The Officer's Desire

by Colleen French

  Cassie climbed into bed and Devon sat on the edge, pulling the blanket up to her chin. He brushed a stray tendril of bright hair from her cheek and leaned to kiss her. "I love you, Cassie." he whispered.

  Her eyes were already closed, her lips parted slightly. "I love you, too." she murmured. "Keep your eye on your back and I'll see you tonight." She sighed, snuggling deeper beneath the heavy counterpane.

  For a long moment Devon sat beside Cassie just watching her. A year ago he could never have believed he could be this happy. Her heart-shaped face, her thick red-orange hair, her breathtaking green eyes were his world. He couldn't remember what life had been for him before she came into it. He hoped she knew just how much he loved her. After kissing her cheek, Devon got up quietly, and went out the door.

  The sun was just peaking above the horizon as Devon saddled Casper and headed out of the camp with four other men. Though Devon had sent his horse home with a wounded soldier during the New York campaign of '76, he had decided to bring the animal back with him. Now that supplies were more readily available and the army was better equipped, he knew he would be able to care for his steed. It felt good to be on Casper's back again as Devon sank his heels into the gelding and reined in east. The patrol party's assignment was simple enough. Move east and then south and scout the area to be sure the British troops weren't moving. It was still early in the year and the patriot informants had reported no action by the main army, but still the rebels remained cautious.

  The sun broke from the clouds in midafternoon and Devon and the other men opened their coats, welcoming the heat of the sun. They laughed and talked among themselves, traveling through the woods, crossing an occasional open meadow, and skirting lonely farmhouses. There was no way of knowing which houses were owned by loyalists and which sheltered patriots, so they avoided them altogether.

  The party had just crossed Carson Creek and entered a meadow back when they heard the pounding of hooves behind them. Fire sounded at the patriots' backs and Devon reined sharply, lifting his Brown Bess in response. Musket balls sang in the air as Devon struggled to reload and control his spooked horse. Through the smoke and raised dust he spotted twelve or fifteen men on fine horses coming toward them. From the look of their tattered red-and-green uniforms, they had to be deserters from the English army. They were marauders riding stolen horses, pillaging the countryside.

  Devon shot again and reached for his sword; their attackers were on them now, wielding bayonetted rifles. Out of the corner of his eye, Devon spotted one of his men go down and then another. A green-coated man on a spotted horse bore down on Devon, slicing his leg open with one swing of an ancient cutlass. More men fell as Devon fought to keep his seat, wielding his grandfather's sword. All Devon could think of was Cassie as he was backed into the woods by the outlaws. He couldn't believe he had made it this far to be killed by a band of lawless deserters. He cut the green-coated man down, and spurred his horse forward to swing at another.

  Suddenly he realized all his men had gone down. Their bodies lay strewn on the ground, trampled beneath the hooves of the marauders' horses. He was the only one left as the attackers surrounded him, taunting him with the tips of their swords. Metal sliced through the air and a musket fired. An excruciating pain wracked Devon's body and then another tore through his leg. He could feel himself falling from his horse amid shouting and laughter. Cassie! Cassie Laura! his mind screamed. Above him a broken-toothed Englishman leered and laughed, and then there was blackness.

  Cassie paced the hard dirt floor of her tiny cabin. The sun had long set and still there had been no sign of the patrol party Devon had left with. Mordecai had been in and out of her cabin several times, full of logical explanations. But still, Cassie couldn't suppress that desperate sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. They should have been back by now. Even if a man was hurt, someone should have returned. The hours ticked by and Cassie's skin turned paler. Her eyes lost their sparkle and seemed to sink into the sockets of her head. A party of three men was sent out to look for them and Cassie spent a sleepless night sitting on the edge of her pine bough bed.

  Mordecai came in after midnight to sit with her, and sometime during the wee hours of the morning, she told him she was carrying Devon's child. Just before dawn the second party of men returned and Mordecai went to meet them. Cassie remained in her cabin, unable to face them.

  Cassie knew what Mordecai was going to say before he spoke. Tears ran unchecked down his face as he repeated the tale told to him. She just sat there on the bed, listening in disbelief, shaking her head. "No." she whispered. "No."

