Above and Beyond

by Jessica James

  * * *

  “Miss Lucy, you must be famished.” Sarah closed the door and stared at her sister-in-law in the dim light of the house.

  “Not so much hungry as tired, ma’am,” the young girl answered shyly. “I’d really like to sleep.”

  “Yes, you poor dear. Let me show you to your room.” Sarah lit a candle and led the way up the stairs. “You must make yourself right at home now. You will, won’t you? You won’t be afraid to ask for anything you need?”

  Lucy nodded as the light from the candle flooded a small room. She paused at the doorway, and turned toward Sarah. “This was Jake’s?” she asked in a hushed voice.

  “Yes. I thought you might like it.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I like it very much.” Lucy sat on the bed and ran her hand across the pillow where her husband’s head had once lain, as a lone tear slid down her cheek.

  “I’ll bring some water up so you can wash before retiring.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Duvall.”

  Sarah turned. “No more of that. You must call me Sarah.”

  “Yes, ma’am…I mean yes, Sarah.” She cocked her head and stared at Sarah a moment before casting her eyes to the floor.

  “What’s wrong, child?”

  “It’s just that, well…you don’t seem like what they say.”

  “And what do they say?”

  “Oh, I couldn’t repeat it.” Lucy lowered her head, but not before her cheeks blazed with color.

  Sarah sat down on the bed beside Lucy and took her hand. “If they say I feed and house Union troops, you will soon find that to be true. I will not turn away hungry men fighting for their country.”

  “But don’t you love the South?”

  Now it was Sarah’s turn to blush. “Of course I do. But war puts us in unusual circumstances, and we must act as we see fit. Do you understand?”

  “Not really,” Lucy answered. “But Jake told me to trust you.”

  “He did?”

  Lucy nodded, her eyes welling with tears again. “I don’t know why. I’m so confused. But right before he died, he told me to forget everything I’d heard and to trust you.”

  Sarah reached out and drew the young widow to her, stroking her hair as she talked. “Yes, Lucy, no matter what happens, no matter what you see or hear, please know that you can trust me.”

  * * *

  Sarah left her sister-in-law to rest and went downstairs to check on the stew she had been cooking. Too tired to sleep, she sat up knitting and heard the sound of shovels clanking outside around midnight. True to Benton’s word, his men had carried her brother’s dead body to his home in the dark of night, not ten miles from where he’d been slain, and laid it to rest where he had been born only twenty years earlier. About an hour later, Sarah heard a tentative knock on the door and opened it slightly.

  The young private standing the doorway appeared white-faced with fear. “M-M-Mrs. Duvall, I’m sorry to bother you so late, but I saw the light still burning.”

  “That’s quite all right.” She opened the door wider and saw the shadowy forms of the others already mounted on their horses. “Is there something wrong?”

  “N-no, ma’am, well yes… maybe,” the young man stammered. “It’s just that Jake and I were good friends. And I’m, well, I’m sorry for your loss.”

  Sarah nodded. “Thank you. That’s very kind of you, Private…”

  “Private Matson, ma’am.”

  “I appreciate your condolences, Private Matson.” She paused for a moment when he did not move. “Is that all?”

  “Well…no, ma’am. Not exactly.” He took a deep breath and stared at the floor as he spoke. “Jake told me you had a way with horses.”

  Sarah nodded. “Yes, I suppose I do.”

  “Well, ma’am, Colonel Benton’s horse, Invincible—he calls him Vince—well, he was hurt real bad in that fight that killed Jake.”

  “Oh?” Sarah again lifted her eyes toward the darkness behind him, but could see nothing.

  “Yes, ma’am, and the colonel…well, the colonel ordered me to…to…”

  Sarah finally understood what had given the young man the courage to knock on her door. “He ordered you to put him out of his misery?”

  The soldier let out a sigh of relief. “Yes. But I thought… I thought maybe you could do something for him. The colonel puts a lot of stock in that horse, ma’am. I mean he and that horse are mighty close, and I hate the thought of…”

  “I understand,” Sarah said. “But it seems a rather big thing to go against the colonel’s direct order.”

