Hunter took her arm and guided her back to her seat with compelling force. Leaning forward with brows drawn together, he whispered, “That’s not the worst of it.”
“You don’t say?” Andrea settled in the chair as if annoyed, but her quick glance toward heaven did not escape Hunter’s searching eyes.
“Oh, yes, I do say. She disappeared the same day that all the outbuildings and warehouses on the estate burned to the ground. Can you believe it? Of course, everyone believes she set the fires. Cost her father a fortune.”
Andrea put her hand to her mouth as if dismayed. “Why the little demon. How dare she?”
Hunter nodded in agreement. “They told me other stories that I scarcely know if I should believe.”
“Truly? I hope you don’t care to share them.”
He chuckled. “Oh, yes, there is one I must tell you.”
He leaned back to get comfortable and gazed at Andrea. Her eyes were upon him, but their shaded depths revealed nothing except a sort of melancholy detachment.
“It seems this Mr. Monroe was losing slaves, almost regularly, for a year or so before the daughter left. It was suspected at the time, and later confirmed, that the child was giving them clothes, food, what have you, and helping them escape.”
“That’s not much of a story,” Andrea said, looking him in the eye. “That sounds like the mindless tongue-wagging of resentful neighbors or the abstract speculation of gossips.”
“Well, it gets even better. It was discovered that in order to throw off the hounds, this young lass tied a bundle of the escaped slaves’ clothing behind her horse, and dragged it all around the countryside—in the opposite direction, of course.”
Hunter slapped the table to get Andrea’s attention. “Can you imagine? The hounds running around with a scent for hours in one direction, while those slaves were escaping with impunity in the other? Quite a bit of ingenuity that!”
Hunter’s smile faded at the anguished look on Andrea’s face. “No doubt it was not accomplished without serious risk,” he said gently.
Andrea swallowed hard. “I’m sure the child was aware of the risk and willing to face the consequences.” She stared at him with cold green eyes a moment, then stood, and smoothed the front of her gown. “And now if you’re done telling your wonderful fairytale, Major, I’d really like to go lie down.”
Hunter stood too, as all Southern gentlemen do, and waited until she was almost to the door. “By all means, Miss Monroe. Get your rest.”
She paused a moment and glared at him, then swung the door open with violent force before slamming it shut with a thunderous bang.
Hunter sat down, took a sip of coffee, and grinned. Well, well, well. Andrea Marie Monroe. The creature has a name.
Chapter 30
Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night till it be morrow.
– Romeo and Juliet, Shakespeare
Major Hunter pushed his weary mount forward through the darkness, as eager as he’d ever been to see Hawthorne come into view after two weeks on the move.
“Come on, Dixie,” he said, leaning down and patting his horse’s neck. “We’re heading toward a good night’s rest.”
The animal, seeming to understand his words, picked up her pace when they were a mile away and soon cantered across the bridge to Hawthorne.
At first glance the house appeared silent and dark, matching Hunter’s mood. But when he stopped in the front to dismount, he noticed a single candle burned in a room on the second floor. Although well past midnight, that lone beam shining out of the darkness appeared like a warm, welcoming light.
Turning his horse loose in the nearest paddock, Hunter glanced again at the window and saw the silhouette of Andrea sitting in the amber light with a book. The sight drew a smile to his lips. This was not the first time that solitary flame had greeted him after a long night’s ride.
Finding his way through the dark house to the stairs, Hunter slowly ascended, his legs and body so weary he found himself holding onto the banister for support. He could hardly wait to take off his boots and fall into bed. Yet as he passed her room, with its door slightly ajar, he found himself knocking once and pushing it open. “Permission to enter Camp Misery.”
Andrea stared at him with a look of half welcome and half rebelliousness, which prodded him to continue his jesting. “Waiting up for me again?” He tipped his hat back as he spoke.
“You are doomed for disappointment, Major.” She lowered her eyes to her book. “I am merely reading.”
