The Captain's Challenge (The Wolf Deceivers Series Book 3)

by Elaine Manders

  Childhood memories of Will sent a dart of mischief through her. She bunched her skirt on each side and winked at Purity. “I’ll race you to the kitchen.” She dashed for the door, and laughing, Purity barreled after her. They tore down the stairs, giggling like children, almost slamming into Abe.

  “Sorry, Abe.” Gillian found her decorum quickly. “Do you think Geneva has some cold lemonade?”

  “Always do this time of year. You ladies be dining alone tonight. Miz Amanda sent word she’ll be spending the night with Miz Renshaw and will meet y’all to the church in the morning.”

  Gillian’s lips curved into a smile as she sauntered to the kitchen. Her wild idea just became more possible.

  Purity went to the cabinet, taking out two tall glasses. “It’s not unusual for Amanda to stay overnight with Mrs. Renshaw when her husband is out of town.”

  Gillian found a pitcher of lemonade in the icebox. “It doesn’t surprise me. Aunt Mandy has always had dozens of friends involved in various charities and political activities.” And how fortuitous Aunt Mandy wouldn’t be at home in the morning. Gillian poured the lemonade, first for Purity and then for herself, her brain putting all the pieces of the puzzle together. With her aunt out of the house, no one would question her. Or stop her.

  “You know Amanda intends your cotillion to be the event of the summer. She’ll invite every young bachelor from Atlanta and all the neighboring counties.” Purity sipped her drink daintily. “You’d better be prepared to receive dozens of proposals.”

  “I doubt that. You’ll receive more than I will.”

  The lovely smile on Purity’s face faded. “I can never marry.”

  “Why not? You’re prettier than I am—plus, you don’t talk a man’s head off.” Gillian laughed, but Purity didn’t join in.

  “Because I have mixed blood. It should be obvious. No man, either white or colored, would wish to marry me, even if he found me outwardly presentable.”

  Gillian started to argue the point, then thought better of it. Purity was right, but it seemed so unfair. “What will you do with your life?”

  Purity set her glass down, patted her full lips with a linen serviette, and lowered her lashes. “I want to find my mother’s people.” She lifted her head, and her worried glance met Gillian’s. “Do you think that outrageous?”

  “No, but how can you do that?”

  Purity folded her arms on the table and leaned forward. “I have a few letters indicating my mother had a half-brother who is now living in Illinois. I thought Captain Blaine might help me. He works in army intelligence and must know how to do detective work. Besides, he comes from Missouri and that’s next to Illinois.”

  Gillian nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, and he intends to leave the army soon and return to Missouri. It’s worth asking him.”

  “Would you ask him for me?”

  Gillian ran her tongue over her lips to remove the tart liquid—and to give her a moment to consider her answer. After she’d done what she planned, he might never want to help her with anything again. “Of course, but what if you never find your mother’s family—or if they don’t accept you.”

  Purity sighed. “Mr. Carey has graciously offered to send me to college. I want to become a teacher. I’ve already made inquiries into Oberlin College in Illinois, but Mr. Carey thinks I should go to Wesleyan.”

  “Wesleyan is an excellent college for women. But you want to go to Oberlin because you hope while you’re there, you can find your mother’s family?”

  “Yes.”

  Gillian reached out and took both of Purity’s hands. “I wish you weren’t talking about leaving so soon. I just found you.”

  Purity clutched her hands. Tears welled in her lovely gray eyes, so unusual, so expressive. “I’m never going to cut ties with my friends here.”

  Gillian debated whether to take Purity into her confidence. Let her know exactly what she’d be doing tomorrow, but that would be too much of a burden on Purity, and she already carried a heavy weight on her slender shoulders.

  She gave the girl an affectionate pat on the cheek and straightened. “I know it’ll just be us two for dinner, but I’m going to dress anyway. That’s one thing Grandmother drilled into me—one must always dress for dinner.” That wasn’t exactly true, Grandmother didn’t have to mention it to her, but she itched to get back to the privacy of her room and try on Will’s clothes before dressing for dinner. Alterations might be in order.

