She took a step forward. “Of course.”
“Then I’ll consider your request.” He picked up a stack of paperwork and began to thumb through it. He raised his gaze then, but not his head. “That will be all.”
Sarah remained steadfast. “When will you let me know what you decide?”
He stopped and looked up at her sternly. “When I’ve made my decision.”
“Well, when will you—”
“You are dismissed,” he said sternly. He made no further comment, but had Sarah been looking, she would have seen a glint of approval and respect in his eyes.
Chapter 16
The error of one moment becomes the sorrow of a whole life.
—Chinese proverb
November 1864
Colonel Benton had finally given his consent for Sarah to accompany him, though with obvious reservations and deep concern. That had been more than a week ago, and they were now well on their way.
Already they had ridden out of familiar territory and crossed miles of stark and deserted land. Houses grew few and far between, and those they did pass were mostly just shacks, appearing randomly along the side of the road as if tossed in place by the hand of a mighty storm. Trees and shrubbery dotted the landscape here and there too, but even the finery of nature seemed determined to avoid the region.
By the fourth day of riding, as Benton had predicted, the journey grew both toilsome and perilous. Although Sarah had known the distance would be considerable, she had not anticipated the severity of the weather. Golden Indian summer had vanished soon after they’d ridden out, replaced with lashing rain and a blustering wind that, just this morning, had settled into a spell of bone-seeking sleet. The sleet had since turned to a heavy, blinding snow that was just now beginning to taper.
The whistling of the wind through the trees and the occasionally dense snow squalls claimed any warmth the sun could wrought, leaving Sarah feeling gloomy and cold. She rode with her head down, not paying attention to anything but the gentle plodding of her horse’s hooves, when suddenly the column came to a halt.
“Why are we stopping?” She turned to the man beside her.
He shrugged and nodded toward a house barely visible through the swirling snow.
Sarah could see now that Benton’s staff had halted under some trees. The men were already dismounted and standing at the heads of their horses, apparently just waiting for orders. An ominous feeling overtook Sarah as she thought back to the scene a day and a half earlier.
While encamped at a house on the way to the peninsula, she had been surprised to learn that the home was owned by a relative of the disreputable Mrs. Grimes. Although given no details, Sarah had learned that Benton made a sudden change of course based solely on the intelligence of that homeowner. It concerned her that the colonel’s sound judgment may have been impeded by some sort of feminine duplicity—or worse—outright deceit. She hoped Colonel Benton was not so naïve to allow a petticoat to cloud his better judgment, but she knew from her own experience that men often succumbed easily to false information when delivered by a woman.
After the change in course, they had ridden another day and a half with little knowledge of the new terrain. They still remained ignorant of the country and the roads and knew nothing of the enemy’s numbers or location—save what the woman had told Benton and insisted was fact.
Patrols had been sent out looking for supplies in this desolate land, but success had been minimal, and any relief would surely be slow to arrive. Even less encouraging were the reports from the scouts. They had spotted Union cavalry where no cavalry was supposed to be. To whom those regiments were attached, and what their intent was, weighed heavily on all who understood the significance. Benton had since ordered his men back out to reconnoiter and told them not to return until they had something of value.
“Lieutenant Duvall.”
Sarah shook herself from her reverie. “Yes?”
“We’re waiting here until the scouts get back with word.” Major Connelly nodded toward the road. “The colonel wants to talk to you. He’s about a hundred yards yonder.”
Sarah nodded and urged her horse forward. So Benton felt it too. He was unwilling to move his men any further until he knew what was in front of him. At least the short pause would give her an opportunity to talk to him. It would be the first time she saw him face to face since they had started this journey.
Despite the feeling of gloom she could not shake, Sarah felt a rare pounding of excitement in her heart as she rode forward through the darkening twilight. Some divine, mysterious hand had led her here and would continue to lead her until the will of God was done. For that reason and for an instant, she looked almost giddily to the future, certain of one thing—it could hold no trials comparable to those of the past.
The freshly fallen snow sparkled like tiny mirrors in the advancing starlight, and the serene silence of the night made it impossible to believe that anything as ugly as warfare could be near. Sarah’s horse made no noise as it plodded along, making strange patterns in the snow along the trail. She spotted the colonel when she was still twenty yards away, sitting with his back to her while appearing to survey and contemplate the long, empty stretch of road ahead.
With so much to do and so much at stake, Sarah suddenly felt the need to lighten the mood. Acting on an impulse, she stopped at a pine tree heavily laden with snow, and when she was close enough, she hurled a well-aimed snowball toward the large target. The missile hit its mark with a soft thud, causing Sarah to laugh with amusement.
“I’m sorry, Colonel,” she said, her eyes wide with astonishment and disbelief. “I did not realize I was such a good shot.”
When Benton turned around in his saddle, Sarah saw his eyes were lit, first with surprise and then, almost instantly, with revenge. As a result, she reacted on instinct, spurring her horse away from him, fearing the assault to come.
And come it did—but faster and even more furiously than she anticipated. When she saw how quickly he was gaining ground, she laughed again, partly in triumph but mostly from fright, and made the decision to abandon her mount and make for higher ground to gain a tactical advantage.
