by Connie Mason
Aimee flushed. “I can’t, Savannah. I’d die in jail. No, you take Brand back. I trust you to care for him. And as much as I hate to admit it, Nick will see to Brand’s welfare. He’s become quite attached to the boy.”
“I can’t just leave you out here on your own,” Savannah protested. “What you gonna do?”
“Exactly what I intended in the first place. I’ll continue on to Confederate territory. I’ll come back to Tall Oaks when the blue-bellies leave. Go now, Savannah; get help for Brand. If you leave now, you’ll reach Tall Oaks before sundown.”
As if in challenge to her words, a roll of thunder reverberated through the countryside with ominous foreboding, followed by a brilliant flash of lightning.
“Not now, chile; it’s fixin’ to rain. Brand is sick enough without givin’ him a good soakin’.”
Shortly afterward a curtain of steady rain lashed the stable; a sufficient amount poured through cracks and rotting timber to make the occupants cold and uncomfortable. Crawling under the wagon for protection from the elements, Aimee cuddled Brand, giving him the added heat of her body, meager though it was. The rest of the day and night crawled by with agonizing slowness. By first light the downpour had slowed to a steady drizzle, and Aimee placed Brand inside the wagon bed, covered him with blankets they had brought along, and kissed him good-bye.
“Aren’t you coming, Mama?” Brand asked when Savannah climbed into the wagon seat and took up the reins.
“I’ll come later, darling,” Aimee said, holding back tears. “Be a good boy for Savannah; she’ll take good care of you.”
“Captain Drummond’s going to be mad at you again,” Brand frowned, “and lock you in your room.”
“No, Brand, he’ll never lock me in my room again,” Aimee assured him. “I love you, darling.”
She kissed him one more time, frightened by the heat rising from his pores, then signaled to Savannah. Immediately the wagon jerked forward, the creak of the wheels filling Aimee’s heart with a desolation that nearly tore her apart. Tears streamed down her pale cheeks, and the only thing that saved her from being utterly destroyed was the thought that she was doing what was best for Brand. Nick Drummond might be a damn Yankee, but she knew instinctively he wouldn’t let Brand suffer because of her mistakes.
It was still raining at dusk when Nick rode back to Tall Oaks. His mission was hugely successful. He and his patrol had penetrated deep into Reb territory and had gotten a fairly accurate estimate of the strength of the enemy army Sherman would encounter in his march to Atlanta. Nick had sent one of his men to headquarters with the information and rode hell for leather back to Tall Oaks. He’d missed Aimee and Brand, missed them dreadfully. If that was a hint of what life would be without them, he didn’t like the feeling.
Drenched to the skin, Nick stabled his mount and approached the house, eager to see Aimee and Brand. His stomach rumbled from hunger and he wondered what delicious concoction Savannah had cooked up for supper. Perhaps another of those savory stews accompanied by biscuits and pie for dessert
A strange premonition seized Nick as he entered the house. Normally at least one lamp was left burning in the foyer as evening neared, but tonight the foyer was dark. When he noted the absence of cooking odors, an odd coldness seized him. Aimee! He knew she was gone even before he received Sergeant Jones’s report. How or why made little difference; her departure left an aching void in his heart.
“Sergeant Jones!” Nick bellowed the name at the top of his lungs. It echoed ominously through the house and into the yard beyond. Within minutes the guilt-stricken Jones was standing at attention before Nick.
He didn’t wait for Nick’s first question. “I know what you’re thinking, sir, but it wasn’t deliberate. I guarded the lady just like you said, but she tricked us.”
“One fragile lady tricked four burly soldiers?” Nick repeated dully. His tone clearly conveyed his disbelief.
“Yes, sir, that’s just how it was. Mrs. Trevor drugged a pot of coffee she brought out for us two nights ago, and—and when we fell asleep, she and her servant hitched one of our horses to that dilapidated wagon and took off.”
Nick, spit out an oath that turned the air blue. “What kind of a drug did she use?”
“Must have been laudanum, sir. There was a good deal of it in the medicine chest in your quarters, but when I checked later, it was gone. I never suspected—that is, I didn’t think Mrs. Trevor was so eager to leave. She’s not been mistreated here.”
