by Gina Danna
The grief-stricken face of the tormented man made Jack’s head throb even more.
“I love her, always have. She’s my friend, my companion,” he said and inhaled deeply, schooling his features. “She needed me when you threw her away. And I needed her. But…”
“Then take her away from here,” Jack pleaded. “Come with me.”
Billy snorted. “No, I can’t leave. But I want you to take her.”
“Are you mad? She hates me. And she won’t leave you.” He had noticed the man had remained seated the entire time Jack had been awake. “Billy, why are you here? She told me you were off killing Yankees.”
Billy’s mouth twisted in a maniacal smile. “I got me a few. But not enough.” He put his cane down and struggled upright. The right leg of his pants hung loosely below the knee.
Jack fought to keep his mouth shut.
“Lost it last winter,” Billy stated, finding his balance with the cane. “I’m not the man she deserves. Been thinkin’ for a while I never was. I’ll never be a real man again.” He hobbled toward Jack. “I can’t walk so I can’t plow or plant or do much of anything.” He sighed. “I can’t give her a child either. What good am I?”
With a deep frown, Jack shook his head. “Surely she knows all that. But, after time, you’ll improve…”
“I’m dying,” Billy said point blank. The pain of his exertion was clear in his eyes as his jaw tightened. He chuckled drily. “The butcher who hacked my leg away was a crackpot. Doc Brown says the man messed up and I’ve an infection festering. He claims I need to submit to the knife again. I won’t do it.”
“Emma won’t leave you.” It was one thing Jack new without question. She would adamantly refuse.
“If you’re sure about that child, you’ll need her to care for him.” He grabbed Jack’s arm. “You can give her a child.”
No, she couldn’t have Nathan. Then the meaning of the man’s words became clear. “I can’t. She’s married to you.”
“She loves you,” the man said stoically. “Always has. I need you to take her, make her happy, give her children.”
Billy had to be mad, Jack decided. But the pain was so clear in his eyes and his grip on Jack’s arm so desperate. Jack helped him back to the chair, with Billy breathing hard, his face tense. He reached for the cup on the table but missed.
Jack picked up the cup and handed it to him, wrapping the man’s hand around it. He could smell the laudanum and started to say something as Billy downed the entire contents in one gulp.
Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Billy sputtered, “I can’t make it without this poison, and supplies are harder to get.” His eyes fell for a moment. “I love…loved…both of them, but Emma has never really been mine, nor me hers I’m figurin’. And she knows it, what with Caroline being home and me…” His voice slurred a bit before it faded. He swallowed hard and gazed at Jack. “So I’m begging you.”
Jack felt his stomach turn.
Jemmy ran into the room. “Massa Bill, Toby says he’s hearing there be men riding on the road here,” he panted.
Billy became desperate. “They’re coming for you. Take your son and Emma. You’ll need to take John Henry too. I’ll hold them off as long as I can.”
“No, let me help.”
He smiled at Jack. “By taking care of Emma, you are helping. Go.”
Jack backed out of the room as Billy started issuing orders to Jemmy.
Emma was to finally be his.
#
Emma was furious. She had just rocked little Nathan to sleep and laid him down when Jemmy ran into the room saying Billy wanted her. What had that Yankee done to him? She swept out of the room, almost tripping over her skirts. She tied the excess material up off the floor. It was faster than shortening her skirts, which she had no time for between the baby, her father and Billy. Biting the inside of her mouth to keep from screaming in frustration, Emma rounded the corner.
“What…,” her voice faltered. Billy sat in the chair, looking out the window. The laudanum haze in his eyes as he glanced at her made her heart drop. Her darling husband was in so much pain, and there was nothing she could do to help him.
“Come here, my lovely Emma,” he said in his drug-induced voice.
She straightened her skirts as well as she could, put her shoulders back and held her head up. He was up to something. She knew it. And where was Jack?
Then she spotted him standing in a corner of the room. She felt the heat of his gaze on her. Ignore him, she told herself, and she went to Billy, grabbing his outstretched hand.
