“Nearly four hundred.”
“And you now have... how many?” ‘’Three.’’
‘’The war must have altered your way of life considerably, Miss Lanford.”
Ambrosia’s eyes touched briefly on her stained home spun gown, her ruined hands. She said nothing.
“What of your family? I caught a glimpse of a white woman a little while ago. Is she your sister?”
“No.”
Julian raised a brow. “Well, then, who is she?” “Her name is Mrs. Partkin.”
‘’Ah. That explains her reluctance to socialize with us, if her husband is a loyal Confederate-’’
“She is a widow.”
“I see... And you? Have you no family? No parents? No brothers off fighting the war?”
“I don’t see where that’s any of your business.”
Ambrosia ground her teeth as Bardo flicked an ash carelessly to the floor. ‘’Ah, but it is my business, Miss Lanford.” Bardo smiled and let his forefinger trace the long scar to the side of his nose. And for the first time, Ambrosia saw his eyes meet Major Rambert’s. “I find you a most interesting story,” Bardo went on. “Particularly since you’ve been so accommodating to the major here.”
Ambrosia frowned, looking from one man to the other, sensing a deep, personal antagonism between the two without understanding it. She tried to guess at what game Bardo was playing and decided quickly that it had been canied quite far enough. “I’m very busy, Mr. Bardo.” She rose from her seat. ‘’If you will please excuse me.’’
“Sit down, Miss Lanford. You aren’t too busy to talk
with me.” It was the colonel’s voice, low and hostile. She slowly dropped to the chair in compliance. “How many bedrooms are in this house?”
“Eleven. And there is a small area on the third floor that-”
“See that the eleven are prepared for me and my officers.’’ The colonel stood, his tone indicating that the conversation was at an end.
Ambrosia stood also. “Mrs. Partkin and I occupy two of the rooms, Colonel. Certainly you don’t mean for-’’
“I most certainly do mean exactly what I said, Miss Lanford. I will retire before sundown. I expect you to have everything in order by then.” He gave a short nod and strode stiffly from the dining room.
For a long moment Ambrosia stared after him in stunned silence. “You are welcome to share quarters with me,’’ Bardo offered softly.
Ambrosia’s eyes flew to his face. “I’d sooner share quarters with a snake.”
She saw his face tighten in surprise and felt a tiny measure of satisfaction. She whirled and left the room, not giving him a chance to say anything more.
The table was left cluttered with dishes while Ambrosia and Elly hurriedly emptied their rooms of all personal belongings. Sally, Andrew, and Sheba helped carry clothing, jewelry, and the few breakable keepsakes to Jackson Lanford’ s study. Ambrosia also ran rummaging about the other bedrooms, flinging the last few of her mother’s gowns over her arm, gathering up anything that might be broken or easily stolen. Despite her haste and concentration, a noisy disturbance drew her attention to the window. She leaned out the window and listened, feeling an eruption of bitter indignation as she sorted out the various sounds of men’s drunken laughter and shouting, and the old mule Nemesis’s braying and whining. The sounds were coming from the stable.
Ambrosia felt her temper rising as the noises continued, as the soldiers became more boisterous, and the mule’s braying became sharper and more pathetic. They were torturing a poor, dumb animal, the bastards! Impulsively she tossed the gowns into Sally’s arms with a terse, “Finish here,” and headed determinedly for the back stairs. The soldiers had been ordered to leave the animals alone and some of them were deliberately defying that order. At the foot of the stairs she brusquely passed by Andrew, whose arms were so laden that his tired brown eyes barely managed to peek over Elly’s things. Ambrosia said nothing to him, but Andrew noticed her purposeful march and the look in her eyes, and hurried to relieve himself of his packages so that he might discover the cause.
Ambrosia was almost running when she reached the stable door and lifted it enough to slip inside. The interior was dark and cool, and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the light. The soldiers, four of them, all obviously drunk, had tied the mule to a supporting post and were beating her unmercifully, laughing at how high she kicked, at how loudly she brayed after each stroke of the lash.
