of luck, even if I did need to take it on the chin.”

  “What of his claim to the Hunnewell family?”

  “Perfect rubbish,” Oliver snorted.

  “His father was indeed a Hunnewell, your uncle Philip.”

  “Rubbish!”

  “I say! My dear fellow. It’s up to you whether you accept the facts. You asked me to look into it. At any rate, your uncle is dead now. The chap was caught in an elephant stampede some fifteen years ago while hunting ivory in Rhodesia.”

  “And the woman?”

  “Hawaiian. A lovely girl. Dead, as well.”

  “Who knows of this? What of my father and Ainsworth Derrington?”

  The man’s voice cut through the wind, “Who can say? … depends on whether he intends to bring the matter up before a lawyer.”

  “That would open the door to all kinds of trouble.”

  “Mr. Hunnewell won’t wish the subject to receive public scrutiny. The sooner you wed Miss Derrington, old chap, the better your position to inherit both the Hunnewell and the Derrington estates. Just remember, old Derrington’s a stickler. If you don’t please him he can easily turn the reins over to Easton. Quite a head on his shoulders I hear, and he’s to marry the doctor’s daughter.”

  The wind huffed again, shaking the palm fronds with a dry crackle, as though in disapproval of two conniving men below.

  The Englishman said, “Our absence will be noticed. Better go in to dinner.”

  “Not together. You go first. I’ll follow shortly. I want to enter with Miss Derrington.”

  Candace turned and ran back to the lanai, stepping into benign shadows and slipping out of view.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Confrontation

  The day after the dinner at Hunnewell’s beach house, Candace drove her buggy along the dirt road returning to Kea Lani plantation from her morning visit on Hawaiiana. She had gone to the pineapple plantation in order to meet with the Chinese Christian women’s group. It was good for her heart to reunite with them in prayer and encouragement before resuming the class this Sunday for the first time in several months. The women received her back with many smiles.

  One of the women at the prayer meeting had asked about Hui, Ling Li’s wife, a strong presence in the group before their bungalow went up in flames, set by Townsend. Rafe Easton had transported the Li family over to Hanalei on the Big Island to safeguard Ling’s testimony about Townsend. Candace assured them that Hui and Ling both were doing well.

  She was sober and reflective as she drove her buggy back toward Kea Lani. She thought about Oliver and what she’d overheard last night at Hunnewell’s—as well as what Oliver said about Keno. And this afternoon there would be a family gathering to discuss Uncle Townsend and Celestine’s telegraph message from San Francisco. She doubted it would go well. Nora had stepped back from filing charges against her nephew, and her grandfather wasn’t likely to advocate for bringing the law in when the Derrington name was at stake.

  And now, there was this murder of the Chinese man named Sen Fong, which she learned about early this morning when she returned to Kea Lani. The women’s group told her that though they knew who Sen Fong was, they knew nothing of who might have killed him. Candace believed them; their loyalty to Christ made their witness secure. There was one thing of particular interest, though. She’d noticed the youngest member of the women’s group, Luli, a relative of Ling Li and their main translator into English, had not come today. When Candace inquired about her, the women seemed a little uncomfortable. Perhaps she should mention this to Rafe, since the horrible deed had occurred on his plantation, and since Luli might be cautious in coming forward to tell anything she might know about Sen Fong’s death. She loathed bringing trouble on the women. Still, civic duty called her to do what she could to help bring a murderer to justice.

  As Candace drove the buggy closer to Kea Lani, thinking of the family gathering, she saw someone ahead walking along the side of the dirt road.

  As she drove closer she recognized her cousin Silas. He was walking and swinging a walking stick as though he were leading a band of trombones, horns, and drums. She rode past him before stopping, and waited, looking back as he came trotting up with a pleasant smile. Silas, she thought curiously, is a strange person. Like Eden, she could not make up her mind about him, despite Zachary’s dislike of his half-brother.

  Silas doesn’t appear the least concerned about the family meeting over his father, she thought.

  He was a pleasant looking man with chestnut brown hair in his late twenties, older than she, but not by many years. When he first arrived he’d had a well-trimmed goatee, and was now clean-shaven. She thought he looked better without it.

  “Good morning, Cousin,” he called. “Thanks for the ride; it’s a wonderful morning.” He climbed up into the buggy beside her. He had the same light blue eyes as Zachary, and while of a husky build, he showed no interest in strenuous outdoor activities like Keno and Rafe. Silas w
as fashionably out of place on the Islands with his crisp white linen shirts, well-polished shoes of the highest fashion, and dapper hats and walking sticks. She glanced at his walking stick with a heavy silver handle in the design of a wolf’s head.