“Darlin’…”
He pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her. “Emma, my darling Emma,” he murmured into her stomach. He glanced up to her. “You know I love you.”
Her brows furrowed. He didn’t sound good. She had a distinct feeling she wasn’t going to like what he was about to say. “Yes, dear, I know.”
Billy snorted, giving her a half smile. “Good, now I only want what’s good for you. And for that reason, I need you to pack for Nathan and you. Jack’ll take you out of harm’s—”
“What!” Did she hear him correctly? Anger flared throughout her body. “What are you talking about?”
“Jack’s right,” he said dryly. “The Yankee scum will be back. They want Richmond, my dear. By taking the capital and all that, they win.” He hugged her tightly. “Rose Hill is too close to Petersburg, our railroad hub, and too close to the capital. To take them both will be the aim of those bastards. I can’t risk losing you, too.”
Her heart screamed. Tears rolled down her face. They’d talked about this once, a long time ago, when the Union Army was at their doorstep. She ran her hand through Billy’s hair. “All right, let me have Sally gather your things—”
“I’m not going,” he interrupted her.
“Of course you are.”
“No.” His answer was quiet but firm.
Emma probed his eyes, hoping for a way to reach him, but Billy wasn’t giving anything away. She turned her head toward Jack. He stood silently. She broke Billy’s hold on her and stormed over to the green-eyed rake. “You put him up to this,” she said, shaking with anger.
He looked at her and slowly shook his head.
“Damn you!” She flayed her fists at his chest. “I will not leave my husband.” Jack grabbed her wrists to stop her pummeling him.
“Emma, it’s for your own good,” he said, his voice low. “I am taking my son. I need you to help me get him to safety.”
She yanked her hands away and turned back to Billy. Her husband held his hand out again for her, and she went to him, dropping to her knees to bury her head against his chest. She heard his heart beating fast, but his heat soothed her. The clicking of boots on the hardwood floor grew faint as Jack left them alone.
“Emma, my darling Emma,” he said softly, pulling her face up toward him. He reached down and brushed her lips. “I’ve been a fool for years over you and Caroline. My own weaknesses have ruined us. And the judgment for my betrayal came from the War.”
“You’re talking nonsense,” she said, touching his cheek with her hand.
“No, darling, you know I’m telling the truth,” he smiled sadly. “My leg is infected, the poison will kill me,” he paused when she gasped. “You’ve known I’ll never be whole again. I can’t even give you a child.”
“That’s not important,” she argued.
“Yes, it is very important. I want you to be happy. And I know I’ve never really had your heart. You gave it to Jack years ago,” he stroked her hair as she shook her head in denial. “Emma, go with Jack. He loves you. He can give you children.”
She gulped, her heart racing. What was he thinking? She wasn’t a brood mare to be bartered and traded. “No, my place is with you.”
“Emma, they’re coming. You know what those men will do. Now, they won’t hurt me, not an invalid, but you,” he shuddered. “I can’t let them hurt you, and this is the only way.”
&
nbsp; Tears hit her hands. She hadn’t noticed till now that she was crying. She inhaled deeply but couldn’t breathe. Her vision blurred, she focused on Billy’s eyes. She knew it hurt him to shove her away like this, to another man. But he wanted her to leave.
“Go with him. I’ll hold them off,” he pleaded. “Then I’ll catch up to you. I promise.”
They were the words she wanted to hear, although she didn’t believe them. She would never see him again. But his expression begged her to agree. Slowly, she nodded.
“Good,” Billy said, sounding relieved. His resigned tone bothered her, but she had no time to question him as he gently pushed her away. “Go get the babe packed. And always remember, Emma, that I love you.”
She stopped at the doorway, sobbing because his words touched a deep wound inside her. A lump in her throat made speech impossible. Swallowing hard, she nodded once, acknowledging she had heard him.
Emma was running away with Jack, the man she had loved so long ago. After all this time, she finally could be with him, encouraged by her own husband. Oh, how she had grown to hate Jack Fontaine!
