Above and Beyond
Page 14
Sarah took a bold step forward. “Of course it’s not agreeable to me! You cannot spare any of your men for an escort when there is such serious work ahead.” As if to accentuate her words, the roar of cannon fire caused the pictures on the wall to tremble.
Little did Sarah know how correct she was about the current situation. Federal infantry and cavalry were converging in the area, all hastening forth to check the progress of the dauntless rebels and spy who had wreaked havoc on them over the past two years.
“Perhaps you do not understand the urgency of our circumstances,” Benton said, his voice losing its gentleness. “The Yankees know who you are—what you are. They know how much you know, and they want to eliminate your ability to share it!” Despite his injury, he never looked more menacing. Ferocity gleamed in his eyes, but it was matched by the determination shining in hers.
“I have sacrificed all,” Sarah responded, trying to fight the tears she felt welling in her eyes. “All. I will not go!”
The private who had escorted Sarah to the office poked his head in the door. “Sir, your staff is ready and waiting outside.”
Sarah’s eyes grew large with disbelief as she realized the implication. “You are going to the front?”
“I can’t very well lead from the back,” Benton said matter-of-factly. “Snipes is involved in this, and I want the matter taken care of once and for all.”
Sarah ran to where he stood and grabbed his arm. “But they want me! You are injured and weak. If something happens to you, I shall feel responsible!”
Benton stared down at her with a face of marble, but his words were full of emotion. “Now you know how I feel, Sarah Duvall.”
Gunfire sounded louder and closer due to the silence that befell the room as they stood face to face, neither willing to move. Benton seemed to possess the solidarity of a rock as he stared at her, yet Sarah saw only a gentle, manly spirit, the very soul of chivalry and honor.
Finally, Benton broke the spell, walking to the door and yelling for an aide with a tone and manner that spoke of command. By the time the soldier appeared, Benton had scribbled out a note. “Take Lieutenant Duvall to the medical department and introduce her to Doctor Jenson.”
“Yes, suh. The lieutenant’s horse is saddled and waiting outside.”
When he had disappeared, Benton tried to make an effort at lightness, though the circumstances called for anything but. “Since you’ve proved yourself an effective nurse, your orders are to report to Dr. Jenson and help him with any wounded.” He paused a moment. “I hope you don’t take it personally if I attempt to make every effort to stay clear of your position, Lieutenant.”
Sarah looked up and met his gaze. His attempt to lighten her spirits amazed and astounded her. She forced a smile, knowing the coming fight would not be an easy one. A large gun cracked ominously just then, and the sound seemed the voice of doom itself.
“Very well.” She swallowed hard as she attempted to drag herself away from him. “I hope you take care, Colonel. I could not carry the weight of your loss.”
“No matter what happens, no weight is yours to bear,” he responded brusquely, all business and commanding. “Remember that and go now.”
Sarah nodded and turned to the door. Although her heart sank and seemed to falter in beating, she refused to look back.
Chapter 15
A gem is not polished without rubbing, nor a man made perfect without trials.
—Chinese proverb
October 1864
It had been a week since Colonel Benton had seen Sarah, two since he had spoken to her—and then only briefly. The last time he had visited the hospital, he’d been surrounded by staff so had not sought her out. When he’d caught a glimpse of her kneeling by the prostate form of one of his men, he’d had to drag his gaze away from the scene to keep from attracting attention.
As Benton trotted along the muddied road en route once again to the makeshift hospital, his mind wandered over all that had transpired in the last two-and-a-half years. The woman he had tried so hard to discredit was now an integral part of his command, and everyone who had come into contact with her had fallen under her spell. She seemed to possess an appealing, captivating, endearing something, which everyone recognized and felt but which no one could really explain or describe.
Even her work at the hospital revealed that her characteristic fearlessness was infused into everything she did—yet she remained, in every sense of the term, a lady. Scrupulously neat in appearance, she had a way of combining dignity and a tender heart with strength and poise. Everything about her wore the mark of honor.
Benton had overheard enough conversations to know that his men not only accepted her as one of them, but that many also hopelessly, madly adored her. He could not blame them. Not only was she intoxicating to gaze upon, but something in her grace of movement, bearing and poise marked her as “different,” a lady who possessed composure and courage and strength of will. Her virtues were emphasized by the power of Christian principles that had sustained her through all her hardships and trials.
The position in which she had been placed in the hospital made her well known to many and seemed to bring a newfound respect and politeness to his ranks. Benton had noticed an obvious change in his men—they were courteous and deferential when in her presence and civil and considerate when not. It was impossible not to notice the influence and authority she wielded. Even those who had only met her briefly could feel her particular brand of magic. Her presence was as familiar to them as one of their battery guns, and they seemed to esteem her courage in equal measure. No one was unaware of her valiant service to the Confederacy or of the sacrifices she had made by doing it covertly.
Benton dismounted in front of the hospital building and waved for his staff to remain outside. Standing in the doorway, he allowed his eyes to adjust to the dim light. When his gaze finally fell upon her, he noticed that her mourning period had apparently ended. The high-necked black day dress she typically wore had been replaced with one of a slightly lighter hue—steel gray, the color of the belly of a rain cloud and every bit as dreary. Still, she wore the plain outfit with a quiet sophistication that somehow brought elegance to a place that reeked of misery and death.