Hunter laughed and strode into the room. “I’m beginning to think you believe it your responsibility to stand picket duty while I’m away. But if you can leave your post, you really ought to take a look outside.” Hunter nodded toward the window. “I know how you enjoy the night sky.”
“Oh my!” Andrea slid the book off her lap and stood as she stared at the full moon shining in through the door. “But it was cloudy last time I looked.”
Hunter stepped forward and offered his arm to help her out to the balcony.
“I always loved and dreaded a night such as this.” Andrea leaned forward over the railing as she stared up at the brilliant night star. “So beautiful and yet so dangerous.” The night breeze cast its magic, catching her robe and twirling it out behind her. She turned and looked at Hunter, causing him to quickly lower his gaze. He had been thinking the exact same words—but not about the moon.
“What a ga-lorious evening!” Andrea turned back to the landscape and gazed at the horses silhouetted in the moonlight. The stone walls resembled dark rivers flowing through the fields, twisting and turning over the hills until they disappeared into the deep shadows. Fireflies flitted across the pastures like sparkles on an endless sea, their flashing golden globes illuminating even the shadows where moonlight failed to hit.
“I would hardly call it evening. Do you never sleep?” Hunter pulled a chair from the shadows and helped her sit, then pulled a second one to the railing. “You’re not afraid of the dark, are you?”
“I don’t fear the darkness or the night.” Her voice was suddenly somber and serious. “Just the dreams.”
Before he could think of a way to respond, she nodded toward the field where his horse now lay in a patch of lush grass. “Looks like you’ve exhausted your mount.”
“Covered a lot of ground in the past few days.” Hunter stretched out his long legs and propped his booted feet on the railing.
Andrea gazed over at him, cocking her head to one side. “Yes, you look a bit tired yourself.”
“Let’s just say it’s good to be home.” He took off his hat and rubbed his temples.
“You take great risks being out on a night like this.” Andrea’s voice held a hint of concern. “You must have an unseemly appetite for battle if you dare to ride in the deathly light of a full moon.”
Tipping his chair back on two legs, Hunter laughed softly. “It’s my duty to have an appetite for battle. As for the moon, I generally trust the clouds to be on my side—as they were earlier tonight.”
“You rely a lot on luck and chance, Commander.” Andrea draped the edge of her gown over her bare feet and propped them up on the banister beside his. “Surely it’s not your bravery and devotion alone that the salvation of the Confederate army depends.”
Hunter shrugged. “I don’t go into battle with the slightest desire to come out alive unless I’ve won. My life is a small price to pay for Virginia.”
“Don’t speak like that,” Andrea scolded.
Hunter sat his chair back down on all four legs and met Andrea’s gaze with a curious grin. “Ah, my dear—could it be you were worried about me?”
Now it was Andrea’s turn to laugh. “Your arrogance is as astounding as your apparent good fortune at commanding the clouds. If you weren’t to return, it would be no concern of mine.”
Hunter leaned over and put his hand on the arm of her chair, willing to
forget his rank and status as an enemy officer tonight since she was so willing to ignore it. “Come now. You wouldn’t miss me just a little?”
Andrea looked into his eyes, a hint of humor illuminating her face. “I suppose I would miss your overbearing attitude, your stubborn pride, your inflexible—”
“A-ha, despite our differing philosophies on war, it appears we have more in common than I thought.”
His quick response apparently caught Andrea by surprise. She looked up at him with a straight face, but a smile tugged at her mouth. Hunter felt his heart thump in his chest as a feeling of serenity began to overcome him. Whether it was the moon or her mood, he didn’t know, but he suddenly had a desire for the night he had longed to end, to go on forever.
The moon’s rays became partially shielded by a thin veil of clouds, then emerged again in even more brilliance. The leaves above them stirred in response, seeming to writhe with a sense of exhilaration at the emergence of the night star in its radiant splendor.
