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

by Elaine Manders

  No, she didn’t know how to use it, but it gave her a sense of security. A false sense, probably.

  Another hot, dry day greeted her as she left the house. She ordered the buggy and sat atop beside Hiram, Amanda’s head groom. The brisk pace of the horses brought a cool breeze to her face.

  But she was disappointed to learn Alex wasn’t at the Capitol today. He was at the barracks on inspection, a surly guard told her. Not to be outdone, she asked the location of the barracks and ordered Hiram to continue on. It took another half hour to reach the military camp in the southwest corner of the city.

  The camp, named McPherson Barracks, had been moved from the city hall grounds back in sixty-seven to the old Race Track. They stopped at the guard post. “I’m Miss Gillian Carey calling on Captain Alex Blaine,” she told the young guard who swept an admiring gaze over her.

  She breathed a sigh of relief when he said, “One moment, ma’am.” He disappeared into the adjoining building and left her fuming for a good five minutes.

  “Captain Blaine didn’t leave word that he was expecting you, ma’am.”

  “I didn’t say he would be expecting me, sir. Please tell him I’m calling. He’ll want to receive me.” Her tone of authority brought the desired reaction from the young private. He called his partner to take over the post and sped away.

  Another ten minutes passed before he returned in an army conveyance. He jumped down, grinning broadly. “I’ll take you to the captain now, ma’am.”

  After telling Hiram to wait, she boarded the covered wagon with her escort.

  The area inside the compound resembled a town. She swept each side of the road with a critical eye as they passed barracks, a hospital, magazine, bakery, and stables, all showing the signs of hasty construction.

  The grounds were laid out with a parade route in the center, and they followed this to the officers’ quarters, the most imposing structure in view.

  As soon as Gillian entered the building, Alex beckoned her from an inside doorway. He ushered her into what appeared to be a small dining room, a table taking up most of the space. A bench ran along one side, and she took a seat opposite where he stood, his smile welcoming her. Just the sight of him sent a warm surge through her.

  “Has any trouble brought you out, or did you just miss me?” The smile tugged at the edge of his mouth, prompting her lips to curve in answer.

  “Impatience brought me out, and yes, I did miss you.”

  He pulled up a slatted chair and sat. Leaning across the table, he took her hands in both his and rested them on the table. “I have good news. We rounded up those trouble-makers and arrested the ring-leaders, including the one who attacked you.”

  She pulled her brows up until she felt them touch the curls resting on her forehead. He said he would. Why should she be surprised? He was a man of his word, but she’d never known a man of his word. That he was one tickled her all the way to her fingertips. “How?”

  “We raided Hubert Boyles’s house and caught him and his son still in costume. My men found a list of former Klan members and brought them all in for questioning. Two of them confirmed the younger Boyles grabbed you. Both father and son are being charged with trespass and attempted murder.”

  “I feel a lot safer.” He still held her hands, and she wasn’t about to withdraw them. “We weren’t sure you’d be coming for dinner, and I had to see you—to find out what had happened and to ask a favor.”

  “What is the favor, love?”

  His endearment fell on her ear like a caress. She’d heard plenty of endearments from men. Flowery, empty words. The cadence of his voice and the tenderness in his look made the different. “Actually, it’s a favor for Purity. She wants to speak to a colored preacher who lives on the bad side of town.”

  Then tenderness in his gaze turned to a question.

  “Purity’s mother was a quadroon,” she explained. “Her people were slaves who escaped up north somewhere. She discovered the visiting preacher at Southside Beulah Land Church knew them.”

  “Purity has Negroid blood?”

  “Very little, apparently, but yes. That’s why she had to rebuff Cal’s attentions last night. You’ll tell him the reason?”

  Her hands felt cold when he withdrew his. “I will, and it might not matter to him. He has a strong affinity for colored people.”

  She wondered if that would make a difference in Purity’s thinking. “We thought if we went early in the morning, before church services, she could catch this man at the church.”