When Benton saw that she was sitting with the same captain she had been nursing the previous week, he felt a sudden pang in his heart. It occurred to him the uncomfortable feeling might be jealousy—but as he had never had the occasion to feel the emotion before, he wasn’t quite sure. Sarah leaned forward just then and whispered something that caused the captain’s mouth to curl into a smile.
“Captain Gage.” Benton strode into the room with a loud clank of boots and spurs. “I’m happy to see you are feeling better.”
Sara turned and looked at him, her dark, secretive face never losing its matter-of-fact calm as she beheld his entrance.
The captain, though still weak, made an effort to salute his commanding officer. “Yes, sir. Lieutenant Duvall is seeing to that.”
Benton’s gaze slid over to Sarah as if seeing her for the first time. With heroic effort, he managed to keep his gaze emotionless and his tone subdued. “Oh, yes, Lieutenant Duvall. There you are. Just the person I’ve come to speak to…if you can spare a moment.”
Sarah turned back to Captain Gage a moment, gave his hand an obvious squeeze, and stood to follow Benton. When she got out onto the sunlit porch, he turned to her. “I see you’ve taken your duties quite seriously.” His tone was a little colder than he had intended.
“I know of no other way.” Sarah looked up at him as if confused. “Is that what you wished to talk to me about?”
“No.” Benton continued walking to a tree in the yard as he put a match to a cigar and got the end burning red. “I’ve received new orders and need to talk to you.”
“Very well.” Sarah crossed her arms and waited.
“Not here.” Benton looked at his staff waiting by the horses. “I’d like you to come to headquarters.”
Sarah’s forehead creased as she turned worriedly and looked through the door of the hospital.
“Surely they can spare you for a few hours,” Benton said curtly.
“Colonel, can you send me about a dozen more of these?” A tall, barrel-chested surgeon patted Benton on the back as he walked by, nodding toward Sarah. “Don’t know what I’d do without this one.”
Benton took a long draw on his cigar and then gazed absently at the tip glowing red. “I’m hoping you can spare her for a few hours, Doc.” He flicked some ashes onto the ground. “Need her down at headquarters.”
“Sure. Sure.” The doctor barely stopped, and continued to talk over his shoulder. “Just be sure you give her back.” He gave a wave with his hand before disappearing into the makeshift hospital.
“I guess that’s settled,” Benton said.
Sarah stood eyeing him, her arms still crossed and her hair mussed and hanging like a frame around her face. “What needs to be said that cannot be said here?”
Benton removed the cigar from his mouth. “It’s…complicated,” he said in a low tone.
So compelling was his stare and so magnetic was his gaze that Sarah apparently could not refuse him. “I’ve heard rumblings of a change of orders,” she said musingly.
“Is that so?” Benton’s irritation got the better of him. He took a step closer. “From whom?”
“Oh, no one in particular,” Sarah said, quickly. “Just talk of something afoot.”
Benton knew better than to try to get any names out of her. The woman was as loyal to her comrades as she was to her country. He gazed up at the sun. “It’s about half-past noon,” he said. “I’m heading back to headquarters now.”
“Very well.” Sarah looked down at her dress and made a half-hearted attempt to smooth out the wrinkles. “But I need to change first.”
“I’ll leave Benning and Martin here as an escort.” Benton nodded toward the two men. “Let them know when you’re ready.”
He didn’t say anything more, just gave his cigar a toss into a nearby mud puddle, mounted and rode away, all the while musing that he was leaving her as he always did—feeling more at peace, and yet more in turmoil—than he’d ever felt before.
* * *
Benton sat down on the couch in front of the fire and stared into its flickering flames. He’d ridden hard to get back to headquarters so he’d have time for a quick wash and change of clothes before Sarah’s arrival. He closed his eyes and tried to sort out his thoughts in an attempt to prepare for what lay ahead. He needed to try to predict how she would react to his news and be ready to counter her arguments.
Amid his musings, Benton heard the door behind him open and close. Having heard no horses coming in, he assumed it was his clerk dropping some papers onto his desk. It wasn’t until the sound of soft rustling of silk met his ears, followed by the rich scent of a woman, that he looked around.
“Why, Kul-nel. Ah didn’t really expect that you’d be all alone.”
Mrs. Grimes took a step closer, her bosom heaving as she stared boldly at him, her wide, unflinching gaze sliding from his eyes to his lips, then slowly across the breadth of his shoulders before resting on his hands that lay on his lap. It caused him to stir uncomfortably.
He had heard she’d arrived for a visit with the owner of the house he used as headquarters, but couldn’t help but wonder if there was some other reason for her sudden appearance—especially amid talk that she was as friendly with Union officers as she was with Confederate.
Although he had not disapproved of her promiscuousness when she was single and much younger, he did not believe it becoming now. He wondered again about her motives, and a shiver of uneasiness ran through him. It could be that she wanted to be seen with a man of his military status—or it could mean she wanted access to his position for another reason entirely. It troubled him that his sense of unease signaled something sinister—an indication it was probably the latter.