“Untie that mule.” Ambrosia’s order was so sharp and so full of authority that the soldiers jerked to attention and stared at her dumbly for what seemed like an eternity. The one who held the whip was the first to realize that she was alone. He made his way unsteadily toward her, and she had to brace herself to keep from backing away. He was an ugly man, his expression brutal and dangerous, and he reeked of strong whiskey. “I said, untie the mule,’’ she repeated through clenched teeth.
‘’Colonel Reed gave orders-’’
“Now ain’t you a feisty little thing!” he taunted as he moved to block her only exit and to make sure that no one else was with her. She felt a tingling of fear when she too realized that she was alone now with these men, and too far from the house to summon help. She struggled to square her shoulders, leveling a bright, narrow glare on the man with the whip. She was not about to let these cowards sense that she was afraid.
“What d’ ya say, boys? Ain’t she spunky? Kind o’ like the mule we’s tryin’ t’ teach some manners to, ain’t she?” The man smiled at her, displaying an uneven row of tobacco-stained teeth. “We might jus’ have t’ teach her some manners too,’’ he said thoughtfully, fingering the handle of the whip, which he cradled close to his chest.
“She shore is prettier ‘n that mule, Caleb.” It was the youngest of the four who said it, a tall, gangling youth with sparse brown hair. He immediately blushed when Ambrosia looked at him, and lifted a bottle of clear liquid to his mouth, letting a good bit of it dribble down his chin.
The other three men let out loud guffaws at his embarrassment. “You’re right ‘bout that, Jesse,” said one when the laughter died away. “She shore is prettier ‘n that mule.”
There was something in the man’s tone and something stronger in his eyes that made Ambrosia tremble for all her outward calm.
“A man’s gotta be jus’ as firm with a woman as wi’ a mule,’’ Caleb advised broadly, letting his fingers feel the long strip of leather. “She has t’ know from the first who’s in command.”
Caleb’s smile faded abruptly and Ambrosia heard a sharp cracking sound as the whip wound its way tightly about her shoulders. It was another split second before the pain registered, a hot, sharp sting of leather cutting her skin through the heavy fabric of her dress. Caleb smiled, pleased with his initial show of power. He jerked the whip back with such force that Ambrosia fell to her knees.
By this time the shock had receded, and Ambrosia rose swiftly and flew at him with every ounce of her strength. “Filthy Yankee swine!”
The cry sprang from her lips as she kicked hard at his leg and pulled tenaciously at the whip. He wrenched it away easily but let out a groan and hopped on a single foot for several moments. Ambrosia twisted and lurched at him a second time, sinking her teeth deep in his hand and making another valiant attempt to get the whip. Caleb yelped aloud and his cohorts chortled with amusement as he pushed her roughly to the ground and sucked on his injured fist.
“Looks like she’s got lots o’ leamin’ t’ do, Caleb,” one of the men teased, taking a generous swig of whiskey.
Caleb’s jaw tightened as Ambrosia half rose, the hatred bright and defiant in her green eyes. Her lip curled in a murderous snarl as she faced him, wanting more than anything to kill him. She would kill him! She would! She would never cower before him like a helpless victim! But she was hardly on her feet when the thin strip of leather snapp
ed loud and keen, laying open a bright stripe of blood across her back, making her body jerk with the impact, sending her to her knees again. Breathing hard, she instinctively crouched low and turned away, covering her face with her hands. She was suddenly trembling with fear as she braced herself for the next assault, her bravado dissolved in a wave of pain and panic.
Caleb drew a deep breath and lifted his expanded chest proudly. He had made his point. With a clearly victorious step he moved to hand the whip to the man who had chided him a moment before. Then he pulled Ambrosia to her feet, wrenching her arms tightly behind her back. She began to struggle immediately, somehow managing a sharp jab at Caleb’s ribs when one of her elbows was momentarily freed. The others chuckled at the maneuver, but as Caleb fought to catch his breath, his patience ended. His grip was like iron when he caught her arm again. He pulled it behind her back so high that she had to bite her lip hard to keep from screaming out with pain. Caleb yanked her back against his chest, and held her there so tightly that she could scarcely breathe.
“Yer learnin’ her real good, Caleb.”
