7: The Seven Deadly Sins

by Bach, Tia Silverthorne

  With their house in sight, he took her in his arms. “I know exactly what you mean.” He leaned in close and pressed his lips to hers. Soft at first, and then more insistent. He pulled back. “Have I mentioned how much I’ve missed you?”

  “Yes, I believe you have.” She giggled. “I can feel just how much.”

  He put her down and took her hand, leading her up the stairs and inside. During his travels back home with his brother, they talked about moving her into the main house. It was too dangerous for her to be alone with the baby coming. Benji had been staying with her, but they’d both be more comfortable where there were no drafts. Plus, Thomas knew Maude would look after Casey like a child. Maude loved to mother.

  He didn’t look forward to breaking the news to Casey. She loved her independence and their little home, no matter how small or dilapidated. More than anything, he wanted to show her how much he loved her. The other news could wait.

  Kicking open the door, he pulled her inside and rubbed a hand on her belly. “Are you sure you’re okay to, well…”

  “More than okay,” she said, moving his hand from her belly to her breast. “But I have a favor to ask first.” She reached up and ran a hand through his beard. “Would you mind if I cut most of this off? I miss my husband’s face.”

  She’d always hated his beard. He wasn’t fond of it, either—the darn thing made him itch like mad—but there was no time for personal grooming at war. Some of the men would give him grief for coming back with nothing but stubble, but he couldn’t deny her.

  “Anything for you.”

  Like a child with a new toy, she jumped a little and let out a small squeal. “Okay, let me get some hot water started.”

  Their house was originally built for his father’s mother, who died only months after Thomas’s mother. It had some conveniences not found in the other houses on the property, those reserved for the slaves and staff. It had a cast iron heater for cold nights, and there was a small area on top for warming food or water. Usually, the couple ate in the main house, but they could make tea and other things in their own home. Casey put the silver teapot on to warm the water.

  “So, why don’t you get out of these dirty traveling clothes? I’ll wash you, and then trim your beard.” She trailed a finger down the front of his shirt.

  “We won’t get to the clipping if you start bathing me.”

  She began to unbutton his shirt. “Bath first, clipping later. Deal?”

  “No deal.”

  With as much control as he could muster, he took her mouth, backing her into the bedroom. After he finally managed to get her dress off, always a tedious process, they spent the next hour exploring each other, knowing it would be the last time for a while. No inch of skin was left untouched. Thomas started gentle, worried about his own need and the baby, but Casey’s moans spurred him to push further, to take both of them to new heights.

  They lay in each other’s arms, moist with sweat and breathing a little heavier.

  “Did I mention how much I’ve missed you?” Thomas asked.

  “Maybe once or twice,” she said as she scooted closer to him. “Now, about that beard.” She stood, pulling the sheet with her as she left the room.

  Thomas sat up, enjoying her every movement. A grin spread over his face as he imagined more ways to revel in her before he left. With mock embarrassment, and a giggle when he patted the bed, she threw a towel at his growing desire. He ripped the material away, leaving himself exposed, and wrapped it around his neck, his hands gripping each side of the fabric.

  “Come here, my love.”

  “When the beard goes, I’ll reward you with many pleasures,” Casey said as she laid the wet rag, bowl with warm water, and clippers next to the bed.

  She sat in front of him, with a few supplies in hand, letting the sheet fall and exposing her pale breasts. All she wore was a simple necklace adorned with two silver bars. With all the earlier rolling around, her hair was slightly tangled in the jewelry. He took the chain in one hand and used the other one to free the captured strands, knowing how much the piece meant to her. Her father had bought it the day she was born, or so the story went, and she’d worn it for as long as she could remember. When they were married, Casey told Thomas it represented the two of them and their love.

  Once he freed her hair, he pushed it behind her ear. Then, caressing her skin with slow movements, he leaned into her, brushing his lips against hers. As he continued down her neck, she pulled away, giggling.

