Souls Aflame

by Patricia Hagan

  Luther returned to the wagon to make sure Julie was all right. She had snuggled down next to the sleeping officer and whispered to Luther that there was nothing to be concerned about. “I just want us to leave here at the first break of dawn,” she added with an anxious note in her voice.

  “Don’t worry. When you hear me outside, messing with the horses and hitching them to the wagon, you wake him up and tell him we’ve got to hit the road and he’d better get back to his tent before he’s missed.”

  “Yes,” she said tightly. “And I should tell him what a wonderful lover he was.”

  He could only agree with her, though it grieved him to do so. “You’ve come this far. Finish your performance. Now try to get some sleep, and remember, I’ll be close by.”

  He took his place nearby but did not sleep. Instead he cradled his beloved guitar, wishing it were Julie in his arms instead. His eyes burned from staring toward the east, waiting for the first pink rays of dawn to caress the sky.

  At last it was time. Springing to his feet, Luther ran to untether the horses and lead them to the front of the wagon, making just enough noise to wake Julie, though he doubted she had even slept.

  He felt a wave of relief when he heard the stirrings inside the wagon. He could hear the soft murmur of voices, knew she would be telling the major how wonderful it had been, how she hated to move on but had no choice and perhaps one day they would meet again.

  Then he could make out the figure of a man climbing out of the wagon. He stumbled a bit, and he was rubbing his head as though it hurt. “…hate to say it, pretty lady, but I don’t remember much about last night…” Luther heard him tell her.

  “I have memories to last a lifetime,” she said, leaning out to kiss him lightly. “Do take care of yourself. I’ll be dreaming of the time when we meet again.”

  Then the officer was lurching off down the hill toward his own tent, no doubt to fall into his blankets and finish sleeping off the effects of the opium-laced whiskey.

  By the time Luther was ready, Julie had hastily dressed, wrapping a blanket about her shoulders to fend off the chill of the early morning air. She climbed up to sit beside him on the wooden driver’s bench. “Do you want anything to eat?” he asked, suddenly remembering that in their haste to be on their way, he had not considered that she might be hungry.

  She shook her head. “I don’t feel very well. I didn’t sleep at all. Where are we heading, anyway?”

  He told her Veston had said they were to ride north, that he would meet them somewhere along the way. “It’ll probably be sometime tomorrow before we run into him. I don’t plan to just keep on moving, though. We’re both tired. I’m going to find someplace I figure is safe, and then we’ll just camp out and wait for him to find us.”

  “What if we run into Yankees?” she asked fearfully.

  “Not likely. We’re smack dab in the middle of the Rebel forces. They won’t ask any questions. All we’ve got to do is tell them we travel about to entertain the soldiers. You may have to sing a song or two, but I think you can handle that.” It was light enough that she could see the comforting smile he flashed in her direction.

  They had not gone far when her head began to nod. Luther noticed and told her to climb into the wagon and try to sleep. “Don’t worry. I’ve got my gun handy, and if there are any problems, I’ll let you know.”

  She protested. “But you didn’t sleep either. I wanted to try to help you stay awake.”

  He laughed, pleased at her concern. “That’s nice of you, but you aren’t much company with your head flopping all around your neck like a chicken that’s just been axed. Now you get on back there. Then if we do have to sing for our supper, you’ll feel more obliging.”

  With a sleepy smile of gratitude, she climbed back into the wagon. He could hear her stirring about, then all was still. He knew she was resting at last.

  A few times during the morning, Confederate sentries along the way flagged him down. He knew how to handle the situation, explaining that they were a traveling troupe bound to entertain the brave and valiant men of the South.

  But one burly sergeant he encountered scowled and asked suspiciously, “Yeah? How come you ain’t in uniform if you’re so damned concerned about the southern cause?”

  Luther was ready for that too. Tapping his right leg, he said, “Got a ball at Gettysburg. Can’t hardly stand on it at times. The doctors say there’s nothing they can do. I’d only be in the way if I took up a gun, so I took up my guitar instead. I figured that’s doing my part better than sittin’ on the porch back home in Alabama.” He tried to make his voice drawl with a southern accent.