Caleb’s eyes drifted slowly over the admiring gazes of the other men, who nodded in agreement. “Jesse,” Caleb began, speaking to the youngest. “I think it’s time you learned yourself a lesson too.”
Jesse’s youthful, pockmarked face was all attention. “It’s time you proved t’ the rest o’ us you’re more ‘n jus’ a boy. An’ you can prove it right here ‘n now, wi’ this filly here.” His voice broke off as Ambrosia twisted furiously, and he struggled to hold her steady.
Jesse blushed a deep pink and his eyes flashed over Ambrosia’s face. He gulped. “Caleb-y-ya can’t mean fer met- Not wi’ her!’’ He glanced about helplessly, and one of the other soldiers came to fling an affectionate arm about his thin shoulders.
“Had my first woman in a barn,” he said proudly. ‘’Ain’ nothin’ wrong wi’ a barn,” the other added with
a shrug and a hiccup. “Keeps a mare from fergettin’ her place.”
Caleb growled as Ambrosia managed to deliver a vicious kick to his shin. “Come on, boy. I can’t keep her tethered forever.’’
“But-but-she’s one o’ them quality womenfolk, Caleb,” he argued desperately. “She ain’t like-like” “She’s Secesh, boy!” Caleb snapped back. “Secesh!”
Ambrosia twisted her neck to spit at him, and he immediately threw her to the ground. She reeled on impact, a sharp tongue of fire flashing through her head as the toe of his boot struck at her temple. With every bit of strength remaining inside her, she struggled to rise. But suddenly there simply was no strength. Her face fell abruptly against the hay and dirt, and for a. moment she felt nothing. Nothing.
“Ain’t no Secesh woman what’s quality,” Caleb grunted.
Jesse winced as Caleb slipped his boot beneath her shoulder and turned her roughly over on her back. The pain that shot through her head made her face contort and without realizing it she let out a small, helpless cry. “What’s the matter, boy? Afraid o’ a filly wi’ spirit? Afraid t’ be the first?”
Jesse swallowed hard, his eyes leaving the expectant faces of his peers to drift hungrily over the firm curves of Ambrosia’s breasts, to linger on the slender, shapely leg exposed nearly to the thigh. His breath quickened and he felt a tightening in his groin.
Caleb smiled knowingly. “Ye’re mari enough, boy,” he urged, taking a flask of whiskey from one of the others and handing it to Jesse. The younger man gratefully drew a long sip to bolster his courage. He wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve and began fumbling hurriedly with the fastenings of his trousers. “Don’t be too long, boy!” one of them warned as’iesse mounted her and tore at her bodice. “Save somethin’ fer us!”
The three spectators hooted and laughed at the youngster’s clumsy, spasmodic movements and mimicked his heavy, loud panting. Ambrosia tried desperately to. rise above the deep, velvet darkness which had engulfed her, but the dizziness, the pain, the persistent, cloying remnants of unconsciousness refused to be shaken off. And something inside her could not begin to face the hard reality that was flowing slowly into her mind. A cold knot of revulsion twisted angrily in her stomach at the oppressive closeness of hot, sweaty flesh; at the clawing, prodding fingers that dug roughly into her breasts; at the pervasive, overpowering odor of breath soured by strong whiskey. She raised her hands to claw at his eyes and twisted away from the mouth that covered hers. Jesse cursed and slapped her hard across the face.
Stunned by the impact of the blow, Ambrosia lay limp and quiet as he struggled with her skirts and forced a knee between her thighs. His thick tongue plunged deep in her mouth, until she could hardly restrain the urge to vomit. She clamped her teeth hard against his tongue, immediately tasting his blood. Jesse shrieked with pain and drew back, but not enough to allow her escape. She lifted her shoulders, but he grasped at her head with trembling hands clamped hard over either ear, meaning to slam her head repeatedly against the ground.
Suddenly a deafening explosion roared in Ambrosia’s ears and shook the very ground on which she lay sprawled. The man who was upon her loosened his fingers from her hair, convulsed, and made a futile attempt to rise. He managed to raise only one knee before dropping in a bloody, lifeless heap, his limp arm falling possessively about Ambrosia’s shoulders.
