by Aileen Fish
Anna liked him immensely, and that surprised her. She did not think she could ever have liked a slave owner, but George resembled his father, both in appearance and temperament. Though he and George had not shared the same beliefs regarding slavery, Mr. Damon had emancipated his slaves without begrudging them their freedom.
Her stepmother sat beside her on the porch.
“The baby is due any day now. How are you feeling?” she asked.
“As large as a house,” Anna said. “I am ready for this baby to be born.”
Her stepmother nodded in the direction of the men. “They will never agree on anything. I do not know why they continue to discuss Reconstruction.”
“Well, you know that Father has very strong opinions, as does George. And it seems Mr. Damon is not afraid to voice his own.”
“Yes,” she said with a sigh. “You like him then? George’s father?”
“Very much,” Anna said with a nod. “He reminds me of George in some ways.”
Her stepmother checked the watch pinned to her dress before rising.
“I must begin dinner.”
“I will help.” Anna tried to push herself from the rocking chair but failed on her first attempt.
“No, stay off your feet,” her stepmother said. “Everything is almost done.”
Anna fell back in her chair and turned to watch Georgie and Tom again. She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up to see George standing over her. He took the seat next to her. She looked beyond him to see her father and Mr. Damon continuing their discussion.
George leaned over to take her hand in his, fingering the gold wedding band he had bought her the day after his return from the Civil War.
“I am afraid the ring is a bit tight right now,” Anna said with a smile.
George lifted the hand to his lips. “For all the best reasons,” he said.
“How are you feeling?”
“Ready to burst,” Anna said. “But I am so thankful you are here this time.”
“As am I,” George said. “I regret missing the birth of our first child.” He turned to watch Georgie grab a ball that Tom tossed to her.
“It could not be helped, my love,” Anna said.
George sighed.
“I see that you had another letter from Suzy,” he said. “How is she?”
“Happy in her marriage and expecting her own first child. I think our children will be born in the same month.”
“I find it quite remarkable that she learned to read and write such that she can now pen letters,” George said.
“Suzy is simply a remarkable woman,” Anna said. “As is her brother, Archie. Suzy says that her Archie bought some land in Maryland and plans to farm it. From cook’s helper on a riverboat to landowner in a few short years—such a determined young man.”
“As a child growing up on the plantation, I do not think I realized how much potential the slaves had, how diverse they were.” George seemed to give a slight shudder, and Anna knew he harbored regrets over his upbringing. She squeezed his hand.
“You were only a child, George. You did not know a different life.” She looked beyond him to his father. “Nor did your father really, having grown up in the same atmosphere. I know you make no excuses, my love, but I hope that one day you stop blaming yourself and accept that you learned to challenge the status quo when you finally came to realize how wrong slavery was. You have done so much for the freedom seekers, then and now.”
And it was true. Not only had George brought more slaves north than any other white conductor, since the Civil War ended and he returned to the farm, he had hired primarily freed slaves to plant and harvest the corn, and he paid them a fair wage. Even his foreman was a freedman, a far cry from the days when overseers were typically white men.
“As you have, my love. I hope to do more,” George said. He brought her hand to his lips once again and kissed her palm.
“I love you, Anna,” he said. “And I love our life together. I remember saying that when the war was over, I hoped to retire to the farm and never know a moment’s worry again.”
“And has that happened?” Anna asked with a smile.
“The war is indeed over, and I have retired to the farm, but I have discovered that life will always bring worries, will it not? Little Georgie and the baby who comes any day now give me occasional pause for concern. And I worry about you and your health during this time.”
Anna nodded.
“Yes, I worry about the children as well. I want them to be happy and healthy, and I do not want them to ever know the horror of war.”
George shook his head.
“No, never.”
“I am as strong as an ox, George. You must not worry about me.”
“I will always worry about you, my little conductor,” George murmured with a smile. He kissed her hand again, and she clenched it hard.
“Perhaps you should worry about me just a bit after all, George,” she said, suddenly panting. “The baby is coming.”
About the Author
I began my first fiction-writing attempt when I was fourteen when I shut myself up in my bedroom one summer and obsessively worked on a time travel/pirate novel set in the beloved Caribbean of my youth. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to hammer it out on a manual typewriter (oh yeah, I’m that old) before it was time to go back to school. The draft of that novel has long since disappeared, but the story still simmers within, and I will finish it one day soon.
I was born in Aruba to American parents and lived in Venezuela until my family returned to the United States when I was twelve. I couldn’t fight the global travel bug, and I joined the US Air Force at eighteen to “see the world.” After twenty-one wonderful and fulfilling years traveling the world and the birth of one beautiful daughter, I pursued my dream of finally getting a college education. With a license in mental health therapy, I worked with veterans. I continue to travel, my first love, and almost all of my books involve travel.
Please visit my website at www.BessMcBride.com. You may also sign up for my newsletter on my website.
