by Sara Orwig
She smiled, her dimples showing, the wind blowing her hair. He thrust the revolver into the gun belt he wore and placed his left hand on her shoulder. “If the city falls to the Union, close your paper and move in with the Stantons. Promise me that you will.”
“I’m sorry. You’re going back to war and you can’t promise me you won’t go into battle. If I don’t move in with the Stantons, it won’t mean I’m in danger.”
“You father didn’t know he was going to die and leave you alone and your brothers left when your father was still with you. They didn’t know you’d be alone. I’m sure they worry, too.”
“Don’t you worry about me. I’ll get along. Look at how well our fleet did last month at Plum Point. They disabled two gunboats and didn’t receive any significant damage or injury.”
“This may be different. They caught the Union fleet by surprise.” He looked annoyed as he took her arm and they returned to the buggy to ride home.
As they reached Union Street and neared Court Square, men ran back and forth across the street.
“Something’s happened,” Major O’Brien said. Her pulse beat faster. Was Memphis under attack?
Thad Greenly waved at them. “Major, word is the Union fleet is moving downriver! Our River Defense Fleet is ready. We’re going to be attacked!”
The paper! She felt a ripple of fear for The River Weekly. She had heard stories of presses burned and confiscated in Nashville. She remembered holding her father’s hand that last afternoon and swearing she would protect the paper and keep it going until her brothers returned. She lifted her chin and glanced at Major O’Brien, who was watching her intently. “I’m not letting the Weekly fall into Federal control!”
Major O’Brien clamped his jaw shut and looked ahead. “I’m going to ride upriver until I can see the enemy. Do you want to come or should I take you home?”
“I’ll go with you. I can’t believe the Union can take Memphis. We have ships to defend the city.”
“You have cottonclads—that’s what men are calling them. Instead of steel to protect them, they have bales of cotton. It’s not the same. And there’s no real army here.”
“I wonder if I should move my press now.”
“Dammit, you’re going to get yourself in trouble. Just wait. They’re not going to take Memphis quickly. There will be a battle.”
They rode north, winding along the river, and she became silent, worrying about her press, thinking what supplies she wanted to move home and wondering when Caleb would leave town. If there was going to be a battle, would he leave as soon as they returned to her house?
Shadows were beginning to slant across the river’s surface when they turned a bend. She felt another ripple of fear as five boats steamed into view. They looked squat and cumbersome with fat smokestacks belching clouds of black smoke and the Stars and Stripes fluttering in the breeze. Huge cannon projected from the front and sides and she thought of drawings she had seen of alligators from swamps down South.
“They look dreadful.”
“They’re floating gun carriers. My brother has seen one in action and he wrote me about it. The paddle wheel is inside where it’s protected by armor.”
“They go so slow, like huge drifting monsters.”
“They’re heavy. It’s a miracle they float. There are only five of them. We’ll have eight. It looks like transports coming behind them.”
“If we have them outnumbered, we should win.”
He sat in silence. Sunlight sparkled across the water and glinted on the dark metal plating of the boats. As the fleet slowly drifted past, the sight of the dark snouts of cannon and the heavy plating sent a chill through her. Caleb turned the buggy and they followed alongside the gunboats and she wondered how soon the battle would start. The gunboats stopped four miles upriver from Memphis. The major halted the horses and they sat again watching the boats until the shadows were long, then he turned toward the city. Hundreds of people lined the banks of the river and roamed along the levee, watching for the boats.
“Look at everyone,” she cried.
“They know the battle is coming.”
They stopped behind the carriage house. As he helped her down from the buggy she rested her hands on his forearms until her feet touched ground. The last dusky light of day played over his features, highlighting his broad cheekbones. “Are you leaving Memphis now?”
“I ought to leave, because I’m an enemy of the Union. Instead, I’ll stay until the attack to see what happens.”
“You’re not staying because of me.” she blurted.
“Yes, I am.”