“No, not mistreated,” Nick concurred. What he didn’t say was that he was forcing her to his bed with threats of prison if she didn’t comply. Though he liked to think she wanted him as badly as he wanted her, it was highly unlikely she really felt that way. He wore a blue uniform and he was the enemy. “I assume you searched for her.”
“Yes, sir, me and two men went out the next day but saw nary a sign of the wagon or its occupants. It just don’t make sense. How could she have disappeared into thin air? Traveling by night isn’t easy, and they couldn’t have made very good time, yet the roads were deserted but for several patrols in the area.”
“They have to be headed for Confederate territory,” Nick mused thoughtfully. “Pick two men to accompany me tomorrow. I’ll leave at first light and search for them myself. I gave my word to Colonel Brooks that if he placed Mrs. Trevor in my custody instead of sending her to prison, I’d accept full responsibility for her actions. When I find the little witch, I’ll personally wring her neck. She doesn’t realize the danger that exists for a woman and child alone.”
“Deserters have been seen in the area, Captain. They’re mean and desperate enough to attempt anything. That wagon and horse will look mighty tempting to men with no means of transportation. And the lady is beautiful enough to bewitch a saint.”
“Don’t I know,” Nick muttered beneath his breath. Aloud he said, “I’ll find her, Sergeant.” His mouth was set in grim lines; his eyes looked bleak. If it was the last thing he did, he’d find Aimee and bring her back to Tall Oaks. Then somehow he’d force her to admit that Brand was his son.
Nick had thought quite a bit about Brand lately. The first time he’d seen the lad, Nick was reminded of someone; he’d finally figured out who—himself at the same age. Aimee told him Brand was four years old, but he seriously doubted that. Brand was too big and too smart for a four-year-old. He figured the boy’s age was closer to five than four. If that was so, then Brand was his son.
When Aimee admitted she had been a virgin the night he took her five years ago, the pieces all fell neatly into place. If he hadn’t been so damn hot to be inside her, he would have realized he had taken a virgin, but at the time he was so consumed with lust, he didn’t feel the slight resistance to his penetration. Nor did he stick around long enough the next morning to inspect the sheets. He simply thought he had bedded a professional gambler who didn’t mind paying gambling debts with her body. Time and maturity had altered that opinion.
Nick took time to bathe and change before joining the men in the mess tent. He was walking across the yard in the drizzle when he noticed a wagon approaching in the distance. He frowned as he watched its slow progress from the avenue of tall oaks lining the driveway. When he recognized Savannah driving, his heart thudded painfully in his chest. Where was Aimee? Why were they returning? Had something happened?
By now others had noticed the wagon and stood around gaping. Jones and Dill joined Nick as he walked down the gravel drive. Nick grabbed the harness when they drew abreast.
“Thank the good Lord,” Savannah said as she all but collapsed in the seat. She was drenched to the skin and shivering, ill clad in ragged remnants.
“What happened, Savannah? Where’s Aimee?” Worry overrode Nick’s anger. Something disastrous must have happened to bring Savannah back alone.
“Look, Captain, in the wagon bed!” Dill had heard a noise coming from the back of the wagon and moved to investigate. He threw aside a blanket and discovered Brand lying beneath th
e covering. He was soaked to the skin and shivering violently.
Nick moved quickly to Dill’s side, praying he wouldn’t find two dead bodies. What he saw filled him with fear. Brand looked so ill, Nick thought him beyond help. A glad cry escaped his throat when he noticed the steady rise and fall of his tiny chest.
“For God’s sake, what happened?”
“He’s sick,” Savannah wailed. “My baby’s sick.” Having dismounted from the wagon with the help of one of the men standing nearby, she now hovered over Brand, moaning and wringing her hands. “You gotta help him, Captain.”
With more gentleness than he knew he possessed, Nick picked up the small boy and started briskly for the house. “We have to get him out of the rain, Savannah.” Intense heat pouring from Brand penetrated the thick material of Nick’s uniform, and he feared for the boy’s life.
