"My mother asked you to stay, didn't she, Bodine?"
He looked at her and nodded. It finally came to Victoria. She wondered why she had not seen it before. "You loved my mother, didn't you?" she asked softly. She searched his eyes and knew she had found the truth. She placed her hand on his. "Now I know why you never married."
"I did not need to marry, Imp. I already had a daughter."
Her eyes widened.
"No, not that. You are John Farraday's daughter, though he was kind enough to share you with me."
"Yes," Victoria said. "I have been lucky, for I have known the love of two fathers. I do not want to be disloyal to my father, but I think I love you best." Bodine drew in his breath. Trying to cover his feelings, he turned his back to her. "Why did my grandmother not keep in touch with me?" Victoria asked, tactfully changing the subject.
"I don't really know," Bodine said. "I guess the thread was broken when your mother died. It is hard to explain. Your father and grandmother were from two different worlds. They simply did not correspond."
"Tell me about Texas," Victoria said. "I only know what I have read. To me it seems a place full of wild Indians and cactus."
He sat down beside her again. "It is big and wild and untamed. There is a ranch next to your grandmother's that is so big, it would take you a week to ride across it. It is called Rio del Lobo. Texas has a beauty that you will find nowhere in the world. Not the lush green you have in Georgia, but a subtle beauty, exciting and teeming with life. You have not seen a sunset until you have stood on a mesa in the middle of nowhere and watched the sun go down. Since you like to paint, honey, you can let your artist's imagination run away with you there."
"You love Texas, don't you, Bodine?"
"Yeah. Guess I have been like a cactus in the snow since I left her."
"Yet you stayed in Georgia."
He smiled at her. "Yet I stayed, Imp. Now enough talk. We are going to the O'Brians', if there are no Yankees about. We need supplies, for we have a long trip ahead of us."
It was a little before noon when they rode up to the O'Brian Plantation. They dismounted just as Mr. and Mrs. O'Brian came out on their veranda. Mrs. O'Brian ran down the steps and enfolded Victoria in her arms. Her eyes were brimming with tears.
"Victoria, you are safe!" she cried. "We saw the fire last night and knew Farraday Plantation was burning. Tom told me that you would be safe in Savannah. Oh, my dear, I am so sorry you have lost your home. You must come and stay with Tom and myself." Martha O'Brian was talking so fast, she had no chance to answer. Victoria smiled at the gentle woman who looked so much like Paul.
"Have the Yankees been here?" Bodine asked Tom.
"Yes, they rode in last night. They took everything that was not nailed down. I tell you, Bodine, if I could have laid my hands on a gun, I would have killed me a Yankee or two."
Bodine and Victoria exchanged glances.
"They made Martha and I stand out in the front yard while they ransacked the house," he continued. "I am glad you talked me into hiding the livestock or they would have taken that, too."
"They did not hurt you, did they?" Victoria asked quickly.
"No, not physically," Tom answered. "But you cannot imagine the indignity of standing at gunpoint while they went through all our personal belongings."
"Will they return?" Bodine asked.
"Yes, they said they were going to set up headquarters here tonight. They could come back at any time," Tom O'Brian replied.
Victoria gave an involuntary cry. "We must hide, Bodine. We cannot let them find us here."
"What has happened?" Tom asked, feeling that something was amiss.
"I will tell you in a moment. First," Bodine said, turning to the O'Brians' stable boy, who was standing nearby, "Jackson, will you get the horses out of sight?" The black boy nodded and led the two horses toward the swamp. There was an urgency in Bodine's voice that the O'Brians could not fail to recognize, and Victoria was acting very peculiar. "Let us go into the house and you can tell us what has occurred," Tom O'Brian said.
When they were in the entryway, Bodine turned to Mrs. O'Brian. "Martha, we could do with a bit of lunch, and I would appreciate it if you would have Meg make up a supply of blankets, cooking utensils, and whatever food you can spare that will not spoil. I will explain the reason for it while we eat."
