Soldier in Her Lap

by Haley Whitehall

  “Why?”

  “He’s very protective of me. He’ll jump to conclusions.”

  “It doesn’t help I’m not wearing any trousers, either,” Lucas said.

  “Actually you’re not wearing anything.”

  Lifting the blanket, he peeked underneath. Quickly he sealed the blanket around him, grasping for some form of modesty.

  Standing, she took his mostly dry shirt off the back of her chair and handed it to him. “You should at least put your shirt on.”

  “Yes, miss,” he said, quickly clothing his upper half and then reached out and patted her hand. To his relief she didn’t pull away. “I doubt he’ll really shoot me. He might threaten to….”

  Miss Carpenter did not look convinced. “He’s always mean when he’s hung over and he drank heavy last night. He won’t be in the mood to listen to reason.” Twisting the apron fabric around her fingers, she chewed on her lip. “I don’t know what to do.”

  Maybe he should take the threat seriously. “Does he have a gun?”

  “A musket.”

  “Maybe you better fetch it.”

  Nodding, she silently left the room.

  Her hips swayed as she walked, drawing his attention. Usually he paid attention to a woman’s front, not giving much thought to her backside. Of course, Miss Carpenter wasn’t just any woman. Besides, her round, plump bottom would give him a lot to hold onto if they ever…. He quickly stopped that train of thought. Her papa didn’t cotton to strangers; he surely wouldn’t appreciate it if he took his daughter’s innocence even though she looked of marrying age. If he got that carried away, he’d deserve to get shot by her old man.

  Rubbing his hand across his eyes, he tried to work the thought out of his mind. She had been right about him not seeing a woman for quite some time. Miss Carpenter presented him with a powerful temptation, a temptation he’d have to resist for both of their sakes.

  Lord, he didn’t want to cause trouble for such a sweet girl. As soon as he could walk, he’d be on his way. As a deserter, he’d be putting her in danger the longer he stayed here, putting himself in danger too. He couldn’t sugarcoat that fact.

  He needed to keep moving, make it back home, stay with friends he trusted to hide him. After surviving this war, he could pick up the pieces of his life, resuming work on his ranch. Burying himself in work, he’d forget about the horrors of the past years.

  Sophia held her breath and sneaked over to the front door, taking the musket down off the peg. Papa continued to snore softly. This would be a good day for him to sleep past breakfast. Would she be so lucky?

  Mr. Grady looked in no condition to defend himself without a firearm. She didn’t care what Papa did to her, but Mr. Grady hadn’t done a thing wrong except get shot by the Yankees.

  She padded back into Papa’s bedroom. Mr. Grady had propped himself up to a sitting position, his back resting against the headboard, a blanket now covering him up to his chest. She glanced out the window, and the height of the sun suggested the hour close to seven a.m. Walking around the bed, she cupped her hand over the top of the lamp and blew out the flame.

  Mr. Grady looked paler than she’d first thought. At least his fever had passed. He’d lost a lot of blood. It would take a while for him to regain his strength.

  “It is already loaded,” she said, handing him the musket. “Papa keeps it that way.”

  “Thank you.” He laid it on the bed beside him.

  She stared at him a second longer than polite. His wet hair had dried to a wheat color. Would it be soft under my fingers? Or coarse?

  Examining her apron, she counted all the bloodstains. Better not show that to Papa first thing in the morning. Hiding it under the bed would have to do for now. She’d try to wash it later.

  “Sophia!” Papa’s voice bellowed, shaking the rafters.

  She winced. “I’ll be back soon.”

  Mr. Grady nodded. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said, and then laughed. The pleasant noise eased the knots in her stomach.

  Mr. Grady could handle Papa. There was nothing for her to worry about—except how to break the news about their boarder.

  “I’m coming, Papa,” she shouted, and scurried into the hallway.

  “Get breakfast going, girl. I’m hungry.”

  “Yes, sir.” She headed over to the stove, avoiding him. Orders and gruffness was all she heard from him; he never spoke with any love in his voice.

  Mr. Grady didn’t talk to her like that. Didn’t treat her like a woman too poor to give a hoot about. The soft, caring quality in his tone stirred her. She could listen to him talk for hours.