The great fact which we asserted from the first is now placed
beyond reach of controversy. We said the North could never subdue the South,
and the North has now proclaimed the same conclusion.
—The Times (London), September 14, 1864
Chapter Eighteen
Virginia, Fall 1862
Jack rode Goliath to the back of the house. The horse pranced in reaction to his rider’s agitation and the people surrounding the buckboard. It took every bit of energy to keep his mount under rein. And none of it helped Jack’s head. Jemmy had aimed the butt of his rifle to knock out the man assaulting his mistress. As God was his witness, Jack’d never let that slave get behind him again. He grunted as he slid off the saddle and his boots hit the ground.
The few house slaves who had managed to pull the wagon around back were loading it with whatever supplies they could muster after Jack had told them to get the buckboard and not the carriage. A nicer vehicle traveling across the war-torn South would raise too many questions. It was important for him and his charges to be as inconspicuous as possible.
Sammy rounded the corner of the barn with a large unfamiliar horse. Goliath snorted loudly, throwing his nose in the air and neighing to it. Jack looped the reins over the wagon’s wheel and went to the slave.
“Where’s Miss Emma’s horse?”
“Sir, the Yankees done took ‘er,” the man replied, plodding slowly.
Jack took the large chestnut’s lead. “This one looks about twenty if not older.” He lifted a hoof. It was caked with mud and manure but was well shod. He hoped that spoke well for the entire animal. An older horse could be steadier but might lack the necessary energy for the trip and be stressed by cannon fire and troops.
“Is this horse the only one available?”
Sammy patted the white-striped muzzle. “Petey is a good boy. He’ll get you where you be takin’ Miss Emma and the baby. He ain’t nev’r left us down.”
Wonderful. Jack closed his eyes, his fingers squeezing the bridge of his nose. So many miles to cover with winter edging closer. The crisp autumn air and rustling leaves only added to his raging headache. What he needed to know was where the armies were.
A loud snort and dancing hooves immediately got Jack’s attention. It was Goliath. Jack spun and found John Henry almost at the horse’s head. The stallion stared wild eyed, his head up, ears alert and hooves stomping as the older man approached.
“John,” Jack began. But he stopped when he saw how the man’s soothing tone quieted the beast. Of course, the apple in his hand helped. Goliath loved apples.
John Henry turned his head and after a second, he grinned. “Jack, I knew you’d be back.”
Jack raised an eyebrow. There was something not right with John Henry. The man had had impeccable style as a rich planter but now looked slovenly. He stood there only in shirtsleeves, with no necktie, his tan trousers dirty, his salt and pepper hair long and mussed and whiskers on his face. As he petted Goliath’s neck, the horse happily munched on the apple he had given him, John Henry behaved as though it was just another lazy summer afternoon on the estate. Slaves bustled around him, loading food, blankets and trunks in the bed of the wagon. And yet, John Henry didn’t seem to notice or care.
Sally stepped out the back door with a jacket in her arms.
“Massa John,” she said as she stepped behind him, opening the jacket.
“Why thank you, Sally,” he said, sticking his arms into the coat. “Has Sammy gotten those tools fixed?”
“Yessir, he’s done that last week,” she answered warmly.
“Good, good. Go tell Caroline her husband’s here.”
Jack flinched. Sally glanced at him before she answered. “Yessir.”
She walked up to Jack, her voice lowered. “Massa John done been injured. His mind ain’t workin’ right.” She shrugged and walked back into the house.
Tilly emerged, carrying Nathan. The baby, wrapped in swaddling, was awake, his eyes roving and him responding to all the sights and sounds. Jack watched, fascinated. He hadn’t expected a baby would move him so. He held out his arms without realizing it, and the slave slipped the child into them. Nathan’s green eyes locked onto his, and he felt a pull at his heart. The little body shifted and Jack adjusted his grip, mesmerized. That was, until the babe opened his little mouth and wailed loudly.
“Let me take him.”
Jack heard her voice and turned. Emma. Dressed in a chintz dress, a crinoline underneath, a bonnet on her head and a shawl around her shoulders, she looked beautiful. She had swept her hair up, leaving a few tendrils hanging about her face and neck. He couldn’t move.