  “Let me focus.” She repositioned the sheet to cover herself and placed the bowl between them. After clipping away most of the hair, she wiped his face with the warm rag, mainly to get any stray hairs. “So much better.” She caressed his cheek. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.” He leaned closer and pulled the sheet down. “And we still have some time before dinner.”

  An hour later, they got dressed.

  “There’s something I want to show you.” She led him into the next room.

  Rounding the corner, he saw a wooden crib with a beautiful blanket made out of varying shades of blue thread.

  “It took me several months to make it. Isn’t it gorgeous?” She rubbed her hands on the material. “Oh, and Zebadiah made the crib.”

  It was time to tell her. “I’m going to have Zebadiah move everything you need into the main house. I’ll arrange for everything after dinner. You’ll be safer there. Nicholas already asked Benji to stay there, too. Close by, in case you need him.”

  He noticed her back stiffen as she let go of the blanket.

  “You do understand this is for the best, right? Just until I get home.”

  She faced him, her eyes locking onto his. “Then, what? We come back here?”

  Not if he had anything to do with it. He suppressed the thought and focused on enjoying the dwindling time he had left with his wife.

  He slipped out of their bed. When she reached for him, he reminded her again how much he loved her and that he would be back soon.

  “Take care of yourself and our baby,” he whispered.

  He kissed her, and then made his way into the living room to grab his bag. It was still dark outside, but he knew Nicholas would be eager to leave. Thomas walked outside but hesitated. His every movement felt labored, as if he were walking through cement. If only he could stay.

  He forced himself to move forward, and when he arrived at the stables, his brother was already preparing their horses.

  “Did you get everything arranged for her to move into the main house?” Nicholas asked.

  “Yes, I took care of that after dinner last night.”

  “We have a long ride ahead of us. We’ll meet back up with our unit in Virginia.”

  “I assume you made all the plans for Father’s burial,” Thomas said. Even with their acrimonious relationship, Thomas felt guilty for leaving before his father was laid in the ground. But Nicholas had insisted.

  “Everything is taken care of.”

  Thomas didn’t look forward to the week or so on horseback, but he knew they had to go. He allowed himself one last glance back toward the house where his wife lay sleeping.

  Date: July 1-3, 1863

  Location: Gettysburg, Pennsylvania

  Weeks of travel and planning filled their days. First, they arrived in Richmond. They joined with several groups there, including many from their own regiment, and heard detailed new plans. General Robert E. Lee planned to march them through Maryland and into Pennsylvania. His health was bad, and several more generals became involved.

  Soon, Thomas and Nicholas found themselves in Gettysburg, in a battle such as they’d never seen before. Their goal was to take the town and change the tides of the war. But the day was brutal, and many men were lost, though Thomas caught rumblings the South declared the day a victory.

  Everywhere around him, he heard voices raised in concern. From the lowest-ranking man on the field to the highest-ranking one on horse, there seemed to be little agreement on
how best to continue their efforts.

  That evening, holed up in a tent with his men, Nicholas came by and requested an audience with his brother.

  When he stepped outside, Nicholas kept walking. It was obvious Thomas was to follow, and he understood the underlying meaning. His brother wanted Thomas out of earshot from his men.

  Once they were about a quarter of a mile away, Nicholas spoke. “I wanted to let you know the plan. Major General Pickett is on his way. We have more men, so if we can break the Union, we can win.”

  “Nothing about today makes me think we are close to victory. I lost many of my men, and several more are wounded. How am I supposed to inspire them to get back up and put in another day of fighting tomorrow? So many of them are missing their families and wondering why they’re even here, putting their lives on the line.” Thomas paced. Since leaving home again, he’d been questioning a lot himself. He was a man of duty and spirit, but he had one goal: make it back home to his wife and child. It had been nearly two months since he last saw her. His son had been born a month after Thomas left, but he’d only gotten word from a courier just over a week before. Casey had named their son Thomas Samuel Anderson. A junior. Tommy for short. Or, so Thomas assumed, since she had called their little one that during Thomas’s brief trip home. The day his father died.