  Heavy footsteps behind her warned her of Papa’s presence too late. His hand struck the back of her head. “You not awake yet, girl?” he growled. “I said to start breakfast.”

  Sophia chewed on her lip and didn’t respond. Nothing she said would deter his angry mood. Without a word, she started boiling the chicory coffee and then sliced up some more vegetables. Every meal looked identical these days, but they were lucky to have any food at all.

  Making three plates, she set two on the table and then grabbed the third.

  “You planning on eating two breakfasts?” Papa asked.

  “No. We have a boarder. A wounded soldier came to the house last night—”

  “What?” Papa hollered, his hand wrapped tightly around the handle of his fork.

  “He was shot, bleeding real bad, Papa. If I didn’t help him, he would have died.”

  “One of our soldiers, I hope.”

  “Yes, sir.” She knew better than to assist a Yankee. Papa wouldn’t have stood for that at all. “He’s in your room.”

  Papa drew rapid breaths, his skin turning redder. “I reckon I better go meet this man. Why didn’t you wake me up?”

  “You were passed out drunk. How was I supposed to wake you up? And even if I did, you were in no condition to assist me.”

  Papa leapt up as if he’d been struck with a hot poker. Grabbing her by the hair, he yanked her head sideways. “You know I don’t want you alone with no man,” he growled in her ear. “You wake me if we get late visitors from now on. You understand, girl?”

  “Yes, sir,” she said, tears running out the corners of her eyes. His gruff hold made her scalp burn.

  Grunting, he let go. “I best go see what damage has been done.”

  What did he mean by that? She’d helped him not hurt him and he certainly hadn’t hurt her.

  Papa charged down the hallway. Sophia ran behind, the plate in her hands. “Papa, please calm down,” she pleaded.

  Lucas clenched his teeth, listening to Sophia and her father’s loud discussion. Trouble brewed, and the storm headed his way. When Mr. Carpenter burst into the room, Lucas met him with forced calm. Chest tightening, he rubbed his sweaty hands on the sheets.

  Mr. Carpenter glared at him as though assessing another wolf invading his territory. His top lip twitched. “Who are you?” he snarled.

  “My name is Lucas Grady, sir. Your daughter kindly sewed up my wound last night.” He kept his voice steady and even despite the thudding of his heart.

  “And where is this wound?” As soon as he said that he noticed the trousers on the floor. Picking them up, he shook them in the air. “Where is this wound?” he asked, louder, a vein bulging on the side of his neck.

  Lucas met Mr. Carpenter’s eyes. “My limb, sir.”

  “And she couldn’t just cut your trousers to get to it?”

  “I’m afraid not, sir.” Mr. Grady’s hand slowly gripped the musket. “It was above my knee.”

  Both of Mr. Carpenter’s hands folded into fists.

  Lucas’s lungs closed shut. The man would have to be crazy to attack him. Going up against a musket barehanded would be suicide. His insides quaked. Over the past years he’d killed too many men; he didn’t want to kill Mr. Carpenter, too. Especially in front of his daughter. He prayed the man would back down.

  “Well, you’re sewed up now,” Mr. Carpente
r said finally. “You can get out of my bed. In fact, you can get out of my house!”

  “Papa, he’s not strong enough,” Sophia said, her voice cracking. “He lost a lot of blood.”

  “Fine, he can rest up in the barn.”

  “The barn! His wound could get infected.”

  “I don’t mind going to the barn, Miss Carpenter,” Lucas said, taking the plate from her hands. If I have the strength to get there.

  “My decision is final, Sophia.” Mr. Carpenter turned to leave.

  She gritted her teeth. “It isn’t right, Papa.”

  “I have plenty of alcohol. He can make sure it doesn’t get infected.”

  Sophia huffed, looking from Mr. Grady and then back at her papa. Standing in front of the door, she blocked the exit.

  “Get out of the way, girl,” he growled.

  “Not until you change your mind.” She spoke slowly adding force to each word.