“The odds are great against you.” Andrea’s voice sounded serious again, though the look on her face was one of contentment.
“Not really. Patriotism and determination generally make up for lack of numbers.” Hunter gazed thoughtfully out over the fields. “Just because the enemy is better armed doesn’t mean our resolve is any less. In fact,” he said, pausing to pull out his pipe, “I dare say the North may have overestimated its strength and underestimated our power.”
Andrea leaned her head back in her chair and crossed her arms. “I suppose your resolve is commendable, but it seems dangerous and imprudent to continue fighting when your enemy is all around you.”
Hunter laughed. “My dear, we reside on the very borders of hostility. The territory I cover is within fifty miles of Washington. Being close to the enemy cannot be helped.”
Though one side of her face was hidden in shadow, Andrea’s confused expression revealed that she hadn’t realized their close proximity to the nation’s capital.
Hunter leaned his chair back again and watched a smoke ring lift and hang in the air, enjoying the evening air and the sense of newfound calm that seemed to have settled over Hawthorne. When he glanced sideways, he found Andrea staring at him. “Is something wrong?”
“Just trying to figure you out,” she said contemplatively.
“And are you having any success?”
She hesitated. “May I speak without restraint?”
Hunter laughed loudly and majestically. “I did not know you were aware of the concept.” He swept his hand in front of him to urge her on. “By all means.”
Andrea joined in with a laugh that sounded in perfect harmony with the music of the night.
“Wait,” Hunter said. “First, tell me something.”
She nodded and waited expectantly.
“Do you find the Northern gossip a faithful portrait of the powers I’m alleged to possess?”
Andrea closed her eyes as if thinking hard on the topic. Then she opened them and looked at him evenly. “Only that part which describes your behavior as intimidating, your manner as domineering and your conduct as ferocious—”
“I will have to be content with being more feared than loved, I suppose,” Hunter said good-naturedly, knowing she was intentionally goading him. He rather liked the gentle tone of their bantering for a change. “What did you think of me as a foe?” He crossed one leg over the other contentedly, waiting for her reply as if he regarded her as an old acquaintance whose opinion he valued.
Andrea took a moment to consider the question, apparently taking it very seriously. “I understood you to be a dangerous opponent, due in part to the close bond you hold with your men.”
“And wouldn’t you charge that as a fault to my character? Doesn’t it seem unwise to become close to men you may potentially have to hurl at the enemy and to their deaths?”
“I admit I never regarded it quite like that.” Andrea drew her brows together. “I thought of it more like a mother ferociously protecting her young at any cost.”
“My men would take great humor in the analogy.” Hunter laughed loudly. “I must remember to tell them.” He grew serious again. “What else?”
Andrea spoke quietly, and Hunter knew it was from the heart. “There was no one I respected more, nor wished to confront less.”
He smiled. “Ah. I will take that as a compliment.”
“Richly deserved, no doubt,” Andrea said dryly. “But since the assessment is based on a record of destruction and death, I’m not sure most would view it as praise.”
Hunter looked over at her surprised. “We are at war, Miss Evans. Therefore, any Yankee soldier who places a foot on our soil justly forfeits his life.”
Andrea waved her hand in the air. “Can nothing but blood wash away your fancied wrongs? Wouldn’t it be wiser to endure, rather than commit a worse crime than you resist?”
“Why should we endure?” Hunter inhaled deeply from his pipe, no longer put off by the way she dug in and defended her beliefs with uncommon and exceptional stubbornness. “The rebellion is caused by the North trying to preserve its forms of liberty. We are trying to preserve the rights of states and protect our people against robbery.”
Andrea laughed now, but it sounded forced. “The war is the fault of aggressive traitors. We seek only peace.”
“Yes, and you are determined to have that peace even if you must fight and kill every remaining Southern man for it,” Hunter said sarcastically, lighting his pipe again.
