Memphis

by Sara Orwig

  “I know what Papa would do if he were here, and so do every one of you except Major O’Brien!”

  “Miss Merrick, I’m sorry—” Thomas Martin said.

  “Now Miss Sophia, we didn’t mean any disrespect—” George Bates added as he clutched a bottle to his chest, grabbing his hat and running from the room. With the armload of bottles, she headed to the front.

  Men began to scatter, gone as swiftly as windblown petals. Thad Greenly jumped off the porch, vaulting the oleanders. She carried four foul-smelling bottles across the porch and tossed them. The bottles crashed on the steps, men dodging the flying bottles and trying to catch them, yelling apologies.

  Knowing Papa would say she wasn’t finished, she turned back to the room to deal with the culprit. Major O’Brien sat staring at her with narrowed eyes, the cigar clamped between his teeth.

  “You mule-headed ingrate,” she exclaimed, feeling her patience frazzling as she crossed the room, knowing her father would want her to be firm.

  “Oh, no, you don’t!” he snapped, yanking up a bottle and placing it behind his back in the chair, glaring at her with the smoking cigar pointed straight at her. A cloud of smelly smoke enveloped her.

  She picked up the pitcher of water at the washstand and threw it on him, dousing the cigar. He gasped as the water hit him.

  “Dammit to hell,” he snapped, reaching out to yank the pitcher from her hands and catch her wrists with his left hand. He held both her wrists. “You little witch!”

  Having struggled with the paper all day, and now to come home to this, she felt enraged, grappling to break free. “I’ve nursed you and fed you and cared for you and helped you around and I’ve told you how Papa felt about cigars and whiskey and gambling!” she cried, knowing the day’s exhaustion was adding to her fury. She wriggled to get away, not caring if she bumped his broken arm. “This is Papa’s house! How could you?” she asked, near tears.

  “Keep your apron strings tied! We didn’t hurt you.” He released her and glared at her, running his hand over his dripping face. He studied his soggy cigar. “You managed to ruin the first good cigar I’ve had since I left New Orleans.”

  “I’m not sorry. I intended to ruin it,” she yelled, knowing her emotions were on a ragged edge, yet unable to stop now. She glanced down at the money and cards on the table. “When I think how we’re running short of things, having to parch rye or corn for coffee and can’t get goods now and here you are tossing away real money—you have gold there—”

  “Miss Merrick, you’re a priggish spinster who doesn’t know fun if it’s staring you in the face,” he said as he picked up a cloth to wipe his wet shirt.

  Her rage boiled over. “Your ideas of wild, wicked, abominable fun will never be the same as mine!” She scooped the cards off the table and rushed to throw them in the fireplace.

  “Hey! Stop that—”

  She knelt, trying to light a match, hearing him move behind her. He caught her up with his good hand and she pushed against his chest, bumping his arm.

  “Dammit,” he said, shoving her back against the wall, catching her wrists behind her, holding them above her head. “You were trouble the first moment I met you and you’re still trouble.”

  “You wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for me or have you forgotten?”

  He pushed against her and she struggled to break free, knowing if she hit his arm, he would release her, wanting to hurt him. She was enraged with him, tugging to pull free of his grip. How could he be so strong when he had been injured?

  “I’ll bet the man who’s kissed you almost froze from it!”

  Startled, she blinked and glared at him. They gazed into each other’s eyes. She felt the tug of wills between them while she strained to pull away from his hold, wiggling, aware he was pressing closer, pushing against her, his hard body turned sideways to protect his injured arm. And then her body was crushed by his, her shoulder blades and bottom against the wall, his hard chest and thigh pressed against her, their hearts racing—she could feel his as easily as her own.

  “I know the type of woman you consort with!” she retorted.

  “She’s all woman, not a stiff-necked prim old maid.”

  Sophia shook with anger. His gaze lowered to her mouth and then looked into her eyes again, the question in his obvious. “I’ll bet you’re as much fun as watching a pond freeze and just as warm.” He leaned forward. She turned her head, but he twisted, blocking her body and keeping his injured arm twisted away from her. His mouth covered hers. She clamped her lips closed, her protest muffled in her throat, fighting him with all her strength.