“I can take care of myself,” she said, feeling a mixture of emotions. She didn’t want to move to the Stantons’ and she didn’t want Major O’Brien telling her what to do; on the other hand, all she could think of was, he’s leaving.
“Will you pack and go to the Stantons’ tonight?”
“No, Major. It may not be necessary.” His fingers locked around her upper arms and he held her.
“Dammit, you’re in danger. And don’t tell me again that you can take care of yourself.”
Feeling the tension grow between them, she yanked away from him and strode toward the house. When she thought about his leaving, she felt overcome by loss. Foolishness. Once he’s gone, the empty feeling will go away, she told herself. The house was empty before and if it’s too bothersome, Dr. Parker will send some more wounded over to nurse. If there’s a battle, the house may be full of injured men again. She entered the darkened house and lit a small lamp on the table in the hall. Caleb followed her inside and she looked up at him. The soft glow of the lamplight was reflected in his eyes. He was solemn while he watched her.
“If a soldier comes in this house, you won’t be able to stop him from doing anything he wants to do,” he persisted.
“Of course I can. I can get Papa’s rifle. Major O’Brien, I don’t want to hear another thing about what I can and cannot do!” She started to pass him to go to the kitchen. He caught her arm and spun her around.
She tugged, trying to yank free and then she looked up. The hungry look in his eyes scalded, burning every raw nerve. His gaze was on her mouth, his intention plain to see in his face.
He slid his arms around her, hauling her hard against his chest, crushing the breath from her lungs. “I’ve wanted to do this for a long time,” he said in a husky voice.
She couldn’t get her breath, and her heart pounded violently as she lifted her face to his. She wanted him to hold her, to kiss her. He groaned and bent his head, his mouth coming down on hers, his tongue thrusting over hers as he leaned back against the wall and spread his legs and held her pressed against him.
She melted against him, feeling hot, breathless. His kisses were all she remembered and more. So much more this time. With a shock she felt his hard erection press against her; she moaned softly, her hips shifting against him. She shouldn’t kiss him and allow him to kiss her, she told herself. It wasn’t proper, and he soon would be out of her life forever. This meant nothing to him. How much did she care? Thought stopped as she ran her hands along his strong shoulders. She felt lost, torn with longing, wanting him. Finally with a gasp, she pushed away.
“Stop it, Major!”
“Sophia—” he said.
“No. Don’t kiss me. You know we shouldn’t. You’re leaving and we may never see each other again.”
He stared at her as if he hadn’t heard her. What was he thinking? He looked angry, so handsome.
He turned away and walked past her, stopping to glance around. “I’m going to the Stantons’ to talk to Will once more. You keep your father’s rifle and pistol handy all the time.” He strode out and slammed the door behind him and she clenched her fists. She shook and felt assaulted by longing, fighting what her heart and body clamored for—a man who was as volatile to her beliefs as fire mixing with gunpowder.
Remembering his strong arms around her, she placed her hand against her heart. “No,” she whispe
red. “No, Major.”
Closing her eyes, she thought about his kisses. She couldn’t fall in love with a man like Major O’Brien. And he would never love her in return. Not with women like Hannah Lou and Amity Therrie and Desirée hanging on his every word.
She carried the lamp to the parlor and held up her father’s rifle, checking that it was loaded. Was Memphis going to be attacked and could the Confederate fleet crush the Federals?
She was in bed when she heard Caleb come into the house. He was far noisier than her father or any of her brothers, his boots scraping the hall floor, his door banging closed. Every footfall seemed to echo in her heart. He was going to bed. Images came to mind of his standing nude, his long, coppery body, his maleness. She groaned and tried to stop thinking about him.
After a restless hour, she got up and pulled on her wrapper, lighting a lamp and carrying it with her. She went to the parlor, crossing the room to the desk.
“What the hell are you doing?”
She almost dropped the lamp. Spinning around, she peered into the darkness. Caleb was seated in the wing chair, a cigar in his mouth, the tip glowing.
“Sorry, about the smoke,” he said quietly. Bare-chested, he wore his dark trousers and boots.