“It does seem a high price to pay.” Andrea spoke while staring thoughtfully at the night sky. “Men die, while glory and laurels are laid upon the shoulders of the commander who leads the charge.”
The front of Hunter’s chair hit the floor with a loud thunk as he leaned forward and looked straight into her eyes. “I would not have one of my men hurt for all the fame and glory in the world.”
Andrea blinked as if astonished at the sincerity of his tone. “But your men fight for glory. Why else would they continue to rush to such a sacrifice?”
“It is not glory for which they fight. Virginians would rather give up their lives than their honor or liberty.” Hunter leaned even closer, determined to convey his point. “Is it so unreasonable to believe in a cause, defend it, attempt to protect it, endeavor to preserve it, and—if necessary—die for it?”
Andrea shrugged. “Not if your viewpoint and philosophy are correct, I suppose.”
Hunter understood the intended barb, and decided to counter it with one of his own. “My philosophy on war is really quite simple.”
Andrea looked at him questioningly.
“Harass the enemy until they are glad to get out of my country.”
Leaning back in his chair, he waited for an angry retort, but the moon apparently had the power to dissipate Andrea’s combativeness tonight. Instead of arguing, she surprised him by smiling. “You make it sound easy Major, when in fact you are harassing an overwhelming enemy, which surrounds you and is in control of your country.” She crossed her arms and sank down deeper in her chair. “It seems a pity to engage in a war in which a soldier’s safest armor is his determination to fight.”
“Not just determination. We have cause and will.”
She glanced sideways at him. “And we, strength and means.”
“Numbers mean little to me.” Hunter stretched out his legs again. “It is no more difficult to move through an army of five thousand, than a camp of five.”
“Yes, when neither do they know if you are five thousand or five,” Andrea responded.
Hunter smiled appreciatively at her intuitive grasp of strategy and tactics, so uncommon for a woman. He watched as she stared musingly into the sky above, biting the inside of her cheek as she contemplated all that had been said. She was sitting right before him, yet she was suddenly as distant as the stars, seemingly trying to figure out how to solve the issue of the war herself.
“It is too bea
utiful a night to be thinking of war.” Hunter stood and stretched, then lowered himself onto the balcony railing.
Andrea turned her head to meet his gaze and smiled shyly, as if unnerved that he had been reading her mind. “On that point I can agree.”
She looked out over his shoulder. “Yet still you are thinking of it,” Hunter said. “I can tell by the look in your eyes.”
Andrea lowered her eyes to meet his, then raised them again. “I was just thinking how ironic it is that we go to war so that we may have peace.”
Hunter sighed, his tone so somber and cheerless that it made Andrea look over at him. “Yes, while we use man’s best to accomplish man’s worst.”
The two fell into a sudden, contemplative silence until Hunter spoke again. “We are not doing a very good job of not talking about the war.”
Andrea shrugged. “What else is there to talk about?”
Hunter stared up at the heavens and then lowered his gaze to her. “How about you?”
“Me?”
“Yes. You puzzle me. You are a complete contradiction.”
“The contradiction is only seeming. My convictions are firm.”
“The latter is accepted, the former is not.” He smiled. “Let me assure you, young lady, you are a paradox in every sense of the word.”
Andrea laughed half-heartedly at his words, as if to end his scrutiny, but he noticed the smile never quite reached her eyes. They held in their depths, as they always did, a solemn sadness that seemed reluctant to depart. Since the day he had met her, Hunter had found her complicated and elusive, and it seemed impossible, even now, for him to unravel her many traits. She was sometimes an innocent young lady, other times a cunning enemy, but always a complete mystery that revealed nothing even to his searching eyes.
He leaned closer. “Which tells the truth? Your lips or your eyes?”
Andrea turned her head away. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Your lips are smiling, but your eyes are not.” He chewed on the end of his pipe for a moment. “And I’m trying to decide which might be the real Andrea.”
Honor Bound (Shades of Gray Civil War Serial Trilogy Volume II) Page 14