  The sergeant was satisfied. Apologizing, he waved him on after commending him for his true and honorable spirit. Luther gave him a snappy salute, laughing inside all the while.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  About mid-day Julie came out to sit beside him once again. They were near a rushing stream, so Luther reined in the horses, saying they both needed to stretch their legs a bit. He wandered away into the woods, staying close enough for her to call should she need him, but giving her adequate privacy to bathe and tend to her personal needs.

  Later he found fixings for gruel and hoe cakes, and he built a small fire. After they had eaten, he said they were just going to stay put. “Veston will find us. This is the main road to Richmond, and that’s the way he told me to travel.”

  Julie allowed as to how that suited her fine, especially since she would not have to perform for the night. “It gives me a bit of reprieve, doesn’t it?”

  He looked into her eyes, wondering if their lovely green depths had ever sparkled with happiness or whether they had always been shadowed by pain. How he wished he could make them shine. But now wasn’t the time, he thought, gritting his teeth and turning to the task of rubbing the horses down and making sure they were tethered near grass and water. Later, he promised himself, later…when this was all behind them…then he could tell her what was in his heart.

  They sat at the edge of the stream, enjoying the warmth of the late March sunshine. They talked of the war, how they both prayed it would soon end. Then they turned to nonsensical things, like how they wished it were warm enough to go wading.

  “Back in Savannah, I loved to play in the water,” Julie lamented. “Myles taught me to swim, and our cousin, Thomas Carrigan, would go with us. He’s in the army now.

  “In fact,” she rambled on, “he was at Libby Prison the last I heard. I wonder if he was there when you all rescued Myles…” Her voice trailed off, as she was shocked to see the strange expression on Luther’s face.

  “Did I say something wrong?” she wanted to know at once. “I was just talking about my childhood days—”

  “Carrigan.” He spoke sharply, something ringing a warning bell deep within him. “Did you say your cousin’s name was Carrigan?”

  She nodded, watching him, puzzled. “Yes. Thomas Carrigan. He was at Libby Prison. At least that’s what his mother told me when she went to my mother’s funeral. But why are you looking at me like that? I don’t understand—”

  “No reason.” He reached over quickly to pat her hand. She was frightened, and he didn’t want that. “It’s nothing. I guess I’m just tired.”

  She stared at him for a moment longer, then began talking of other things, how she worried about leaving Sara and Lionel behind in Wilmington and prayed they had continued safely on to Pennsylvania. They would have been worried terribly when she did not return, she said.

  But Luther was not listening. He was remembering the night they went to Libby to break out Myles Marshal. They had encountered the Confederate soldier who said he’d been waiting for just such a chance so he could desert his post and get out of the war’s misery. He wanted only to hide out till the fighting was over, he assured them.

  At the time, Luther recalled they’d had no choice but to take him along. It was apparent the soldier knew about the planned escape and had stationed himself in a position w
here he would be right in the middle of it all. He could have sounded an alarm that would have blown the whole scheme, but he hadn’t. Instead he begged to go along, or rather demanded that he be allowed to participate. There had been no time to argue, and it was quickly agreed that he could be a part of things.

  And Luther remembered the soldier’s name now: Thomas Carrigan.

  Julie saw the tremor go through him. “Are you cold?” she asked at once. “I do hope you aren’t coming down with the fever. You drive yourself so, Luther. You never get enough rest. I wish you would let me help you in some way.”

  He looked at her lovely face, the way her silky black hair fell in soft ringlets, dark lashes framing beautiful eyes, her brows knit together with concern for him. “I’m fine,” he said quietly, wishing for the hundredth, no, the thousandth, time that he could fold her into his arms.

