Memphis

by Sara Orwig

  “No, I wouldn’t have. If they had heard me, they would have come after you and you would have ridden away and escaped and left me to go back home.”

  “No. I wouldn’t leave you to go to prison. I would have been taken prisoner and so would you and I’d hang. Is that what you want?”

  “Damn you, Caleb O’Brien! You’ve taken my house and my paper and—”

  “Sophia, you’re too independent for your own good,” he snapped in a cold, quiet voice, interrupting her. “I’m going to protect you unless I know in your heart you want to be rid of me and that you truly hate me. Now tell me you hate me, Sophia, and I’ll let you do what you damned well please.”

  “I hate you, Caleb O’Brien!” she said, her voice a rasp as he came closer and she backed up. “You stay where you are. I hate you!” she cried, her voice rising and she felt all control slipping.

  “I’d like to shake you; I wish I could ride out of here and forget you,” he said, grinding out the words, “but the last thing I feel toward you, Sophia, is hatred. I won’t let you go to prison even though you’re hell-bent on it.”

  “You leave me alone!”

  “No. If you don’t mean what you’re saying, then I’m going to keep you out of trouble if I lose my life trying!”

  “Get away,” she said at the edge of the creek. He moved closer and she turned to run. His arm snaked out and caught her and swung her around, yanking her against him.

  “You think you can kiss me into submission, Caleb. Well, you can’t—”

  “I just want to see how deep hate goes,” he said, bending his head. “You’re going to do what I want, Sophia.”

  “No, I’m not,” she argued, her heart pounding and her pulse roaring as he bent his head. She tried to twist away and he wound his fingers in her hair and held her head as he kissed her, and in seconds she could no longer resist. With a sob all her defenses crumbled; her anger evaporated, transforming into hurt and need as she cried. He pushed her down, moving between her legs and she struggled, not wanting him to touch her intimately, wanting to stay aloof from him, trying to keep him from winning their struggle.

  His hands drifted beneath her skirts, pushing them up, unfastening her drawers and sliding them over her hips.

  “No, Caleb—”

  “No, Sophia?” His hand played over her and she gasped and raised her hips to meet him.

  “Yes, I want you,” she responded, forgetting her loss. He thrust into her softness. Sophia reached for his shoulders, pulling him close as he turned his head to kiss her passionately.

  Sophia clung to him, moving with him, feeling a desperate urgency. Worries and fears vanished; all thought was gone. Wave after wave of exquisite sensation washed over her, taking her breath as she held his strong shoulders and moved her hips with his until they both cried out.

  “Caleb, please!”

  “I love you, Sophia,” he proclaimed in a husky voice. She barely heard the words as she felt caught in an overwhelming urgency, and then his body shuddered and he relaxed.

  She gasped for breath, sounds and thought returning, remembrance settling on her like a heavy winter cloak. Her defenses were down, the barriers gone, demolished in the past few minutes when she had given herself wholeheartedly to him. She burst into tears and held him. “I’ve lost everything, Caleb. My home and my family and our paper. Amos is gone. Papa is gone. I don’t know that Morris and John will ever come home. Can’t you see if I lose the house and the paper, I have nothing?”

  He rolled on his side, holding her close, legs entwined, stroking her head, letting her cry. “Begorra, Sophia, yer two brothers may come home to ye.”

  “Everything else is gone,” she sobbed.

  He stroked her hair, her throat. “And ye don’t hate me, Sophia.”

  “I hate your taking charge of my life! You do things your way, Caleb O’Brien.”

  “And sure ’tis good I do, or ye would be in prison, lassie, my love. Yer a stubborn one, Sophia Merrick. Now don’t cry. Yer not in a prison and ye can start another paper again someday.”

  She shifted to look into his eyes. “Bully,” she said softly.

  “And ye need bullying, love. Duty has to stop somewhere and common sense take over.”

  “So whenever you want your way, is this how you intend to get it?”

  “ ’Tis not a bad way.”

  “I still want to go home.”