When he came to his senses and started to stand, the matronly woman strode hurriedly toward him and gave him a gentle push back down on the couch. “Colonel, no need to rise for an old friend like me.” Mrs. Grimes sat down beside him, entwined her arm in his and leaned into him, hard.
Benton dared not look down at her. Instead, he stared straight into the fire, his jaw clamped tightly. “I’m expecting company in a few minutes.” His voice cracked, and he labored over the simple words.
“Oh, that should be plenty of time.” She took his hand, placed it on her lap, and leaned into him more boldly, gently stroking his cheek suggestively. “If we don’t tarry over small talk.”
Benton swallowed hard, trying to control his impulses. “The door is not locked.”
She laughed with a throaty, infectious sound he knew she used when she wished to get her way. Unfortunately, awareness of that fact did not lessen her power over him, nor free him from the natural desires pulsing through him.
“Indeed. There was a time you would have thought that added to the excitement.”
She breathed heavily, so close he could feel the warmth of her breath on his neck. Benton concentrated on the fire as he tried to think of a way to extricate himself from the situation. Yet his mind could not erase the memory of this woman in younger years and the images that it wrought.
“Oh, look, how careless of me.” Mrs. Grimes leaned low over his lap. “I believe I’ve dropped my earring.”
Benton heard a short gasping sound behind him, and turned to see Sarah Duvall standing at the door. “I’m sorry…Private M-Manson said to come right in.” She pointed to the door and took a step backward as if she was going to disappear through it.
Benton stood in one motion, leaving Mrs. Grimes struggling to regain her balance on the sofa. “That’s quite all right.” He bounded toward Sarah and pulled her back into the room. “Mrs. Grimes was just leaving.”
The agitated Mrs. Grimes stood with a look of indignation and rage that made the color of her face nearly match the redness of her hair. “So this is the visitor you were expecting.” Her eyes, still lit with fury and resentment, remained on Colonel Benton, while her tone and expression reflected that she did not think Sarah worth the interruption. “You’ll pay for this,” she said to no one particular.
Benton took her by the arm and led her toward the entranceway. “Good day, Mrs. Grimes.”
But before he could get the door closed, she repeated her ominous words, and this time they were directed at him. “You’ll pay for this.”
The room fell silent then as Benton turned back to Sarah and tried to think of something appropriate to say. His head ached terribly now, and he suddenly felt sick to his stomach. Beads of sweat began to run down his forehead, though the room was anything but warm. Although he had responded neither by word or movement to the woman’s advances, he knew the scene had appeared anything but upright.
“I’m sorry to intrude.” Sarah did not meet his gaze as he strode across the room, but stared at something on the wall over his desk as she spoke.
“Your arrival is not an intrusion.” Benton went to his desk and opened a folder, staring at it intently a moment as he tried to determine how to start. At last, he decided on a course.
“As I told you at the hospital, there has been a change of plans.” He gazed up at her for the first time. “I’ve received new orders from General Lee.” When she responded with nothing more than an inquisitive look, he continued. “I’ve been ordered with a large detachment to the peninsula. Lee wants the citizens of this region to be free from the strain of feeding man and beast for a few months.”
Sarah nodded. “That’s understandable. This area has been forced to provide for both armies.” She walked slowly to the window and gazed out as a horse and rider came galloping in. “I suppose that leaves you wondering what to do with me.”
Benton didn’t try to beat around the bush, though he knew those serious eyes could turn turbulent in an instant. “Yes. What do you suggest?”
“But things have changed. We are no longer going into winter quarters here.” Benton strode across the room until he stood behind her, his voice low and grave. “The ride to the peninsula will be long, and the weather is turning colder every day. The journey would be quite a severe test of your endurance.”
“I comprehend the distance and the tendency of winter weather to be cold,” Sarah replied, putting her hands on her hips and turning toward him. “Circumstances may have changed, but my position has not.”
Benton had calculated her objections and was not angered by them, but he could not end the conversation without bringing up the greater risk. “There is another consideration.” He walked to his desk and sat down, then leaned forward for emphasis. “One that perhaps you have not contemplated.”
Sarah gazed at him with questioning eyes.
“I’ll put this frankly, as I know of no other way.” He took a deep breath as if to proceed, but with her gaze intently upon him, suddenly found himself at a loss for words. Picking up a cigar as if that would give him the nerve he needed, he fumbled slightly with a match until finally the head burned red. “As I said, I’ll be frank.” He raised his gaze to the beautiful face that looked like chiseled marble. “The Yankees want your head.”
She merely shrugged. “That does not mean I wish to run and hide.” When he leaned back in his chair and said nothing more, she threw up her hands, knowing she had no say. “I do not intend to beg, Colonel Benton. You have the rank to compel me to obey your command.”
He frowned at her. “I’m glad you appreciate my position, although you state it with unnecessary harshness.”
“It is the truth that is harsh, not my stating of it,” she said in an unemotional voice.
Benton sighed deeply and began to tap the pencil again. “Is it my understanding that you wish to accompany us?”