Careful to remain hidden by the clumps of trees, Peyton reached the top of the hill. Spotting pickets, he motioned his men back into the shadows, praying the horses would keep quiet. Buzzing insects taunted him, but he dared not even lift a hand to swat at them lest he disrupt the brush. Perspiration trickled down the sides of his face and back of his neck.
The guards rode slowly past. Peyton breathed easier.
He stepped forward and glanced around for more vedettes. He spied none, although a good mile off, the enemy’s campfires were scattered across a meadow, looking like fallen stars.
He motioned his men forward.
Stealthily, they led their mounts along the tree line. As soon as their boots touched on the gravel road, Peyton gave the signal and they swung up into their saddles. Then they rode like the wind into town.
The next difficulty came in avoiding soldiers patrolling the streets. Even though they were disguised as farmers, the threat of being detained and ultimately captured lurked. Peyton knew his men would rather fight than waste away in a Confederate prison. On the other hand, if everything went according to Peyton’s plan, they wouldn’t have to fire a single shot and Rebel troops wouldn’t suspect a thing.
General Sheridan received word that the Confederates in Winchester considered themselves victorious in what was largely an indecisive battle at Berryville. Nonetheless, Early’s men had held their line, except they hadn’t attacked the next morning. The Rebs accurately guessed they were outnumbered. So they’d crossed the Opequon and camped—and they hadn’t moved for the last few days. They only marched around and around as if circling the walls of Jericho.
And tonight, being Saturday, celebratory parties were being held around town. Peyton relied on his assumption that most officers, like Eli Kent, were out enjoying themselves. Only ragtag enlisted men guarded the town. Armed with bottles of whiskey, tobacco, and Federal currency, Peyton and his men could easily bribe whoever stopped them. Reportedly, some CSA soldiers hadn’t been paid in months. Their families were hungry. The Confederate dollar worth very little. But, God willing, Peyton and his men wouldn’t attract unwanted attention.
Splitting up, three of his men rode slowly down Piccadilly Street. Meanwhile, shrouded by the blessed development of low-lying fog, Peyton, Vern, and Tommy rode down the alleyway that led to the back of Aunt Ruth’s house. Music and laughter wafted from the Monteagues’ home and muffled their horses’ hooves as they clapped against the cobblestone pavement. Peyton whispered a prayer that his aunt and Carrie weren’t attending their neighbors’ party. He needed to find them both at home. Safe.
Reaching his aunt’s wide back yard, Peyton left Vern and the horses hidden in the fieldstone wreckage of what had once been a spacious barn and stable. The terrible memories of what took place there still haunted Peyton. Those murdering thugs! To convey their message of anti-abolitionism, several slaveholding Confederates hanged Samuel, Tabitha’s brother. The black man had been a loyal, faithful friend of the Collier family and had done nothing to deserve brutality.
Peyton signaled Tommy to follow him across the yard. They kept low and hidden in the shadows of tall firs, pines, and Aunt Ruth’s fragrant eucalyptus. The trees stood along a narrow ravine that divided the Colliers’ property from the Monteagues’ place. Despite the natural partition, the faint but rich smell of cigar smoke made its way from the celebration, accompanied by the hum of men’s voices and strains from the musical ensemble inside the buildings.
They reached Aunt Ruth’s back porch and slipped into the house. Tabitha’s quarters were off the kitchen, and Peyton decided he’d best make his presence known to her first, lest she kick up a fuss and alert soldiers.
He crept into her sitting room. Evidence of fried foods lingered in the air and caused Peyton to long for a home-cooked meal. He grinned, seeing the older woman rocking in a favorite chair while darning a garment. Silently removing his riding gloves, he put his hand over her mouth, muting her gasp.
“Don’t scream, Tabitha. It is I,” he whispered, as though he recited Shakespeare, “your dear boy.”
She slapped his hand away. After kissing her cheek, Peyton chuckled softly.
“What you doing here? Trying to get yourself killed?”
He removed his hat. “I’m attempting to check on Miss Bell’s welfare. Is she all right?”