  And he also wished he could tell her that she had no cause to worry about her brother, not now that he knew her cousin was with him. But he could not tell her that, any more than he could confess his love for her. He had to keep silent, not only because of his loyalty to the North, but because he feared she would leave, and he would never see her again.

  Daylight was turning to dusk. Luther knew it was time to be thinking about bedding down for the night. It would be his first experience sleeping so close to her without Veston around, and he was starting to feel edgy about it. Could he keep his emotions in check? Dear Lord, he wanted her with everything in him that made him a man, and just thinking about it made his manhood swell. He kept turning away so she would not see it. He couldn’t do a fool thing like make an advance toward her. Hell, she’d never believe it was because he loved her and wanted to consummate that love the only way he knew how. No, she would think that was all he wanted from her, because he regarded her in as low a light as Veston and Fox. He’d die rather than have her believe such a thing.

  So it was with a feeling of relief that he heard horses approaching. Perhaps Reb soldiers were coming to camp nearby, and his temptation would lessen.

  But he frowned as he recognized Veston’s brown stallion galloping toward them, and he felt a sinking sensation when he realized Fox was with him. When they got closer, he could make out the grim, set expressions on their faces. He sensed trouble.

  “Oh, no, not both of them,” Julie cried, her hand moving to her throat as she took a step backwards. “I can’t bear being around the two of them—”

  Luther fleetingly wondered why she always retreated alone when she was frightened, never coming toward him. He had tried to let her know he was there should she need him…but she always retreated within herself.

  Then he thought of the times he had heard her cry out in her sleep—one word…one name…Derek. He wondered if that was the only man in whose arms she could find solace from the world that had treated her so cruelly.

  But there was no more time for wondering about anything except the moment at hand, because Fox and Waters were reining in their horses and dismounting. “That information you got last night was worthless,” Fox snapped at Julie immediately. “Everyone has a good idea of where the damn Rebs are encamped. You haven’t been of any use to me on the road. I’ve decided you’re coming to Richmond.”

  Her eyes widened, and she retreated even farther. “But why? What will you do with me there?”

  “Set you up in a bawdy house, what else?” he smirked. “Maybe there you can be of some use to me. I’ve coddled you long enough. No more spiked drinks. You’re going to really work for the Union now, whether you like it or not.”

  Wildly she shook her head. “I can’t! I won’t!”

  “Oh, yes, you will,” he said absently, then turned to Luther, “As for you, Veston tells me you’re becoming quite a troublemaker. I’m going to be watching you, and if you don’t straighten up, you’ll find yourself back on the battlefield.”

  Luther stood his ground, brown eyes flashing as he replied snappily, “I’m not making any trouble. I’m just trying to protect Julie as much as possible from the hell you’re putting her through. She doesn’t deserve it—”

  “That’s not for you to say! I’m your commanding officer, and you’ll follow orders. I can have Veston shoot you down this very second, if I give the word.”

  Luther shot a glance at Veston. Sure enough, the man had his gun trained right on him, a sneering grin on his face.

  “You’re a good soldier, or I wouldn’t put up with you,” Fox said. “Just don’t let your heart rule your head. This is war, and none of us like it, but we’ve got to do the best we can.”

  A nerve twitched in Luther’s jaw as he looked from the pointed gun to Fox’s triumphant face. He knew Veston would kill him without so much as batting an eye. Luther was treading on dangerous ground, and while he would give his life for Julie without hesitation, she would be at the mercy of these scoundrels if he were in his grave. He’d be of no use to her dead. “All right,” he said finally, hating the way Fox’s eyes gleamed at his concession. “I’ll go along with you, but nobody touches her. I intend to see that anybody you send to her is drugged. I haven’t touched her that way, no matter what either of you think,” he added.

  Fox shrugged, exchanged a look of amusement with Veston. “Makes no difference to me whether you’ve bedded her or not. Now we’ve got to be on our way. We’re apt to arouse suspicion standing by the roadside this way.”