  Everything Thomas did going forward would be for them. Not for some Confederate cause. And certainly not because his brother thought it was for the best.

  “Your job is to get them back to the front of that line tomorrow. Pickett isn’t due to get here for another day. We need to keep fighting until he arrives. There are plans in place. General Lee believes if we win Gettysburg, this war won’t go on much longer. We win. It’s almost over.”

  “That’s a huge if, especially the way things have been going. I need to give my men a reason. Hell, half of them don’t have a vested interest in slavery. We lost over five hundred men today. Five hundred! And that’s just our men. I don’t know about other regiments.”

  Nicholas stepped closer to his brother, within inches of his face. “You’ve lost men before. Focus on your wife and son. We fight for what we’ve always fought for. For the Southern way. Do you think our land will be as profitable if I have to go out and pay men to work the land and hire staff?”

  Of course that was all his brother cared about. After spending the last few years honoring their father’s wishes, Thomas only served to protect a man obsessed with money. A man with no family; a man who only cared about himself. If that’s the Southern way, then to hell with it, Thomas thought, anger brewing in his blood. “Most of my men don’t have money. They’re fighting for their families, because they feel a duty to their state. They don’t fight for the right to have slaves. Hell, Lincoln freed all of them earlier this year!”

  “We don’t honor anything that man does! He’s not our president, so I don’t care what proclamations he makes. It means nothing!” The words came out of Nicholas with so much venom, spit flew into Thomas’s face.

  Wiping away the nasty film, he stood his ground. “Well, I don’t care about profit. I have a different bottom line than you do. I know I can run the land with most of our people in place. They deserve to make some money. We’ve never treated them poorly. They know that. They won’t leave us.”

  Even as he spoke the words, he prayed they were true.

  “You’re so naïve. You’ve always been stronger than you are smart. That’s why I look out for you.” Nicholas extended his hand and placed it on his brother’s shoulder.

  Thomas swatted the hand away. “You look out for me?”

  Did his brother really have no clue about everything Thomas had done? And not just back in their teenage years. Even on the way back to their regiment, he saved Nicholas on several occasions. One was during a slave riot they happened upon at the Virginia border, before arriving in Richmond.

  A house was burning to the ground, and Thomas had run inside. A woman screamed about her babies from the front yard, and he didn’t hesitate to help. He was able to save the toddler, but couldn’t get to the infant. While he ran in and out of the house, awash in flames he had to constantly swat away, Nicholas did nothing, continuing on his way. After Thomas made sure the woman was in good hands, he tried to catch up. When he did, he found his brother on the ground. Looming over him was a black man with a knife. The two were rolling around, each trying to get the upper hand, but Nicholas ended up on the bottom.

  Racing toward them, Thomas dismounted his horse before it stopped. He flung himself at the man threatening Nicholas, wresting the knife from the man and driving it deeply into his chest. After, Nicholas stood, brushed himself off, and found his horse, which had only wandered a few feet away. No thank you. Nothing. So, to have to look at him as he talked about protection almost made Thomas sick.

  Nicholas didn’t stop his rants. “You wouldn’t be here without me. You’d have no home, no fields to manage. Nothing without me. Dad left everything to me. Everything. If you want a roof over your family’s heads, you better treat me with some respect.”

  Why the words were shocking, Thomas wasn’t sure. Of course their father left everything to Nicholas, the beloved heir. No matter what happened with the war, if Nicholas went back home, Thomas would be left with nothing. Slaves or no slaves; it wouldn’t make a difference.

  “General Lee has commanded Lieutenant General Longstreet to take out the Union left bank. You need to do what’s necessary to get your men ready for the following day.”

  “My men will be ready.” Thomas turned away, sick of his brother’s smug face.