“Yes, although …” Tabitha stood and faced him. Beneath the dim lamplight, she looked no worse for wear despite the Confederate invasion of their home. “You’d best talk to Ruth about her.”
“Why?” Peyton narrowed his gaze, feeling a niggling of concern. “Something wrong?”
“It ain’t for me to say.” Tabitha huffed and folded her arms. “And I won’t either.”
He expelled a sigh. Apparently Carrie and Aunt Ruth weren’t getting along. Odd. He’d been so sure they’d like each other.
He’d investigate the matter momentarily. “I’ve got another guest for you. A young man named Tommy.” He quickly explained the circumstances. Tabitha could be trusted. “Come on out and meet him.”
“And feed him, I suppose. You too?”
“No, but thank you.” Peyton strode toward the door. “Where are Miss Bell and Aunt Ruth now?”
“Up in their rooms, I imagine.”
“Is Eli about?”
She wagged her head of downy-white curls. “He be gone next door for the Monteagues’ victory party.” She gave a derisive snort. “His men too, except for a couple of guards, and one of them is usually lurking about.”
“Hmm … interesting.” He and Tommy hadn’t run into any guard. He hoped Vern wouldn’t happen upon them while alone. “I’ll be careful.”
“You’d better be,” Tabitha said. “Your aunt’s got papers that need signing.”
“Papers?”
“Don’t ask me.” Tabitha raised her hands in surrender. “I ain’t saying no more.”
Peyton’s curiosity was now sorely piqued. Nonetheless, he introduced Tommy and told him to keep watch on the first floor. Next Peyton quietly ascended the stairs. He glanced at the closed paneled door of the room in which he suspected Carrie stayed, then eyed his aunt’s closed door. He decided to surprise Carrie first. She’d tell him of any problem existing between her and Aunt Ruth while his aunt would be more likely to hedge so she didn’t worry him.
But he was worried.
He rapped lightly against the door.
“Come in, Aunt Ruth.”
Sounded friendly enough. Peyton turned the knob, opened the door, and quickly stepped in. He found Carrie sitting at a round table near the windows. She turned. Seeing him, her smile vanished and her eyes grew wide.
She gasped and sprang to her feet.
“Shhh …” He held his forefinger to his lips as he closed the door behind him.
“Peyton!” Her wide eyes took in his attire. “Have you deserted?”
He grinned. “Hardly. Several of my men and I snuck into Winchester so I could check on you. I’ve been concerned.” His fears seemed ungrounded. Carrie looked well and quite pretty in that calico dress. Her hair was swept up and curly tendrils fell alongside her face. “The scouts never returned. I suspect they were Confederate spies.”
“Oh, my.” Her voice was feather soft.
“You seemed upset when you saw them. Did you know that they were spies before you left camp that night?”
“I-I wasn’t sure,” she stammered. “Remember, I’ve seen scores of soldiers come through the Wayfarers Inn.”
“True enough.” Peyton stepped closer to her and caught a whiff of lavender. “Did they mistreat you?”
“Other than a little manhandling and trying to steal my horse, no.” As she stared up at him, her pretty pink lips parted slightly. “Colonel Kent intervened on my behalf, but then confiscated the gelding.”
Peyton moved toward her. “The Rebel army is desperate.”
“Right now, they don’t act like it.” She took a step closer.
Peyton marveled at hi
s powerful reaction to their nearness. It was more than a mere attraction. He’d never felt this way about a woman before, and he sensed she felt the same. “Carrie, you’re lovely.”
She blushed and lowered her gaze. “Thank you.” When she glanced up at him again, she had a twinkle in her eyes. “But I’m afraid I’m growing more spoiled with each passing day.”
“You deserve a little spoiling.” There certainly didn’t appear to be any problem. “How are you and my aunt getting along?”
“Wonderfully, I think.” A glow seemed to cover her being. “Oh, Peyton, Aunt Ruth has been more like a mother to me than my own mother, or stepmother, ever was.”
When he frowned, his confusion obviously apparent, she explained the latest developments about her mother. It was likely her stepmother and stepsister whom she left in Woodstock.
“I won’t bore you with the details. I’m sure you don’t have a lot of time.”
