“Come in, Brandon. How goes it for you here in Corpus Christi?”
“Better than we fared in Antietam,” Brandon countered.
The man gave a hint of a smile. “As I recall, we won that one.”
“Strategically, yes, but you and I both know the price it cost. I fear we are up against much the same here. Perhaps not in blood, but in hearts.”
General Russell sobered. “Sadly, I agree. May we never see such a war again.” He drew a long breath, then leaned back against his leather chair. “Still, you look fit. I believe the town must be agreeing with you.”
Brandon nodded. “For the most part. I just had an encounter with a simpering Southern miss who didn’t appreciate my men detaining her. She had a sharp tongue, but nothing more dangerous than that. And you, General?”
“Now, Brandon, we’ve been friends much too long to resort to formalities in private.”
Brandon took a seat opposite the man who was only some six years his senior, but looked at least a score.
“I had a letter from my mother, Charles,” Brandon said. “She told me to give you her best and to tell you that she’s given Annie that recipe for chocolate cake you like so much.”
“That woman has been a godsend to my wife,” the general replied. He glanced down at the papers on his desk and frowned. “Seems like forever since I’ve seen Annie and my girls.” He paused and sighed. “But this isn’t why I sent for you. We must discuss the looting and vandalizing that has been reported around the town. There have been increasing complaints, and some of them from Union supporters.”
“Why don’t you fill me in,” Brandon suggested.
The general picked up a piece of paper. “This one reports damage done to a cemetery.” He picked up another sheet. “This one is in regard to our men vandalizing a known Confederate’s home.” He glanced upward. “There are numerous reports of harassment and so-called indecencies with women.”
“You say ‘so-called.’ Do you think the reports are false?”
“Who can tell? This town is a powder keg waiting to explode. I had hoped we’d find it easier as time went on. After all, there are large numbers of Union supporters in this city. Not only that, but I’d like to believe my men are honorable. They may be colored troops, but you and I both know the quality of men we’ve had under us.”
“Yes, I agree.”
The general got to his feet and paced. He wasn’t all that big of a man—certainly nowhere near as tall as Brandon’s six-foot-three frame. Putting his hands behind his back, he reminded Brandon of a banty rooster strutting to and fro in the barnyard.
“There are bad apples in every bushel basket, however. I’m not without the ability to acknowledge that my men are capable of such deeds—but I will have proof before meting out punishment. That’s why I called you here. I know you’re mustering out at the end of July, but I want you to keep your eyes and ears open. I want to be on top of this. If we fail to keep the men in line, we will lose the support of those who remained loyal during the war.”
“I’ll do what I can,” Brandon agreed.
“I knew you would,” the general replied and stopped pacing. “I’ve already discussed this with Major Armstrong. He agrees you will be beneficial to this task. I only ask that you monitor the situation and gather information as you receive it. Should you find men in possession of anything other than army regulated goods, I want you to confiscate them and document the items.”
Brandon got to his feet and nodded. “Anything else?”
The general smiled. Shuffling through the papers once more, he pulled a white card from the pile. “As a matter of fact, there is. Tonight, there is a party and I wish for you to attend in my place. It’s to be quite a grand affair and only Union supporters will be in attendance. Wealthy Union supporters.”
“Me? Why me? Wouldn’t Major Armstrong be better at such a thing?” Brandon had no desire to go and make small talk with the socialites of Corpus Christi.
“The major is busy elsewhere. Besides, he’s married and our host has two very pretty daughters.” Charles grinned. “Annie has been after you to settle down for a long while now. Who knows? You might find a lovely young woman here in Corpus.”
“That’s highly doubtful,” Brandon replied. “Not that there aren’t some very beautiful women in this town,” he said, remembering the young woman he’d encountered earlier that day. “Still, I will most likely return to Indiana. I doubt these warm-blooded beauties would have an appreciation for the colder climes.”
The general laughed and shook his head. “Please don’t make me issue this as an order.”
“I’ll attend, but it’s under protest, General Russell.”
This made his superior laugh. “Duly noted, Captain. Duly noted.” He handed him the invitation. “Make the army proud, Brandon. We need all the positive attention we can get.”
Brandon looked at the card and frowned. “Very well.”
“Oh, and Brandon, there is an ulterior motive behind this, as well.”
Now Brandon was intrigued. He raised a brow in question. “You mean besides finding me a wife?”
“Indeed. We have a man we’re watching. He should be in attendance at this party, and I thought perhaps you could observe him and even befriend him. It might help to speed our investigation along if we can get someone close to him.”
Brandon sat back down. “Tell me more.”
Brandon entered Stanley Marquardt’s house a little later than he’d planned. He handed his card, gloves, and hat to the butler and was then shown to the entrance of a large music room, where the rest of the party was listening to a dark-haired woman play the piano. When she lifted her face to sing, he was startled to see it was the same young woman he’d encountered earlier in the alleyway.
“If you will wait here, sir,” the butler instructed, “I will announce you in a moment.”
Brandon nodded, his gaze never leaving the woman. Who was she? She played exquisitely and her voice was beautiful in its clarity and range. Brandon stood back in the shadows, hoping she wouldn’t see him. He wanted to study her better. He’d already relived their earlier moments together, wondering if he could have been gentler or less caustic. Now seeing her here—at a party for Union supporters—Brandon couldn’t help but wonder about the woman.
Her brown hair had a rich sheen that seemed to glisten in the lamplight. He recalled that her eyes were a light, buttery brown. Not quite amber, but far from the dark brown-black of the local residents who were of Mexican descent.
When the song concluded, she stood and gave a brief curtsy while the others clapped. Brandon would have joined in with his approval, but the servant drew his attention.