Even before Jesse fell, a second shot rang out, then a third and a fourth. Ambrosia’s eyes were wide and glassy as she struggled from beneath her attacker, the sounds reverberating in her pounding head.
Her eyes met the Yankee major’s, but it was a long time before she recognized him. Even as he knelt beside her and helped her to her feet, she was in such a state of shock and confusion that she trembled and nearly fainted. It came to her in a frightening rush that Major Rambert stood beside her, carefully dividing his attention between her and the men who had beaten her. A quick glance told her that the one they called Jesse was dead, a gaping hole in the back of his head. She turned away from the sight and buried her face in Drayton’s broad chest, muffling a tiny sob of relief and feeling like a frightened child waking from a terrible nightmare. It did not matter at that moment that he was a Yankee too. His arms offered shelter that she desperately needed, and she could not bring herself to relinquish the safety she had found there. Her fingers clutched tightly at his tunic when the stable door was flung aside and at least a score of Yankees, all brandishing their weapons, stormed inside.
Colonel Reed, a fire leaping in his narrowed blue eyes, paused at the threshold to survey the scene. He marched slowly, arrogantly toward Major Rambert. ‘’What is the meaning of this?”
One of the wounded men stumbled forward, his hand pressed to his blood-splattered shoulder. “We was only funin’, Colonel,’’ he whined like a boy heading for the woodshed. ‘’We didn’t mean no harm. ‘’
Another soldier who lay on the floor wrapped his arms about the bullet wound in his abdomen. “He-he tried t’ kill us!’’ he forced out hoarsely. He doubled over in pain and rolled to his side.
Caleb struggled to his feet, heavily favoring the leg which had been stung by the major’s bullet. “He killed Jesse in cold blood, Colonel. Hardly more ‘n a boy, an’ ‘ere he lies wi’ a bullet in th’ back o’ his head.”
Julian Bardo, who had remained safely behind the colonel until now, stepped forward to examine the boy’s body. “Shot in the back of the head, Colonel. Just like the man says.”
The colonel’s eyes drifted over the boy, who lay in a growing pool of blood, then slid expectantly toward Major Rambert. “Well, Major?”
Ambrosia felt him tense, felt his arm tighten more securely about her waist, but her knees quaked so beneath her that she had to concentrate hard just to remain on her feet.
“I’m afraid your soldiers...” He paused for emphasis, letting his icy blue eyes rake over the three who still lived, ‘’...had it in their minds to assault our kind hostess, Colonel.
I’m sure that’s not what you had in mind when you gave orders to enjoy the hospitality.” His voice was low and calm, almost a purr. Yet the violent anger within him was a powerful, living thing, and the force of it made Ambrosia shudder.
Caleb attempted a wan smile as the colonel’s blue eyes slipped inquiringly to his face. “We was jus’ funin’ a little, Colonel. Didn’t mean no harm.” The colonel’s face remained hard, and Caleb spread his hands in supplication. “We wasn’t gonna hurt th’ filly, y’ understand, sir. We jus’ was gonna learn her some manners.”
The colonel was unmoved by Caleb’s words until Julian Bardo rose and took up their defense. ‘’It seems to me, Colonel, that this man and his friends were slightly out of order. But this has been a long, hard war and as the private said, the men meant no harm.”
Colonel Reed’s eyes shifted to Drayton. “You shot a man in the back of the head, Major,” he said slowly. ‘’There was no good cause for killing him in cold blood.”
Caleb’s eyes lit with victory and he drew a sigh of relief. He just might have his fun with the bitch yet and see the high-and-mighty Major Rambert’s neck stretched as well.
“I have no choice but to take you into custody, Major,” the colonel said tersely. He turned on a heel and made to leave the barn.
“Don’t you, sir?” A tiny click and the surprised gasps of several men caused Reed to whirl about again. He had discounted the fact that Rambert still held his revolver. Now it was aimed at him, point-blank. He knew all too well that one bullet would put Rambert in total command.
“I don’t intend to be taken into custody, Colonel. Not for preventing your soldiers from perpetrating a crime against a civilian.”
The colonel stood still and silent, his labored breathing and clenched fists the only sign of his agitation.
Ambrosia Page 10