The plan would have been a wise one had her pursuer not been so fleet of foot. He apparently saw her intentions, perhaps before she even knew them, and jumped from his horse in a most athletic dismount, quickly closing the distance as she slipped and slid up the grade. Within moments, he brought her sprawling down to the ground.
Shocked and surprised by both his speed and strength, Sarah struggled and squirmed against his powerful form and soon gained the advantage by sitting on top of him and pinning his arms over his head. It was a position, she surmised with one look at his smiling face, he had intended all along. He appeared youthful and masculine—though it occurred to Sarah that they were both too old for this type of revelry.
“It appears you have the advantage of me,” he said mischievously.
The smile slowly faded from Sarah’s face as she thought back to that other woman, Mrs. Grimes, and to the scores of other women with whom she knew Benton associated. “One apparently not held by me alone, Colonel Benton.” Her tone sounded both wistful and sad.
Benton instantly reversed their positions, his face just inches from hers. “My name is Douglas.”
He stared down at her so intently that Sarah felt the urge to squirm. “I know…but I thought I should wait for permission.”
“You needn’t have.” He relaxed slightly, but his eyes still bore into hers. “Surely you know there is no one more highly regarded or esteemed. Whatever I have is yours—including my name.”
Sarah was silent to that, but her eyes searched his for a few long moments as she tried to decipher his meaning. “We’d better get back,” she finally said, pushing him away half playfully, half hastily.
Benton helped her up and held her hand firmly in his as they turned back to their horses. He seemed quiet and suddenly serious as he led her skillfully through the
bramble and snow.
“I’m sorry for acting so childishly.” Sarah looked into his warm, dark eyes when he turned around. “It seems the occasion calls for anything but humor.” Despite the seriousness of their circumstances, she felt a swift, illogical contentment when she felt the pressure of his hand on hers increase, all the brighter for it being brief and unexpected.
Benton made a gallant effort at a smile. “Yes, but no need for an apology. I will cherish the memory.” He walked up to her horse and grabbed the reins before speaking again in a low, grave tone. “I called you forward to apologize for placing you in harm’s way. The intelligence so far has done nothing to alleviate the worry.”
“Perhaps the scouts will report some good news,” Sarah said, trying to sound hopeful as she accepted his assistance in mounting. “Regardless, we must not fret over what we cannot change.”
He cocked his head and smiled. “Thank you, Lieutenant Duvall. Your optimistic attitude will set a good example for my men.”
Sarah gazed at him curiously, as if his words confused her. “But there is only One who provides a true example.” When he started to turn toward his horse, she reached for his shoulder. “Really, Colonel, I wish you would accept Him before you are brought to some crises in your destiny for which you are not prepared.”
Benton laughed and patted her hand as a father might a child. “There you go trying to save my soul again—a nigh impossible task.” He walked to his horse and mounted without another word.
* * *
They rode back to the command in silence, she staring at the moon and the stars and the thousands of vivid reflections they created on the snow; he staring at her, at the way the moonlight lit her hair and softened her face. It was as if she had been created by magical fairies from fallen snow sparkles and frost gleam so unearthly and glowing did she appear. It warmed Benton’s heart to know that with sufficient cause she could laugh—he’d never really thought it in her. To see her so playful tonight, with so much at stake, was like seeing the sun after a cold, long night. It had wrought a dazzling change in her and brought out feelings he had tried desperately to resist.
He had known how dangerous this journey would be, and tonight had revealed why he had gone against his instincts and allowed her to come. She made his lonely heart yearn for things he had never felt before. Until only recently he had not even thought of himself as lonely. The idea seemed preposterous. But the frivolous and shallow antics of the women who usually surrounded him were no longer pleasing or charming. There was only one whose poise, grace, and charm could cause his heart to race.
A thousand thoughts rushed through Benton’s head as he rode silently beside her. This feeling of friendly companionship was a far different thing from the casual, skillfully conducted flirtations to which he was accustomed. It was strange and thrilling, and yet frightening and alarming. Thoughts and feelings and emotions surged through him in such a way that it almost made him shudder. He had given himself to many women, but he had never surrendered his heart.
Nevertheless, his conscience warned him to curb his yearnings for her sake, and to still his longings for the sake of the command. It was her respect he wished to win more so than her adoration. But when she leaned over and began to brush snow from his back and shoulder, it nearly unseated him.
“What shall your men think of a commander who lies on his back in a snowbank?” she asked, her voice light and full of laughter again as she swept away the traces of white from his coat.
Benton spoke hastily with his heart, not his mind, as he pulled his horse to a stop. “That he is wildly and passionately in love, perhaps?”
Sarah’s hand stilled upon his shoulder. Eyes that had been looking down slowly lifted to meet his. She sat unmoving as if held by an invisible hand. Time seemed suspended as neither moved.
“And is he?” she finally asked, a mixture of astonishment and fear in her voice. “Perhaps?”
