Christine Dorsey

by The Rebel's Kiss

“He does not. He just likes having a man around.”

  So do I, Samantha thought, but she didn’t say it as they ambled from behind the barn.

  “Coming, Will. Just helping your sister get some water.”

  “She gets water all the time, Jake,” Will admonished from his seat in the wagon bed. “If we don’t get to the field, we’ll never get done. You don’t want that, do you?”

  “Lord no.” Jake climbed onto the seat. “I’m aiming to get my work finished early today.” His wink made Samantha smile as he started the mules off toward the field.

  ~ ~ ~

  Apprehension wasn’t exactly it.

  Still Jake couldn’t come up with a better word to describe his feelings as he rode into Hager’s Flats that Friday afternoon. Would there ever come a day when he could face a town full of Yankees and not experience a flood of memories?

  Jake shook his head. He’d experienced firsthand the destruction the Union Army could do, but then Confederate guns could shoot a man just as dead. It wasn’t the armies so much as the war itself that had caused all the death and destruction.

  Still, Jake kept a sharp eye out as he rode down the main street of town toward the smithy. Blue-garbed soldiers loitered along the street, leaning against the wooden buildings or standing in small groups chewing the fat.

  Lieutenant Farrow didn’t seem to run a very tight company, for all his personal military polish. The soldiers were a straggly-looking lot with unkempt uniforms and dusty boots. But Jake imagined they hadn’t sent an elite corps down from Fort Scott to tangle with a few outlaw border ruffians.

  After dismounting, Jake unhooked the wheel and rolled it into the three-walled smithy.

  “Howdy.” Linc Jones looked up and let his beefy hand slip off the bellows. “What can I do for you?”

  Jake nodded in greeting. “I’m doing some work for Samantha Lowery and she’s still having trouble with this wheel.”

  Rubbing his hands down his leather apron, Linc approached Jake. “I fixed that thing once, didn’t I?”

  “Think so. But I’d like you to take another look at it.”

  Linc crouched down beside the wheel. The muscles in his wide arms shone with sweat. “How’s Samantha doing? Heard there was some trouble out her way.”

  “She’s fine. So’s Will, now. Things should be better now that the army’s here,” Jake added because he knew that was how Samantha felt.

  “The army.” Linc spit on the packed ground floor of the smithy. “I don’t hold with honest citizens like Samantha and Will Lowery being hurt. But I sure as hell don’t like the army coming in here and taking over.”

  “Has there been trouble?” Jake leaned against a high bench.

  “Not so long as you abide by what that Lieutenant Farrow says there isn’t.”

  “What’s he say?”

  Linc straightened, spearing Jake with an icy stare. “Lots of things, but I just mind my own business. It’s going to take me a while to fix this.”

  “Sure. I’ll check back in a bit.”

  The first thing Jake noticed when he stepped outside was the group of blue-coated soldiers hanging around his horse. Taking a deep breath, he headed toward the hitching post.

  “Excuse me, gentlemen.” Jake shouldered his way through two of the men, but the soldier standing directly in front of the post didn’t budge. He had a campaign hat pulled low over his eyes and cheeks that settled into his bull neck.

  Jake met the private’s stare. “You’re in my way.”

  “Is that so?” The burly soldier transferred his chew from one cheek to the other, twisted his head, and let loose a stream of tobacco juice. After backhanding his mouth, he crossed his arms. “You a Reb, boy?” His eyes locked on Jake’s belt buckle with its raised CSA.

  Jake took a deep breath. “I was in the Confederate Army. But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re blocking my horse.”

  The private chortled. “You hear that, boys? Johnny Reb here says I’m in his way.” The “boys” all seemed to think this highly amusing. There were five of them in all, counting the two who’d moved for him—who now had closed in behind Jake.

  “Listen.” Jake kept his voice pleasant by sheer will. He had the strongest desire to bash the private’s nose into the back of his skull. “I’m not after any trouble. Just want to get my horse and—”

  “Your damn, lily-livered Reb horse, you mean,” the private sneered then spit again, this time dangerously close to the toe of Jake’s boot.

  Jake’s smile was chilling as he shook his head. “Anybody here smart enough to realize the war is over?”