  "They found the bodies down near Carson's Creek. It was English deserters, Cas." Mordecai sat down next to her, taking her hand.

  "No, not all of them. Not Devon?" she croaked. Tremors shook her body as waves of anguish washed over her.

  "Yes. He was shot through the leg and the chest." He gripped her hand. "I'm so sorry. That should have been me. Devon took my place, Cas."

  Numb with pain, Cassie gripped his hand. "You can't believe he's dead, Mordecai Steele. You don't really believe it, do ye?"

  "Yes, I believe it. And you've got to as well. I don't want to, but that's the way it is." He pulled a handkerchief from beneath his buckskins and pressed it into her trembling hands. "They saw the body, Cas. It was him."

  Cassie got to her feet. "I don't see a body. Where is it? I won't believe it 'til I see 'im myself. Where is he? Tell me that. Where's the body?" She poured water into a pan and began to heat it for tea.

  "They had to leave the bodies behind and come back for more men. They'll bring him back today. They put the bodies together and covered them with brush to keep the animals away. We'll send him home to Marshview if you like." Mordecai wiped at his face with the sleeve of his buckskin coat. "I can't believe it, Cas. I can't believe he's dead."

  "Then don't believe it!" Cassie's voice was stronger as she gained control of her emotions. "Don't believe it 'til you see 'im yourself!" She took his hands in hers, squeezing them tight. "Don't you think we'd know, here in our hearts, if he was dead? Here?" She tapped her breast lightly.

  Mordecai shook his head. "You're just not thinking straight yet. This is war, Cassie. People die and sometimes it's the ones you love the most. You're going to have to get some sleep." He got up from where he sat on the bed. "A message will have to be sent to Marshview. I'll do it for you."

  "No!" Cassie sounded. "There'll be no message sent of their son's death until I see him and I say he's dead." She stood before the makeshift fireplace, her fists balled at her sides. "I'll not give up this easily, Mordecai. I can't." She ran her hand over her flat belly, knowing it would only be a matter of time before she swelled with Devon's child. "We got too much to lose, this babe and I."

  Mordecai exhaled slowly. He could see there'd be no talking to her. She needed some sleep, and then her mind would be clearer. Cassie was too levelheaded to be acting like this. If she needed to see his body to believe Devon was dead, then he'd bring her the body. "Look, I got to go get men together to retrieve the bodies."

  "Let me go with you." She poured hot water into a tankard and sprinkled tea leaves on the top.

  "Are you mad? Look at you." He raised a hand. She was dressed in a flannel nightgown and her riding boots. A hand-loomed shawl, a gift from Anne, was thrown over her shoulders. Her face was a pallid white save for the dark circles etched beneath her hollow eyes. "You'd not make it three miles before you fell off your horse and then I'd have to carry you back." His voice was gruff, but he meant it to be. He wanted to jolt her back to reality.

  Cassie's eyes drifted shut for a moment. "You're right." she breathed. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm so tired I can barely stand on my feet."

  "You get some sleep. I'm going to find someone to organize a party of men to retrieve the remains. It'll be hours before we can leave. The captain wants to send armed patrols with us. You know how slow these things go."

  "Can't you go now? He might be hu
rt, Devon might need you."

  Mordecai reached out to take Cassie's arm and led her to the bed. "I'll try to hurry them along, sweet." He took the tankard from her hand and sat her on the bed. Kneeling, he began to pull off her boots. "Now you lie down and get some sleep."

  Tears began to roll down her face again as she slipped beneath the counterpane. "I know he's not dead, Mordecai. I know he isn't." She pulled Mordecai's handkerchief from the neckline of her nightgown and dabbed at her eyes. "But what if he is?"

  "Then you'll go to Marshview." he said matter-of-factly, tucking the heavy quilt beneath her.

  She shook her head forlornly. "What if they didn't want me? What if they chose to ignore their grandchild's birthright?" Her voice seemed to come from far in the distance.

  "Cassie, I've known the Marshes for years. They'd not turn you out, no matter what your past differences."