  Alex rubbed his neck, a sign he didn’t like the idea. “I can see why she’d be afraid to go by herself. But that church is on the edge of a shanty town called Hook’s Branch, and whether alone or in a group, we’ll stick out.”

  “If you wear your uniform, no one would confront us.”

  He laughed as he got to his feet. “You put a lot of faith in the army, my dear.”

  She eyed the papers scattered across the table. He couldn’t give her much more of his time. “I won’t keep you. I know you’re busy.”

  He skirted the table to drape an arm around her. “I have been, but I haven’t told you the best news of all.”

  His hazel eyes were alive with gold sparks. “What?” She held her breath.

  “I got word your brother was alive at the end of the war and was last seen in Dakota Territory.”

  Her mouth flew open wide enough to hold all her fist as the other hand flew to her breast to keep her heart from bursting. “Will is alive!”

  Some of the sparkle left his eyes, and he drew her to his chest. “We can’t confirm that yet, but it’s very possible. I’ve sent a telegram to the small town he’s reported to have gone.”

  She worked her arms around him. “I know he’s alive. Oh, Alex, thank you. Thank God.” That she would be so blessed was hard to believe, but at this moment, she was willing to hope it might be so. Will was alive and Alex loved her.

  “Aunt Mandy guessed how we feel for each other, but she agrees Papa must be told before—” The rest died in her throat as his mouth came down on hers.

  The kiss went on longer than she’d thought. Neither wanted it to end.

  A loud harrumph brought them apart. Alex coughed. “Major Turley, you remember Miss Carey?”

  The major nodded, his eyes shaded. “A pleasure, Miss Carey. You will excuse us.”

  She dared slip Alex a parting smile. “Till the morning. You will go with us to church?”

  “I look forward to it.”

  She doubted that. The shanty towns always had thieves ready to jump on unsuspecting visitors. However, since they’d be traveling early in the morning, most of the thugs would be sleeping off their drunks of tonight.

  ***

  Both men watched Gillian disappear through the door. Major Turley swung around, a sly grin under his bushy mustache. “You’ve made a conquest of Miss Carey, I see. I wonder what her father will say.”

  “We’ll soon find out. General Terry approved my orders to return to Macon.”

  “Yes, I know. There’s nothing more to be gained in Atlanta and little in Macon. I’ve had Gilbert Carey under personal surveillance, and he’s ready to crack.”

  Alex tried to keep the surprise out of his voice. “How do you know?”

  The major shrugged, ignoring the question. “Everyone is tired of fighting. Incidentally, your stirring up the Klan certainly doesn’t help our cause. You could be disciplined for ordering that raid. If I hadn’t intervened, it could have destroyed your chances for a promotion.”

  Major Turley was expecting his thanks, but Alex didn’t care about disciplinary action nor a promotion. Nothing but the fact that Turley was his commanding officer kept the anger out of his tone as he asked, “You intervened, sir? Maybe you don’t know why I called the raid. Those Klansmen, who weren’t even active Klansmen, were burning a cross at the Brown’s river landing, and one of them attacked Miss Carey, bruising her neck.”

  The major’s eyes narrowed. “I read
the report. I know about the circumstances, but what you seem to forget is we don’t want to stir up the passions of the Klan. Our objective is to leave, and those fools in Washington won’t let us if they hear of more trouble.”

  “But Grant wants to end Reconstruction.”

  The major barked a laugh. “Grant—when he’s sober—is only concerned with milking as much for his cronies as he can.”

  It was true the Grant administration was fast earning a reputation for corruption.

  “I took care of the matter. Boyles and his sorry son will say nothing, and I trust you’ll convince Miss Carey to keep quiet. Her father must not hear of this.”

  The major’s slanted brows commanded him to agree. “Very well, I’ll explain the need for silence tomorrow and, since Amanda doesn’t want the incident spread anyway, Gillian will agree.”

  Major Turley smiled. “That’s fine. As I’ve said, we have Gilbert Carey where we want him. You can consider your mission over here.”

  “That’s suits me since I don’t intend to renew my tour of duty.”