  “Oh is that so? I think I can find another way out.” Grabbing her wrist, he yanked her forward with such force she lost her balance and dropped to the floor. “You mind me, girl.”

  Lucas seethed, a slithering sensation crawling under his skin. As soon as he regained enough strength, he’d settle with that man. Damn him. Picking up the musket at his side, he pointed it at the ceiling and pulled the trigger.

  Both Miss Carpenter and her father stared at him, wide-eyed.

  Lucas glared at the old man. “If you harm another hair on her head, I’ll kill you,” he growled. No father should push his daughter around like that. Damn it. The man treated her like his slave.

  “Are you all right, Miss Carpenter?” he asked, wishing he could help her to her feet.

  Mr. Carpenter did not respond. Once his shock faded, he sulked out the door.

  “Yes,” she said, standing. Drawing a deep breath, she looked at the floor sheepishly and dusted off her dress. Once she fixed her appearance, she approached him with a half-hearted smile. “You don’t have to go to the barn till after breakfast. Oh, I’ll get you some coffee.”

  He touched her hand, stopping her. Her palms were rough and callused, but the back was delightfully smooth and soft. “No, don’t.”

  “You don’t want coffee?” She looked into his eyes, her ears turning pink.

  Reluctantly he withdrew his fingers not wanting to make her uncomfortable. “I don’t want your old man to hurt you again.”

  “Oh.”

  “I can eat breakfast with some water,” he said, indicating the pitcher by the washbasin. “Is it full?”

  “Yes. That’s a good idea. Papa’s probably decided on a liquid breakfast now.”

  She poured him a cup and passed it to him. With his fork he pointed to the bedroom door. “He’s a tough man to live with.”

  “Sometimes it is almost unbearable.” Looking away from him, she peered out the window. “I dream of getting away from him, of getting away from here,” she said, her voice ghostlike.

  Her words tugged at the strings protecting his heart. They unraveled, laying him bare for her taking.

  Sophia let out a deep sigh. The mournful sound stirred his protective instincts. He couldn’t hold back any longer. “I’d like to help you get out of Clark Springs if I can.”

  Chapter Four

  Lucas lay in an empty stall in the barn on a bed of straw. After he’d offered to help her escape, she hadn’t said a word. Was she afraid? Perhaps she didn’t believe him. Maybe he’d read the signs wrong and she didn’t have any interest in him.

  The more he thought on it, the more confused he became. Staying in the stinking barn did not help clear his mind. The air smelled of dust, dried grass, and horses. The Carpenters had an old nag in the stall next to his. The buckskin mare’s ribs rippled under her skin. Likely she wouldn’t be able to put in much labor before she dropped dead.

  What a mess he’d gotten himself into. It was going to be hard enough for him to get away on his own, and now he’d promised to help Miss Carpenter, too. That was, if he could get her to accept his assistance. She lived dirt poor here, and she’d die dirt poor and probably die young if she didn’t escape.

  He couldn’t let that happen. Sophia deserved a better life…maybe with him.

  “Sophia,” he said her name softly, looking forward to her next visit. She brightened up the stable with her smile and vitality a lot more than the dim kerosene lamp. During the last few years, every day had seemed dim. His life had taken one dark turn after another. Sophia could be the light at the end of the tunnel. Maybe he could indeed find happiness again.

  Picking up a rock, he threw it as hard as he could. It landed on the ground with a thud. Loneliness and boredom ate at him, leaving him with little to do but rehash the war and think about Sophia. Every time his mind veered back to the battle, he reined it to halt and pointed it back to the spirited farmwoman. They’d sparsely spoken since he’d moved out of the house. She was always uneasy and in a hurry to leave.

  He wouldn’t put it past her father to be standing outside listening in on their conversations. The bastard watched her more closely than a banker watched a vault filled with gold. To him, she was merely a possession. A possession he intended to keep at all costs.

  Miss Carpenter spoke more with her eyes and her smiles than her guarded words. When they were together, the air hummed. Surely she could feel it, too.

  Sophia. What a beautiful name. It sounded like the name of a plantation belle.

  Speaking of his belle, Miss Carpenter walked in, carrying a plate of vegetables and wearing a smile. How she could be so happy in a place like this, he didn’t know. It made her even all the more attractive.