  If she hoped to get away with her wild scheme, she’d not only have to dress like a boy. She’d have to pass for a boy.

  ***

  At thirteen, Will had been big for his age, and his coat hung slack on Gillian’s slight frame. The trousers were a perfect fit except the waist. Instead of clenching it snugly with the belt, she ruined one of Aunt Mandy’s Turkish towels, cutting it into strips and sewing layers around her middle until the trousers fit. With her hair secured firmly atop her head, and Will’s bowler setting low, her own father wouldn’t recognize her.

  Before daybreak the next morning, she slipped a carefully worded note under Purity’s bedroom door.

  Well away from the house, she practiced modulating her voice, deepening the tone, even cracking it at places. For the first time, she thanked Grandmother for insisting on her speech lessons. After a jaunt down the sleepy street, she found the adjoining thoroughfare already full of traffic. She hailed the first coach in sight to take her to the depot.

  With time to spare, Gillian found a seat near the back of the seven o’clock train—on the outside. In case she had to make a fast getaway. So far, so good. She pulled Will’s hat low on her forehead and winced as the fifty-two hairpins holding her hair in place jabbed her skull.

  Not that anyone had given her a second glance. Her mirror had confirmed she looked like the teenage boy she pretended to be.

  Other passengers began filling the car, and Gillian scrutinized each one, waiting for Alex to make his appearance.

  “May I sit with you, sonny?” Gillian spared a glance to the speaker, a heavy-set woman, probably in her mid-forties, stood smiling.

  “Ah…yes, ma’am.” Gillian slid over toward the window.

  At that moment, she caught sight of Alex, scanning the compartment. She stopped breathing and blessed the woman for taking up the aisle seat. Only when Alex had chosen the first available place, his dark head and broad shoulders firmly in her sight, did Gillian allow herself to release her breath.

  All this time, her companion had been talking. “Young man, are you going to answer me?”

  “Excuse me, ma’am. I wasn’t paying attention.”

  “I asked where you were going this fine day.”

  “Chattanooga to visit my grandparents.” At least she had the sense to recall the story she’d rehearsed.

  “A lovely city. What part of town does your grandparents live?”

  “I…I don’t rightly know. This is my first trip.”

  “Indeed. I’m familiar with the area. Let me tell you.” And she did, Gillian paying scant attention. She didn’t care about the landmarks in Chattanooga. Alex would get off somewhere before that stop, and she’d be right behind him.

  She half-listened to her companion, keeping Alex in her sights. When he got up at the second water stop, she said in her best thirteen-year-old boy voice, “Pardon me, ma’am. This might be my stop.”

  “Here? We’re an hour outside Chattanooga.”

  Alex was disembarking. This woman—Gillian couldn’t recall the name she’d given—had to get out of the way. The train didn’t stay long at these small towns, and if Alex got away, how would she know where to go? “Please, ma’am. I’m in a hurry.”

  The woman huffed, but raised her bulk from the seat. Gillian pushed past her and around several other passengers getting off.

  Thank goodness, Alex was tall. She had no trouble picking him out in the sparse crowd who’d disembarked to stretch their legs. He was headed for the livery across the way from the depot. She ra
ced to catch up, then slowed within about twenty feet. If only she could secure a horse before he did. She couldn’t chance revealing herself to Alex until he was out of this tiny town, or he’d just put her back on the next train going south.

  Fortunately, two men were helping people at the livery. Alex was already talking to an older man, probably the stables owner. Dashing through the entrance, she felt her heart beating against her ribs loud enough for anyone to hear. She brushed past Alex, so close she could reach out and touch him.

  When she reached the back of the stables she spied a brown gelding that would suit her. The horse had a fresh look about him and appeared sure-footed enough to climb the hills. She called on the stable boy mucking out one of the stalls. “I’m in a hurry. Do you have a sturdy horse, used to mountain trails I could rent for a couple of days? I have this one in mind.”

  The boy leaned his pitchfork against the wall. “I guess Jack is about the best. He’s gentle too, if you don’t spur him.”