  “You’re leaving the army, then? To settle down with Miss Carey, I suppose.”

  “I don’t know about that, but I do need to go home. My parents need me.”

  The major slapped his hands together. “There, then it works out for all concerned. I, too, am looking forward to leaving the army.” He started for the door and turned in mid-stride. “Why are you escorting Miss Carey to church tomorrow?”

  A strange question—why wouldn’t he want to attend church with Gillian? But Alex knew better than to evade the major. “Yes, I haven’t been to church in weeks. It’s about time.”

  “But why her church?”

  Alex hated questions like that, those that questioned his motivation. Besides, he hated to lie, and he already had one lie to his credit today. “It’s the Southside Beulah Land Church. Miss Carey needs to speak to the preacher there on a family matter. Because the route isn’t safe, she asked me to escort her.” He deliberately left Purity out of it, but it wasn’t likely the major even knew it was a colored church.

  He did. “Why would Miss Carey need to speak to a Negro preacher?”

  Alex hedged. “I don’t know. As I said, it’s a family matter. He may be a former slave who served a family friend.”

  The major looked like he wanted to dwell further on the subject, but decided against it. “Well, take care going through shanty town. It’s dangerous even on Sunday.”

  Alex saluted and dropped into his chair as soon as Major Turley cleared the room. Yes, it was dangerous, and he should have talked Gillian out of such a foolhardy action. But truthfully, he didn’t have the heart to deny her anything.

  Chapter 23

  Gillian took more care of her toilette than necessary to go to church. The emerald ribbons in her hair matched the sash of her mint green, fine linen dress. She removed the filigree necklace, deciding it didn’t go with the dress’s high neckline. Besides, Grandmother had taught her church wasn’t the place to show off your jewelry. She chewed her lips to give them some color.

  A soft knock pulled her attention to the communicating door. Neither she nor Purity ever used it. She gave her reflection a final critical view before turning from the looking glass. “Come in.”

  Purity entered the room, holding a pair of crocheted slippers. “You’ve been so generous to give me these beautiful dresses, I wanted to give you something.” She thrust the slippers in front of Gillian. “I made them myself.”

  Gillian took the white, lacy shoes and held them to the light. “They’re beautiful, Purity. Thank you.”

  A faint blush tinged Purity’s cheeks. Her gaze fell to the floor, and she fidgeted with her fingers, like one unused to receiving compliments.

  “It was my pleasure to give you those clothes, and believe me, you look much better in that blue dress than I ever did. Will you help me with my sash?” She turned her back to Purity to give her better access to the sash.

  The girl retied the emerald satin, and as she worked with it, Gillian said, “If God loves us all equally, why do you think some people are more blessed than others?”

  “I’ve asked that question myself.”

  “Doubtless we all have at one time.” Especially those who lived at Lynwood.

  Purity stepped back, finished with the sash. “I do know it has nothing to do with how good people are.”

  Something had changed Purity. Normally so calm and reserved, this morning she glowed like a sunbeam, as if excitement pulsed just below the surface. “You’re happy about possibly finding your mother’s relatives, aren’t you?”

  Purity inclined her head, her smile revealing pearly teeth. “I’m happy all the time. I try to look at things from God’s viewpoint. That’s why I’m never unhappy, though I have not a cent to my name, and I’m so grateful for the charity extended to me. The Bible says people who are poor and meek are more blessed than people who are rich and powerful.”

  Gillian took comfort in those Scriptures herself. With Papa now near destitution, she was far from rich. Alex wasn’t rich, but he had enough

  And cared not a fig. Alex wasn’t rich, but he had enough to provide for them, and she’d never been happy when rich anyway.

  When a tap sounded at the door, Purity skipped to open it. Abe stood on the other side. “Captain Blaine is here, ladies.”

  Gillian grabbed her reticule and hooked Purity by the elbow. “Let’s go. We’ll have to get there before the services start if you’re to have a private word with the preacher. I’ve heard these colored church services can last all day.”