“I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I might as well get ready for tomorrow.”
“Come sit down,” he said, motioning to her. He picked up a glass and finished the contents, then poured another one.
She felt uneasy, aware of his bare chest, of her wrapper that she pulled tightly beneath her chin.
“Sit down, Sophia,” he said more forcefully and she moved to the sofa to sit on the edge and face him. He leaned forward. “Have some brandy.”
“No, thank you.”
“Always the prim and proper miss.”
Angered by him, she accepted the glass to take a sip, feeling the warmth of the brandy course down her throat.
“Will said everyone he knows is going to the river at dawn. We might as well join them and see what Memphis’s future will be.”
“You’re angry.”
He looked at her, his gaze intense and she drew a deep breath.
Caleb studied her in the dim light from the lamp. He wondered if she had any idea how beautiful she looked. Her hair was down, a pale silky cloud spilling over her shoulders, the top of her wrapper unfastened and the top of her white nightgown unbuttoned only enough to show her pale throat. He fought the impulse to get up and pull her into his arms and kiss her. He wanted her. It wouldn’t be right. He wasn’t ready for marriage and he had to return to fighting eventually. And Sophia Merrick wasn’t the woman for him. As much as he admired her, because she was braver than soldiers he had known, he didn’t share her views on anything. She disliked railroads, disapproved of his whiskey and cards, and she was as independent as a well-fed cat.
“I would feel a lot better leaving here if you would stay with the Stantons.”
She lifted her chin and he wanted to shake her, yet if he reached for her, he would kiss her. He remembered her pressed in his arms, her full breasts soft against him.
“I’ve been thinking about it. If Memphis falls, I want to move the small press home. If I go to the office now, there are materials I can pack to get ready. If the Confederate cottonclads beat the Federals, I’ll have to unpack everything. On the other hand I can have my supplies ready to move. I came to get the office key from my desk. Then I was going to get dressed and call Henry and ask him to hitch up the wagon and go with me to the office.”
“I’ll hitch the wagon. I’ll go with you,” Caleb snapped. All evening he had fought the temptation to go to her office and smash her presses so she couldn’t print a paper if the Union captured Memphis. “They send women to prison, you know.”
“I’ll take my chances. I’m keeping the paper going for the memory of Papa and Amos, for John’s sake and Morris’s sake. It’s the least I can do.”
“I think all of them would want you to give it up if they could discuss it with you.”
“You don’t know my family. My father would want me to keep it going.” She stood up and thrust the glass toward him. “Here’s your brandy, Major,” she said scathingly.
His temper frayed and he stood up swiftly, taking the glass and downing the contents. She turned away and he drew a deep breath, reaching for her against all good judgment, against reason.
He yanked her back to him and she resisted.
“No, Major. You’re all the things I don’t believe in and don’t like.
He tossed the cigar into the fireplace and tightened his arms around her, holding her head with one hand, his left arm around her waist. “There are some things about me you damned well do like!”
She closed her mouth and fought against him and he knew they were fighting more than just the words spoken between them this evening. He wanted her; he was infuriated by her. And the disparities were mutual. At the same time …
She wore only the cotton wrapper and her nightgown and he could feel her supple body, the warmth of her, and his heart hammered in his chest. He throbbed, aching for her warmth, wanting to push away the wrapper and gown, wanting to kiss every inch of her silken skin.
Her hair spilled over his hands as he held her. Her struggles ceased and she yielded, standing still while he bent over her until she had to wrap her arms around him. He thrust his tongue deep, wanting her warmth and fire, drowning in her passionate responses.
He untied the wrapper, then fumbled with the buttons of the gown, pushing both garments away, cupping her full, soft breast. He felt on fire with need. He ran his thumbs over her taut nipples, bending his head to kiss her, aware of her soft moans, of her hands playing over his shoulders and back. He pushed the gown to her hips, kissing each breast, feeling her tremble. His pulse roared in his ears. His erection was hard, throbbing, and he felt he would burst. “Sophia,” he whispered, “I want you.”
