Sensing a presence to her left, Ruth turned to find Tabitha watching on. They exchanged smiles.
“Our boy married the right one, that’s for sure.”
“Yes, he did.” Ruth willed herself not to glance at Lavinia.
“We knew it right from the start, when we got Peyt’s letter. You remember?”
“I do.” Ruth’s smile grew.
“I don’t think I ever saw him so happy as right now.”
“Oh, shut up, both of you!” In a swirl of emerald silk, Lavinia stormed from the room, pushing rudely past several officers as she left.
Ruth pretended she didn’t hear or see anything out of the ordinary. Of course, it was rather typical of Lavinia to throw a fit over something or another.
“That girl’s as green as her dress.” Tabitha snorted a small laugh.
“Normally, I’d agree, but tonight Lavinia is genuinely distraught.” Ruth lowered her voice to a whisper. “Edward died this evening—wounded a couple of weeks ago. His comrades brought him home where he breathed his last.”
Tabitha’s jaw slacked slightly open. Recovering, she wagged her head. “It may sound heartless of me, but now my brother’s soul and I can rest easier. One of his killers is standing before King Jesus.”
Ruth agreed. It certainly was difficult to feel sad over the loss of one of the enemy, even if he had been Harm’s son. “Frances is upset, of course.”
“I imagine so. But that don’t excuse Miss Lavinia’s bad manners. She shouldn’t have come here tonight.” Tabitha clucked her tongue. “It’s disrespectful to her dead brother.” Tabitha paused to watch the dancers. “I have to admit, I didn’t see much of Miss Frances tonight.”
“She kept to herself.”
“She shouldn’t have come here tonight either.”
Ruth kept her eyes on the dancers as she conversed, lest she arouse suspicions.
“Tommy said one of them fellas who saw Carrie Ann here from the Union camp was outside only minutes ago. From what I gather the scoundrel accosted our girl.”
Ruth inhaled sharply. “Not the same man who threatened to kill her—and you?”
“No. The other one.”
“What on earth was he doing here, Tabitha?” Ruth put the pieces together. “Oh, my stars! You don’t suppose—” Ruth finished the idea silently. The Confederate comrade who brought Edward home to die—a spy? No doubt they were one and the same. She’d have to let Peyton know as soon as possible.
Ruth drew in a breath. “And to think a Confederate informer is lurking about right under the pickets’ noses!”
“Not anymore. Tommy said our boy rescued Carrie Ann and ordered the Rebel off to jail.”
“Well, that’s a relief.” More importantly, God had protected her new niece of whom Ruth was so very fond. Oh, she supposed she initially had used the young lady, and perhaps that was shameful. But they were all better off for it—including Carrie Ann. Why, just to look at her one could see she was the epitome of the joyous bride. Peyton, too, was happy, so what was so wrong about Ruth’s forcing the matter? Now their financial woes were over. Piccadilly Place would return to its original glory. She and Tabitha would be taken care of and so would Carrie Ann. It had all worked out perfectly.
The ensemble began to play a lively tune and the bandleader called for guests to dance the Patty-Cake Polka. Couples formed a circle and began a hop-step-hop to the music, then stopped, faced their partners, and made patty-cake before clapping. Taking hands, they side-skipped before changing partners and beginning another hop-step-hop around the room.
Ruth smiled as she watched Carrie, whose gaze often strayed to Peyton. Likewise, his eyes didn’t often leave his bride even while he patty-caked with old Mrs. Hightower.
Weightlessness enveloped Ruth, and even the idea of a threat against her family couldn’t curtail her joy at this moment.
A man’s shout caused the ensemble to cease their playing.
“Colonel Collier! Message for Colonel Collier!” The messenger waved a slip of paper in his hands.
Peyton led Carrie Ann out of the circle of dancers. He whispered something to her, and Carrie glanced across the room at Ruth and Tabitha. After a nod to Peyton, she strode toward them while he discussed matters with the messenger.
Ruth watched him reading the note and saw Peyton’s expression darken.
“Oh dear. There’s trouble.” Ruth reached for Tabitha’s hand. “I can see it on Peyton’s expression.”