Many of you know I also write a series of short cozy mysteries under the pen name of Minnie Crockwell. Feel free to stop by my website and learn more about the series at http://www.minniecrockwell.com/books.html
Love, Lies, Traitors and Spies
Melissa Lynne Blue
Copyright © 2015 by:
Melissa Lynne Blue
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
Cover Design by Sheri McGathy
This book was built at IndieWrites.com. Visit us on Facebook.
Dedication
This one definitely goes out to Marie Higgins. Without your encouragement I’m not sure this story ever would have been finished…
Prologue
September, 1861
A mist of tears blurred Juliet Jackson’s vision as she tore open the newly arrived letter. She’d spent weeks waiting anxiously for word from Cole, and it had finally come! Blinking the moisture from her eyes, she perched on the edge of the nearest chair and devoured the words on the page…
My dearest Juliet,
Just yesterday I received your letter from August the 18. The news of home was most welcome, and I was glad to receive the likeness you had folded inside. I secured the picture in my uniform jacket so that I will always have it near me.
The army is not quite what I expected. In fact it is quite boring. We march and drill and mill about the camp. I am anxious for a good fight so that we can send the Yankees running back north and I can return to you.
Forever your soon to be husband,
Cole
July, 1863
Relief flooded Juliet as she stared down at the familiar script addressing the letter she’d received. With news of casualties arriving daily it was difficult to imagine Cole had not fallen victim to one of the many
dangers of the war.
My dearest Juliet,
For the last day I have done little more than stare at your beautiful face in my tintype. I long for the day when I can return to you so we might marry and begin our lives together. I am weary of this war. Yesterday I spent hours burying the dead and returned to camp to learn that my cousin Billy had died of dysentery. How inelegant. He has survived several engagements and deserved a better death.
I was very sorry to receive word of your brother’s passing. Michael was a good man and a good friend. It seems nothing but sad news surrounds us these days. I can only pray that the future holds brighter times, but truthfully I am losing heart.
All my love,
Cole
September, 1863
Candlelight flickered across the wooden crate Cole hunched over in the starry darkness. All around him men milled about the camp and somewhere in the distance a fiddle hummed Shenandoah. Cole ignored all of it. Heart heavy, he stared at the blank page of paper before him. No matter how he tried he couldn’t find the right words. Finally he scribbled the only suitable thing that came readily to his mind.
My Dearest Juliet,
Forgive me…
Cole
Now he need only find the courage to mail it.
Chapter 1
Southern Virginia
December, 1864
Sergeant Cole Turner crashed through the night-blackened woods, stumbling over stumps and snow-dusted underbrush. His lungs burned and his wounded shoulder ached, but he dared not stop or slow even a fraction. Enemy soldiers were closing in on him, and he needed to find a place to lay low until he could deliver the packet of sensitive information tucked in his satchel to Colonel Raymond.
Angry shouts followed him through the woods. If the troop of soldier’s gained on him any more they’d no doubt shoot him again without so much as attempting to question him.
Drenched with sweat and blood, Cole plunged ahead, silently praying that he was running in the correct direction. He’d grown up in these parts, and under less pressured circumstances he knew the area like the back of his hand. If he wasn’t mistaken the Calhoun Caves were just ahead. The caves were difficult to find in broad daylight, and would be the perfect place to lose the enemy soldiers now.
He tripped over a large rock and crashed to the ground. Pain shocked through his injured shoulder. He groaned, and levered himself up with his good arm. Moonlight filtered through the trees, giving shape to a looming black shadow.
The caves.
Cole dragged himself over several rocks and up a slight rise until he managed to locate a craggy opening in the uneven rock walls. Darkness consumed him as he crawled inside, and the temptation to lie down and succumb to total exhaustion nearly over powered him. He didn’t dare, however. He couldn’t risk it. Breathing ragged, he forced himself to sit and leaned against the uneven rock wall. Clutching his Colt revolver he forced himself to remain calm and alert.
Shouts from outside the caves pierced the night. Cole chanced a covert glance through the cave mouth. He quickly spotted soldiers on foot scouring the area near where he’d fallen, and an officer sitting on a massive black horse rode in circles around the men. Golden lantern light pooled eerily around the squad.
“He can’t have disappeared.”
“There is a smear of blood here, but I can’t tell which way he ran.”
“I’d reckon he’ll keep heading north. Let’s keep moving. He’s hurt. I have no doubt we’ll catch up with the bastard or find him dead soon.”
The soldiers disappeared into the thick woods.
For the first time since the chase had begun Cole had the upper hand. He dared not relax, however, he had a long way to go before his mission was complete. Creeping out of the cave, he kept to the thicker shadows and veered away from the direction the other soldier’s had traveled. With any luck he’d stumble upon the Jackson farm soon. Exhausted and in pain Cole lurched into an unsteady jog. He weaved through the heavy foliage, struggling to stay on his feet. Finally the trees thinned, and a moment later he staggered into a cleared field. Moonlight illuminated a wooden barn, fences, and a modest two-story house that was so achingly familiar his heart nearly stopped.
