by Bobbi Smith
"Have you ever lived in a home?" Mark countered.
"I plan to be working in this one."
Mark eyed him skeptically, still not ready to trust him. "Why are you helping me? What's in it for you?"
"It's my calling," Logan answered as he looked up at the boy whose innocence and youth had been stolen from him.
Logan understood Mark's cynicism. He realized, too, that if Mark knew the truth about his own motives-that taking the money to the orphanage might win Forrester's thanks, but rescuing a child off the streets would provide him with real credibility-it would only have deepened his distrust of others. Logan recognized that Mark was a survivor, and though he was using him for his own purposes right now, ultimately the boy would be better off for it.
Logan realized his reasoning was cold and harshly logical, but he told himself this was war, and Mark was his means to an end. He wanted to learn everything he could about Adrian Forrester, and working from inside the orphanage would provide him with that opportunity. He took up the reins and, leading the youth on horseback, began the trek to the home.
Paul was upstairs in the boys' quarters on the third floor doing his cleaning chores with several of the other boys when he heard angry voices outside. He hurried to the window. Below on the sidewalk in front of the house, he could see several Union soldiers who looked like they were drunk arguing with two ladies. He recognized the women immediately as Miss Gabrielle and Miss Veronica, two friends of Miss Eden's who volunteered at the Haven and were just on their way home.
"You damn Southern women think you're better than us!" Yankee Corporal Tom Layton snarled, looming threateningly over them.
Gabrielle could smell the rank odor of liquor on his breath, and it disgusted her. She straight ened her shoulders and, lifting her head high, looked him straight in the eye.
"We don't think it, Corporal," she replied with dignity. "We know it."
"You stupid bitch!" Layton growled. "This city is ours. We conquered you!"
"You filthy Yankees may have conquered New Orleans, but you will never conquer our spirit." Veronica bravely defied him. "Gabrielle, let's go.
"Yes, Veronica. If you gentlemen will please excuse us?" Gabrielle gave them both a cold, dismissive look.
The women stepped into the street to walk around them, but the soldiers were enraged by their arrogance.
"I'll show you what conquered is!"
Layton reached out and grabbed Gabrielle. She cried out and struggled to break away, but his grip was bruising. Veronica tried to help her escape. She swung out at the hated Yankee, using her purse as a weapon, but the other soldier was there, snaring her wrist, stopping her attack with brutal force of his own.
"Let me go!" Veronica shouted.
"Help!" Gabrielle cried.
Paul had been watching from the window, and his anger had grown by the minute as the Yankees were disrespectful to the ladies who he knew were kind and gentle. When the drunken soldiers dared to lay their hands upon them, he was desperate to help them in any way he could. He turned from the window to look for something he could throw at the Yankee attackers to drive them away.
"I hate them filthy damn Yankees!" Paul swore, his eyes wild as the furious need to save the women possessed him.
"What is it?" one of the other boys asked, seeing his rage. "What's the matter?"
Paul didn't take the time to answer, he just grabbed up the only thing handy he could use as a weapon to defend the ladies-the slop jar.
"Paul-what are you doing?" another boy asked.
Paul didn't hesitate, but leaned as far out the window as he could and heaved the heavy china pot, contents and all, at the soldiers who were manhandling the defenseless women.
"Leave them alone!" Paul shouted at the two, determined to do everything he could to stop the savage Yankees from hurting Miss Gabrielle and Miss Veronica.
Paul was thrilled when he saw that his aim was true. The heavy pot bounced off the porch roof and struck one of the soldiers, knocking him away from the woman he'd held, freeing her. The contents drenched both soldiers and partially soaked the women as well before the pot crashed to the ground and shattered.
Freed by their unseen savior's attack, Veronica and Gabrielle fled the scene, unmindful of the way their rescue had been accomplished. They were just thankful to be escaping their abusers.
"What the hell?" Layton raged as he struggled to right himself, still a bit dizzy from the glancing blow of the chamber pot.
"Where did that come from?" Private Rich Moran was furious and disgustingly wet as he looked up at the building, trying to catch sight of their attacker.
He could see a group of boys looking down from a window on the third floor and knew the culprit had to be among them. Leading the way, Moran rushed toward the front door of the building. He was intent on catching the one who'd done this and when he did, he was going to beat him within an inch of his life.
"What the hell is this place?" Layton raged, the vile odor that clung to him feeding his mindless fury.
Moran saw the sign out front and swore loudly. "It's the damned home for the Reb orphans."
That knowledge only made them angrier and even more determined. The two didn't bother to knock. Their fury had taken them past any trace of civility. They tried to open the door and found it locked, so undeterred and in a drunken rage, they kicked at it full-force, breaking it open, and rushed inside.
Eden had been in the kitchen talking to the cook about the children's evening meal when she heard the sound of a crash in the front hall. Thinking one of the children had been hurt, she ran to the front of the house to help, only to find two Union soldiers barging into the Haven.
"What are you doing here? What do you want?" Eden demanded, confronting them. She was shocked by the damage they'd done to the front door and knew sudden fear. She'd heard the stories of Yankees raiding private homes, but she never thought they would invade an orphanage. There were no riches or valuables here to steal. The only priceless treasures at the Haven were the children.