He called to Major Johnston and waved him over.
“I wonder if the army got wind of the goings-on next door,” Tabitha said. “Frances should’ve knowed that the Union army has its spies too.”
Ruth clutched Tabitha’s hand tighter. Their friend Frances would likely pay a high price for not reporting Edward’s presence and death to authorities, not to mention harboring Confederates. Unless Frances could weave a believable tale or Lavinia could turn on her considerable charms, the Monteagues would pay a high price indeed.
CHAPTER 25
“Carrie, I have to go. I have my orders.”
Her chin tilted downward. “Can’t you send your men to take care of the matter?”
“I’m afraid not.” Standing in the darkly paneled study, Peyton slid his saber into his scabbard. “General Crooke requested my regiment and me by name.” That was puzzling. Peyton had been under the impression that Colonel Thoburn’s brigades occupied the area around Cedar Creek. Why hadn’t Crooke selected those troops to quell the uprising? They were closer. He heaved a rueful sigh. “But, not to worry, Colonel Edwards and his men are about town. Winchester won’t be left unprotected.”
“Is that supposed to comfort me? I’d rather Colonel Edwards and his men take care of the uprising.”
“Carrie …” Peyton arched a brow. He wanted no argument. He had his duties and they took precedence over all else, including his wedding celebration, as much as he hated to leave.
“I know. You have your orders.”
With a little grin at her mild sass, he half cocked his Colt .44 and inspected each cylinder. Certain each was loaded, he uncocked the weapon. “I shouldn’t be too long.” He placed the revolver into its holster.
“I’ll be waiting.”
Carrie peered into the hallway and waved good-bye to the last of the departing guests. Did she blame him for their ruined wedding celebration?
“I’m sorry, Carrie.” He didn’t know what else to say.
“No need to apologize.” She turned and smiled, but the disappointment in her eyes was evident. “The important part of our celebration is complete and that’s all that matters to me. Besides, I’m just being selfish.”
“How so?”
“I don’t want to share you with the Union army. I want you all to myself.”
And he wanted nothing more than to give himself completely to her. “Carrie, when I return, we’ll have time to ourselves. I promise.”
“I’m going to hold you to that.” She stepped toward him, her blue eyes shining.
Peyton’s heart swelled with varying emotions. Amusement, love, joy—curiosity. How did she do that? How did she make him feel ten feet tall and invincible just by staring up at him so adoringly? How blessed he was to have married a woman who loved him more than his trust fund.
Tearing his gaze away, he draped his dress frock over the back of the desk chair and shrugged into his shell jacket.
“Oh, by the way, Peyton, your attorney Mr. Finch sent his regrets. Apparently he and his wife weren’t able to attend the reception tonight because she just gave birth to a baby.”
“How nice. I’m sure Horatio is thrilled.”
“Did you know this little one is number six for them?”
Peyton chuckled softly. “Mr. Finch will soon have his own company of Union troops.”
Carrie moved closer to him, her skirts rustling with each step. “Did I forget to tell you that I hope and pray we have as many children … or even more?”
“Oh?” Peyton but
toned up his jacket. “You may have forgotten to communicate that small detail.” Not that it mattered to him. If God blessed them with a brood, he would consider his quiver full indeed. If not, he and Carrie would still find happiness together.
“You do like children”—her right eyebrow dimpled—“don’t you?”
“I eat them for breakfast.” He chuckled at her wide-eyed expression. “If you’d known that, would you still have married me?”
“Yes.” She lifted her chin rather defiantly. “I will just keep the urchins away from you in the morning.”
His smile grew, but then activity at the doorway stole his focus. Vern stepped into the room.
“We’re ready whenever you are, Colonel.”
“Good. I’ll be along momentarily.”
Peyton’s attention returned to Carrie. Her smile had vanished and a frown reappeared.
“I’ll be back soon.” Pulling her against him, he dipped his head and nudged her with the tip of his nose so she’d meet his gaze. “My men and I are more than able to put out a little uprising in no time, so don’t fret, all right?”