  “And I still am not going to allow it.” His voice was gentle, but Sophia heard the note of steel as he stroked her hair away from her face. “And if you run away, I’ll tie you up again.”

  She moved away from him and went to the creek to wash. Caleb followed, stripping off the rest of his clothes and wading into the cool water. She felt torn emotionally. She watched him splash in the water and drop down to swim away from her. As passion cooled and Caleb’s strong arms were gone, she wanted desperately to go home. Suddenly she ran for one of the horses, swinging up into the saddle, hearing splashing behind her.

  She paused to glance around and see him racing toward her. He reached out as she flicked the reins. His hand jerked the reins and his arm locked around her waist and pulled her down. She fought against Caleb’s wet, slippery body.

  “I warned you, Sophia.”

  “What are you going to do? Where are you taking me? You have to go back to battle.”

  “I’m taking you home to New Orleans,” he said, facing her, his hands on his hips. He was wet, nude, masculine, and she tried to keep her gaze from lowering, but she couldn’t resist. His body made her pulse pound as she looked at him.

  He turned away to dry himself with his shirt and yank on his clothes. In minutes she was seated before him on a horse. “We have a long ride. You cooperate or I’ll tie you again. We’re still in enemy territory.”

  She bit her lip and kept silent, angry again with him, feeling defiant, wanting badly to go home. They rode in silence back to the road and she turned for one last glimpse of Memphis, knowing at night all she would see would be a few twinkling lights on the horizon.

  Along with the lights she saw a plume of gray smoke spiral into the air. “Something’s burning, Caleb.”

  He shifted and looked back in silence. When he turned around his arm tightened around her and he kissed her forehead. “Sophia, stop fighting me. You’re safe and that’s what matters,” he said in his tender tone of voice that always made her heart melt.

  “You murdered a soldier?”

  “A Yankee who was watching your house. He caught me and was taking me in.”

  She felt uncertain over her future, hurt by her losses. After a short time, she raised her chin and gazed ahead. “What will Miss Therrie think about your bringing me to New Orleans?” Her cheeks burned at the forwardness of the question, but she was curious about his answer.

  “Amity?” he asked, sounding amused. “She’ll be delighted; Amity and I are old friends, nothing more.”

  “I find that difficult to believe. She seemed to hang on your every word when she visited,” Sophia said stiffly.

  He chuckled. “No, Sophia. You’re wrong. I know that Will and Amity correspond regularly.”

  “Will Stanton?” she asked, twisting to look up at him.

  “Yes,” Caleb replied, catching her chin with his finger. “That’s better. I don’t like your anger.”

  “You always do something to stir it!”

  He chuckled again. “You’re a feisty one, Sophia Merrick, and you need a strong hand to keep you out of trouble.”

  “There’s a world of difference between having a strong hand and being jackass stubborn!”

  He laughed. “I think you need my stubbornness. If I heeded your words, you would be in a Yankee prison tonight.”

  She became quiet and after a mile he lifted her chin to him. “Why so quiet, love?”

  She felt on edge, hurt and loss threatening her control. She didn’t have anything or anyone until John and Morris came home and at the moment she didn’t know if they were s
till alive. Caleb would leave her with strangers in New Orleans and go back to battle. “Leave me alone. You’ve done enough this night.”

  He hugged her to him and his voice was deep and gentle. “Stop worrying. Someday you’ll go home again and you’ll have your paper and your house. Right now, you’re safe, love.”

  She didn’t feel safe. She felt lost and alone. She stared into the darkness and wondered what lay ahead. “Caleb, are we riding through Yankee-held country?”

  “We’ll leave the road and skirt the towns until we’re on Confederate ground. Grenada is still Confederate. From there south we can try to go to the river and hitch a ride on a boat.”

  They rode in silence and she wiped away tears, trying to cry in silence so he wouldn’t pity her. She slid her hand over her valise. It was all she had. She had no money—the family money was in the bank in Memphis except for the bit of gold in her reticule.

  Caleb tugged on the reins and dropped down to the ground, swinging her down in his arms.

  “Put me down, Caleb. I can walk.”