  Back in the tent, Thomas told his men to fight to get back home, to fight for their loved ones. Nothing else mattered. Figuring it was the only thing that motivated him, he hoped it would be the spark his men needed to face the next day.

  Darkness surrounded him. Nothing but shadows and varying degrees of black and gray. He blinked several times, hoping his eyes would adjust to the light, moving his hands close to his face to try to make them out. As they came into focus, he could see silver coins being poured into them.

  Yet, instead of excitement at the windfall, he felt a burning sensation and a deep sense of dread. Hoping to ease the pain, he pulled his hands apart and let the coins fall to the ground. Dark figures came at him, and he reared back, afraid.

  Then, another glint of silver caught his eye.

  His wife’s necklace came into view, and a light shone in the same direction, increasing in intensity. He squinted to make out the beacon of hope.

  Jolting awake, he grabbed a nearby discarded shirt to wipe the sweat from his forehead. Clearly, stress was getting to him. Thomas slipped out of his tent and into nature, a place where he usually found peace. Back home, they had a small pond—man-made, the perfect drinking source for the horses and other animals. He would sit by it and watch the movement of the water. It soothed him. Any disturbance, a rock skipped across the surface or an animal lapping at the shore, only had a small ripple effect. Within moments, the surface settled down, and the pond returned to its glory.

  Nature during war was something else entirely. Gone were the sounds of birds chirping and the smell of flowers and trees. Instead, there was a constant haze of smoke from cannon fire, the smell of wounds and rotting flesh, the lingering scent of sickness and filth, and the sounds of explosions and the wounded’s wails.

  Before he could find coffee and round up a small breakfast, he noticed Nicholas in conference with several high-ranking officers in an open tent. Curious about the day’s plan, Thomas edged closer.

  “We need you to assess the wounded in the 26th.”

  Thomas’s ears perked up at the mention of his regiment. He focused his energy on listening to General Armistead.

  “See who can fight today. We need every man we can put out there. We hope Major General Pickett will be here soon, and the plan is for him to lead a charge up Cemetery Ridge and weaken the Union defense.”

  Nicholas walked the fringe
of the discussion, not adding anything and keeping a safe distance.

  Of course, he won’t stand up for anything or try to reason with the others, Thomas thought. After losing five hundred or so men the previous day, he didn’t know how they were going to figure prominently in the day’s battle; yet, the pressure was there to do so.

  Cemetery Ridge. Not an inspiring location name for a bunch of men hoping not to die.

  “Let’s get through today. The 26th was hit pretty hard yesterday, so we’ll give them a day of rest. They need to ready their men for tomorrow. Plus, they did all we could ask of them,” said another man.

  Thomas strained to make out the man’s voice, but couldn’t identify him.

  “I have a bad feeling.”

  Did Thomas imagine those words? Did the man actually say them, or was it Thomas’s own feelings breaking through?

  “After our success yesterday, you are still reticent?” another voice asked.

  Thomas wished he had a better vantage point.

  “Every day of this war leaves me reticent. Every day a man dies, I am reticent. But I will follow Lee’s orders, and we will continue with the plan for today and hope Pickett gets here with his men soon.”

  Finally, the voice formed a mental image in Thomas’s mind, and he realized who the speaker was: Lieutenant General Longstreet. Of all the decision makers, he seemed the most thoughtful and conservative. Thomas liked the man.

  More conversation followed, but Thomas needed to get back and check on his soldiers. He would ascertain injuries and rally those physically healthy but mentally spent. After only two steps, a hand smacked him on the shoulder. Thomas spun around, ready for anything, to find his brother standing there.

  “You shouldn’t sneak up on me,” Thomas said.

  “Don’t threaten me. I outrank you in every way possible.” Nicholas’s nostrils flared.

  Was he always such a jerk? Ever since Father died, Nicholas seemed to have an air of royalty, of superiority. He always knew he was the favorite, but power had since been bestowed upon him. He had Thomas by the balls and knew it.