He slid his fingers beneath the gown to push it away, but her hands caught his, holding his wrists tightly.
Sophia gasped for air, aching, her hips moving, burning with longing. She had to face facts, she told herself. He was going to leave her and they were so different. She couldn’t lose her heart to him. She wouldn’t!
“Stop, please,” she whispered, moving back. He raised his eyes slowly, giving her the same searing, hungry look that always made her breath catch. His gaze roamed over her bare breasts and she was torn between reaching for him and yanking up her gown. She wanted him, yet she tugged up her gown and stepped back out of his reach. “I’ll get hurt,” she whispered, turning away. She rushed to the desk and picked up the key, hurrying out of the room without looking back, afraid if she turned around, she would run straight into his arms.
Caleb tugged the reins and they sat at the edge of the bluff. It was almost half-past four in the morning. Wagons creaked and harnesses jingled as buggies and wagons and men mounted on horseback lined the bluffs to watch the battle. There was a steady buzz of voices while people unpacked baskets of food. The stars and bars waved all along the riverfront.
“Major O’Brien! Sophia!” Hannah Lou waved and Will motioned to them.
“Come join us,” Will urged, climbing down out of his buggy to offer his hand to Sophia. They climbed up to squeeze close on the driver’s seat with Caleb between Hannah Lou and Sophia while Will sat on Sophia’s right. Hannah Lou looked radiant in a deep blue poplin and Will looked healthy and strong for the first time since the Shiloh battle.
“Commodore J. E. Montgomery is commanding the Confederate fleet,” Will said. “Father said Montgomery issued a proclamation to the people of Memphis that he has no intention of retreating. He said he has come here so that we can see Lincoln’s gunboats sent to the bottom by our fleet.”
Hannah Lou wriggled in the seat, placing her arm on Caleb’s. “I hope it’s over quickly and none of our men are hurt. Mama said she couldn’t possibly come watch, but Papa thinks we’ll whip them easily and send them to the bottom of the river.”
“We have the advantage of being on the downstream side,” the major said.
“What difference will that make?” Hannah Lou asked, gazing up at him. He looked down at her. While he explained that the current made it easier for the Confederate boats to retreat and maneuver, Sophia thought about his kisses only a few hours ago. Had he kissed Hannah Lou like that? And others? She was sure he had, that the kisses and women meant nothing to him. Don’t lose your heart to him, she told herself. He wouldn’t care and he will leave Memphis and kiss other women.
Moving slowly against the current, Confederate gunboats formed two lines of four each.
“The big cannon are in the front line,” Caleb said.
“That’s the Jeff Thompson, the Sumter, the General Lovell, and the General Beauregard,” Will commented.
“Here come the Bluecoats.”
“Their transports are following.”
She glanced around. Thousands of people lined the bluff, which gave a panoramic view of the river. Sunshine glinted on the spires of the churches and over the rooftops of the tall buildings on Front Street. She felt a shiver run down her spine as she remembered the commencing of the battle at Shiloh. Cannon blasted and she jumped. Caleb looked down at her, and she wondered what he was thinking.
The Federal fleet responded. Shot clanged when it hit armor plating, splintering through exposed timber. Black smoke pouring from smokestacks thickened and mingled with smoke from cannon, obscuring the view.
“Lord, look,” Caleb said and pointed at the battle. At first she couldn’t decide what had caught his attention, but then she saw two of the Federal boats charge past the advance Federal line. Throwing up plumes of spray and creating high waves, the boats sped through the water.
“Those aren’t transports,” Caleb said.
“What in blazes are they doing?” Will asked.
“They’re charging. They’re going to ram the General Price.”
Sophia watched in horror as the Federal ship struck the Price broadside. A clang echoed over the bluff, sounding above the blast of cannon as the ram crushed the Price’s wheelhouse. Hannah Lou screamed and slumped against Caleb. He caught her, sliding his arm around her waist and patting her hand as her eyes fluttered.