  The boy’s face turned red. “We… I mean, I thought about that. The colonel don’t need to know. I mean, if you think he won’t make it then I’ll do what the colonel ordered. And if he does make it, well maybe the colonel won’t be so mad that I disobeyed.”

  Sarah shook her head as she realized how thoroughly the men had thought out their plan and how much they revered their commander. Yet she wondered whether it was wise to take on such an enterprise, especially considering the new ward now under her care. Weary beyond measure, Sarah continued to hesitate at the thought of going behind Colonel Benton’s back.

  But thinking about the magnificent animal she had seen him riding, she decided there would be no harm in looking. Perhaps she owed him that much anyway. Benton had, after all, stood before her steadfast and strong to inform her personally of Jake’s death, never giving the slightest indication he had suffered a loss as well. The least she could do was take a look.

  “I fear it’s too dark to make that sort of decision tonight,” she said after another moment’s thought. “Put him in the barn. I’ll see what I can do in the morning.”

  The young man smiled shyly for the first time. “He’s already there, ma’am. Jake told me you would never let a horse die like that.” He tipped his hat, backed off the porch, and disappeared into the night.

  Chapter 11

  Nothing is there to come and nothing past, But an eternal Now does always last.

  —Abraham Cowley

  Colonel Benton gazed absently into the fire, his mind wandering to scenes of recent battles, and to the faces of the men and families affected by them. The soft, warm glow of the flames upon his face did nothing to alleviate the stab of pain he felt when his thoughts invariably led to Waverly. The image of that solitary, unmarked grave in the yard always made him shiver and left him with a vague yearning to provide comfort to the friendless occupant of the home.

  The sound of voices and footsteps in the foyer interrupted Benton’s gloomy thoughts. When his aide entered and announced the arrival of two visitors, Benton readily approved their admittance, hoping the company would thrust the melancholy thoughts from his mind. But when he saw the plump older woman push her young daughter boldly into the room, he wished he had not been so hasty. This was not the type of diversion he’d envisioned. Reluctant to be rude however, he took a deep breath, greeting them with courteous formality as he invited them into the cavernous room he used as headquarters.

  “To what do I owe the pleasure?” He bowed to the duo, which caused the young girl to shake and the mother to laugh flirtatiously.

  “Colonel, forgive my boldness, but I wanted to introduce my daughter, Melissa, to you before the ball tomorrow night. I know how busy you get during those affairs.”

  Colonel Benton looked over at the rather plump, blushing young lady, took in her obvious youth in a glance, and turned back to the mother. “And what makes you assume I shall be attending the festivities tomorrow night?” He walked over to the fireplace as he talked and poked at the logs as if they were not already fully ablaze.

  “Oh, Colonel Benton.” She laughed as if he were merely making a joke. “It would be a mockery to have a party without you in attendance. And besides, we know you never miss such affairs.”

  She was right, of course, he thought to himself. There was a time when his afternoon and evenings, when not otherwise engaged, were spent entirely in female society. He wond
ered why he no longer possessed the inclination. A knock on the door and the entrance of Benton’s aide temporarily halted the conversation.

  “Sir, one of the pickets just rode in with a message.”

  “Is there trouble?” Benton strode toward the door, relieved at the interruption.

  “No, sir. He said there’s no trouble. Just needs to talk to you.”

  “You will have to excuse me, ladies.” Benton pointed them toward the door as he motioned for the soldier to enter. A year ago, he would have enjoyed the bold ministrations of the mother and the endless chatter he would have endured for the next hour. Tonight though he wanted nothing more than to take advantage of this convenient interruption and free himself from this disagreeable duty. As soon as the mother and daughter had cleared the doorway, Benton pulled the soldier into the room. “What do you have, young man?”

  “Sir, there’s a boy here to see you. Said it’s urgent.”

  Benton looked over the man’s shoulder. “Where is he? Send him in.”

  “He’s still down with the pickets, sir. Said he didn’t wish to come any farther.”

  Something about the strangeness of the situation caused Benton to reject the thought of sending a subordinate to investigate the request. He motioned for his aide to get his horse and on impulse added another order. “Don’t bother gathering the staff. I’m just riding down to the pickets.”

  The horse was presented in an instant, and after making his apologies again to the mother and daughter who had been waiting impatiently in the foyer for him to finish his business, Benton mounted and rode out into the night. Although guided only by starlight, he rode none too slowly, his horse seeming to sense his urgency. Even the withered leaves on the trees joined in, rustling noisily as if applauding his decision to leave the warm confines of his office.

  Benton dismounted at the picket line and stood silently for a moment watching a figure walk a horse in the shadow of some trees about twenty yards away. Both horse and rider were so overheated that steam rose from them in the cool night air. Benton recognized the slim form at once but could not determine which he felt more strongly: anger at the risk she had taken by coming or the burning desire to talk to her again.

  With a brief moment of wonder at the woman’s inhuman composure, he returned the salute of the young soldier standing at the head of his horse and handed him his reins.

  * * *

  Sarah heard the hoofbeats of a horse galloping into the picket camp, but dared not look up. She knew the colonel would be upset at her coming, and she practically shook with anticipation when she heard spurred boots moving toward her with that long, not-to-be-imitated stride of his.

  Taking a deep breath, she raised her gaze and watched spellbound as his formidable figure approached her. He stopped a few feet away; but even in the dim light and distance, his figure appeared imposing to her. She could practically feel his bold eyes upon her and could sense the immense strength that emanated from them.

  “What is the news? I know you would not come if it were not urgent.” He spoke in a lowered voice, even though it was apparent they were quite alone.

  Sarah was so dumbfounded by his calm and gentle tone that she was, for a moment, speechless. While debating what to say and how to say it, she noticed the colonel’s gaze had traveled to her still-steaming horse. She read the puzzled look on his brow and watched it change to recognition. The flea-bitten gray he had given her many months ago had transformed into a horse the color of dark polished steel. Ribs once prominent now bulged with muscle and flesh. Benton’s eyes moved from one end of the horse to the other, apparently absorbing its powerful build and ability for speed.

  Sarah ignored the scrutiny and turned to her saddle, carefully sliding a piece of paper from a slit beneath the seat. “They are preparing for a major move.” She paused to watch his reaction as his eyes scanned the missive she handed him and thought how very desirable he looked. Standing half in moonlight and half in shadow, his large form appeared almost celestial in appearance.

  “You’re sure this is accurate? It’s unusual for this time of year.”

  “Yes. I had the opportunity to overhear the writing of the dispatch and took it down word for word.”

  Sarah waited as he read again the information which included the object of an upcoming expedition, where it was going, by what route, and how many troops would be engaged. “I assumed you and General Lee would wish to know immediately,” she added. “Considering you’re in winter quarters.”

  Benton sighed deeply. “Yes. It is important he see this without delay. Excuse me a moment.”

  The colonel went back to the men standing by the fire and gave an order to one of them that sent him running for his horse. After a few more minutes of hushed conversation he strode back toward Sarah, his gallant, soldierly figure creating a giant shadow that marched along beside him. She watched him closely as he moved, trying to appraise him as if seeing him for the first time. His features, highlighted by deep, dark eyes, were handsome enough, but there was also an air of power and authority about him that conveyed an attitude of fearlessness and audacity. It sent a slight chill down her spine, and made her glad she fought with him—not against him.

  “How is Miss Lucy?” Benton threw his hand casually over her horse’s neck now that business had been taken care of and talked as if conversing with an old friend. Sarah searched her memory for when they had moved from being strangers—and foes—to speaking on such equal terms.

  “She’s the mother of a son now. Jake Douglas Callahan.” Sarah watched a smile twitch at the corner of Benton’s mouth as he took in the news and the significance of the middle name. Then his smile faded as he seemed to reflect upon the loss of the brother, husband, and father. He alluded no further to the subject that Sarah suspected engaged his thoughts as much as her own on a daily basis.

  “I would be glad to escort you back through the lines.” When he took a step closer and gazed down at her, Sarah became magnetized. His eyes seemed to hold her in place with a strange power that left her breathless. Conscious of a sudden, strange attraction for him, she felt awkward and unsure of herself. She wished to flee—yet wanted nothing more than to stay.

  “That will not be necessary.” She turned to tighten her horse’s girth in an effort to find something to do to keep her busy. Try as she might to dislike this man, she found that resisting him when they were standing face-to-face, nearly impossible. “I know the way.”

  “By offering to escort you I was in no way insinuating you did not know the way.” The colonel stood directly beside her now as she fumbled with the leather.

  “I mean…it would not be safe,” she mumbled.

  “For you or for me?”

  Sarah looked up into a pair of dark, penetrating eyes that seemed to be imploring her to yield. He stood there smiling in a careless manner, yet his tone had been laced with emotion. She was baffled by his demeanor, which suddenly reflected civilized warmth and affection.

  “It’s just that…that I see you have no staff to escort you.” She looked back toward the pickets questioningly.

  “Neither do you.” His jaw was set square like a man who is accustomed to getting what he wants.

  Her gaze jerked back to his. “But I—”

  “Are you afraid to be alone with me, Lieutenant Duvall?” His eyes twinkled, but his face showed no sign of humor.

  “Of course not.” Sarah let the stirrup leather down with an unintended slap and then tried to display a calmness she did not feel. “You outrank me. You are at liberty to escort me if you wish.” She mounted and watched him move with catlike grace back up to the pickets.

  As her horse pawed the ground impatiently, Sarah observed Benton nodding casually in her direction a few times as he talked to his men. When one of his men brought him his horse, it became clear he had told them a story that would not pass muster in a Sunday school class. After a last salute, he mounted and trotted to where she waited.

  “Your escort, ma
dame.” He smiled broadly as he bowed over his saddle, and Sarah thought he looked somewhat more like a schoolboy than a commanding officer. Yet the boyish grin did not hide the strength or potency of his features.

  She turned her horse and spurred him forward and saw Benton do the same. After riding stirrup to stirrup at a trot for some miles, Sarah drew her horse down to a walk and Benton followed suit. When Sarah looked over at him, she noticed his eyes were upon her with a serious, yet questioning look. “Is something wrong?”

  “No.” He leaned down and adjusted one of his stirrups as if embarrassed he had been caught staring at her. “It’s just that you are unusually quiet for a woman.”

  Sarah shrugged and looked at him in confusion. “But I have nothing important to say.”

  The colonel laughed at the comment as if that were an unusual—or at least atypical—reason for a woman not to talk. Normally, Sarah would have been irritated by his arrogance, but tonight she found the amicable man she rode beside charming and appealing. Friendly, considerate, and courteous, he also conveyed authority, power, and strength. It was not hard to understand why women congregated toward him and men idolized him. Sarah’s hands trembled on the reins, and she had to look away. She fixed her gaze on the space between her horse’s ears for some miles, until she felt his gloved hand upon her arm.

  “Your pardon for interrupting your thoughts, but I hear water, and thought your horse could perhaps use a drink.” He nodded toward the sound of a swift-flowing stream.

  “Yes, let’s stop a moment.” Embarrassed that she had allowed her thoughts to drift, Sarah veered off the road into a small patch of forest toward the sound of the water. Dismounting, she allowed her horse to take a few sips before pulling him away. “Not too much,” she scolded.

  “You probably need a drink too,” Benton said as he dismounted. “Here, I’ll hold him.”

  “His name is Chance.” Sarah handed over the reins, then knelt to splash water upon her face. Cupping her hands she took a long drink of the cold stream water.