"Get the hell outta my way, woman!" Layton ordered as he and Moran advanced on her.
Eden stood her ground in the middle of the hall, refusing to be cowed by their threatening looks. She was in charge of the Haven while Adrian was away, and she would protect the children at any and all cost. "You must leave at once! You have no right to be here!"
The evil-looking men kept coming, ignoring her demands.
As they got closer, Eden saw that their clothing was wet, and she smelled the horrible stench about them. She wondered what had happened to them. There was no time for Eden to ask, though, for they pushed right past her. They headed straight for the staircase where some of the children were standing, having come down from the second and third floors to see what the shouting was about.
"You can't go up there!" Eden told them, giving chase and grabbing one of the Yankees by the arm to try to stop him.
Layton turned on her and shoved her roughly from him. "Stay out of my way, you stupid bitch!"
Eden was thrown back against the wall as they moved closer to the orphans. The children shrieked at seeing Miss Eden so mistreated, and they started to panic.
Eden wasn't about to give up. She couldn't let these two harm the children! Chasing after the two invaders, she grabbed at them again, desperate to stop them.
"Stop! They're only children! You can't harm them! Get out of the Haven right now!"
Layton didn't even think. He was too drunk and too furious-and too wet. First the two women on the street had defied him, and then the boy upstairs had dared to throw the chamber pot at him. He turned on the female who was trying to stop him from exacting his revenge and backhanded her full-force. He had had enough.
The power of his blow knocked Eden down. She fell to the floor, stunned, her lip bloodied and her cheek bruised by the Yankee's violent assault.
"Miss Eden! No!" A cry of absolute terror went up from the children.
They all wanted to go t
o her and help, but the mean Yankees were coming after them now. Frantic to escape, they ran shrieking up the steps and out of sight. They had to hide from the dreaded, hated soldiers who caused nothing but pain and terror in their lives. Even the cook who'd come to see what the noise was about, fled back to the safety of the kitchen.
Eden struggled to fight back. Outrage pounded through her as she tasted blood. How dare these animals invade the Haven and threaten the children this way! Miss Jenny was upstairs teaching, but the middle-aged widow would be no deterrent to these animals anyway.
Eden realized she was the only one who could keep the children safe from these madmen, and she sorely regretted that she didn't have a gun close at hand for she certainly wouldn't have hesitated to use it right then. Adrian had suggested keeping one in the office, but she'd worried that one of the children might find it. After today, that was going to change, but for right now, it was up to her to find a way to save them and she was unarmed.
Eden started to get up, unmindful of the blood that seeped from her injured lip. Her only concern was to stop the drunken soldiers before any child was hurt.
It was then, at her darkest moment as she was struggling to summon the strength she needed to fight them, that the deep, authoritative voice rang out in command from the doorway behind her.
"What is going on here?"
Layton and Moran had just started up the steps when they heard the man's call. They stopped to look back, fearful that it might be their commanding officer. They saw only a tall, dark-haired stranger in a black suit standing just inside the door.
"It ain't none of your God-damned business what's going on here! Come on, Moran!" Layton swore at the man who dared to interrupt them. He didn't know who the man was, and he didn't care. He had only one thing on his mind, and that was to find the boy who'd thrown the chamber pot down on him.
"My name is Reverend Matthews, and God's business is my business." Logan glared up at the two drunks as he spoke with bold authority.
The two saw the Bible the man was carrying and realized he really was a preacher and might be able to cause trouble for them.
"Some little Reb bastard up on the third floor threw a piss pot down on Layton and me when we were out in the street," Moran snarled. "I'm going to find him and beat the living hell out of him!"
"Watch your language, Private, there are children and a lady present," Logan reprimanded him.
Layton snorted in derision and sneered at Eden, "That ain't no lady. She's a whore just like the rest of the Southern bitches around here, and there ain't no children in this place worth anything. This is a Reb orphanage, ain't it?"
"Why, you-!" In a blind fury, Eden got to her feet and started toward them. She felt a little dizzy, but she was determined to do her best to keep them away from the boys and girls.
"Stay here, Mark," Logan ground out in low tones to the youth who was standing outside on the porch just behind him.
Logan went after the woman. He could tell she was filled with righteous anger, but she was defenseless against these two. He knew their kindthey were mean, ugly drunks, and he wanted her out of harm's way.
His gaze never left the soldiers as he moved quickly down the hall to the woman's side, taking her arm to stop her advance on the two. He took one quick glance down at her to make sure she hadn't been seriously injured. Her lip was bloodied and there was a mark on her cheek, but otherwise she appeared to be all right. Their gazes met for a moment, and he could see the outrage in her dark-eyed gaze. Satisfied that her injuries weren't serious, he looked back at the soldiers who were watching him cautiously.
"You men are to leave this place. Now." Logan's order was firm and brooked no argument.
Eden stared up at the stranger, amazed by the power of his presence. He had declared himself to be a minister, and to her that meant he was a man of peace and love. Yet here he was, confronting these drunken soldiers without any fear at all, acting almost as if he were their commanding officer.