Juliet.
He ducked under the fence, gaze locked on the golden glow emanating from the first floor windows. Dare he hope she was home? He’d proposed to her on that very porch three years ago, but he hadn’t laid eyes on her since.
Legs weak he staggered across the yard. He’d been running hell-bent for miles, and the end was finally in sight. Gasping for breath, he tripped on the first stair of the porch, completely spent. Gripping the rail, he hauled himself up. He was taking a big gamble in coming here, but at this point he was completely out of other options.
The door opened, and a rustling of full dark brown skirts swept through. “Cole?” a musical voice questioned.
Juliet! Unable to speak, he dragged his gaze up from the hem of her dark skirt to the flare of her hips and tiny waist to her beautiful face. Heaven help him she looked like an angel.
“Oh, my heavens, Cole, it is you!” She rushed across the porch, worry etched in the facets of her pretty visage. Wisps of chocolate hair swung around her face and her green eyes glittered like emeralds. “You’re bleeding.” She quickly looped an arm about his waist for support.
“H-help,” he gasped, so out of breath he could scarcely speak. He leaned heavily on her. “I ha-have information,” he gasped. “I’m shot. Please help.”
“Don’t worry, Cole. I’m here for you. Come inside. Quickly.”
Pulse thundering, he dragged another breath into his lungs. “Hide me.” He leaned heavily on her. “Soldier’s coming.”
Her gaze snapped up to his, fear flashing through her eyes. “Of course.” Arm still linked around his waist she turned them toward the stairs. “The barn. Let’s go to the barn.”
Draping his arm across her shoulders, Cole allowed her to help him down the steps and across the yard to the barn. A few chickens squawked as they approached, but in all the night was quiet. He turned his head toward her and caught a hint of her clean, rosy scent. His heart clenched as memories assailed him. If not for the throbbing pain threatening to paralyze his right side he may have been more soothed by her nearness.
“What happened to you, Cole? Are the Yankees close behind?”
“I-I’m not s-sure,” he gasped. “Tried to lose them by the caves, but… can’t be sure. Hide me. They might search houses.”
“I’ll do what I can.”
Together they entered the barn. Without a lantern it was pitch black inside.
“There is a hidden compartment beneath the far wall,” she said urgently. “Follow me.”
Cole squinted into the darkness, unable to discern any of the walls, much less the far one.
“This way.” She tugged on his waist, guiding him through the darkened barn. “Right here.”
Her arm dropped from his middle, and he could just barely make out her outline as she dropped down, and tugged against a panel on the wall. The creak and groan of protesting wood broke the silence. Cole flinched, certain his enemies would hear the sound and ambush them at any moment.
“Climb in. You’ll be safe here until I come back for you.”
Cole groped along the wall until he found the opening, and then dropped his satchel off of his good shoulder and shoved it into the open space. His lungs still burned, but he was finally beginning to breathe less erratically. “Get back to the house. They may be close.”
“Cole…” Beside him Juliet hesitated. In the inky darkness she was little more than a shadow, but he didn’t need to see her clearly to understand that she wanted answers. At the moment he could offer none, and he knew she would tolerate no lies. Cole knew Juliet better than he knew himself. Always had. She completed him… was the other half of his soul. Pity he hadn’t realized it sooner. If he hadn’t been such a fool they could have married before the war.
On impulse he
snared her about the waist and dragged her roughly against him. A little shudder ran through her body as she settled against him. Her breath breezed across the bare skin of his neck, and Cole never wanted to let go. Her sweet frame was so warm, and her touch, so long absent, was familiar and foreign all at once. He ached for her. He loved her. He wanted this war to be over so he could bury himself in her arms and never leave. He kissed her cheek. “Soon,” he whispered, reluctant to release her. “We’ll talk soon. Please don’t give me up.”
She pulled back, and Cole wished he could see her face in that moment. She must suspect something was amiss. “I promise,” she replied after a long moment.
Guilt pooled in his gut. He knew she didn’t understand the full extent of what she’d promised. He dropped to his knees and crawled into the narrow compartment. He quickly located his satchel and dragged himself across the dirt further into the hole. With a sigh he rolled to his back, and shut his eyes. Rest… all he wanted was to rest. He felt within an inch of death, and at the moment he might just welcome it. Exhaustion plagued every muscle in his body. His shoulder hurt like the devil, and his mission might very well be completely compromised. If he died right now, after seeing his blessed Juliet one last time, it would be all right. After tonight he was bound to lose her anyway.
~*~
Heart thundering, Juliet Jackson shoved the wooden panel shut behind Cole. It had been some time since she’d been required to use the space. She and her mother had hollowed it out years ago as a safe haven for slaves trying to get north. It wasn’t much, but it was almost impossible to detect, and Cole would be safe there until she returned. Lifting her skirts, she ran from the barn, mind full of this shocking turn of events. Mere minutes ago she’d been preparing for bed, and now Cole was home!