  “What you saying?” The private puffed out his chest and gave a sharp look toward the one soldier who had snickered at Jake’s remark. “That we ain’t as bright as some no-’count, lice-eating slime of a Reb?”

  Jake blew air through his teeth. “Yeah. I guess that’s about what I’m saying.”

  He expected the first blow and easily feinted away from the private’s massive right. What Jake didn’t expect was the two men behind him grabbing his arms and pinning them back in a painful squeeze.

  Jake felt pretty confident about beating the private in a fair fight. But there was nothing fair about this. A fist landed in his midsection, doubling him over. Then something hard and heavy hit Jake’s head.

  He tried to fight back, and knew a moment of satisfaction as his boot connected with a shin. “God damn, Reb. Hold the bastard still while I teach him what we think of his kind in these parts.”

  Pain exploded in his gut, his head. The men pinioning his arms yanked tighter and Jake fell to his knees. They were going to kill him, Jake thought. He’d survived the war to be beaten to death in some ‘one-horse’ Kansas town.

  And he’d never see Samantha again.

  ~ ~ ~

  `Where do you think he is?”

  “For the last time, Will, I don’t know.” Samantha wove the needle into the skirt she was hemming and dropped the dress into her sewing basket. She hadn’t taken more than three stitches in the past half-hour anyway. “Would you stop pacing. That can’t be good for your leg.”

  “But it ain’t like Jake to miss a meal.”

  Samantha didn’t bother to correct Will’s grammar. “I told you Jake said he might be late tonight.”

  “But it’s almost nine-thirty.”

  “I know. Perhaps the wheel took longer to fix than he thought.” She shrugged, trying to appear unconcerned for Will’s sake. “Maybe he stayed in town for the night when it got late.”

  Will stopped in front of Samantha, his crutch resting at his armpit. “You don’t believe that no more than I do.”

  Of course she didn’t believe it. Especially not after the way Jake had acted that morning about getting home early. But things do come up. Problems arise. And the only way Jake had of letting them know he’d be late was to send a message or come himself, so they’d just have to wait.

  Besides, as much as she worried, there was a bright point. “Remember, Will, the army’s in town so nothing really bad could happen.”

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right, Sam.” Reluctantly Will clomped over to his pallet and lowered himself.

  “I know I am. Just go to sleep and I’ll bet first thing in the morning Jake will be here.”

  But he wasn’t.

  Samantha watched the sun creep over the horizon and turn the sky a wash of mauves and pink. And still Jake hadn’t come back. She wasn’t able to sleep, finally gave up trying, and dressed by the light of a single candle.

  The familiar clomp-clomp of Will’s crutches sounded behind her, and Samantha turned on the porch and drew her shawl tighter. “You want some breakfast?”

  “I guess.” Will squinted in the direction of town. “Still not back, huh?”

  “No.” Samantha had already been to the barn in case he’d come in last night and she’d somehow missed him. “Well, I better get started on fixing something to eat.”

  “Sam.” Will caught her arm as she moved pas
t him. “I’m worried.”

  Samantha paused a moment, then touched his hand. “So am I, Will. So am I.”

  Neither of them ate many of the eggs Samantha had gathered, and she scraped them off the plates into Charity’s dish. The dog gobbled them up before Samantha straightened.

  Samantha glanced toward the clock then walked back to the table and sat down. Even if Jake had waited till morning to come back to the farm, he’d be here by now. “I’m going into town,” she said when Will looked up.

  “I’ll go with you.”

  “No.” Samantha folded her hands. “We can’t take the wagon because Jake has the wheel and I don’t think you’re ready to sit a horse for that long a time.”

  “Aw, Sam.”

  “Don’t ‘Aw, Sam’ me. You know what I’m saying is true.” Samantha rose and went toward her bedroom. “You just stay inside and I’ll be back as soon as I can.” She paused, her hand on the latch. “And Will, I’m leaving you Jake’s revolver.”

  “You think Moore’s around again?”

  “No,” Samantha hurriedly answered. “No, I don’t. But just in case.”

  By late morning Samantha rode into Hager’s Flats. She’d stopped along the way at the Nelsons’ farm to see if Jake might have spent the night there. The Nelsons hadn’t seen him. They did offer their best wishes for Will’s quick recovery.