  His mouth was on hers, warm, demanding. He lifted his head and stared down into her eyes. “Cold as ice water—”

  “You—” she began. His head dipped down again before she could say the next word, catching her mouth open, his lips pressing hers. His tongue thrust between her lips and Sophia felt a shock course through her.

  She opened her eyes, to find him watching her; she closed her eyes quickly as sensations she had never experienced bombarded her and wiped out everything else. His mouth was bruising, his tongue thrusting deep into her mouth. The sensations she felt from his kiss didn’t stop with her mouth, but assaulted her entire body. The resistance left her as she became more aware of what he was doing. His tongue was in her mouth, playing over her tongue! This is what it is like to kiss, she thought with awe. This …

  He raised his head, studying her as she opened her eyes. She felt dazed, lethargic, too hot.

  “You’ve never been kissed have you?” he asked, incredulous.

  She shook her head. She felt lost, as if swirling down in green waters as she gazed into his eyes. His head tipped forward again and she closed her eyes.

  His mouth brushed hers, warm lips tugging over hers, a sensual clash that radiated tingles, causing fires to leap inside her, fanning the ache low within her. His tongue touched the corner of her mouth, then played over her lips as she parted them. Then his mouth was on hers again, his tongue thrusting deep, touching her tongue. Feeling as if he would devour her, she was absorbed by sensations that stunned her.

  She didn’t know when he released her hands. She felt the hard bulge of muscle as her fingers played across his shoulders. His arm went around her waist and finally he raised his head.

  She gazed up at him to find him studying her again. Suddenly embarrassed, realizing what she let him do, she wriggled away. He caught her arm and she looked up, ready to fight him if he intended to pull her back, yet at the same time wanting to melt into his arms again. She was battling so many conflicting emotions, which were new to her. How can I want him to continue? she asked herself. But I do. I do. Her heart thudded as she gazed into his eyes.

  “How old are you?”

  Surprised, she blinked and remembered she had lied to him. After a long silence she told him the truth. “Seventeen.”

  “Saints and angels, you’re a child!” His dark brows arched.

  Feeling annoyed again with him, she drew herself up. “I’m not a child,” she shot back.

  He blinked and stepped back and they stared at each other. What was he thinking? Did she really seem like a child to him? Her breathing was ragged and she felt shock because of his kisses. She wanted him to kiss her. But it was wrong to want his kisses, to get hot and weak when he touched her.

  “All right, Miss Merrick, no more gambling in your house. I promise. I should be able to travel by the end of the week and you’ll be rid of me anyway.”

  She ran her hand across her forehead. “It’s been a long day and I had trouble with the press. When I came home and saw all the smoke—” She waved her hand.

  He clamped his lips together and nodded. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have put another burden on your shoulders. I know your father wouldn’t have approved.”

  They looked at each other and her heart pounded as she nodded. “Good night, Major.” She turned and left the room, feeling embarrassed and confused beneath his intense gaze
, not knowing where she was going. Why did he set her nerves on edge and make her feel as if she were handling hot coals? And his kisses—

  She touched her lips, remembering, blushing as she thought about him. His kisses set her on fire. Were all men like that? Heaven help her if they weren’t and it was just Major O’Brien who stirred her in such a manner. She thought about him sitting in the rocker, glaring up at her defiantly with the cigar between his teeth, his bottle of whiskey safe behind his back. He was a rogue, yet he had sounded truly sorry and she might not have acted so rashly if she hadn’t been so tired. He would be gone in days … out of her life forever. His kisses—she would never forget them. She glanced around. She stood in the center of the darkened parlor. Why had she come in here? She turned and went to her room and closed the door, crossing the room to stare in the mirror and look at her lips that were still red from his kisses. Would she ever forget? Would any other man’s kisses feel the same?