  “Oh, I don’t spur my horses. Can you get him saddled quickly?” Maybe within the next minute. She peered around the corner to find Alex still talking with the older man and drew in a steadying breath.

  “Don’t you want to know how much?”

  “No, you look like an honest fellow. You wouldn’t take advantage of me, would you?”

  The boy shrugged. “Not me.” He led Jack out of his stall, and by the time the boy had assembled the tack, cinched the saddle in place, and adjusted the stirrups, Alex had selected his mount.

  “If you’re going up the mountain, keep on the lookout for bears. They’re feeding this time of year.” The stable lad took her money and handed her the reins.

  Bears. She’d not thought of bears, and she’d stupidly forgotten to bring a firearm. She wouldn’t be able to go too far before making herself known to Alex.

  She paid the deposit and pretended to check the leathers while keeping one eye on Alex.

  “Is something wrong?” The stable boy made her jump.

  Alex was leading his horse out of the stables. She smiled. “No, looks like everything’s fine.”

  She followed and paced herself until Alex was in the saddle. Springing onto Jack, she followed at Alex’s pace, keeping some distance between them.

  Chapter 16

  Alex judged he’d traveled about half way along the mountain trail to the enclave he sought. He thanked the Lord for fine weather. The air up here wasn’t oppressive, an unexpected blessing. Nevertheless, it was time to give his horse, Bolt, the livery operator had called him, a rest.

  The sound of rushing water had Bolt twitching his ears. Alex twisted around to see if that fellow who’d been following him was still in sight. Yep, sure enough. Further back now, but still coming.

  “Well, Bolt, let’s go get a drink, and if that fellow passes on by, we’ll know he’s not deliberately following. If he is, I want to know why.” Finding a natural passage through the trees, he steered the horse off the road.

  About a hundred yards inside the woods, they came up on the gushing water—crystal clear and following a rocky streambed. Bolt didn’t need an invitation.

  Alex dismounted and let the horse sate his thirst while he refilled his canteen.

  A twig snapped, and his hand gripped the pistol. Whether animal or human, it paid to be ready. He tied the horse to a low hanging branch. Securely, in case Bolt got his name for a reason, then crept downstream a bit and hid behind the trunk of a stout pine.

  Sure enough, that fellow who’d been following him brought his horse right up beside Bolt, slid out of the saddle, and gave a fugitive half-circle glance before moving around to Bolt’s saddlebag. He was nothing more than a young lad who ought to be home with his mama.

  Alex threaded his way over the pine cushioned ground from the lad’s back. He holstered his gun. The young fellow was slight—not much danger in him.

  While he had both hands on the saddlebag, Alex would give the young whippersnapper a lesson he’d never forget for sneaking around. He sprang on the lad’s back, grabbed both arms, snapping hard to lock them behind.

  A woman’s scream split his eardrums.

  Alex jerked her around, knocking her hat off. His heart jumped to his throat, making sound momentarily impossible. Her face contorted in pain while her hand pressed her left shoulder. Tears washed down her face.

  “Gillian—what are you doing out here?”

  Her guttural wailing tightened his gut and squelched all anger. But how could he have guessed she’d disguise herself as a man and follow him?

  He came to his senses as he realized she was really hurt. Recriminations would have to wait. He’d probably dislocated her shoulder. Pulling her to his chest, he got better hold of her. “Oh, honey, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t know it was you—disguised like that.” He cradled her in his arms and lowered her down on a soft bed of pine needles.

  If her shoulder truly was dislocated, he’d have to hurt her even more in setting it, and from her loud cries, her pain level was high. He stroked her cheek. Her eyes were slammed shut and her lips trembled. As gently as he could, he managed to get her coat off, watching her face go white. Her hand clutched the injured shoulder, probably hurting it more.

  He eased her onto her back and began to unbutton the shirt. She slapped his hand. “What are you doing?”

  At least he’d taken her mind off the pain for a moment. “I’m just going to unbutton the first two or three—just enough to slip it off that shoulder. I’m going to have to see how much damage is done.”