“No, I don’t.” Although he wished he had all the time in the world. “But nothing is amiss between you and my aunt?”
“No, not that I’m aware. Aunt Ruth has coached me on certain social proprieties.” She arched a delicate brow and wagged a finger at him. “But you didn’t warn me about the tea parties.”
“My apologies.” Smiling, he gave her a gallant bow.
“Accepted.”
Peyton felt all the more drawn to her. He took another step closer.
“Aunt Ruth has also helped me write letters to officials in neighboring counties as well as Baltimore and Washington, expressing my desire to find Sarah Jane.” A determined glint entered Carrie’s eyes. “Aunt Ruth is certain we’ll find her—and my father too.”
“I believe you will.”
He felt warmth penetrating his suede jacket before noticing the small fire glowing in the hearth. His gaze slid to the bedside table where a stack of four or five volumes lay. Then he saw the numerous newspaper pages spread across the table at which Carrie had been sitting when he’d entered her room. She appeared in her element.
He cleared his throat. “You do have cozy quarters, Miss Bell,” he teased. “Little wonder you deserted my brigade.”
“Deserted? How dare you, sir.” She lifted her chin in a demure but dismissive way.
He chuckled. Sassy as ever. “Ah, yes … I see the fruits of my aunt’s coaching already.”
Her eyes sparked at his retort, but it was her smile that turned his heart inside out.
She took another step toward him. “You may be interested to know that Aunt Ruth and I were invited to tea at a well-known secessionist woman’s home.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. Mrs. Tavish.”
Peyton knew the busybody quite well.
“She felt the need to try to convert us to the Confederacy.”
“I’m sure that was amusing.”
“Quite. But, interestingly enough, Mrs. Tavish confided in me when she learned I hailed from Woodstock. Perhaps she concluded that I was a Confederate at heart.”
“Did you learn anything noteworthy?”
“As a matter of fact, I did.” She beamed. “Mrs. Tavish said that General Lomax was—or is—Colonel Mosby’s commanding officer. They have plenty of scouts who are trained to tap telegraph lines among other things. Evidently, General Lomax stated that the Valley is impenetrable to Union forces. He’s got General Early convinced of it. Therefore, Early is considering sending Anderson’s troops back to Lee so they can help fight General Grant at Petersburg.”
Peyton kneaded his whiskered jaw as he considered the information. If Early did such a thing, the Union army could break through his forces with little problem. “To be clear, you said Mrs. Tavish heard this directly from Lomax?”
“Yes. He and his staff stayed in her home for two nights.”
“Hmm … Generals Merritt and Sheridan will be pleased to hear it.”
“Good.” She leaned forward as if his presence drew her too. “Then putting up with Mrs. Tavish’s babbling for an entire afternoon was worth it.”
Another of her smiles charmed Peyton nearly out of his senses. No doubt Eli noticed her. Did Carrie enjoy his company or that of another man? Surely she didn’t want for male attention. “I hope Colonel Kent has been nothing short of a gentleman.”
She blinked at his abrupt change of subject. “He has, except …”
“Except?” He frowned. Was that the problem Tabitha hinted at? “Except … what?”
She moistened her lips. “Colonel Kent showed interest in me, but I didn’t share it. At the same time, Miss Monteague—”
“Lavinia?” Peyton stifled a groan. “Is she back in Winchester?”
“Yes, and she’s still very unattached. She—” Carrie’s voice fell and so did her gaze. “She was quite disappointed to hear that you’re … well, that you got—” She pressed her lips together.
“That I’m … what?” Cupping Carrie’s chin, Peyton urged her gaze to meet his. What could be so awful that she had trouble speaking her mind?
At last she lifted her eyes, but they were filled with remorse.
“You can tell me anything, Carrie.”
“On my very first day here, Aunt Ruth began explaining who I was to the Monteague ladies. She couldn’t tell the truth for obvious reasons.”
Peyton began suspecting one of Aunt Ruth’s tales went horribly awry.
“So she fibbed with the hopes of sufficiently discouraging both Miss Monteague and Colonel Kent.”
“So just who did Aunt Ruth say you are?”