Martha looked at him for a moment and went off to find Meg. Tom O'Brian showed them into the dining room. Victoria sat down and buried her face in her hands. She was more frightened than she had thought possible. Martha O'Brian came in, carrying a tray of food. She and her husband sat down and waited for Bodine to enlighten them.
He told them all that had occurred the day before. Tom listened quietly, but Martha could not keep from crying. She ran to Victoria and hugged her. "Oh, my poor child! That this should happen to you is beyond belief. Surely there is some way we can tell the truth and see that justice is done?" she said, looking at her husband.
He spread his hands in a hopeless gesture. "If you mean take it to the authorities, I am afraid the Union Army is the authority now, and we can expect no help from them. What do you have in mind?" Tom said, looking at Bodine.
"I am going to take Victoria to Texas to her grandmother."
Martha cried out in protest. "But you cannot take her all the way to Texas!"
"I am afraid I have no choice, Martha. They will be looking for Victoria soon. Maybe they have already begun. I have to get her as far away from here as I can."
Tom patted his wife's hand. "He is right, honey. I see no other course to take."
"Paul will be so worried about you," Martha said, clasping Victoria's hand.
"When he comes home, tell him that Bodine is looking after me, and he need not be concerned for my safety," Victoria said with tears in her eyes.
Bodine rose to his feet. "We really must make haste. It will not go well for you if the Yankees find us here."
Martha O'Brian drew herself up proudly. "They would not dare touch Victoria while she is under my roof."
"They would dare, Martha," Bodine said kindly. "While we have been talking, a plan has been forming in my mind. It is just crazy enough to work."
"What is your idea?" Victoria asked.
"They will be looking for a young woman," he said carefully, "but they will not pay much heed to a young boy."
"What are you saying?" Martha cried in protest. "Surely you do not intend to pass Victoria off as a boy? I will not allow it."
Tom looked at Bodine speculatively. "It just might work at that," he said. Then he turned to his wife. "Martha, run up to the attic. I am sure you will find some clothes that Paul outgrew. Goodness knows, you are a pack rat and never throw anything away."
"No! I will not do it," Martha said stubbornly. "You are not going to dress this lovely girl in ... in boy's britches. It is unthinkable!"
"Martha, we are talking about Victoria's safety. Good Lord, woman, can't you see the danger she is in?" Tom asked in exasperation.
Martha looked at her husband with tears in her eyes. "Oh, Tom, what kind of a world is it when a girl like Victoria is reduced to such a state?"
"Do not worry, Mrs. O'Brian," Victoria said, putting her arms around the older woman. "Come," she urged, "I will go up to the attic with you."
Victoria dressed herself in the clothes that Paul had worn when he was twelve. A white linen shirt was tucked inside a pair of butternut-colored britches. Victoria pushed her foot inside a pair of brown boots that had also been Paul's. Then she stood before a full-length mirror and surveyed her image. A complete stranger stared back at her.
The shirt was loose enough to conceal the fact that she was a female. The tight-fitting pants outlined her slim figure. What would Paul think if he could see her now? she wondered.
Mrs. O'Brian came up beside her and looked her over. "Victoria, it is really not proper. What can Bodine be thinking of?"
Victoria's face turned red. She felt almost naked. Martha click
ed her tongue. "I suppose he knows best. These are black days we are living in when a gently bred lady is accosted in her own home and forced to flee for her life."
Victoria kissed her cheek. "Please do not be sad on my account. It will all work out somehow. Will you cut my hair, or shall I?" she asked smiling at Martha O'Brian.
"I will do it." Martha sighed. She took the golden locks, and snipped them off just a little above the shoulders. The hair that remained curled profusely about Victoria's face. "I refuse to cut it any shorter than this. You will just have to pass as a young boy who needs a haircut," Mrs. O'Brian said defiantly.
"Here," she added, handing Victoria a mustard-colored cap. "This will serve you well."
"I must hurry," Victoria said. "Bodine will be wondering what is keeping me."
Bodine and Tom O'Brian stared at Victoria when she joined them at the back door, where they had been waiting. There was no evidence of the lovely young lady who had left them less than an hour ago. In her place was a slim youth. They were both too tactful to comment on her appearance, however.
