Memphis

by Sara Orwig

  “I’m so afraid for you,” she said softly.

  “For me!” He tilted her chin up, looking at her mouth, his green eyes blazing with anger. “Sure and damn him to fires of hell, he kissed ye, didn’t ye?”

  “I’m all right.”

  “Dammit. Ye shouldna’ live here alone, and there’s nothing I can do to keep ye from it!”

  “Stop swearing, Caleb.”

  “Sophia, he knows ye’re a lass who lives alone. And he’s takin’ advantage of it.”

  She raised her chin and looked him in the eye. “Major Trevitt hasn’t hurt me, and I have a revolver and know how to use it. He probably won’t be back again.”

  “Ye know he damned well will be back!” Caleb strode to the window as if to give vent to his fury by some kind of action. As he moved Sophia looked at his broad shoulders, her gaze drifting down over his narrow hips and long legs.

  “If I could only get my hands on him for a few minutes—” Caleb said. She moved behind him, coming up against him, running her hands along his thighs and pressing against him.

  He turned, all anger leaving his expression. “Sophia,” he said with such tenderness, her heart contracted. He tilted her face up to his. “I worry about ye, I’m afraid for ye. And I love ye,” he whispered. “I want ye, love.” He bent his head, his mouth covering hers as she wound her arms around his neck and he pulled her close to him.

  He picked her up and carried her to her bedroom, closing the door behind him. He carried her to the bed, bending his head to kiss her.

  Hours later he shifted in bed and turned on his side, propping his head on his hand. He toyed with long, silken strands of her hair. “Sophia—”

  “That tone means you want something.”

  He arched his brows. “How do you know that?”

  “I’ve been around you enough now to know when you’re trying to coax me to do something you want. In anger or passion, your Irish shows. When you coax, you get that honey tone to your voice that would melt snow.”

  “I don’t coax.”

  “No, you don’t if you don’t have to. Most of the time you bully.”

  “You have to live with the Stantons,” he insisted.

  “You won’t be coming back to Memphis?” She studied him and saw the flicker in his eyes as he gazed back.

  “Yes, I’ll come back, but I’ll give this up if it means your safety.”

  “I’m safe. I promise you.”

  “When I think about Trevitt putting his hands on you, I want to smash him.”

  “You’re too fierce, Caleb.” She snuggled up against him, kissing his throat, inhaling the clean scent of soap on his skin. “I should get up and see about our supper.”

  She slid out of bed and gathered her clothing, turning to look at him. He lay stretched on his side, unabashedly naked, gazing at her with a fatuous smile. She smiled in return, feeling her heart lurch, because when darkness came, she would lose him to danger.

  “Stop worrying about me,” he said softly.

  “I’m terrified for you,” she whispered.

  He came off the bed, crossing the room to pull her to him and in seconds her clothes fell from her hands and she wrapped her arms around him to return his kisses.

  That night while they ate, she listened to him tell her tales about Ireland and his brothers and his childhood. She knew he was being his most charming to keep her from thinking about his leaving. Mazie and Henry had gone to their quarters and the house was quiet except for Caleb’s deep voice.

  And finally they were silent looking into each other’s eyes. She felt overwhelmed with desire and love as he stood up and led her to her bedroom.

  She fell asleep in his arms, held tightly against him, only to awaken in the night. Moonlight spilled over him and she rose up slightly to look at him, letting her fingers trail over his bare thigh, feeling crisp hairs against her palm, watching his body respond to her strokes. Coming awake at once, he turned his head to kiss her fingers, and then he pulled her down to him to love her again.

  The next time she stirred, she ran her hand over the bed and came awake. She was alone.

  “Caleb!”

  “I’m here,” came a deep voice from the dark. He moved into the moonlight and she gasped. He was in uniform and his voice was solemn. His gun belt was buckled around his hips. With a cry she flung herself out of bed to run to him.

  He held her tightly, his belt buckle cold against her skin, the gun belt cutting into her flesh. She tried to hold back tears, knowing she had to let him go.

  “Come back to me,” she whispered.