  "I don't know. Perhaps I'm still just a barmaid to them." She glanced up at Mordecai. "I suppose I could go back to working for George. I know he and Molly would take us in."

  "Oh, Cas, don't worry about that now." He was down on one knee, taking her hand. "You'll have a home, I'll see to that. I could marry you . . . just in name, of course. But that would give the baby a father."

  Cassie smiled sadly, savoring the feel of Mordecai's strong hand. Thank you." she whispered. "You're very gallant, but I could never marry you. 'Twouldn't be fair. I could never love you the way you deserve to be loved." Cassie's eyes drifted shut. "But thank you just the same, Mordecai." she whispered. "Devon will be proud of you when I tell him of your offer." She held tightly to his hand, her breath coming easier. She was so tired. She needed some sleep so she could think.

  "I'll stay here until you fall asleep. You going to be all right?"

  Cassie nodded weakly. "A little rest is all I need." She opened her eyes. "But stay with me a few more minutes."

  He perched himself on the side of the bed, still holding her hand. "I promise."

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Return Littleton whistled to his huge black dog, skirting the meadow near Carson Creek, his father's Brown Bess slung over one scrawny shoulder. The sound of growling canines filled the woods and the six-year-old caught Barnie's worn collar and sank into the leaves beneath an ancient pine. "Good boy, good ole boy." he murmured. The dog whined, pawing at the frozen ground.

  "It's that pack of wild dogs again." he told the only friend he had. "You know what Mama said about them dogs. We're to stay away from 'em, unless of course we want our bottoms busted." Return could hear the dogs growling and barking. He knew they had to be fighting over something, a deer carcass most likely.

  Standing up slowly, the boy tugged at Barnie's collar. "Still, it wouldn't hurt to have a look-see. Would it?" Moving cautiously, they followed the woods line in the direction of the eerie sounds. The frenzied howling sent a shiver down Return's spine, but still he moved on, holding tightly to his dog's collar.

  Return cringed at the sight of the wild dogs mauling the dead bodies and Barnie lunged forward, breaking free. "Come back! Come back!" Return shouted, but the black dog ignored him, running straight for the pack of dogs.

  At the sight of another dog, the wild ones turned, growling at the stranger. Frightened they would hurt his Barnie, Return raised his musket and shot in the direction of the scavengers. The recoil of the gun knocked him to the ground and he scrambled to get to his feet. They were running! The boom of the sounding weapon had frightened the dogs and they were scurrying off into the woods, one after the other.

  "Good Lordy!" Return breathed, running up to the place where the bodies littered the ground. The dogs had pulled them from beneath a pile of brush and had been feeding on their flesh, gnawing at their limbs. The boy swallowed hard, grabbing Barnie's collar to keep him from going after the wild dogs. Return had seen dead bodies before; he'd seen his own papa with a bullet clear through his head. But he'd never seen them like this before, all eaten up!

  "Come on, Barnie. Let's go home." The boy turned to go, but then spun back around. Beneath the pile of brush where the bodies had been, he thought he'd spotted movement. He shivered. Had ghosts come to haunt the spot where they lay? He squinted, peering into the cut brush. It was obvious the men had been piled here together by someone meaning to come back for them. Then he saw the movement again and he dropped his rifle to drag a branch aside. One of them was still alive!

  Ducking beneath the brush, Return struggled to reach the man. He moved again when the boy touched his hand. "Sir?' he called out. "Can you hear me?" The man groaned, but this time there was no movement.

  Return stood for a moment in indecision. If he left the man to go get his mother, the pack of dogs might come back and eat him before he returned. The man was unconscious; his fingers were blue with cold. He'd never be able to fight back. But there was no way Return could drag him back to his house. It was nearly a mile through the woods, a mile and a half if he went by way of the linking meadows.

  Barnie came up beside him and Return scratched the dog's head thoughtfully. Suddenly his face lit up. "You stay here, boy." he commanded the black dog. "You stay here and Return'll be right back. You understand?" The boy began to back up and the dog whined, but he stood his ground. "Now don't you let them dogs get that man, you hear?" he called over his shoulder. "I'm goin' to get Mama. You and me, we caught us a rebel!"