After a tearful farewell and a promise to try to get some word to the O'Brians when they reached Texas safely, Victoria and Bodine slipped off into the swamp where their mounts were waiting.
Victoria saw that the fancy English sidesaddle her father had given her one Christmas had been exchanged for one much like Bodine's. She looked at Bodine helplessly for a moment, not knowing quite how to mount Rebel. He smiled at her.
"A young boy could hardly ride about the country sidesaddle." He showed her how to put her foot in the stirrup and swing her leg over to the other side.
She smiled down at him. "It feels a bit awkward."
"It will be second nature to you before we get to Texas," he told her.
2
For the first few days they rode hard. The destruction of war was all about them. Sometimes they found a friendly family to take them in, and other times Bodine and Victoria would seek the shelter of a deserted barn. The Yankee soldiers were everywhere; they tried to avoid the main thoroughfare whenever possible. Victoria found a new freedom in the clothes Martha O'Brian had given her. After the first few days of feeling embarrassed by her appearance, she began to delight in being unencumbered, and wondered if she would ever feel at ease in feminine attire again.
There was a chilled wind blowing out of the north. Victoria pulled her coat across her chest and wished she could build a fire. They had camped the night before beside a small creek and had slept under the stars, thankful for the warm blankets Paul's mother had provided them with.
Bodine had ridden off early that morning scouting out the countryside. They had been told the day before by a shopkeeper where they had stopped for supplies that a large body of Union troops was in the vicinity.
Bodine had warned Victoria to stay out of sight until he returned. It seemed he had been gone for hours, but glancing at the sun, she saw it was no much past noon. Victoria went in search of Rebe and found him grazing nearby. She rubbed his neck He tossed his head and pawed the ground. "Poor boy," she soothed him. "You could do with a good brushing." He had mud caked on his hind legs. "I wish I had thought to buy a brush for you," she said deciding that the next time they stopped for supplies, she would purchase one.
She heard a twig snap and looked about frightened. "Bodine, is that you?" She received no answer. Fear prickled her spine. She waited for £ moment, wondering if she should jump on Rebel's back and ride away. When she heard no other sound, she sighed in relief. Probably some wile animal, she thought, a deer most likely. Giving Rebel's neck a final pat, Victoria returned to the campsite. She lay down on her blanket and fell herself getting drowsy. She intended to close her eyes for only a moment, but the warmth of the blanket soon lulled her to sleep.
She awoke with a start. A shadow had fallen across her face. Victoria's eyes widened in horror. Standing over her, with a gun pointed at her head, was a man in the hated blue uniform of the Union Army. "Make one move," he told her, "and I'll blow your head off." He was not a tall man and must have been somewhere in his forties. The look on his face was enough to cause Victoria's heart to jump from fear. She remembered the Yankee, Mace, and wondered if this man had the same objective in mind. "Get up slowly, boy," he said.
Victoria felt relief wash over her. He believed her to be a boy. She was safe. His next words, however, caused her fear to return. "What are you doing so near to our camp? Were you spying on us?" Victoria stood up slowly. She tried to speak, but no sound would come out. "Speak up, boy. What are you doing here?"
She said the first thing that popped into her head. "I have been out hunting."
"Hey, Sergeant Bates, look what I found," a second man said as he led Rebel forward.
"Well," the sergeant said suspiciously. "What is a young boy doing with a horse like that? You cannot be more than thirteen years old, fourteen at the most. That horse don't belong to no kid."
"He is my horse," Victoria said defensively.
"A likely story." The sergeant had lowered his gun. Victoria thought that if she could just make it to Rebel, she could be on his back and away before they could stop her. She moved slowly toward her horse. The sergeant saw what she was about to do and stuck out his leg and tripped her. She fell to the ground, landing flat on her stomach. The man then grabbed her arm and jerked her to her feet. He twisted her arm behind her back until Victoria thought it would break. "There is more here than meets the eye, Taylor," the sergeant said to the other soldier. He put more pressure on her arm. Tears of pain came to her eyes. The man holding Rebel looked from her to her tormentor, Sergeant Bates.