He brought his hand up and touched her cheek softly, as if he were touching a rare treasure he had long admired from afar. His voice trembled ever so slightly, as did his hand. “No,” he said hoarsely. “That is…there is no perhaps about it. Just wildly. Passionately.”
It seemed the very wind held its breath as no sound save the neigh of a distant horse could be heard. Benton remained silent and still waiting for her to answer, his heart beating so tumultuously he felt it in his throat. Surely she could hear it. Yet everything about her seemed to offer encouragement, from her widened eyes and her half-parted lips to the breathless expectancy in the way she gazed at him. And certainly the flush upon her cheeks was not caused by the cold alone.
The night seemed to close in around them, shutting out the world and all its complications. Both seemed to realize they were succumbing to feelings they neither understood nor expected, feelings they had tried to prevent or ignore but now were forced to face. And for two people who prided themselves on discipline and control, the feelings were overwhelming and frightening in their intensity.
At last, Benton leaned toward her, his military bearing gone, and briefly pressed his lips upon hers. She did not pull away, yet neither did she embrace him.
The sound of a horse, galloping hard through the snow in their direction caused them to hastily part. The muffled hoofbeats were soon followed by the strains of a trumpet, its urgency muted by the snow and the distance.
“Sir,” Mahony saluted and drew rein beside him in a shower of snow as his horse came to a sudden stop. “Scouts are back.”
The colonel waited for something more.
“It’s urgent, sir.”
Benton’s gaze as it rested on Sarah was possessive and concerned. She looked up at him with clear, blue, fearless eyes.
“Go to your men,” she said softly. “You must not think of me at all.”
Benton nodded and turned his horse, but he knew that was easier said than done, for she was more on his mind than was the enemy, even as he felt them gathering around him.
Chapter 17
’Tis the business of little minds to shrink; but he whose heart is firm,
and whose conscience approves his conduct, will pursue his principles unto death.
—Thomas Paine, The American Crisis, No. 1, 1776
Sarah rode back toward the encampment at a slow trot, her stomach turning in knots out of concern for Colonel Benton and a fear of the unknown. A strange, gloomy light from the moon still shown from above, but it was fitful now through the gathering clouds and cast only straggling gleams that seemed to tease and torment. It occurred to her that these signs in winter portended danger as plainly as heat lightning foretells a storm in the heat of summer.
Although she was only a few minutes behind Colonel Benton, there was already a purposeful activity throughout the camp when she rode in. The rush of movement seemed in contrast to the relaxed attitude of Benton, whom she saw sitting calmly in a tight circle of officers discussing the news from the scouts. The importance of the meeting was something that could be sensed—if not felt—by those who milled about or hurried around carrying out orders that had already been given.
Sarah did not need to hear the words of those who sat around their commander with wrinkled brows and determined looks. It was not hard to guess the basic details of the frightening facts. The enemy was apparently out there, approaching quietly and in strength. Benton had been intentionally deceived and now they were trapped on a slim piece of land that held no escape.
After dismounting, Sarah stood discreetly beneath a tree, trying to blend in with the shadows. She could hear only bits and pieces of the conversation until Benton began to speak again, his clarion voice carrying quite clearly. Bathed in a cocoon of pale yellow light from a fire, he appeared calm and unruffled, the very picture of a soldier as he discussed the necessity of the upcoming conflict.
Sarah knew that Benton was not a man before whom it was ever safe to indulge in mistakes, and the enemy had made one by allowing his scouts to alert him of their presence. He
would use that knowledge to calculate, analyze and assess every aspect and detail of the upcoming conflict. Nothing would alarm him, nothing would dismay him, and nothing would daunt him. The more serious the intelligence, the more determined he would become
Sarah watched him with something of awe, and observed a new refinement, a calm composure and quiet dignity that she had failed to see before. Whether it was the stamp of birth and breeding or just a confident authority that had been long practiced, she did not know. But she knew that action—prompt, bold, and decisive—was the breath of life to him.
Her eyes went back to the group and swept over the men, before falling again upon Benton. Although she knew he had slept little in the last three days, he showed no trace of fatigue now, presenting his usual appearance of confidence and conviction. Yet Sarah could tell by the steely color of his eyes that he was concerned. The wrinkle of his brow revealed that his quiet reserve was strained, and his carefree smile was absent.
Of course, everyone in the camp felt the peril, but none carried the burden like Benton. Sarah knew well the responsibilities that weighed upon him and marveled at the man who had been laughing like a schoolboy in the snow less than an hour before. He was all manhood and military genius now, making her wonder how anyone could change so quickly and so much.
Sarah leaned against the strong trunk of the tree behind her and stared into the blackness beyond. The reports of the scouts had apparently only varied in the depth of their gloom. The enemy was close, yet was surprisingly—and suspiciously—quiet. Their silence and deceitful calm most likely covered an important movement. Her mind came back to the present as she heard Benton’s voice again. His face was serious, and his tone was grave.
“Gentlemen, the enemy is around us in overwhelming numbers and in irresistible force.” He paused and stared into their eyes as he swept his gaze across them. “The points upon which we can be attacked are numerous and their strength unlimited.”
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