  They arrived at the Beulah Land Baptist Church without incident, and Gillian wondered if the dangers of Hook’s Branch hadn’t been conjured up by fanciful servants. Unfortunately, it had taken longer than they expected, and the singing that greeted them let them know the service was in session.

  All was peaceful and serene outside the little clapboard church nestled under giant pines. Inside, they were welcomed warmly, though the three of them stuck out like a wild patch of cotton in a meadow.

  They sat on a back pew, and when the pastor came to greet them, Purity explained the purpose of their visit. The man nodded his bushy, gray head and graciously agreed to delay his sermon to speak to her in the privacy of the room in back.

  While they waited for Purity, Gillian and Alex tried to follow along with the riotous singing, shouting, and dancing. “They remind me of that church in the mountains,” Gillian said.

  Alex laughed. “Which only goes to show the same spirit resides in all churches like these, regardless of color.”

  Gillian and Alex clapped along with the congregation, swaying with the music. Their voices couldn’t possibly disturb the worshippers, but Alex kept his voice so low she strained to hear him above the singing. He told her of other churches he’d visited—the history of the black man’s religious training while in slavery, and the gratitude they had for their opportunity to worship, not as the plantation owner did, but in their own way.

  She knew how it was. She’d grown up with it. Memories flitted across her mind of her and Will sneaking away to the river to spy on slave baptisms. That was the first time she’d seen Jesus through the slaves’ eyes and recognized that no one was ever free without a Savior. “Why does the North send missionaries down here?” They probably viewed both slave and slave owner as heathens.

  “I don’t know. I suppose it’s because people think their own brand of Christianity is better than anyone else’s.”

  Their own brand? There was only one way to Christ, and she’d have liked to discuss the subject further, but she spied Purity coming back down the aisle and held her next question in check.

  Purity waved a folded paper in her hand, a wide smile on her face. “Preacher Tomberson gave me names and addresses of my mother’s cousins. They do live in Ohio.”

  The happiness evident in Purity’s expression confirmed she was ready to leave Georgia. Who could blame her? She lived in splend
or at Aunt Mandy’s mansion, but it was still a prison. Gillian hugged the excited girl. “That’s wonderful. Now you can write to them.”

  When they pulled apart, Alex leaned in. “I hope it’s not rude to leave before the sermon, but we need to get back through Hook’s Branch before the vermin awake from their drunk.”

  Sun streaked around puffy clouds as they emerged from the church, and Gillian wished for her parasol. She’d have a fresh crop of freckles across her nose and cheeks by the time they got home, but that was a small price to pay for Purity’s joy.

  The bay mare balked when Alex tugged her away from the grass patch she’d been enjoying, and within seconds, he had the women seated and the horse trotting briskly over the hard-packed street. His efficiency didn’t surprise Gillian. She wouldn’t have felt safe with any other man in this menacing place.

  A heavy silence covered the street, empty of human inhabitation. But she felt eyes staring at them as they passed the rickety buildings.

  Ignoring the foul odor that lingered even after leaving the town, Gillian coaxed Purity to discuss her future possibilities.

  None of them saw the danger coming. Three masked men leaped from the ditch, like demons from the bowels of the earth.

  The horse reared. Purity screamed. Alex drew his pistol and shoved another in Gillian’s hand.

  “Get down,” he yelled.

  A gasp of horror squeezed her lungs. She clutched Purity’s arm, and they dove to the floor of the buggy. Gunfire exploded like the fireworks of an Independence Day celebration.

  Gillian had practiced shooting her grandfather’s dueling pistols, but this was different. How could she hold the gun steady with her heart trying to climb out of her chest?

  With a shaking finger on the trigger, she positioned the pistol over the top of the buggy’s seat. She chanced a peek, and the sight terrified her.

  Gun smoke filled the air. One of the assailants lay prostrate, unmoving, but Alex had also been knocked to the ground, with the other two crouching in.

  The glint of metal flashed from one of them, and she fired.

  The man pitched forward as Alex gained his feet.