  He noticed her looking at it, for he smiled rather ruefully and laid it aside. “Not exactly typical of Hawaii is it?”

  “Wolves make me think of the great Northwest,” she said, giving a flip to the reins. “Have you ever been there?”

  “Me? Oh no. I’m not much into wilderness traveling. I—er, won that walking stick in Sacramento in a wager before I came here to Honolulu. Nice, though I’m not exactly thrilled with the handle, not that I’ve anything against wolves.” He smiled at her.

  Candace did not return her cousin’s smile but looked straight ahead. Zachary had told her all about his gambling interests. According to her grandfather, Silas had turned his back on all of that. She hoped it was true. She rather liked him, but then again, there seemed something not quite right about him. Or was she too judgmental?

  “You should come to the mission church on Sunday,” she told him bluntly. “It could do you good.”

  Silas chuckled, but there was no humor in his tone. “I’m sure it would. As it does so many other well-dressed hypocrites, like my dear old father, Townsend. Here he is, my old man,” he said flippantly, “and I learn he may have done in Rafe’s father and poisoned Nora. Amazing! Going to church in his Sunday best clothes really helped him, didn’t it?”

  She considered his statement, though she was more surprised by the depth of the sneer in his voice. She wasn’t used to seeing him break out of his amiable and suave demeanor to unmask a bitter nature.

  “Well, I’d better apologize for that one. I shouldn’t have offended you.”

  “You didn’t offend me. I’ve known for a long time that my uncle is untrustworthy. What I didn’t know was that if pushed, he could become a dangerous man. My faith isn’t so weak that a bit of well-deserved criticism of hypocrites undermines it. But as to your consideration of hypocrites, why not discuss the very worst ones? Don’t forget that Judas was with Jesus, hearing His wisdom and seeing many miracles, just like the rest of the disciples, and yet it didn’t help him, did it? So if someone has a heart like Judas or Pharaoh of Egypt, it might even be hardened by hearing the Truth.”

  “You mean that?” he said with a slight taunt.

  “Absolutely. It’s more a matter of whether you love truth. So you need not apologize for expressing any honest doubts.” She met his ironic gaze evenly before turning her attention back on the dirt road.

  He smiled and looked at her a bit slyly. “Well, you’ve turned my objection on its head—certainly something to consider, but not on such a gorgeous day.” He sighed and looked up toward the blue sky. “No wonder you annexationists will fight tooth and claw for this Island. The longer I’m here, the more I want to stay.”

  She looked at him thoughtfully. He did appear to be settling down into the Derrington family. When he first arrived, she had the impression he wouldn’t remain long, that he’d come for a singular purpose, and when done with it, whatever it was, he would be on his meandering way.

  “Well, you won’t be the first. But you speak as though you think you may need to leave.” She glanced at him. “From what Grandfather says he’s quite pleased you’re in the family and becoming more established every day.”

  He sobered. “He’s been more than fair with me. A decent man. If my beloved half-brother has his way, however, I’ll soon be booted out to sea for shark food.”

  Candace kept silent on Zachary.

  “Now who could that be ahead of us?” he asked, giving a nod up the narrowing reddish dirt road.

  Candace had already seen the man astride an auburn horse and her breathing tensed. Keno. She tightened her mouth and silently prayed for strength.

  “Better slow down,” Silas urged with amusement in his voice. “He’s stopping in the middle of the road. I’ll get off here, this is convenient for me. We’re at the crossroad for Kea Lani and the mission church. Thanks for the ride, Cousin.”

  “You needn’t go,” she said stiffly.

  Silas glanced toward the muscled young figure on horseback and his eyes twinkled. “Oh yes, I do need to go. It looks as if Keno’s been expecting you to ride by here. Good day, lady,” he said with a bow, stepped down, and strolled off toward the turn in the palm-lined road.

  Did someone tell Keno she would be on the road alone?

  Candace watched Silas for a moment and then turned toward Keno as he rode toward her.

  “Good morning,” Keno called. “I’m not blocking the way, am I?”

  She smiled ruefully. “Oh no, you wouldn’t do that.”

  She noted that he had a relaxed and disarming way about him. He was quite handsome, too. Now that she knew who his father was she could see the Hunnewell in him that previously she had thought was the blood of a Scottish whaler. His shirt was open and he wore, of all things, an old Texas-style hat with a cockily planted feather at the side. Her heart stirred. She felt an awful pang and her hands gripped the reins. It was Keno who had brought her to faith in Christ. Before that she had gone to church, but had had no personal relationship with Christ as Savior and Lord, nor any interest in the Bible, except to carry it to Sunday service and back home again where it went into a drawer.