  He pushed her away a fraction and tilted her face up to his. “Don’t be afraid. I’ll be careful.” He kissed her and then pulled her to him, his mouth covering hers, his tongue thrusting deep as if he could consume her and make her part of him so there would be no separation. His strong arms crushed her to his heart until he finally broke away.

  “I’ll be back,” he said. “If you have trouble, you promised to go to the Stantons.” As he strode away, she caught up her wrapper to throw it around her and run down the hall after him.

  “Caleb!”

  He kissed her again at the back door and then he was gone, striding across the yard while she hurt so badly. She held her fists clenched against her heart as tears streamed down her cheeks. I love you, Caleb O’Brien. She wondered if she would ever see him again.

  Then she saw his dark shadow as he rode toward the alley and turned the corner and was gone from sight. She closed and locked the door and walked back to the bedroom in the dark. The house was empty, the bed still warm, still holding his scent and she ran her hands over the pillow and then threw herself down to cry. Please take care, Caleb. Caleb.…

  As Caleb rode out of the alley and turned the corner on Washington, a shadow shifted behind him.

  Major Dunstan Trevitt sat up in bed and threw back a sheet. “Confound it, just a minute!” he bellowed as pounding came from the front door of the small house. The woman rolled over and sat up, pulling covers to her chin.

  “What is it?”

  “Someone to see me, I’d guess.” He yanked on pants and went to the door to throw it open.

  A soldier stepped into the room and saluted. “Sir. I waited as you ordered. A man just rode out of the alley and down Washington and turned the corner heading south.”

  “Could you see him?”

  “No, it was too dark to see his features.”

  “But he came out of her house?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Dunstan felt a wild surge of triumph. He hadn’t expected to gain anything from having two men watch Sophia Merrick’s house, but he had nothing to lose by stationing two privates where they could see if anyone came or went from the front or back doors. “Good work, Haines. That’s all for tonight. Do what you want for the next twenty-four hours. I’ll station someone else on watch tomorrow night.”

  “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

  Dunstan returned the salute and closed the door behind him, his thoughts shifting to Sophia Merrick. Caleb O’Brien had to be the man who left her house tonight. And she had said there was no sweetheart! he thought angrily. So Sophia Merrick wasn’t the innocent, prim woman the town thought. She was in love with Major Caleb O’Brien, the Secesh who was leading the raids into Memphis! He was relieved that Rebel Forrest was occupied with fighting farther east, else if the two paired up, it would be a bigger disaster than the Union already had.

  He remembered the tavern owners he had questioned: “She’s a cold one—cold as icicles in January,” said one. “Doesn’t believe a man should drink or socialize or have fun. Old maid spinster who would faint if a man wanted her,” said the other. Or when he had asked that Haskins fellow at the general store: “Miss Merrick is a fine person. Very high principles.”

  He remembered leaning on the counter, lowering his voice. “Who’s the man in her life? Miss Merrick is very pretty.”

  “Miss Merrick?” Mr. Haskins frowned. “There’s no
man in her life. Her father wouldn’t have allowed it. Doubt if Sophia Merrick has spent five minutes alone talking to a man unless it was about her family’s newspaper or to the wounded fellows she cared for after Shiloh.”

  And when he asked Jorgenson, the blacksmith, he shook his head. “Spinster, she is. Raised to work like her brothers.” He grinned and licked his lips. “Just as soon kiss a wooden doll, Major. If you’re looking for fun, go over to Miss Pearlie Marie’s. There’s fun. Ask to meet Abigail.”

  Trevitt struck a match and put it to the tip of a cigar, inhaling, puffing, and blowing out a stream of smoke. He thought about Hannah Lou Stanton, riding in her carriage to the general store, flirting with him and making eyes at him. Too bad she wasn’t the one who lived alone, he mused. His pulse raced at the thought and he savored memories of the afternoon, thinking of when he had climbed into the Stanton carriage. Hannah Lou had scolded him in her little-girl voice, telling him he must go, all the time letting him pull her into his arms. His body responded to erotic thoughts as he remembered kissing her, sliding his hands over her breasts until she finally scooted away.

  “Sir, you’ll give me a dreadful reputation, and my father will be livid! You must go,” she said, pouting, straightening her rumpled blue silk dress.

  “I’ll go, Hannah Lou, but when can I see you again?”

  “I might take my carriage out tomorrow and ride along Fort Avenue, east of Fort Pickering about three in the afternoon,” she said slyly, her voice changing to a sweet note. “Perhaps if you’re in the area, you could ride with me for a time.”

  He smiled and stroked her throat, watching her inhale, her breasts straining against the fabric. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a small box. “I’ve had this a long time to take home to my mother, but I can find something else to give her. It looks as if it belongs on you, Hannah.”

  “For me?” She gazed at the box and he had to bite back his amusement as she was obviously torn between accepting the present or politely refusing as she had been taught to do. Southern women and their genteel manners made him impatient. Beneath the courteous manner, Hannah Lou was hungry for a man.

  She accepted the gift, lifting out the gold and ruby necklace. “Oh, great saints! My mother wouldn’t allow this—”

  He took it from her. He had won it in a game of faro and he had a long chain made for it. He fastened it around her slender neck, kissing her below her ear.

  “Major Trevitt, it’s gold. I can’t take—”

  “Hannah,” he whispered as he faced her. “Someday I want you to meet my mother. She would think this necklace perfect for you.” He held the winking ruby in his hand and watched Hannah Lou as he tucked it into the neck of her silk dress, his hands moving over her bare breasts. His arousal was hard, swift. He wanted to yank the silk down and kiss her full breasts. He moved his fingers to find her taut nipple.

  “Oh,” she breathed, closing her eyes. He leaned forward to kiss her, cupping her breast, feeling its lush fullness, expecting her to stop him any moment. When she didn’t, he shifted, keeping one hand on her breast while his other slid beneath her skirts.

  “Major—”

  “Dunstan. Call me Dunstan. I want to hear you say it,” he said, trying to keep her mind from what he was doing as his hand stroked her legs and moved between her thighs to touch her.

  “Major!” She flounced away, looking hot, flushed, petulant, yet she wanted him. How long would it take to seduce her? he wondered. She wasn’t dealing with one of her Southern gentlemen who held her in high regard, and he hoped she didn’t realize it until too late.

  “I must say goodbye,” she said breathlessly.

  “As difficult as it is, I’ll go, but I’ll dream about tomorrow, Hannah. And I’ll dream about kissing you.” Her expression made his pulse throb. She was ready for seduction, looking as eager as he felt. He climbed out of the carriage and smiled at her before he closed the door. He moved away, going to the blacksmith’s, hoping no gossipy matron had spotted him coming out of the Stanton carriage to report it to Hannah’s parents.

  “Dunstan, what is it?” came a soft voice and he turned. Verna Mae was a wench who had worked in sporting houses. She was beautiful and more pleasure to a man than most of the women he had known.

  “Military matters, hon,” he said, reaching for her, thinking she would be twice as much fun as Hannah Lou, but he liked the idea of possessing the fancy Miss Stanton. He’d grown up in a shack along the Chicago waterfront and he intended to come out of the war a rich man and he liked seducing Southern belles. Most of them he met were spoiled and sheltered and inexperienced; it was a tiny victory to wield power over them, aware if they knew the truth about his past they would loathe him and never speak to him. And he liked to do things to them that their prissy Southern gentlemen wouldn’t do to the women they loved.

  Verna Mae came into his arms and pressed against him. He forgot Hannah Lou as he bent his head to kiss Verna Mae.

  An hour later he lay smoking in the dark. Verna Mae was wrapped against him, her arm and leg thrown over him. Major Caleb O’Brien was Sophia Merrick’s lover, and no one in the entire town suspected it.

  Major Caleb O’Brien from Louisiana. It would be a medal or promotion for him to catch O’Brien. And Sophia Merrick. She had no protector except O’Brien. And someone was printing a small paper loyal to the Confederacy. She’d lied about O’Brien—she could easily lie about the paper. She had just shut her River Weekly down after the battle for Memphis. Was there a press at her home? He’d had men watching her newspaper office and it was closed just as she had said. No one came or went from there. He remembered their first meeting out on the road beyond the edge of town. Had she just been delivering tools and material—or had there been newspapers in her buggy? He wished now he had searched it that day, yet if he had found the papers then, he would have had to arrest her. This way, he might use threats about Major O’Brien or the paper to get her to do what he wanted.

  He blew out a stream of gray smoke. Sophia Merrick. She was feisty, a real challenge to him. He intended to possess Hannah Lou Stanton and Sophia Merrick before the month was over. And he wanted to catch O’Brien sooner. His pulse raced at the thought. Catch O’Brien and reveal that Sophia was his mistress. What would she do to keep that from the public? He wanted to bring her to her knees, the insolent Miss Merrick.

  He puffed the cigar and grinned. He wanted more than bringing her to her knees.

  The next morning in his office at Union headquarters, he faced Sergeant Howden, a man who was using the war for personal gain.

  “If you see any man go in that house, come get me at once. Contact me no matter where I am or what I’m doing,” Trevitt said.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I want to catch this Rebel. We can hang him and make an example of him. Don’t let those Southern neighbors of hers see you and don’t draw Miss Merrick’s attention.”

  “Yes, sir,” Howden responded.

  “Southerners are loyal to their cause and they’d do anything to protect him. The man who brings me word of the Reb will get a promotion.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Howden, what about that load of iron at the armory?”

  “It was taken to the address you gave me.”

  “Who knew about it?” Trevitt asked. Even Verna Mae didn’t know what he had locked in her shed. He told her to stay away from there, and she obeyed him like a trained dog.

  “No one, sir, except me. I had it loaded on a wagon and I took the wagon myself. As far as any officers are concerned, it was taken by the Rebs.” His black eyes had a sly look. “I got two wagonloads moved. No one the wiser.”

  “Good,” Trevitt said grinning, opening the drawer and unlocking a metal box. He withdrew gold coins and placed a stack on the desk. “Every time the Rebs hit, we should gain, too. Just keep your mouth shut, Sergeant.”

  “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir,” he said, pocketing the coins.

  “This is the only reason to go t
o war as far as I’m concerned. Both of us ought to come out of this wealthy men.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ve heard a man just east of here who’s looking to buy iron for the Rebels. I think he has the money.”

  “Let me know. Dismissed, Sergeant.”

  Trevitt sat back in his chair and gazed out the two-story window at the view of the Mississippi. He knew life on a river and he liked it. River towns had more opportunities and right now Memphis was filled with them. He could easily acquire land. He had bought land in Kentucky and Tennessee and north of here in Illinois. Whenever he could steal something, the Southerners were fair game. He’d found Howden a year ago and they had worked together as a team since. The market for iron was getting better with every day of war.

  He hoped O’Brien would come back to town tonight. The sooner they had him under arrest, he reasoned, the sooner it would give him control over Sophia Merrick. Tomorrow afternoon he would be with Hannah Lou.

  Twenty-six hours later he climbed into the buggy with Hannah Lou and took the reins. “How did you get away from home all alone like this?”

  “It’s wartime and Mama is so busy. She still has six wounded to care for. I told her I was going to call on Sophia. Sophia is all alone and Mama worries about her. We might do that on the way home.”

  He smiled, driving the buggy northeast, heading along the road where he knew they would soon be in an isolated area. His gaze ran over her rose silk dress. “You look beautiful today, Hannah Lou,” he said and meant it. Her cheeks were rosy, her skin pale, and her full red lips inviting. The dress wasn’t the latest fashion, but it was costly. He looked at the pair of matched bays harnessed to the buggy, thinking about the shortages of fine horseflesh in the field. Kentucky and Tennessee had the best horses he had ever seen. And the Stanton carriage was as elegant as the horses. Velvet seats, the springs giving them an easy ride.