Once Brand was tucked snugly in bed, Nick rummaged through his medicine chest and carefully spooned a concoction made especially for fevers down the lad’s throat. Throughout the war, Nick had learned that traveling without a doctor meant he had to be prepared to treat many minor ailments. Before being assigned to Tall Oaks, he had stocked his medicine chest with every kind of medication that one of the doctors at headquarters had suggested. He thanked God he had the foresight to do so, for the medicine might save Brand’s life.
Savannah hadn’t left Brand’s side, not even to change her damp clothes. She merely stood quietly, waiting for Nick’s anger to explode, as she knew it must.
“How did this happen, Savannah?” Nick asked quietly after he had done what he could for Brand. “Why didn’t Aimee return with you? Where is she now?”
“I—I don’t rightly know, Captain. Brand wasn’t feelin’ well when we left Tall Oaks, but by then it was too late to turn back.”
“Too late!” Nick hissed between clenched teeth. “What kind of mother would endanger the life of her son? I thought Aimee loved her child. Go change, Savannah. When you return, I want a full explanation.”
Savannah stood her ground. “I promised Aimee I’d look after Brand.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll see to Brand. Besides, if you get sick, you’ll be useless to the lad. By the looks of you, you’ve ridden hours through the rain.”
Brand woke up once while Savannah was gone. His eyes fell on Nick and he tried to smile but failed. “I’m glad we came back, Captain. I didn’t really want to leave.”
Nick smoothed the dark hair back from the searing heat of the boy’s forehead. “I know, son. I’m glad you returned. You’ll have to get well, though, if you expect to ride Scout again.”
His lids lowered sleepily, then flew up, his eyes troubled. “Where’s Mama? She knows how to make me well when I’m sick.”
“She’s not here right now. But don’t fret, she’ll be here before you know it.”
Satisfied, Brand drifted off.
Sergeant Jones entered the room. “Is there anything I can do, sir? I have children of my own; perhaps I can soothe the little lad.”
“Sit with the boy, Jones, while I question Savannah. If he awakens, spoon some more of this medicine down his throat. I’ll return shortly.”
Nick found Savannah in the kitchen. “Very well, Savannah, out with it. Why did Aimee decide to leave, and where is she?”
“I tried to talk her outta it, Captain, I purely did. But you know how stubborn she can be.”
He did indeed know. “Does Aimee care so little for her son?”
“Aimee is a good mother,” Savannah said defensively. “If she wasn’t desperate, she wouldn’t have left.”
“Desperate?” Nick’s insides tightened. “In what way? She wasn’t being mistreated.” Savannah’s lips tightened, and she refused to divulge any more information. “You may as well spit it out; I know you’ve got something to say.”
“I know all about you, Yank! You’re de man what ruined my chile. And now you’s forcin’ her to bed with you or go to prison.”
Nick blanched. Put that way, he sounded like a despicable bastard. But it wasn’t that way at all. “I have deep feelings for Aimee, Savannah. I hoped she’d changed her opinion of me.”
“Harumph, that ain’t likely. Not as long as you’s here threatenin’ those she loves.”
Nick looked puzzled. “I’ve threatened no one that I know of.”
“She’s worried that you might—” Suddenly she realized what she was about to divulge and stopped in midsentence. “I ain’t sayin’ no more.”
“Is Aimee worried that I might suddenly realize that Brand is my son? Is that why I’m a threat to her? Does she think I’ll take Brand away from her?”
Savannah sent him a startled glance, then looked away, refusing to answer or acknowledge Nick’s questions. “Look at me, Savannah! I’m right, aren’t I?”
“It ain’t my place to say what’s right or ain’t right. If you’re done with me, I’ll go to Brand now.”
“Not quite, Savannah. Where is Aimee now?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why did she send Brand back to Tall Oaks?”
“She knew you’d take good care of him for her.”
That admission sent his heart soaring. Aimee thought enough of him to entrust him with the care of her son. “Where is Aimee going?”
“Somewhere behind Confederate lines,” she said after a long pause.
“Does she have a mount?”