  “It’s a sorry thing when people like Landis and Ab Moore can get away with crippling up a young boy,” Seth had said, and Samantha had stared down at him from her mare’s back.

  “It’s a sorry thing when we do nothing and let him get away with it,” she’d replied and watched as Seth colored beneath his sun-darkened skin.

  “Now see here, Samantha. I’m nothing but a farmer. Besides, the army’s here now to take care of us.”

  Samantha had ridden away without another word.

  Seth Nelson had been right about one thing, she thought as she rode through the town. The army was definitely here. Soldiers seemed to be everywhere. But though she scanned the street from under her bonnet, she saw no sign of Jake or his horse.

  Linc Jones greeted her warmly as Samantha climbed off the mare. “There you are,” he said. “Wondered what I was to do with that wheel.” He motioned toward the wagon wheel leaning against the shed.

  “So Jake did come here,” Samantha mumbled. “Do you know where he went after he left here?”

  Line pounded his hammer down on a horseshoe wrapped around the anvil. Sparks sprayed out and the loud clang made Samantha think she’d misheard Linc’s answer.

  “What did you say?”

  “I said I reckon they hauled him off to jail.”

  “Jail.” Samantha stared at him wide-eyed. She hadn’t heard him wrong the first time. “Whatever for?”

  “Don’t rightly know for sure,” Linc began but Samantha turned and started out of the smithy. “Some sort of ruckus in the street from what...” His words trailed off as Samantha marched down the boardwalk toward the jail.

  What on earth could have happened to get Jake thrown in jail? He knew better than to tangle with the sheriff—Hughes really wasn’t worth the effort. Besides, Lieutenant Farrow would surely take care of any problem that arose.

  Samantha banged open the jail door, startling the soldier who lounged in the chair, his feet stretched out on Sheriff Hughes’s desk. He jumped up, reaching for his gun, then laughed self-consciously when he saw who it was.

  “Sorry, ma’am. Didn’t know it was you.”

  Samantha recognized the young soldier from the time she’d met with Lieutenant Farrow. “That’s all right,” she said, smiling at him. “I’ve heard a rumor that my hired hand is...” Samantha’s gaze drifted to the cell and her hand flew to her mouth, stifling a scream. “Oh, my God, Jake!”

  She ran to the cell door, clutching the bars and staring at the bruised and battered man inside. “Jake! Jake, can you hear me?” She jerked her head toward the young soldier. “Open this cell at once.”

  “ ’Fraid I can’t do that, ma’am.”

  “What?” Samantha was incensed. “This man is hurt. He could be dying.” Her voice caught on a sob but she continued. “I demand—”

  “What’s going on in here, soldier?”

  Samantha whirled around at the sound of Lieutenant Farrow’s voice. “Oh, thank heavens you’re here. This... this person refuses to unlock the door and Jake needs my help.” Samantha looked into the cell when she heard Jake’s moan.

  “I’m afraid he’s just following orders, Miss Lowery.”

  “Who’s orders?”

  Matthew Farrow removed his hat and hooked it on the peg behind the desk. “Mine.”

  Samantha’s eyes shot up to meet his. Her voice was tight and she spoke slowly. “Then order him to unlock it.” Her stare didn’t waver, but then neither did the lieutenant’s until he shifted his gaze to the young soldier watching the scene with undisguised interest.

  With a slight jerk of his head, Farrow silently commanded the soldier to do Samantha’s bidding. She rushed through the space as soon as the bars shifted open, dropping to her knees by the cot where Jake lay.

  She touched the purple lump on his cheek and his eyes slitted open. “Samantha?”

  “Yes, it’s me, Jake.” She wanted to hug him, to kiss him, to thank God he was alive, but she didn’t want to hurt him anymore. His sensual bottom lip was split and Samantha trailed her fingertip over it in a soothing caress. “What happened to you?” Her voice was choked with tears.

  “He refused to give up his gun. It’s a new ordinance I’ve established for ex-Confederate soldiers,” Farrow explained when Samantha glanced up at him. “And he resisted arrest.”