  She let her head fall back, closing her eyes and drawing a deep breath. He took that for agreement and released three more buttons, but before slipping the opening apart, asked anxiously, “You do have something on underneath this shirt, don’t you?” He didn’t know much about ladies under clothing, but it didn’t look like she wore a corset.

  Blue eyes popped back open. “Of course.” The shirt gaped open, exposing a fancy embroidered garment that cut across her collarbone.

  After slipping the left shirtsleeve off, he examined the reddened shoulder, probably made so from the death grip she’d kept on it. He didn’t see any bones out of place. Gentle prodding convinced him it wasn’t dislocated.

  “Gillian, I’m going to stretch your arm out and put some pressure on your shoulder. If anything is out of place, it’s going to hurt badly, but I don’t think it’s dislocated.” He drew in a quick breath. “Ready?”

  When she nodded, he sent up a prayer and gave her arm a sharp tug while pressing down. When she didn’t scream, he smiled his relief. “How’s that?”

  She lifted her arm of her own volition. “It’s sore when I move, but not too bad. Help me up.”

  Slipping his hand under her back, he brought her into a sitting position, then lifted her to her feet. After she re-buttoned her shirt, he held the coat out, giving enough slack to her injured arm so she wouldn’t have to bend it.

  “I think I jarred your shoulder, but it didn’t pop out. Maybe strained the muscles. It’s likely to be sore a few days. You should probably have that arm in a sling, but if you slip your hand through the coat opening between the buttons, it’ll serve the same purpose.” He chucked her under the chin.

  Maybe he should upbraid her for being out here dressed as a boy, but this was Gillian. He’d be wasting his breath. Besides, she was so pretty, even in boy’s clothes with her hair sticking in all directions, all he wanted to do was kiss her.

  He’d gotten her in her saddle and walked both horses through the trees. Back on the trail, he debated whether to continue on or take her back. “How’re you doing?”

  “Fine. It hardly hurts at all anymore.” She must have read his mind, and her brave smile served to convince him to let her stay.

  He ought to take her back home, but truth be told, he was so glad to see her, he’d forgive her for about anything. His gaze roamed her disheveled appearance, and a chuckle slipped out before he could catch it.

  “You think it�
�s funny? Why aren’t you angry with me?” she asked.

  A good question. His feelings surprised him as much as finding her out here in the middle of nowhere. Instead of being annoyed, he was elated. He didn’t know when it happened, but he’d fallen in love with her. “I probably would be if I hadn’t hurt you. Instead, I’m angrier with myself. I’ve never hurt a woman in my life. Now I can’t lay claim to that.”

  “You didn’t know I was a woman.”

  “True, but if we sin unknowingly, it’s still sin. Maybe that’s why Jesus said, “Forgive them, for they know not what they do.”

  She pinned her hair back into place and slammed the hat in place. “Sometimes your thoughts run deep. You’re not as superficial as most men I’ve known.”

  He turned that over a while. How could he expect her to care for him when she didn’t really know him? His job in espionage had kept him holding too much inside. It was possible he could win her love if she got to know his real self. Not a guarantee, but nothing was. As his pa used to say, “You can’t expect to taste the fruit unless you first reached out to grab it.”

  When General Terry released him, he’d return to Macon and have a talk with Gilbert Carey, which meant he only had a short time to earn her affection. “Does anyone know where you are?”

  “No, I left Purity a note that I was visiting a friend overnight.”

  So like Gillian—not a total lie, but not the truth either. “I’m glad you consider me a friend.”

  Her giggle startled the birds.

  “You know your fibbing is going to get you into some serious trouble someday.”

  Her silence made him send her a sidelong glance. The grimace on her face might be from pain, or she might be giving his warning serious consideration.

  “You’re right. Lying comes too easy for me. Why is it that sin can fall into a habit before you even know it, and you’re doing things you hate?”

  “That’s something I’ve been thinking on myself lately. I guess the only thing to do is stop yourself before it gets out of control.”