  “I thought you were asleep. We’ll stop and sleep here for a few hours and then ride on.” He hobbled the horses and unsaddled them and spread two blankets. It was a warm summer night and he pulled her down on the blanket. She lay stiffly against him as he stroked her hair away from her face.

  “Sophia,” he said softly, “you’ll see it will be better to leave Memphis. There will be a time to go back.”

  She cried quietly and felt his fingers slide over her cheeks. He leaned forward to kiss her tears away. “You’ll have your house again and your paper. I promise you.”

  “You can’t promise what you don’t know! I’ve never been away from Memphis except the times at Shiloh. Never!” She buried her head against his chest, sobbing, unable to stop once she let go.

  He held her tightly against him while he gazed beyond her into the darkness. Sophia was so young in some ways, and tonight she had lost everything that was a tie to her family. She needed to cry and to vent her emotions, but anyone nearby could have heard her. His Sharps was ready, beside him on the blanket. He stroked her as she trembled and finally wrapped her arms around him. Her sobs diminished and faded and then she became still and he suspected she was asleep. Kissing her temple, he strained to hear any disturbing sounds, knowing they were still in Union-held country. He held her tightly, stroking her, thankful he had ridden into Memphis tonight and brought her out, because if he hadn’t she would be in prison now. He thought of the plume of smoke rising above Memphis and wondered about her house.

  The first faint rays of dawn came and he shook her awake, watching her as she moved around, amazed at the depth of his feelings for her. He had been terrified for her last night and he was thankful they had escaped. Her hair cascaded over her shoulders and he watched her braid it. After a moment he crossed to her and took a thick plait in his hand. “Let me, Sophia.” He stood quietly behind her, feeling the silky locks, wanting to lean forward and kiss her nape, but knowing they had to get going because they were in dangerous territory.

  Finally he helped her mount, giving her waist a squeeze. She looked down at him solemnly. He hated that she was hurting; he wished he could do something to stop it.

  “Ye’re brave, lassie,” he said softly, and she looked away, her gaze going to the horizon. He mounted and moved beside her. “Listen for anyone approaching, Sophia.”

  Later in the day he motioned to her to ride ahead so he could watch and listen. He rode with his rifle ready and Sophia held the colt. Her back was straight, her golden braids trailing on her back and as he rode, he stared at her. He loved her wildly and he wanted to marry her and his life would never be peaceful again, yet he couldn’t imagine living without her. She was a bright flame in a dark world at war. He needed her warmth and laughter. Her feisty nature was part of her appeal, even if it meant storms in his life. And in moments of passion she was the most sensual, exciting woman he had ever known. He hated that he would go back to war, and leave her facing uncertainty, because in spite of all his reassurances, she had lost her home and paper and friends.

  At least he knew she was safe from the Federals and prison. He hadn’t planned on marrying for years, but she could be carrying his child right now—something that didn’t seem to have occurred to her.

  The sun rose high and he motioned to her to leave the road and turn west. When he found a creek, they dismounted. “We’re stopping. It’ll be safer to sleep now and travel after dark. Less chance of encountering soldiers.”

  In minutes the horses were unsaddled and he had spread blankets, pulling her down into his arms and holding her. At dusk they ate cheese and apples and thick slices of ham. He untied another bundle and pulled out a bottle. “Bless Henry!”

  She gazed at the demijohn of brandy and frowned. “Where did that come from?”

  “I had some at the house. I got it from one of the saloons,” he said, wondering if she would demand he dispose of it, but she merely continued eating.

  “When this war is over,” she said wistfully, “I want to have a dinner with hot biscuits and thick honey and a juicy roast. And I want to eat an orange.”

  “Maybe you won’t have to wait until the end of the war. With Rafe running the blockade, perhaps he can get things.”

  When they finished, Caleb saddled the horses. “Ready to ride?”

  “How do you know where you’re going in the dark?”

  “I’m accustomed to this. If I tell you to get off the road, do so at once. We’re still in Union territory.” They headed south and he angled back to the road, where they could make the best time.