  “The hell I did!” Jake pushed himself to sitting, fighting Samantha’s attempt to keep him prone. “His soldiers jumped me. Came close to killing me.” Jake shoved to his feet and started toward the open cell door.

  “Jake!” Samantha caught his arm. “Stop it.” Though Lieutenant Farrow had retreated a step when Jake started after him, he now stood firm, his revolver drawn and aimed at Jake’s midsection.

  “See what I mean? You can’t trust any of these Rebs.”

  Samantha stepped between the men. “Well, you can trust this one. If he says your soldiers beat him up without provocation, you can believe it.”

  “Samantha... Miss Lowery,” Farrow amended when she raised her brow. “I questioned all five of my men and—”

  “Five! Five soldiers pummeled an innocent civilian and you did nothing to them?”

  “Now, there’s no reason to get hysterical.”

  “Hysterical!” Samantha yelled, fearing she was becoming just that. “I’ll show you hysterical.” She gripped Jake’s sleeve and tried to calm down. “I want this man released immediately.”

  “Samantha, I can take care of myself,” Jake began but she ignored him.

  “If he isn’t, I shall send a telegram to Fort Scott and report this to Colonel Adams. My good friend, Colonel Adams.” The good friend part was stretching it—though Colonel Adams had known her father—but at this moment Samantha realized she would do anything for Jake. A small lie seemed insignificant indeed.

  The tension in the small dusky room was palatable. Samantha stood, fists balled on hips and stared at Farrow. She imagined she could hear him thinking, deciding the best way out of this corner she’d wedged him in. She could feel Jake beside her, felt his anger and knew it was close to erupting. Dust flecks danced in the thin stream of sunshine that penetrated the grime-covered window as the seconds ticked away.

  Finally when Samantha thought she could bare it no longer, Lieutenant Farrow cleared his throat. “I’m keeping his gun.”

  “Now wait a damn m—”

  “That’s fine.” Samantha’s arm coiled around Jake’s.

  “And I want him to get out of Hager’s Flats... the whole area. And stay out.”

  Jake snorted. “We have no difference of opinion there.”

  Lieutenant Farrow’s eyes n
arrowed. “If I catch him around here again, I’ll lock him up. I can’t have my soldiers being—”

  “Where’s his horse?” Now that the decision was made, Samantha wanted to get Jake out of there as quickly as possible. And she didn’t want to listen to any lecture given by Matthew Farrow.

  “At the livery.” Farrow obviously didn’t like the turn events had taken. “Samantha... Miss Lowery.” He reached out his hand to her. “You don’t have to trouble yourself with him. I can have the doctor take a look at him, then send him on his way. He’s nothing but a Reb.”

  Samantha could feel the tension of coiled muscles in Jake’s arm as her hand tightened. She gave the lieutenant the coldest of stares. “Please step out of our way.”

  Jake and Samantha garnered their share of inquisitive glances as they walked down the boardwalk toward the livery. Jake pulled his hat brim low over his bruised eyes. “Seems like word spreads quickly in Hager’s Flats.”

  Samantha didn’t answer but she straightened her back, raised her chin, and kept walking.

  After they had gathered the horses—Jake’s from the livery, hers from in front of the smithy—Samantha tightened the bow on her bonnet, then hesitated. “Are you able to ride? I can help you if you like.” He’d walked all right, his tread firm and steady, but he looked so awful, his shirt torn and splattered with blood. And his poor face.

  But Samantha knew the moment she offered that she shouldn’t have. His pride had already suffered enough of a blow without her unwittingly adding to it.

  “Damnit, Samantha.” Jake’s voice was tight as a wound spring. “I can sure as hell get on a horse by myself.” Which he managed despite some difficulty. “Don’t mother me.”

  Neither spoke on the ride back to the farm.

  For Samantha’s part, she was wishing she’d kept her mouth shut, and that she’d never let Jake go to town in the first place. But then it hadn’t been her place to stop him, she reminded herself. If only the solders hadn’t beaten him. If only she hadn’t sent for them. If only there hadn’t been this awful war. Because she knew what was going to happen now. There was no doubt in her mind.

  “Samantha.” Jake drew up his horse as they neared the twin cottonwood trees marking the edge of her farm.