She took the child from his arms and began to hum in Nathan’s ear, rocking slightly. The child quieted.
The two most important people in his life stood within feet of him. His responsibility was to get them out of there. Suddenly, his necktie seemed to tighten around his throat, suffocating him. He tugged at his neckline.
She was his. He should feel elated. Her husband had given her to him. His stomach twisted. But this was all wrong.
“Massa Jack, Massa Jack!” Jemmy yelled, skidding to a halt before him.
“Slow down, boy,” Jack said with a chuckle. The boy panted, gulping huge amounts of air as his body shook. “What did you see?”
“Riders, sur,” the slave sputtered. “Comin’ this way fast. On the lane from the rails, sur.”
Jack looked up and beyond the boy. They needed to get out of there fast. “Go tell your master what you told me. Go, boy.”
Emma stood next to him. He turned to her. “We need to leave now.”
“Daddy, Tilly,” she called.
John Henry already sat in the driver’s seat of the wagon. Tilly leapt into the wagon bed, taking the baby from Emma’s hands. Jack helped her up to the seat.
“Can he drive?” Jack lowered his voice so John Henry wouldn’t hear him.
She nodded. “He has his moments when he’s fine. Driving is easy. He hasn’t yet forgotten how to do that.”
He wasn’t sure whether that was good or not, but he nodded and went to Goliath. With his foot in the stirrup, he swung into the saddle, adjusting his weight as the animal sidestepped.
“Let’s go.” He led them from behind the house and through the fields.
Jack hoped Billy could hold off the Yankee soldiers long enough to get Emma and the others away in time. His nerves tingled with anxiety. He had two women, a baby and another man who apparently wasn’t right in the head. It was going to be a long trip.
#
Billy sat on the veranda, the Enfield rifle in his right hand. He watched the wagon and rider head out from the backside of the house toward the vacant fields. They were exposed and that vexed him with Wilcox’s patrol heading his way, but Jack’s was the shorter route southwest, and it avoided the road vigilantes would take.
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He swallowed the knot in his throat as he watched Emma leave. His heart hurt, worse than he thought it would. How could he stand to lose her? He had loved her since he was a boy, and, as a man, he’d helped her through the tears she’d shed after Caroline stole Jack from her. But ultimately, Billy had betrayed Emma. When Caroline returned carrying that bastard’s child, it tore him apart. It ate at him so much that he finally told Emma he had loved Caroline, too. His confession had hurt her even more than Jack had. He saw it in her eyes every day.
He grabbed the cup next to him and drank, feeling the whiskey burn his throat and belly. The fire momentarily took his mind off the stabbing pain in his leg. He’d kept it a secret from Emma, but he could smell the rotting flesh now and knew she would have insisted he return to the surgeon. Fortunately, though, God had shown him how to redeem himself with her, and he had seized the opportunity. He had given her a chance at happiness with the man she truly loved.
And he planned to stop Wilcox and the others from pursuing them. He hoped, in the melee, he’d be put out of his misery forever. But before being killed, he needed to make sure Emma and the others had enough time to get away from the posse headed in his direction.
Art Wilcox and his mangy men turned toward the house. Billy knew Wilcox well enough—trash through and through, unfit for any sort of military service. Billy himself had denied Wilcox’s enlistment in the Charles City militia. Wilcox could barely read, and his brother, also in the patrol, could hardly speak the English language let alone read or write it. The other three were barely old enough to shoot a gun with any effect. While the Confederacy might take them for fighting, Billy hoped it wouldn’t come to that. However, they made excellent targets from his seat on the second-story porch.
Billy lifted the cup again and felt the cool porcelain against his lips. His thinking was a bit muddled because of the combination of laudanum and alcohol. As Wilcox brought his horse to a stop and dismounted, Billy’s mind cleared and hatred flowed fast through his veins. He downed the rest of the contents, set the cup aside and raised the rifle to his lap, his fingers playing against the hammer and percussion cap.