  On May thirteenth, Caleb sat in the buggy at the side of the Memphis and Tennessee depot watching a train pull out of the station. Memphis was a thriving town, as bustling as New Orleans, and he liked it here. It had the Mississippi River, railroads, a gateway on the frontier with factories and a booming cotton market in spite of the war. If the war didn’t destroy it, the city was filled with possibilities for a rosy future. The M&T’s big engine gained speed and rolled out of sight. Memphis was the link to the south with the line to New Orleans, to the east with its Memphis and Charleston Railroad, to the north with the Memphis and Ohio, and when it was completed, there would be a line west across Arkansas to Little Rock. A transcontinental railroad through Memphis would make this a major city in the United States, of that he was certain. It set his blood racing, because he had money to invest.

  When Amity came to visit, she had brought him over two thousand dollars of his money. It was in gold, which was becoming a precious commodity. Rafe was doing well with the blockade running.

  Memphis held a future even if it was shelled by Federal artillery, because people would rebuild. The location was too good to abandon. Thinking about Darcy and the last letter he’d received, Caleb turned the buggy toward Front Street and the wharves. As soon as the war was over, he wanted to build a house and take Darcy to live with him. As he roamed through the town, angling his way back to the wharves, he turned on Butler and looked at the wide, muddy river. Weeds were high around an abandoned building that fronted on the water. An aged, dilapidated dock sagged into the water. A sign read MEMPHIS & ARKANSAS.

  The depot was abandoned; behind it was one train, a rusty engine, and two cars. Careful of his leg, Caleb climbed in to look at the fire gate, the smoke box, the cab, and the tender that still had coal covered with dust. He eased himself down and looked at the wheels and the connecting rods. Why was the train abandoned? Why hadn’t someone claimed it or tried to buy it?

  As questions swirled in his mind, Caleb felt his pulse drum. Could he purchase the depot and engine? Memphis & Arkansas. Curious about it, he climbed back into his buggy. As he drove down Chester Street, he glanced back over his shoulder at the depot. Since Shiloh, he wanted a home, and Memphis seemed a likely place, railroading an exciting business.

  At the top of the bluff, he halted and sat with a breeze sweeping off the river, tugging at his curls as he watched the activity below. Men scurried about on steamboats while they mounted light cannon on the decks. Others worked to strengthen the bows with iron while stevedores loaded compressed cotton bales on board. Caleb climbed down carefully, favoring his leg as he descended the hill and crossed to the wharf to board a sidewheel steamer, the CSS General Bragg. A man glanced up at him.

  “Getting ready for battle?” Caleb asked.

  “Getting ready for the damn Yankees,” he said, splicing a line and wiping his forehead.

  “I fought at Shiloh.”

  “That’s why your arm’s in a sling?”

  “Yes. They’re tough fighters.”

  “We can hold our own. Should have seen General Bragg ram the Cincinnati at Plum Point. She rammed the Cincinnati and General Sterling Price rammed her. Knocked off the rudder and smashed the hull.”

  “Did you sustain any damage?”

  “The tiller ropes had to be replaced. They have been now, and she’s ready for battle.”

  Caleb looked the length of the ship. He thumped on a bulkhead and the man stood up. Bare-chested, his dark skin glistening with sweat, he brushed his brown hair off his forehead.

  “General Bragg has double pine bulkheads filled with compressed cotton to protect the machinery. There’s a four-inch oak sheath with a one-inch covering of iron added to the bows. We’re ready, and when we fight, our commodore won’t back down.”

  “What’s her speed?”

  “Ten knots.”

  “What have you got to throw against them?” He gazed fore and aft. “Looks like thirty-two pounders.”

  “You’re close, mate. Thirty-pounder Parrott rifle, one thirty-two pounder, and one twelve pounder.”

  “Any word on when the Union fleet will move downriver?”

  Black eyes squinted at Caleb. “Soon, we think.”

  Caleb offered his hand. “Good luck.”

  “Same to you.”

  Twenty minutes later he sat facing Will who was on a sun porch.

  “Hannah Lou will be livid she missed seeing you.”

  “She’s not home?” Caleb asked, feeling only a slight disappointment.

  “No, but she may get back before you leave.”