  "God damn it to hell!" Mordecai shouted, staring at the remains of the patrol. The bodies had been pulled from the brush by wild animals and had been mangled beyond recognition. He turned away, walking back toward his horse. "Now what am I going to tell the families of these men?" he shouted. "What am I going to send home?" He banged his fist on the leather of his saddle. "All right, let's clean up here as best we can." He spun back around. "The ground's so frozen, we couldn't bury here if we wanted to."

  The men began to follow the officer's orders, working silently to gather the remains. Mordecai walked off across the meadow. He just didn't have the stomach to see Devon just yet. When he returned sometime later, a private from Virginia approached him, his head hung low.

  "We got a problem here, sir." he told the buckskinned Marylander.

  "What do you mean, we got a problem?" Mordecai bellowed. "Just gather what you can in those blankets and strap it to the horses."

  The private shook his head. "No, sir, that's not the problem, sir. It's—"

  "What, Private Lewis. Tell me, damn it!" Mordecai didn't mean to be so harsh on the boy, but he was hurting inside. He was angry with himself and he was taking the anger out on those around him.

  Private Lewis looked up sheepishly. "One of them's missing . . ." He cringed.

  "What do you mean, one of them's missing?"

  "I mean, sir, that it was wild dogs that got to 'em. Their tracks are everywhere. The dogs must have drug one of 'em off."

  Mordecai swore beneath his breath, pausing a moment before he spoke. This time his voice was deathly quiet. "Whose body is missing, Private?"

  "You're not going to like this, sir. It's Lieutenant Marsh's body. We can't find it."

  Mordecai spun around, closing his eyes to ward off the tears. His knuckles turned dead white as he fought for control. He should have gone on the first patrol that came looking for the men! He'd have carried Devon's body on his back if he'd had to. He'd not have left his remains in the woods to be eaten by wild dogs! "All right, Private." Mordecai said shakily. "Pack up the other bodies and skirt the woods just to be sure the lieutenant's remains are not nearby. Then we'll set off. There's no telling how close that band of deserters are. I don't want to be here with you pansy-asses, unprotected after dark."

  "Yes, sir." The boy saluted, thankful to be dismissed, and raced off to pass word to the others.

  Late that night Mordecai knelt in front of the fire in Cassie's cabin, feeding logs into the flickering flames. "Cas, I don't know anyway to tell you this except to just tell you." He sighed heavily. "We didn't find his body . . ."

  "Of co
urse you didn't find his body!" Cassie leaped up off the stool. "He's not dead."

  "You've got to be reasonable about this. You of all people should know about death." Mordecai got to his feet slowly and came to take her hands. "You've got to believe me. He's gone."

  Cassie shook her head emphatically, pulling away. "How do you know? You've seen no body."

  "I saw the other bodies. They were all dead, stone dead. I saw the tracks of the dogs. We think his body was carried away by them. It wouldn't be the first time that's happened." he reasoned. "You know that."

  "I'm telling you, Mordecai, he's not dead." She was pacing the floor now, her long red braids swinging as she walked. "I'd know if he was dead."

  "If he's not dead, then where the hell is he?" Mordecai exploded.

  Cassie ignored his outburst. "I don't know. But he's somewhere out there. Something's happened to him. We've got to find him. He might need us."

  Mordecai sat on the edge of the bed, dropping his head into his hands. "What am I going to have to do to make you understand?" he murmured.

  "Show me a body!"

  "I can't!"

  "Then he's not dead . . ."

  For a moment Mordecai was silent. A great wave of emotion washed over him and he struggled to hold back the tears that threatened to spill. Devon Marsh had been his best friend for more than fifteen years. They had grown to manhood together. They had learned of love and tragedy side by side, and now his friend was dead. If only I'd taken my own patrol. Mordecai groaned, lifting his head. There was no time for self-pity, no time to wallow in guilt. He had to help Cassie; he had to make her accept Devon's death.

  "I don't think we're getting anywhere here, Cas." Mordecai studied her standing there in front of the fire, watching the light from the flickering flames bathe her in a warm glow of light. A sad smile crossed his lips. Another time, another place, I might have loved her myself the way Devon did, he mused.