Chapter 11: James, on the Road to George Town

I don’t know why I let Fahmeed attain this control over me. When the telegram came from George Town telling me of Jane’s pregnancy, I was ecstatic and on top of the world. Fahmeed, who had delivered the telegram to me, stood there, smiling his enigmatic smile, ready to manipulate me to his will. It was as if he knew what was in the telegram, although it was still sealed when he placed it in my hand. Or was it? Of course I had not checked it for signs of having been opened. I had no reason to think that it would be.

“You must go to her,” he said.

And of course he was right. That was the natural thing to do. My whole future was growing inside Jane. Everything I had worked for. It was a boy; it must be a boy, although a girl would still inherit and give me power as long as she was underage.

“Yes, yes, of course,” I said. “I must go tell Damian forthwith. We must pack and ride for George Town. We’ll have to take extra horses, of course, as the roads will be nearly impossible to traverse and the mud will be exhausting for our mounts.”

“You will not take Damian. You will travel alone.” I was shocked by the steel in Fahmeed’s voice, and I snapped my head up and saw him for the first time since he had placed the telegram in my hands. I could see now that Jane’s pregnancy fell in with his plans as well as they suited mine—possibly even more so. I had a moment of clarity. Fahmeed wanted me to go. And he wanted Damian to stay. My position wasn’t solidified yet. Damian was still the only male in the Stanton line. And Fahmeed controlled—and used—Damian as fully as he did me. I could not countenance this.

“No, Damian is only fourteen and I am his guardian. He travels with me,” I said.

“I don’t think so,” Fahmeed responded, and though his voice was hard, he was smiling. “Do your wife and her brother know the full story of the death of their parents, do you think?”

The devil. How could he know these things? How was he able to worm his way into the innermost chambers of my mind and soul? The defeat was immediate and total. I collapsed onto the chair by the table in the hall and barely heard what Fahmeed went on to say.

“I suggest you leave with the dawn. And I will map out the road you are to take to George Town. There are bandits afoot in these regions. I can put out the word that you are passing through, but you still must be wary—and you must travel exactly on the roads I designate.”

I am here on the road, more than a day’s distance from Stanton Reach and it just now has dawned on me what Fahmeed was saying—what he actually meant. I have sensed that I was being followed—tracked—for more than an hour now. And there, up ahead. Men on horses. And the gleam of steel in the late afternoon sun.

Yes, it’s quite clear to me now why Fahmeed told me to take this particular road. I take my pistol out of its holster. But when I check to see if it is loaded, I find that it isn’t.

Fahmeed had thought of everything.