  Suddenly Julie rushed forward. “I’m not going anywhere with you,” she cried. “Not till you take me to Myles and let me see for myself that he’s all right. I have to know…” She was fighting tears, fighting to keep the man she despised from knowing he could reduce her to complete humility.

  Fox looked at her, the play of a smile on his lips. “Well, now, Julie, I don’t have any intention of doing that, and you’re in no position to bargain. You will do as you are told.”

  She stamped her foot, fists clenched as she yelled, “But why won’t you let me see Myles? Why won’t you let me see for myself that he’s all right?”

  “Because—” Fox bellowed, eyes bulging with such anger and fury that even Luther retreated a few steps, “—your brother is dead! But you’re still working for me, and I—”

  “Dead!” The word was a heart-shattering moan as her face contorted in agony. “No…you’re lying…he can’t be…oh, God, he can’t be—” Lifting her skirts, she turned and ran toward the stream to fling herself upon the mossy bank, her body shuddering with sobs of grief that penetrated to the very core of her soul.

  “It isn’t my fault,” he called after her, still defiant and belligerent. “Blame the goddamn Rebels. He was too far gone when we rescued him. Be glad you have a chance to avenge his death!”

  Luther turned to go after her to give her what comfort he could, for his heart was grieved at the sight of her lying there, her world crumbled and crushed about her. But Fox reached out and wrapped steely fingers about his arm, yanking him back. “Let her go,” he whispered harshly. “She’s got to get it out of her. She needs to be alone right now.”

  “Did you have to tell her like that?” Luther said hoarsely. “Did you have to be so goddamn blunt about it?” He did not care at the moment how deeply he angered his commanding officer.

  Fox pursued his lips, nodding thoughtfully. “Yes. It was the only way. She must go with me to Richmond, and I want her to be a good spy for the North. She is by far the most beautiful woman I have working for me, and if she cared for her brother the way she seems to have, this will make her my most devoted worker. She should hate the Rebels for what they did.”

  “How long have you known?” Luther demanded. “How long have you let her go on thinking she was doing all this to keep her brother alive?” Once more he was fighting for control, wanting to throw himself upon this bastard and choke the life from him. But Veston still had a gun pointed at him, he knew, so he was helpless.

  “I just found out a few days ago.” Fox spoke gently, as though sympathizing with his concern. “I finally rec
eived a message from the mountain hide-out. Kelso and Satch showed up…alone. Everyone else had deserted. They said Marshal died. He was too weak to make the trip. I was afraid of that.”

  Something did not add up, and Luther stood silently, listening to Julie’s heart-wrenching sobs. Finally he knew he had to ask: “What about that Reb soldier who deserted his post at Libby to go with us? I think his name was Carrigan.” He tried to keep his voice even, not wanting to arouse suspicion.

  “The message I received was that everyone deserted except Satch and Kelso. I’m not surprised. But why do you ask about this fellow Carrigan?”

  “No reason,” Luther lied, turning away. “I think I’ll get the horses hitched up. We can’t just let Julie lie there on the ground and cry all night, can we?”

  Fox’s voice filtered through Luther’s roaring brain as he moved toward the horses. “I’ll get more use out of her than I ever anticipated. When she gets over her shock and grief, she’s going to be the most cunning spy in Richmond. Heaven help the Rebs who fall into her web.” He and Veston shared laughter, but Luther kept his back turned. He did not want to give his thoughts away, and he knew without a doubt that Carrigan would never have deserted unless Myles died first, and Luther had the feeling that Carrigan had done everything in his power to keep his cousin alive. If Myles and Carrigan had escaped, Kelso and Satch wouldn’t have been stupid enough to admit they’d let such a thing happen.

  Luther’s eyes went to Julie, still huddled on the bank, sobs ripping through her body. He could not tell her of his thoughts, either, because he had no real basis for his belief that maybe, just maybe, her beloved brother was still alive…along with their cousin.

  For the moment, he would do everything in his power to keep her from suffering any more than absolutely necessary—and that was all he could do. A feeling deep in his gut told him he had a formidable task before him.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight