Memphis

by Sara Orwig

  From age twelve Hannah Lou fainted or pretended to faint when it suited her, but as Sophia watched Caleb hold her friend, she felt a strange twist of annoyance. Jealousy. She shouldn’t be jealous of anything Hannah Lou did with the major. She looked at the battle and tried to forget Caleb O’Brien talking softly to Hannah Lou.

  “The Price is heading for the Arkansas shore,” Sophia whispered and then realized she was gripping Caleb’s arm tightly as he covered her hand with his. She glanced up at him to see him watching the battle with narrowed eyes.

  “The Beauregard is going to ram one of theirs,” Caleb said, and she followed his direction, watching it strike the Federal Queen of the West aft. “There’s another!” he exclaimed.

  She heard the clang as a ram struck the General Beauregard on the bow. While the ram towed the Queen toward the Arkansas shore, the Beauregard was swamped. Men went into the river from the smashed Beauregard as it sank.

  “They can’t all get off,” Will said and she stared with horror as the Beauregard disappeared into the river, water swirling over it.

  A ball hit the General Lovell, striking aft and tearing a gaping hole. Water rushed in as the Lovell sank.

  “We got one of theirs. It’s heading for the Arkansas shore,” Caleb said excitedly.

  The air reeked of gunpowder and noise was deafening. She wanted to place her hands over her ears as she heard cries from injured men and remembered too clearly the horror of Shiloh.

  “Three of ours are already out of the battle,” the major explained.

  It suddenly hit her that when the Federals claimed the city, her paper would be lost; she couldn’t move a press to her house in a Union-occupied city. She glanced up at Caleb, who was engrossed in the battle while Hannah Lou constantly talked to him. Sophia tapped Will’s arm urgently.

  “Excuse me, Will,” she said in a low voice. “I’ll be right back. I want a handkerchief.” He jumped down and helped her from the wagon. When she reached the ground, she saw out of the corner of her eye that Caleb turned to look at her. Another clash from the river caught his attention, then he shifted his gaze to the battle.

  Will helped her up onto her wagon. “Go back, Will. I feel faint. This reminds me of the battle at Shiloh. I may just lie down in the wagon.”

  “Sorry, Sophia.” He looked sympathetic as he turned away. She sat on the wagon seat. When Major O’Brien turned to Will, who leaned close to talk to him, he looked past Will at her and she put her head in her hands. In minutes when she glanced back, he was watching the battle. She picked up the reins. With a flick the team moved forward and she headed through the crowd, people parting to make way for her. She glanced over her shoulder to see Caleb jumping down from the wagon. Her heart pounded. If she didn’t get through the crowd, he would catch her easily.

  She saw Caleb running toward her. She skirted a carriage, people moved out of her path, and then the way was clear. She urged the horses on, her heart pounding as they broke into a run.

  The major was only yards behind her.

  “Sophia! Sophia, wait!”

  She turned and leaned forward, wind blowing her hair as the horses tore around a corner and down the street. Her heart pounded as she heard the sounds of battle behind her. She had to save Papa’s press. In minutes she slowed and stopped behind her office, backing the wagon to the door. With shaking hands she unlocked the door. Henry stirred and stood up.

  “Miss Sophia?”

  “Henry, the Confederacy is losing the battle. Help me move this equipment,” she ordered, rushing past him.

  “What will happen to us?”

  “I don’t know, Henry. Hurry.” She lifted the boxes she had placed by the door last night, feeling a sense of desperation to get everything moved. Then she turned to face the major. He stood in the doorway with his arms akimbo, staring at her. With the light behind him, his lean body and face were shadowed. He took the boxes from her hands and passed them outside to Henry.

  “You’re going to do this?”

  “Yes. I have to.”

  “Henry and I can load the rest. Get in the wagon.”

  One glance into his green eyes, and she closed her mouth and held back an argument. She climbed into the wagon and watched, hearing sounds of battle. Black smoke drifted overhead and the smell of gunpowder was strong. She shivered and looked past the men at the dark interior. Would the Federals destroy her big press and office?

  Major O’Brien swung a carton onto the wagon. How could he lift even the small press with his weakened arm? she wondered. He looked pushed to the limit when he told her to get in the wagon. She gripped the seat and watched him work.

  Finally he and Henry came out carrying the proof press and hoisted it into the wagon. It landed with a thud and Henry climbed up behind it. As Caleb closed the office door, she had one last glimpse down the darkened office. Her gaze ran over the red brick building, and she felt a twist of pain in her chest. Papa was gone, Amos was gone, now the paper might be lost. She watched the major come around the wagon and climb up beside her. He would go now, too.

  Tears stung and she looked down at her hands folded together in her lap. She wasn’t going to cry. The paper was a tie to John and Morris and she would keep it going, she vowed silently.

  Major O’Brien placed his arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer to him. She didn’t think she could bear a word of sympathy or she might lose control and burst into tears. She sat looking at her hands, trying to think about something else so she wouldn’t cry. If Memphis fell, what would happen to everyone? To Mazie and Henry?

  “What happens when an army takes a city?”

  “They’ve taken New Orleans, and in many ways, life goes on,” he said, looking away and she suspected he was keeping some things from her. “My family is fine.”

  Were they really fine, or was he just trying to reassure her? She didn’t want him to leave, yet it was time for him to go. He would be taken prisoner if he stayed.

  “A woman alone is damned vulnerable,” he added.

  She drew a deep breath, knowing he didn’t approve of what she was doing.

  They pulled the wagon as close to the back door as possible and she climbed down to help them unload. Mazie came out to carry boxes. As she passed the major, Sophia caught his arm.

  “Can you and Henry carry the press upstairs, or should I get someone else to help him?” she whispered.

  “We’ll manage,” he said, gazing at her solemnly. “The moment we bring it into your house, you’re placing yourself in jeopardy. When you print a paper, you’ll commit sedition.”

  “I have to do this.” She went downstairs to get another box. Trying to control her emotions, she felt as if the slightest mishap would push her over the edge. She heard the grandfather clock chime nine o’clock. It seemed more than a few hours ago when they left to watch the battle. The boom of cannon still carried from the river. Did Memphis still belong to the Confederacy? she wondered.

  As she passed Major O’Brien in the doorway, a deep-rolling boom rocked them. She felt a vibration in the air and looked at him in question.

  “What was that?”

  “Something just exploded.” He turned away, and she went outside to pick up another box, looking at the darkening cloud spreading overhead.

  The men carried the press upstairs and finally all the boxes were in the house and Henry led the team away. Mazie returned to the kitchen and when Sophia looked around, Caleb came down the hall with his broad-brimmed hat on his head.

  “You’re leaving?”

  “I’m going back to the bluffs to see how the battle is progressing. Want to come along? I told Henry to hitch the team to the buggy.”

  She nodded and they headed for the wagon. As they drove toward the river, they heard shouts and a commotion and the major turned toward the courthouse. In minutes they saw a crowd and he slowed the buggy at the edge of hundreds of angry people while they watched the Stars and Stripes go up over the post office.

  “Memphi
s belongs to the Union,” Major O’Brien proclaimed, picking up the reins. “We’ll see what the damage is.”

  They sat on the bluff and saw the crippled Union ships. “Where are our boats?”

  “They’ve sunk or we’d see them. They weren’t going to retreat,” he said grimly, and she hurt over the loss.

  As they returned home, he stopped in front of the Stantons’.

  “I need to go home,” she insisted.

  “We’ll just pay a short visit,” he said, standing on the ground and looking up at her. “Climb down,” he ordered and offered his hand.

  “You’ve brought me here, because you know Mrs. Stanton will urge me to move in with them now. I want to go home, Major O’Brien,” Sophia repeated, annoyed with his cavalier manner.

  He reached up, his hands closing around her waist and swung her to the ground. She looked up, ready to protest, but the anger sparking his green eyes made her keep quiet. She lifted her chin and turned toward the Stanton porch.

  It was late afternoon when they left the Stantons’ and returned home. Mazie served dinner and afterward, Caleb went to his room. Sophia went upstairs to unpack boxes. She wanted to get out an edition tomorrow.

  As she bent over a box, she heard a knock at the open door and turned to see the major.

  “Come in. I can’t find the things I need.”

  “I’ll help. What are you looking for?” he asked.

  “You’re not leaving?” she asked in surprise.

  “Not unless you want me to go. The Federal forces will be moving in and getting settled. I’m in no danger tonight or for the next few nights for that matter.”

  “You don’t know,” she said, frightened for his safety.

  “They won’t search houses. They’ll issue proclamations and warn people to leave town, but not tonight. They’re getting established.”

  She thought of her brothers and grief threatened to overcome her. “How long will this go on?”

  “Unfortunately, the war is just getting started.”

  She turned away. “I’ve looked for my containers of shoe blacking and I can’t find them. My ink is almost gone, so I need the shoe blacking, and now it’s gone.”

  He came up behind her and turned her to face him. “I won’t leave you alone yet, Sophia.”

  She drew a deep breath and he pulled her into his arms to kiss her and she wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him. She needed his strength.

  When she pushed against him, Caleb released her. He felt torn in two. He needed to leave town. If the Bluecoats caught him, he would be taken prisoner. Yet he didn’t want to leave Sophia alone. For all her independence, she was in danger and didn’t realize how grave it was. He was safe tonight and tomorrow he would see what changes the Union would initiate.

  He gazed into her eyes, looking at her full mouth. She hadn’t kissed anyone except him and she shouldn’t hold his interest at all when he thought of the women he had known and the ones in his life now. Hannah Lou flirted constantly and whenever they were alone, she allowed him to kiss her. Desirée gave her body willingly and knew all sorts of ways to charm a man, yet it was Sophia who set him on fire in a way no other woman had. This afternoon at the Stantons’ for a few minutes, he had been alone in the sunroom with Hannah Lou and she had moved close, raising her face, waiting for a kiss and he hadn’t wanted to respond. He had kissed her, but it was nothing. He didn’t want to go home to New Orleans and find that only one woman’s kisses set him aflame. He clamped his jaw shut, desire making him ache, worries for Sophia’s safety plaguing him.

  “If your brothers knew you were here alone, they’d come home.”

  “No, they wouldn’t,” she said calmly. “We were brought up to do our duty.”

  They should have been brought up to give some protection and attention to their little sister, he thought, but he didn’t say that to her. Mrs. Stanton sat down with him yesterday morning and told him about Sophia’s family and her eccentric father and how Sophia had been treated the same as the boys.

  He watched her stand on tiptoe to place a box on a high shelf. He crossed the room to her and took the box from her hands, swinging it up easily. He turned to face her, placing his hands on her shoulders. The faint scent of tea roses came and he wanted to pull her closer and inhale the fragrance, taste her sweetness. Instead he studied her. “Come with me to New Orleans,” he urged. “My family will let you stay there.”

  “Thank you, but I can’t. It isn’t necessary and I won’t leave.”

  He looked at the dark press, squat and still, and he wanted to take an ax and smash it so she couldn’t place herself in danger. He had spent sleepless nights thinking of returning to New Orleans and worrying about Sophia’s safety. He turned to walk out of the room before he pulled her to him to kiss her. Any moment he would have to flee. He had told Henry to keep a horse ready all the time.

  Later in the night Caleb waited until the house was quiet. Wrestling with his conscience and his heart, feeling angry and worried, he stared into the darkness. Finally he stepped out of bed and pulled on his trousers. His feet were bare as well as his chest. Picking up pliers, he stepped into the hall, going soundlessly to the stairs. Halfway up a stair creaked and he froze.

  Nothing stirred, so he continued to the second floor, moving without a sound to the room with the printing press. He opened the door and when it squeaked, he stopped, glancing over his shoulder at the darkness at the top of the stairs. Sophia slept in the bedroom next to his, so it wasn’t possible for her to hear a tiny squeak from the second floor. He opened the door.

  The press was outlined against the moonlit window. He crossed the room to it. He had spent yesterday afternoon at the office of the Appeal, talking to a journeyman typesetter, who told him what screws to remove to make the press inoperable. She would rage and hate him for it, but she wouldn’t end up in a Union prison.

  He crept across the room and knelt beside the press. He began twisting a bolt. It dropped off into his palm and he reached up to pull out a rod. Something rustled behind him and cold metal pressed against his back.

  “Get your hands in the air.”

  Chapter 8

  He stopped and raised his hands slowly. “Sophia?” he asked, shocked that she would threaten him.

  “I’ll shoot if you touch that press. Get away from it.”

  He had been in enough fights to know when someone was in earnest, and the realization that she would actually shoot him because of her press, made the last shred of his temper snap. He came up in one motion, spinning around and swinging his arms to knock the pistol from her hands.

  The blast was deafening in the small room.

  “Dammit!” he snapped, slamming into her and they both went down.

  Sophia fought him, pounding him with her fists, furious that he would destroy her press. “I saved you and kept you alive and nursed you back to health and you want to destroy me!” she cried, beating against him.

  With a bellow of rage, he rolled on top of her, catching her hands and holding them with his, pinning her wrists to the floor on either side of her head. His full length pressed her into the hard floor and they both gasped for breath as they glared at each other.

  “Dammit, you would have killed me for a printing press!” he yelled.

  “I took care of you, and you turn against me!”

  He stared at her and the look made her shake. His weight was heavy. And then she felt his body change; she knew the moment desire stirred. He bent his head and feeling furious with him, she tried to turn away.

  “Get off—”

  His mouth covered hers and she closed her mouth, pressing her lips together, feeling the hot touch of his tongue, a slow, sensual wet sliding across her lips. Her heart thudded against her ribs. He was leaving her forever. With a sob her lips parted and the searing invasion of his tongue made her writhe beneath him. And when she moved, she was assaulted by tantalizing sensations throughout her body.

  “Sophia,” he whispe
red, raising his head, and then lowering it to kiss her throat.

  “Caleb,” she responded. “Caleb.” She wound her fingers in his hair, feeling the tight, silky curls. Her heart thudded against her rib cage and she ran her hands across his shoulders as she returned his kiss. His erection thrust against her and she moaned, her hips moving beneath him. This is what loving is. Caleb, Caleb. She ached, wanting him.

  His hands framed her face, his fingers winding in her hair until he shifted, sliding his arms beneath her, turning them both and rolling to his back while holding her against him. She lay against the length of his lean body. Her wrapper was open, her cotton gown and his trousers the only barrier between them. He ran his hands the length of her, sliding over her back, over the curve of her bottom. She felt lost in a maelstrom of sensation and emotions. She wanted to hold and kiss him forever. She didn’t want him to leave Memphis. She didn’t want to feel this way about him. He was going to destroy her press tonight. That was like destroying her.

  Caleb ran his hands down her thighs, catching the gown and tugging it and the wrapper up until he felt her bare legs. She moaned as he slid his hands up, feeling the curve of her bare bottom, sliding his hands higher to her satin-smooth back. He was on fire with wanting her, feeling as if he would burst with need. He wanted to roll over again and move between her legs.

  He turned on his side, holding her with him, shifting to kiss her throat while he tugged free buttons on the front of her gown. He pushed it open, cupping her soft breast.

  She gasped, clinging to him, her hips moving against him and her fingers stroking his back, winding in his hair. He touched her nipple with his tongue, feeling the taut peak, taking it in his mouth.

  With a sob Sophia pushed against him and scrambled away, coming to her feet. He rolled up, standing, and they faced each other in the darkness.