  He judged it was near midnight by the white moon rising overhead when he heard a hoofbeat. For a quarter of an hour, Caleb rode with his rifle in hand. Finally he caught up to ride beside Sophia.

  “Someone’s following us,” he whispered, leaning close to her. “I’m dropping off the road to wait and see who it is. You ride ahead and keep your pistol drawn. If you hear shots, ride for a town. I’ll catch up with you. I’ll whistle if everything is all right.”

  “Please be careful,” she whispered, touching his arm, and he drew a deep breath. One minute she seemed to care and to love him and the next she was angry and wanting to get away from him, yet he knew what an upheaval it had been to leave her home.

  He rode to the west into dark shadows, halting to wait, his rifle cocked and ready.

  Chapter 15

  In a few minutes he heard a rider approach. The man rode into moonlight and Caleb stared at the broad shoulders and shadowed profile.

  He wasn’t certain, so he raised his rifle. “Halt and raise your hands!”

  “Caleb?”

  “Fortune! What are you doing here?” He rode forward. “Sophia’s ahead and I don’t want her to be alone. Let’s catch up, and then you can explain.”

  Fortune caught his arm. “Wait a minute. You might not want to tell her. The Federals burned her house last night.”

  Caleb felt a ripple of worry. “Damn, I was afraid something like that would happen. I don’t want her to know.”

  “You need to get off this road. Our army uses it and the price on your head has gone to ten thousand.”

  “Well, damn. I don’t know whether to be scared or flattered.”

  “You damn well better be scared. There’s an arrest warrant out for her.”

  “I guessed there would be. How’s Trevitt?”

  “Angrier than a sore-tailed bear. He wants her.”

  “That’s why I took her away. Let’s catch up with her.”

  They broke into a gallop, pounding down the road until Caleb guessed they should be drawing close. He motioned to slow and when Fortune did, he rode closer. “I don’t want to frighten her. I’m going to whistle.”

  The whistle was clear in the quiet night, and in minutes he saw a figure ahead waiting on a horse by one side of the road.

  “There she is.” He waved. “Sophia.” As they reached her, he waved his hand. “L
ook who’s here.”

  “Miss Merrick,” Fortune said, greeting her.

  “How did you find us?”

  “I found someone who talked to your Henry. I took a chance on this way. This is how I would go if I were heading to New Orleans.”

  “How’d you know we were going to New Orleans?” she asked, looking at Caleb.

  “We probably think alike,” Fortune answered. “I have to get back to Memphis. They’ve increased the price on your head to ten thousand dollars,” he repeated to Caleb and then he looked at her. “The Provost Marshal has issued an order for your arrest, Miss Merrick, for aiding the Rebellion and for sedition against the United States government. They’ve learned you printed The Loyal Memphian.”

  She raised her chin. “And Major Trevitt? Is there a charge for attacking an officer?”

  “Major Trevitt’s in a rage over the paper. I don’t know what you mean, attacking an officer.”

  “He isn’t injured?”

  “Yes. His shoulder is bandaged. Trevitt said he had an accident on board one of the ships at the dock.” Fortune looked back and forth between them.

  “He doesn’t want to tell people,” Caleb said. “Sophia stabbed him because he attacked her.”

  “Lord, that’s all the more reason for you two to get out of Tennessee. Cal, I have to get back. Get off the road. We’ll have soldiers along here tomorrow.”

  “Come with us to New Orleans,” Caleb insisted.

  “I can’t. The army would have a price on my head. But I can’t wait to see Darcy and Rafe. Tell them I’ll be there the first chance I get.”

  “You take care of yourself,” Caleb said, halting and turning so he faced Fortune. He stood in the stirrups and leaned over to hug his brother, who hugged him in return.

  “Be careful. You’re the wild man running risks,” Fortune said. He turned his horse and waved, vanishing into the night, and Caleb wondered when he would see his brother again.

  Sophia rode in silence beside him. “Is that all he told you?”

  “Yes,” he said, having no intention of burdening her with the news about her house. She had suffered too much from war.