“No. No mount, no food, just plain guts. Which is more than you got, Yank. If you love my chile, why didn’t you tell her how you feel instead of beddin’ her and makin’ her feel like a whore?” Lifting her grizzled head at a defiant angle, she brushed past Nick with a twitch of her ragged skirt.
Nick stared after her, his thoughts in a turmoil. Love? Was love the confusing emotion that had been turning him inside out ever since he had arrived at Tall Oaks and found Aimee again? He told Savannah that he cared for Aimee, but in his heart he knew those feelings went deeper and were more firmly entrenched than he had been willing to admit. But how could he love a woman who repeatedly told him she hated him? Though in the many weeks he’d been at Tall Oaks, he had done little to make Aimee love him. She responded to his touch in a way that gave him hope, but he astutely realized he was spinning dreams. Imagining Aimee in love with him was a fantasy that had no place in real life. He was a Yankee, and she hated everything he stood for. And if Brand was truly his son, as he suspected, she had another reason for hating him. He’d planted his seed in her and abandoned her.
“Captain Drummond, come quick!”
A greatly agitated Sergeant Jones stood in the doorway, motioning to Nick. The man turned abruptly and sprinted up the stairs, Nick in hot pursuit. Nick’s heart pounded against his ribs in a wild tattoo, and the blood froze in his veins. Was it Brand? Had something happened to the lad?
He rushed into the bedroom prepared for the worst. Savannah was bent over the boy, making clucking sounds deep in her throat. She moved aside to make room for Nick as he dropped to his knees beside the bed.
“Oh, God, I thought …” His eyes filled with tears. He couldn’t ever recall weeping since he was a small child the size of Brand. This time, however, his tears were those of gratitude.
Brand’s face was covered in small red eruptions.
“It’s measles, sir; I’d recognize them anywhere,” Sergeant Jones said with a conviction that came from experience. “His whole body is covered with them. Give him a week or two and he’ll be right as rain.”
Chapter 9
The weight of Aimee’s muddy skirt dragging along the wet earth slowed her down considerably. The misty rain continued, but it barely touched her beneath the dense canopy of tall trees. Her clothes and shoes were thoroughly soaked from her earlier dousing, and she felt the dampness clear to her bones. She shivered, wondering how much farther she had to travel before reaching Confederate lines.
But her discomfort was nothing compared to her concern for Brand. She worried about the illness that had prompted her to
send him back to Tall Oaks. Though she hated to admit it, she knew Nick would care for Brand and see that he received proper medical attention. Parting from Brand had wrenched her heart dreadfully, but she had done what she thought was best. Brand’s well-being was Aimee’s paramount concern. She knew Nick wouldn’t harm Brand, that he would care for him and treat him kindly. Savannah would be on hand to make sure he did. Aimee knew that returning to Tall Oaks herself was out of the question.
Nick Drummond had treated her with callous disdain from the day they first met, bedding her and leaving her with his child in her belly, and now she had become little more to him than his whore. It didn’t help any to realize that she was beginning to care for him when her heart told her she should hate him. The fact that he was a Yank soldier made him despicable in her eyes. If she lost her heart to him, she would hate herself even more than she hated Nick Drummond.
The day wore on as Aimee made her way through the woods. She deliberately avoided the road for fear of meeting another Yankee patrol, and if her estimation was correct, she figured she’d reach Confederate lines soon. When she grew tired, she hunkered down beneath a tree, wrapping her cloak around her and nodding off to sleep almost immediately. The sound of voices brought her abruptly out of a sound sleep.
“Will ya look at that!”
“Purty, ain’t she? What do ya reckon she’s doin’ out here?”
“Who cares? I never was one to look a gift horse in the mouth.”
The light in the forest was so muted, all Aimee could see were two dim figures hovering over her. She sat up abruptly, clutching her cloak tightly around her. “Who are you?”
“We could ask ya the same, little lady,” a snickering voice replied.
Suddenly a breeze shifted the leaves of a nearby tree, and a shaft of waning daylight filtered through the branches. Aimee could clearly see two men leering down at her. The ragtag remnants of the uniform they wore were gray, and a thrill shot through her. She had reached Confederate lines!
“You’re Confederate soldiers!”