  “Have you read The Appeal today?”

  “Yes,” Will said, a frown creasing his brow. “It worries me. Father and I’ve discussed it. The Union army is north of here with a fleet of gunboats, and you know they’re coming to attack. Memphis is a strategic point. A lot of people are packing, putting their property up for sale, and leaving town.”

  “I just came from the docks. They’re ready or getting ready for battle. When I walked around, I saw thirty pounders, thirty-two pounders. My brother has written the Union gunboats have sixty-four pounders. And we’re using compressed cotton to protect the machinery.”

  “We don’t have the iron. The Memphis and Charleston foundry has converted into an armory to cast cannon and manufacture munitions, but our supplies are dwindling. The arsenal in the fort doesn’t have enough cannon. On the other hand, remember we sunk two of their ships at Plum Point.”

  “Will, I’m worried about Miss Merrick,” Caleb said, smoothing his trousers over his knee and feeling foolish. Why should he care what she did or what happened? he asked himself. She wasn’t his responsibility.

  “Mother has already told Hannah Lou to tell Sophia to move in with us. We may leave the city. You and I have to leave. You’re probably champing to get back to battle.”

  “No. I don’t like killing men.”

  Will stared at him. “You? You were as eager as anyone I’ve known to get into the fight.”

  “I’ve hunted all my life, but war is different.”

  Will rubbed his leg. “We were lucky, Cal. I don’t want to go back, but it’s something that has to be done.”

  “I’ve talked to some of the men in town today. As you just said, a lot of property is going up for sale. I’m thinking about buying some land and coming back after the war.”

  “I knew you’d like my city! This is a grand place. The people are friendly and we have the best cotton market in the country. We’ve got more factories now because of the war.”

  Caleb smiled and waved his hands. “You don’t need to sell me. Will, I was down near Butler and saw the abandoned depot and train. The Memphis and Arkansas. Whose is it and why is it abandoned?”

  “Its owner was Phelan Leib and he gave it up and went home to Louisiana.”

  “Do you know if it’s for sale?”

  “You want a railroad? That’s a giant undertaking.”

  “Come in with me, Will. Think what we could do! Who do I see about it?”

  “Talk to Jord
an Dalton. If he isn’t handling the property, he can tell you who is. Cal—a railroad? Robertson Topp and Mister Brinkley, all those men have had so much difficulty with the Memphis-Little Rock.”

  “Look at all the railroads that have succeeded here. And the West is opening. After this war, people will move west. And into Texas. A line across Arkansas could go on to Texas.”

  “I’ll think about it. And I’ll speak to Mother again about Sophia.”

  “I feel relieved about Miss Merrick. If the Union occupies Memphis, she shouldn’t stay with only two aging servants.”

  “We’ll watch out for her. You and I owe her our lives. You sound as if you’re leaving.”

  “Soon. I’m surprised the Federals haven’t attacked before now. Memphis will give them control of the Mississippi River, control of all the upper valley from Memphis.”

  “Everyone is talking about it and getting ready for it.”

  Caleb stood up. “Tell Hannah Lou I’m sorry I missed her.”

  Outside, he climbed into the buggy, his thoughts shifting. When he asked Dr. Perkins yesterday about going home, the doctor shook his head. “Don’t rush, son. You’re mending fine, but let’s let that leg and arm heal.”

  “I’ll travel only to New Orleans,” he promised.

  “You’re not a burden for Miss Sophia. She needs a man around here if you ask me. That father of hers was always thinking of his own plans.”

  “I can’t stay here for Miss Sophia’s sake. And she doesn’t want me here anyway.”

  Dr. Perkins peered over his rimless spectacles. “I heard about your gambling party and how she tossed the men and their bottles out. Mrs. Rowntree across the street said it was a sight to behold, grown men running from little Miss Sophia as if the devil himself were after them.” He chuckled and shook his head. “Her old pa probably shook his fist in his grave. That man could lecture an angel and feel righteous about it and he taught his children to be the same way. She may not want you here, but you stay for a few more days.”

  “Yes, sir. When will I have use of my arm again?”