After she nodded, he kissed her slowly, longingly. He wanted to savor the sweetness of it until he returned. She clung to the front of his jacket and her equally passionate response only increased his determination to settle the disturbance across town and get back home.
Their lips parted. “And if you want an entire flock of children, my sweet, I shall be happy to do my part.”
“Thank you.” The reply came out rather dreamily. But then she blinked and sucked in a breath. “Oh!” Crimson flooded her cheeks. “No, I didn’t mean—”
“You didn’t?” Swallowing his mirth, Peyton narrowed his eyes. “I meant every word, Carrie.”
Her mouth moved, but not a sound tumbled out. How fun she was to tease.
“Seriously, I understand what you’re telling me, and when I get back we’ll discuss the matter at great length.” After one last kiss, he released her and strode from the study, deciding to leave her with the anticipation of his return.
After the house emptied of visitors, Carrie helped Aunt Ruth fold tablecloths while Meredith and Tabitha collected plates and glassware and put the items onto the dining room table. The hired help transferred the dishware to the kitchen where they washed, dried, and stored it away.
Carrie wouldn’t have minded if the guests had stayed. It might have helped to pass the time. But when the men took their leave, the ladies grew anxious and chose to depart as well. Aunt Ruth explained that, in the past, when the Union army took control of Winchester—and the Valley—it was eventually pushed out by Rebel forces. Once the town was again in Confederate possession, loyalists suffered dire consequences. Houses were burned and free people of color were often murdered.
“Do you think that will happen again?” Meredith looked as concerned as Carrie felt.
“I doubt it.” With the tidying finished and the hired help dismissed, Aunt Ruth dropped into an armchair. “The Rebel army was demoralized during that last battle.”
Carrie admired the older woman’s confidence. “Peyton didn’t appear too worried about the Union army being pushed out of town before he left either.”
“Nor did Vern,” Meredith said from the armchair closest to the hearth.
Eyeing their Baltimorean guest, Carrie wondered how she coped with Major Johnston’s absences. “Meredith, have you gotten used to your husband leaving you at a moment’s notice?”
“No, and I’m afraid I’ll never get used to it.”
“I don’t believe I will either.” Sitting alone on the settee, Carrie wished Peyton sat beside her.
Meredith’s smile was sympathetic. “Take heart, you’re not the only bride whose husband got whisked away by the Union army on her wedding day.”
Carrie didn’t say, but it was hardly consolation. “Should we pack away your collectables again, Aunt Ruth?”
“I don’t see the need for it. Union pickets are patrolling the streets.”
Tabitha walked into the parlor beside Tommy, who carried a tray containing a teapot and four porcelain cups and saucers. The young man set it on the sideboard. No doubt Tommy wished he rode off with Peyton’s regiment tonight.
“Nice to have you around, Tommy.” Tabitha bestowed a rare smile on him. “Saves my tired, old arms from breaking off.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He loosened the tie around his neck and tugged on his dress jacket, obviously uncomfortable in the restrictive clothing. In spite of it, he’d looked dapper tonight in his dark suit and sporting a new haircut. He behaved like a true gentleman, and he’d even taken a turn around the dance floor with a young lady.
Carrie made a mental note to tell him later how proud of him she was.
Glass smashed somewhere in the back of the house, drawing Carrie’s attention.
“Sounds like it came from the back porch door.” Aunt Ruth stood.
“Probably one of them boys from the neighborhood,” Tabitha muttered, handing Meredith a teacup.
“I’ll go take a look.” Aunt Ruth strode from the room.
Not more than a minute later, Carrie heard her cry out, followed by shuffling of feet. The others heard it too, and Tommy set off to investigate.
Carrie stood.
Aunt Ruth returned unharmed—but in the clutches of a man wearing dark clothing. His arm encircled the older woman’s neck, and he held a gun to her head.
“Don’t nobody move.”
Rodingham. Carrie recognized him at once. She whirled to run for help, but crashed into another man as she reached the foyer. “Joshua!”
His blue eyes darkened. She’d forgotten to use his pseudonym. He grabbed her arm and roughly hauled her back into the parlor.
