Through the Fire

Luke kept one eye on Scarlet as she searched through the documents in his study. They were looking for any kind of pattern in the Ku Klux Klan’s actions in hopes they would be able to predict their next move. So far, nothing was tying together.
Scarlet picked up her mug of hot chocolate – coffee, she said, was too bitter – and looked out the window, a pensive look on her face.
“What are you thinking?” Luke asked.
“There has to be a bigger reason why my family is a target. Other families that have a similar past are not terrorized this much. Even Klan terror in the Black community is not as frequent any more. They want something from us.”
“Like what?” Luke latched onto the idea.
“I haven’t a clue,” Scarlet admitted.
“What makes your family different from other antebellum families?”
Scarlet wrinkled her forehead as she thought. “We’re not the oldest. The Fitzgerald’s were established up in Jasper before our farm even started. We’re not the most famous. The Alexander’s and the Hawthorne’s are somewhat infamous for their scandals. Their families are incredibly public.”
“Wealthiest?” he interjected.
“One of the wealthiest, yes, but I don’t know if we are at the top of that list. I know the Callahan’s have more acreage than us but that doesn’t mean a whole lot.”
“What about old family legends? Maybe there’s something that happened over the centuries that caught the Klan’s attention.”
She put a hand on her hip and raised her eyebrows at him. “It’s going to be next to impossible to separate the facts from the folklore.”
“I think it’s worth looking into.”
She sighed. “This is going to take a long time. Do you have any idea how many legends we hear around the dinner table?” She ran her right hand through her hair, exasperated.
“What’s that?” he asked, pointing to the ring on Scarlet’s right index finger. She slipped it off and handed it to him. She picked up more papers to look through, clearly not bothered that she had just handed him a ring worth more than his car. Luke turned the ring in his hands. A red diamond pulsed dimly inside a nest of gold thread, wound on to a thick gold band, which was engraved with her name.
“Is this real?”
“Of course,” she said absently.
“Where’d you get it?”
“Stole it.”
“Scarlet.”
“My grandfather gave it to me at my debutant ball,” she admitted with a laugh.
“Family heirloom?” he asked, narrowing his eyes as an idea struck him.
“If you believe the legend,” she smiled. “Which I like to.”
“What’s the legend?”
Scarlet carefully told Luke the story of Redford Clint, the girl he loved, and the disaster that ensued.
“Do you know who the girl was?” he asked.
“I have no idea. I’m not sure anyone really knows, Luke. It’s a legend. The facts and details have been eaten away by the tide of time so all we are left with is a mystery big enough for imaginations to take hold of and turn into something magnificent.” Luke could not speak for a moment. Her words mesmerized him. She mesmerized him. “You’re staring,” she blushed.
“Sorry,” he smiled at her and shook his head. How would he ever thank God enough for her? “The girl’s family no longer owns that property, correct?”
“They left after the fire, according to the legend. It’s ironic, really, the fact that they were going to cremate her body, their house burned to the ground, and these are fire diamonds.”
“So fire is important. I think we need to look into who that family was.”
“It might not even be true,” Scarlet reminded him.
“It’s the best hunch we’ve had yet.”
She shrugged. “I’m just warning you, if we find out that my ring was actually bought at Tiffany’s, I’m going to upset. Some things are better left to the imagination.”
The idea of a ring from Tiffany’s being an upsetting thing made Luke’s head spin. It did not have to do with the money. It had to do with the story. To Scarlet, the story was all that mattered.
“You said your grandfather gave you the ring at your debutant ball?” he asked.
“Yes, it’s a tradition. Each girl is presented with a gift from her family. At Maggie’s ball, Grandpa gave her the tiara.”
“Tiara?” Luke raised his eyebrows, trying not to sound incredulous.
Scarlet nodded. “It was a gold tiara with crystals and three small fire diamonds set in it. It matched Maggie’s dress beautifully. Grandpa always called Maggie a princess.”
Luke watched Scarlet for signs of sadness at Maggie’s memory but she merely leaned over Aurora, who was lying quietly on the sofa.
“It was a big part of the evening,” she continued. “It’s always a moment of pride for the families, getting to show off their wealth.”
“So everyone saw what everyone else got?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Were there any reporters at your ball?”
Scarlet nodded. “There were two reporters, both with their own photographers. Why? What are you thinking?”
He answered slowly. “I think the Klan is after your fire diamonds.”
“They’re going through an awful lot of trouble just to get a few stones.”
“Fire diamonds are some of the rarest in the world. If the ones in Maggie’s tiara are as perfectly colored as the one in your ring, it’d be worth a fortune.”
“The Klan doesn’t need money,” Scarlet insisted. “They have unlimited resources, you know that. They aren’t treasure hunters, they’re butchers.”
“I also know that they have the tendency to hold grudges,” Luke responded. “If the girl who died was part of a Klan family, I wouldn’t be surprised if this was an attempt of vengeance. Fire is important to the KKK, too. It seems to fit together.”
Scarlet picked up Aurora and walked around the room with her. Luke followed her with his eyes, unable to keep from noticing how Scarlet’s slender hips swayed smoothly as she walked. He cleared his throat and looked down at his desk. He would call Lee and ask about the legend of Redford. Luke found it amazing that Southern tradition was so obsessed with names and yet no one even knew the name of Redford’s girl.