That familiar tiny pucker appeared above Carrie’s right eyebrow, and Peyton’s gut tightened.
“She said I’m your … your wife.”
CHAPTER 20
“My what?”
“I’m sorry, Peyton. I wanted to fix the slipup, but couldn’t think of how to talk my way around it without casting a bad light on Aunt Ruth.”
Carrie squeezed her eyes shut. Perhaps she shouldn’t have gone along with the hoax. Poor Peyton looked like he’d gone into shock.
Either that or he was so angry he couldn’t speak.
“I can leave Winchester,” Carrie offered, praying Peyton wouldn’t agree. “Aunt Ruth can blame it all on me. Then you can reconcile with Miss Monteague or any other suitable young lady.”
“Lavinia? I have no intentions of reconciling with her.” He gave his head a shake as if clearing it. “And I have no plans to pursue any other young ladies.”
“You don’t?” Carrie brightened. Still, she had to tell Peyton the entire truth. “Miss Monteague seemed saddened to hear you’re married—but, of course, you’re not.” She blew out a breath, wishing Aunt Ruth were here to explain. It was her blunder, after all.
“I don’t give a whit about how Lavinia may or may not feel. I’m more concerned with your safety.” He paced the small area in front of her. “A Union officer’s wife here in Confederate-controlled Winchester?” Peyton shook his head again.
“There are other loyalist women here in town whose husbands are officers. As for Colonel Kent, he has pledged his cooperation to ensure my protection and has one of his men following Aunt Ruth and me.”
“To monitor your activities.”
“Yes, but it also serves as protection.” The way Peyton pursed his lips and rubbed his knuckles along his bearded chin told Carrie he was, at least, considering what she said. “I’ve been able to attend various luncheons and teas with Aunt Ruth, and today I volunteered at the orphanage, all unaccosted.” The sad faces of the many parentless children had been etched into her memory. “Oh, Peyton, you should see these little ones. Their parents are dead, their homes are gone.”
“Begging your pardon, Carrie, but I don’t have time to hear about your work at the orphanage, as admirable as it sounds. I’d best find my aunt and settle this trouble of … of our marriage.”
Her chest constricted and Carrie wondered why her feelings were hurt. Of course he couldn’t stay and chitchat. And, of course, he’d want to solve the problem of A
unt Ruth’s unfortunate gaffe.
“You could take me with you, Peyton. That would be a solution.”
“Out of the question.”
“But I can assist Dr. LaFont like I did after you arrested me, and I promise I won’t become squeamish or dispirited again.” She prayed she could keep such a promise.
He reached out and cupped her cheek. She put her hand on top of his, leaning into his touch. Maybe he wasn’t as angry as she’d imagined.
“Believe me, I would like nothing better than to take you with me. However, you’re safer here, which doesn’t say a lot, but it is enough. In fact, I brought Tommy here too. While I’m away, it will bring me a measure of comfort to know that you four are out of the line of fire.”
“It’s coming, isn’t it? Another large battle?” She didn’t want to think about all the loss of life and how she fretted over Peyton’s safety. “Everyone in Winchester is still abuzz over the fall of Atlanta.”
“That win has encouraged the Union army greatly.” He took her hand and she felt its roughness as his thumb brushed over her knuckles.
“I think the Union can and must win in the Shenandoah Valley. The victory would be a means to ending this dreadful war.”
“Carrie, let’s not talk of the war anymore.” Peyton pressed a kiss on her cheek, slowly, deliberately.
Her eyes fluttered closed as she relished his nearness. His musky scent mingled with woodsmoke and leather. “What would you rather talk about?” She fought to keep her composure in spite of her heart’s sudden hammering.
Without another word, he gathered her in his arms and slid his lips to her mouth. Carrie’s world began to spin. Her legs threatened to give way. The fire crackled in the hearth, but even its flames couldn’t rival the newly sparked feelings for Peyton. They burned deeply inside of her as she returned his kisses.
After several delicious moments, his lips brushed the bridge of her nose. “Now, what did you ask before I so rudely interrupted?”
“I can’t remember.” She heard his husky chuckle as he kissed her jaw, her neck …
A Thousand Shall Fall Page 21