"Come on, let's take the boy back to camp. Major Courtney will get to the bottom of this. Look at this horse, ain't he a beauty?"
Sergeant Bates released Victoria's arm and she slumped to the ground. "Maybe I will just put a bullet through your head right here and now." Victoria raised herself weakly to her feet. Would Bodine come back to the camp and find, her dead body? She shivered. "On second thought," Sergeant Bates said slowly, "maybe I will take you to Major Courtney. He will get the truth from you or I miss my guess."
Before Victoria knew what was happening, the sergeant lifted her onto his horse and climbed into the saddle in behind of her. The other man, Taylor, mounted his horse and led Rebel along behind him. They were taking her to their camp. Victoria caught her trembling lips between her teeth, and rubbed her arm, trying to restore the circulation. She had to keep her wits about her. So far her disguise had fooled the two men, which proves that one sees what one expects to.
It never occurred to the two men that Victoria was other than she seemed. If she kept a cool head, she thought, maybe she could get out of this situation she found herself in. If they found out that she was a woman, it would not be long until they connected her with the shooting of the Yankee soldier at Farraday.
The camp was a beehive of activity. Men in blue uniforms were everywhere. Victoria noticed wagons loaded down with what she knew was plunder. One wagon was full of sweet potatoes, another with corn. Others had household goods: silver candlesticks, a wooden cradle, butter churns. All stolen, she thought bitterly, thankful that Farraday Plantation had been spared from that indignity.
She noticed many former slaves about the camp. Some of the men were carrying picks and shovels. Others were dressed in the fine garments of gentlemen. One old woman in a white bandanna reminded Victoria of Bess. She was sitting on a wooden stool rocking a small child in her arms, and chanting over and over: "You is free, you is free. No more shackles and chains, you is free." There were other faces, too—painted faces of women dressed in brightly colored silk gowns. Camp followers, Victoria thought in disgust.
Sergeant Bates pulled up his horse in front of a tent that stood apart from the rest. He dismounted and pulled Victoria roughly from the horse. "Taylor, keep an eye on the lad," he ordered, "while I see if the major is busy."
Victoria's Legs felt like jelly. She leaned her weight against a nearby t
ree, thankful for its support. She did not have long to wait. Sergeant Bates stuck his head out of the tent flap and motioned for her to join him. "Hurry up, boy, the major is busy. He hasn't got all day."
After being in the sunlight, it seemed dark in the tent. When her eyes became accustomed to the dim light, Victoria noticed the man sitting behind the desk. He was writing and did not look up. She quickly lowered her head, not wanting to be too carefully scrutinized. Time passed, and the man continued his writing while the sergeant stood at attention beside Victoria.
"Well, Sergeant," the man behind the desk spoke at last, "what have we here?"
"Well, sir, we found this boy lying in the bushes not two miles from the camp. Me and Taylor thought as how he might be a spy."
"Indeed," came the crisp reply. "Have the Johnny Rebs started using children to do their dirty work?" Victoria bit her lip to hold back her angry retort. She kept her head lowered. "What is your name, boy?"
She thought for a moment. "Charles."
"Charles, what?"
"Mi—" she hesitated. "Miller. Charles Miller."
"Well, Charles Miller, the sergeant here has lodged a serious complaint against you. What do you have to say for yourself?"
"I was not spying." Her voice was hardly audible. She heard the major move across the tent, and knew he was looking down at her. She stared down at a pair of highly polished black boots. Something in his voice sent pangs of fear down her spine. He spoke slowly, deliberately baiting her. "Spying is a serious charge, punishable by death."
Victoria shifted her feet. "I said I was not spying."
"What were you doing then?"
"Sleeping. I was asleep."
"Is that so? Sergeant, was he asleep?"
"Well, sir, he seemed to be, or else was pretending to be."
Ecstasy's Promise (Historical Romance) Page 3