  “I’m in quite a hurry, if you don’t mind,” she said, keeping a grip on her emotions, and her voice as cool as she could.

  “I won’t keep you long. If I’d known you were at Hawaiiana I’d have joined you.”

  I didn’t want you to join me.

  “I just found out from Rafe, you went there to meet with the women,” he said.

  So that was it. Rafe Easton. How did Rafe know? Eden must have told him she was taking the women’s Bible class again.

  “So he’s up at Kea Lani already?”

  “He’s mighty anxious. The steamer leaves Sunday. He wants Mr. Derrington to do something about tracking down your uncle.”

  “Yes, and I don’t want to be late for the meeting.”

  “Look here, Candace, I’ve got to talk to you. I guess you heard about the other night and the trouble with Oliver?”

  “If the marshal came to arrest you for trespassing on Hunnewell land and attacking him, did you think I wouldn’t hear about it?”

  “I suppose Oliver told you I was hiding in the bushes waiting to pounce like a cat on a rat!”

  “Oh yes, except he doesn’t consider himself the rat.”

  “No, I don’t suppose he would.”

  “He says you nearly broke his jaw.”

  “I could have busted him, all right. He was—” he stopped short and pushed his hat back from his forehead. He looked ashamed. It was this character trait of humility and yielding to his Lord that she loved about him. In her eyes it increased his masculinity. Oliver with all his smiling arrogance was less the man. Keno didn’t realize what his desire to be obedient to God did to her heart. She had already spoken with Eden about the trouble between Oliver and Keno, and Eden had explained the details, even some of the words Oliver had used.

  “I was wrong to hit him,” he said.

  She bit her tongue to keep from telling him he wasn’t to blame as much as Oliver was.

  She tipped her head, scanning him. “I hear you’re a Hunnewell, too. That makes Oliver your cousin.”

  He winced. “I’d as soon have a snake for a cousin. How did you find out about my father?”

  Candace thought of all she had heard last night. Her heart thumped. She still had not made up her mind what to do about it. If she told Keno, he would surely insist she tell her grandfather. She needed time to consider what Oliver had meant by his strange clandestine words without Keno urging her to act at once.

  She ignored his question and said, “Oliver takes the news quite seriously. I think he’s worried you’ll go to Mr. Hunnewell.”

  “What’s he afraid of? Does he think I’
m suddenly proud because a Hunnewell fathered me? I’d just as soon have it be a whaler. I don’t need his name to make me feel like a man. I know who I am. And knowing who my true Father is brings all the confidence I need to face anyone in this life.”

  Candace was gripping the reins so hard they pressed into her sweating palms. She stared blindly at her lap, fighting back the volcano of emotion spilling at her heart’s door.

  “Would you think better of me if I gained the Hunnewell name through the court, and got some form of inheritance from the family? Well, it wouldn’t make me sleep any better. Philip Hunnewell didn’t want me for a son. He fled like a spineless coward to his fine English home. Let him stay there. I wouldn’t waste my time trying to earn his acceptance. I don’t want his name. I don’t want to meet him. Ever.”

  Her heart thudded in her ears. She was not a woman who cried. The more emotional the pain, the more she steeled herself against showing it. She could have cried out, I don’t even like the name of Hunnewell!

  “Tell me the truth, Candace, that’s all I want! Do you love Oliver? Tell me you do and I promise I won’t trouble you again!”

  She opened her lips and no sound came. A cramp constricted her throat.

  “You belong to me. You told me that yourself. You told me you loved me that night, do you remember? Have you forgotten that night, Candace? Well, I haven’t. Were you telling the truth? If you lied to me—if you lied—then go ahead. Marry Oliver.”

  She couldn’t take anymore. She flipped the reins and the horse jolted forward toward the turn that led to Kea Lani.

  Chapter Sixteen

  First Joust

  Silas Derrington whistled as he strolled along the pathway that forked toward Kea Lani. In the distance the white plantation house stood on a low rise facing toward the sea. A mighty good-looking plantation, even seeing it from afar. Reminded him of the plantation homes around the mainland’s old South, especially Vicksburg, Mississippi, and his own Louisiana. He didn’t do much talking about his Louisiana background. He wanted to keep his connections with New Orleans as far removed from that bloodhound Zachary as he possibly could.