At that moment, Tommy made a dash for the front door. Rodingham pointed his pistol at the boy.
“No!” Carrie’s scream was drowned by an explosive shot.
Tommy stumbled forward, a hole in his left shoulder oozing crimson red. He collapsed on the foyer floor and lay there, unmoving.
“Tommy!” Carrie cried.
Meredith began to pray aloud and Rodingham backhanded her, keeping the gun still pointed at Aunt Ruth. Meredith fell to her knees.
“Stop it, you madman!” Carrie tried desperately to twist out of Joshua’s grasp so she could tend to Tommy.
“And you, Mrs. Collier, need to learn some respect.” Rodingham’s gaze shifted to Joshua. “Tie up these women while I teach that girl some manners.”
“I can teach her just as good as you.” Joshua jabbed the barrel of his gun into Carrie’s ribs.
She winced. “I thought Peyton’s men arrested you and put you behind bars.”
“Funny thing about that, Mrs. Collier,” Rodingham answered, sounding wickedly amused. “Those two men weren’t much up to a fight. I easily overpowered them.” He puffed out his chest. “Single-handedly. So Major Brown here owes me a little favor.” His dark, beady eyes moved to her captor. “Now tie up these women like I said.”
“Sure thing.”
Carrie’s pulse quickened. Joshua wouldn’t really allow her to suffer at the hands of Rodingham, would he? “You’re both despicable excuses for—”
“Shut up.” Joshua’s leathery palm clamped over her mouth. “Roddy, if you’ll find me something to tie ’em up with, I’ll do your bidding and make short work of it.”
Rodingham’s gaze roamed the room and settled at the front windows. He strode toward them.
“When I loosen my hold on you, Carrie Ann,” Joshua whispered, “you take my gun and run.” Joshua’s breath was warm against her neck and she pulled away. “Roddy will follow you. Just do what I taught you.”
Part of her wanted to refuse, but another part of her saw it as her only hope to escape so she could help the others.
Tommy lay so still. Was he still breathing?
God in heaven, Savior of the world … Carrie squeezed her eyes closed, but didn’t have time to even finish her prayer before Rodingham’s voi
ce intruded.
“You sayin’ something to that girl, Brown?”
“Told her to settle down.”
A crooked grin slinked across Rodingham’s clean-shaven face. “Don’t forget she’s mine first.”
“I ain’t forgot.”
Meredith had scooted over to Aunt Ruth. Her light brown hair had come undone from its pins and fell in waves to her waist. Aunt Ruth and Tabitha eyed the gunmen while Rodingham yanked off the two heavy cords holding the draperies in place, his back momentarily turned away from Carrie.
Joshua’s hold slackened, and Carrie broke free. He slid his hand behind his back and she grabbed the pistol’s barrel and ran.
Rodingham turned and shouted at Joshua. “Brown, you idiot, stop her!”
“You want her first, you get her!”
The raised voices wafted to her ears as Carrie dashed down the hallway.
“She ain’t going far. Go get her while I tie up these women.”
Carrie ducked into the library. Her heart thudded so loudly it echoed in her ears. But then footfalls pounded down the hallway, coming nearer.
Keep calm. Breathe.
Carrie stood with her back against a shelf of books. Her hand trembled as she cocked the gun, trusting it was loaded and ready to fire.
Seconds later, Rodingham burst into the room. Carrie took aim, and just as he pivoted toward her, she squeezed the trigger. The explosion in the carpetless room was deafening. Acrid smoke rose from her weapon, but her shot had met its mark. Holding his neck, Rodingham stared at her in utter surprise before crumpling to the floor like a gray bag of rocks. Blood spurted from his wound.
Several heartbeats later, the miscreant and his stunned expression faded into eternity where he’d meet his Maker.
Thank you, Lord, for protecting me. Carrie slumped against the tall shelves behind her.
Joshua rushed in and skidded to a halt. He stared at his fallen comrade. “Nicely done, Carrie Ann.” He retrieved his pistol from her shaking hand. “I’d wager he didn’t even suffer.”
A Thousand Shall Fall Page 27