  “I brought you something to eat, Mr. Grady,” she said. “There’s not much around here, but you can have all the greens you want.”

  He laughed softly. “My mama would be pleased. I was never fond of vegetables growing up.” Reaching up, he took the plate and their fingers brushed. “Thank you, miss.”

  “It isn’t much to mend on,” she said, and then sighed. “A hearty chicken soup would be best. I’ve almost forgotten what meat tastes like.”

  “I might be able to shoot some game for you,” he offered. “At the least some birds.”

  Her eyes brightened, reminding him of twinkling stars. “Oh, that would be wonderful. But you’re in no condition to do that now. All you have to do is rest.”

  “Yes, miss,” he said. Her stern voice, laced with concern, even sounded like a wife’s.

  She lit up his drab living quarters like a glass chandelier, adding class to the barrels that served as chairs. Briefly he imagined her on his arm, entertaining guests with her beauty and her wit.

  “I’ll rest until you tell me I can start helping you with your chores. You look beat.” Despite the wide-brimmed straw hat she wore, her face was sunburned.

  “I’ve been out weeding the garden. Got to keep those plants growing.”

  “Your father help?”

  Her lips pursed together, she shook her head.

  Of course he didn’t. And he noticed the fresh bruises on her cheek. Damn it.

  “I need to talk to you.” He looked Sophia in the eye. “It is important.”

  “What could be so important?”

  “I find you very charming,” he said, sweeping a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’d like to court you, Miss Carpenter.”

  Sophia’s cheeks turned scarlet. Her gaze darted to the open door. She held a finger to her lips and he nodded.

  “Tonight,” she whispered. “I’ll sneak out when he’s asleep.”

  A secret meeting? His heart jumped in his chest making him a little lightheaded. The sun couldn’t go down fast enough.

  ***

  Sophia sat on a barrel across from him, fidgeting, her hands resting in her lap. For a second she looked like nothing more than a scared little girl. If only he could wipe all that fear and worry off her face, make her feel protected and comfortable.

  Sophia glanced at the closed barn door. Was
she going to bolt and run before even speaking a word other than hello? “I…uh…I shouldn’t be here.”

  “Why is that, Miss Carpenter? I promise I don’t bite.”

  The corners of her lips twitched. “I know that. My papa…he wouldn’t approve of us meeting like this. He’s always afraid a man’s going to take advantage of me.” As soon as she said that, she bowed her head.

  “Some men may be tempted to, Miss Carpenter. You have a good right to be wary, but I promise I will be the perfect gentleman.”

  Slowly, Sophia raised her head as if being pulled by a string.

  “That’s better. I like to look into your beautiful eyes.”

  Finally, her lips parted and she graced him with a smile.

  “Tell me more about your father.”

  She peered at the door again before returning her attention to him. “That won’t take long. All he’s good for is drinking and telling outlandish stories.”

  His stomach knotted. He’d been afraid of that. “You deserve a better life than being stuck here on this farm.”

  Sophia laughed.

  Did she not take him seriously? “If you’ll let me, I’d like to change that, Miss Carpenter—I’d like to help you get out of here.”

  Tilting her head, she gave him a probing look. “And how do you plan to change that, Mr. Grady?”

  “As I said earlier, I’d like to court you. That is, if you’ll have me.”

  Slowly Lucas’s words sank in. He wants to court me! It hadn’t seemed real the first time he’d said it. The second time, she believed him. Still, she just stared at his handsome features, suddenly struck mute. Her heart fluttered while dread flooded her veins. The conflicting emotions created a haze in her mind. She fought through the fog to piece together her thoughts. What should she say? Papa would never approve. But could they court in secret? Maybe he really was an answer to her prayers.

  “Oh…I…um.” She smiled coyly. “I would like that, Mr. Grady. I’m afraid Papa wouldn’t though.”

  “Just as long as you approve. I’m sure I can deal with your father.”

  Excitement threaded through her. Was she finally getting a man? A handsome, caring and courageous man at that. God had outdone himself when he’d answered her prayer.