"Like hell we will! Some boy up on the third floor deserves-" Layton started to argue.
"He deserves to be punished," Logan interrupted his tirade, "and I will find the youth and reprimand him myself, but I wonder what you did to provoke such an attack from a mere child? The children who make their home here are little more than babies. You, sir, are a soldier of the United States, and yet you have come into this haven and beaten an innocent woman who was only trying to defend the young ones in her charge."
"She shouldn't have tried to stop me from finding the little bastard who did this!" the corporal said hotly, turning back toward Logan in a threatening move. "It's her own damned fault she got beat! She's just lucky I didn't hit her harder!"
At his words, rage tore through Logan. There were few things lower in the world than a man who would hit a woman, and right then he couldn't think of a one.
Logan tightened his grip on his Bible. He had hidden a small derringer within the Holy Book in case he was ever trapped in a desperate situation, and he was beginning to think he might have to use it now.
He didn't want to use the gun.
He had come here to establish himself at the Haven as the generous, peace-loving Reverend Matthews.
If he resorted to violence at this moment, his cover would be destroyed before he even had the chance to begin his investigation, and he couldn't let that happen.
Determined to try to intimidate the drunks one last time before he gave up and overpowered them, Logan strode confidently forward, never looking away from the two troublemakers.
"You have already wreaked enough havoc here. Get out now." It was a command, and the look in his eyes was cold and deadly enough to back it up. "Leave this place and never come back."
"Who the hell are you to tell us what to do? You ain't got no right to order us around!" Moran was defiant of the minister. "We don't have to listen to you! You ain't nobody!"
"Perhaps I should send for the authorities and notify them of the damage you've caused here- to the building and to the children. I'm sure the young ones who witnessed your savagery now have an even lower opinion of Yankees than they did before. You've done your country no service or honor by your degenerate behavior, gentlemen. Now get out and don't ever come back!"
Layton and Moran exchanged glances. They considered fighting the man. After all, he was only a preacher. They stood their ground for a moment longer, then seeing the fierceness of the look in the man's eyes, they backed down. Their captain wouldn't understand them beating up on a minister. Stalking down the hall past the minister and the woman, they went out through the broken front door, cursing out loud as they went. They gave the young boy on the porch a dirty look as they passed him.
Logan followed the two all the way to the door to watch them leave. He didn't trust them, and he wanted to make certain they were really gone from the property.
Mark was more than a little impressed with the way the minister had handled everything. He had always thought preachers were just smooth talkers, always spouting off about the Lord but never really doing much of anything to help anybody. But this man-this Reverend Matthews really was different. He had helped him, and now he had come to the defense of the lady inside, not to mention the children. While he'd been living on the streets, Mark had witnessed a lot of confrontations, and they'd all ended in violence. Reverend Matthews had just faced down two very dangerous men, and he hadn't lifted a hand in anger to do it.
"Reverend Matthews? Is everything all right?" Mark asked, staring up at him in awe.
"Now it is," Logan said confidently, although secretly he was relieved that the two had gone on their own. He held out an arm to Mark, realizing the boy needed some reassurance right then.
Mark immediately went to his side. He looked up at him, respect shining in his eyes.
"Let's go see to the lady. She needs our help," Logan told him, drawing him inside the Haven with him.
This wasn't quite the way Logan had meant to make himself known at the Homeless
Haven Orphans' Asylum, but there was no way to change what had just happened. He wondered where Adrian Forrester was and found he was a bit angry that the man had not been there to help the young woman protect the children. He wondered, too, if the woman had ever considered keeping a weapon on hand for just such incidents as what had happened today. He realized, though, that as a "minister" he could hardly recommend she arm herself. It didn't seem quite the godly thing to do.
Eden was certain the children were frightened, and she wanted to comfort them. She was just starting toward the steps when the man who'd called himself Reverend Matthews came toward her accompanied by a young boy.
Logan said. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine-I think." She stopped as Logan joined her.
Mark stood quietly by, looking on.
Eden was still torn between fury and shock over the soldiers' invasion and attack on her. She was even more stunned by the actions of this complete stranger who'd appeared out of nowhere to save her and the children. She had no idea who he was, but she would forever be grateful.
Logan set his Bible aside, then took out his handkerchief and pressed it gently to her bloodied lip.
His kind gesture touched Eden even more. She lifted her hand to hold the handkerchief in place. When she did, he stepped slightly away from her.
"Are you my guardian angel?" Eden asked, gazing up into the face of the darkly handsome, powerful man.
"I can be if you'd like me to be," Logan said, a slight smile quirking his lips at her question.
In that moment, Eden thought she'd never seen anyone more attractive. From his ravendark hair to the hard, lean line of his jaw, he looked every bit like what she'd always imagined the fierce warrior St. Michael the Archangel would look like. All that was missing were his wings, and she was almost tempted to look at his back just to make sure. This man was strong and powerful, a glorious warrior, a defender of justice and of the innocent. And he had just chased the evil men from the orphanage without even using a weapon.