“Sir, I will announce you now.” The butler stepped into the room as the clapping faded. “Captain Reid,” the man said as if they had all been expecting him.
The audience, who only moments earlier had been enraptured by the performance, now turned their attention to him. He gave a slight bow as an older gentleman stepped forward.
“Captain Reid,” the man said, extending his hand. “We were sorry to hear that the general couldn’t attend tonight but were so delighted that you could come in his stead. I am Stanley Marquardt, and this is my wife.”
Brandon looked to the small woman who had swept up alongside the man. Her wheat-colored hair was sprinkled with gray, and a few wrinkles around her eyes and mouth suggested she had reached middle age and then some.
“Mrs. Marquardt. Mr. Marquardt. Thank you for allowing me to attend on behalf of General Russell.” He gave a bow.
“It is we who are thankful. Your presence is most welcome. Come and let me introduce you to some of the others,” Marquardt declared. He turned almost immediately to his right. “This is James Sonderson and his wife.”
Brandon went through another dozen such introductions, knowing he would never manage to keep all of the names straight. He wondered what had become of the young woman who’d played and sung in such an accompli
shed manner. He didn’t have to wonder for long.
“And this is our daughter Laura.”
Brandon met Laura’s gaze and could see from the fix of her mouth that she was amused. She was all but smirking at him. He bowed and addressed them. “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.”
“Goodness, Father, but are we being invaded by the army?” Laura asked, giving her fan a flick open.
Her father chuckled. “Daughter, Captain Reid is here on behalf of General Russell. He knows very well how faithful we’ve been to support the Union.”
Laura raised a brow and looked at Brandon with an expression that suggested she was enjoying every minute of his discomfort. “I’m not at all sure that the captain understands our faithfulness. Given the fact that so many in this city were Confederate supporters, perhaps Captain Reid believes none of us capable of loyalty to the Union.”
Her father looked at her oddly, but Laura only shrugged and continued. “I suppose, however, he wouldn’t be the type to jump to conclusions. After all, it’s not difficult to ask a person to state their loyalty. Why, there is even an oath being given. I believe you took that oath, did you not, Father?”
“I did indeed. I would take it a hundred times over.”
Brandon knew he deserved her words, but they stung nevertheless. “I have been known to jump to conclusions,” Brandon admitted. “It has usually landed me in a mud pit.”
Stanley Marquardt was momentarily distracted. “If you’ll excuse me, I must attend to another matter. Laura, do be a good friend to the captain and show him around.”
“I would be delighted,” she said, smiling. She waved her fan and batted her eyelashes. “Positively delighted.”
Once her father was out of earshot, Brandon leaned down and lowered his voice. “I suppose I deserved that.”
“You most certainly did,” she agreed. “I’ve done nothing but think about you all day.”
He couldn’t help but grin. “Why, Miss Marquardt, I’m honored.”
Her eyes widened. “Well, don’t be. My thoughts were of torment and torture for you, not pleasantries.”
He laughed. “I can well imagine. If looks could have killed, I believe I would have been felled in that alleyway.”
“Hardly,” she replied. “Perhaps a strong thrashing, but never murder. Especially not when one of our glorious war heroes is involved.”
“I can hardly claim that fame, but I yield to your mercy. I do apologize for my hasty judgment.” She smiled, and Brandon thought he’d never seen anyone quite so beautiful.
“I suppose it wouldn’t be Christian of me to refuse. Therefore, Captain Reid, I accept your apology.” She let her fan drop. “We shall be friends.”
“Why hello,” another female voice greeted from Brandon’s left.
He looked over to meet the young woman who approached. “Laura, darlin’, you simply must introduce us.”
Laura rolled her eyes and snapped her fan shut. “Captain Reid, may I present my sister Miss Carissa Marquardt.”
She extended her gloved hand and gave a teasing giggle behind her fan. “Why, Captain, I’m completely charmed.”
“As am I, Miss Marquardt.” Brandon barely took hold of her fingertips and bowed over her hand in a brief salute.
Carissa took hold of his arm, much to Brandon’s surprise. “Now, Captain, you simply must tell me all about yourself. I want to hear positively every little thing.”
Brandon caught Laura’s annoyed look just before she said, “If you two will excuse me.”
She slipped away before he could protest.
Carissa smiled. “She’s so very serious. I apologize if you thought her rude and unbecoming. I’m afraid the war has left her an old maid and she is quite bitter.”
For a moment Brandon was stunned into silence, and then without meaning to, he laughed. Carissa looked at him oddly.
“I am sorry, Miss Marquardt, but please forgive me. I would never call your statement into question, but I’m certain that if your sister wanted a husband, she’d have no difficulty in getting one.”
3
You are far too flirtatious for your own good, Carissa,” Laura chided her sister the next morning as they finished dressing. “You have a beau, and it’s most unseemly that you should fawn all over Captain Reid and others.”
“Oh bother. You have nothing to complain about. You were able to have a proper coming out party before the war stripped away all that was lovely. I turned sixteen during the war and there was no hope of a party or public announcement. Now I’m eighteen, and I intend for people to know me and to see what I have to offer.” She looked at Laura and shrugged. “Besides, I think you’re just jealous.”
“Think what you like,” Laura said, not wanting her sister to know how close she was to the truth. “Even so, you have a reputation to protect and acting out in such a manner will only serve to harm your social standing. War or no war, the ladies of Corpus Christi will not easily forgive impudent behavior.”
Carissa plopped down in a chair by the vanity and picked up a brush. Giving her gold-brown hair long, determined strokes, she looked over her shoulder at Laura. “He was quite handsome.”
Laura rolled her eyes and reached for the brush. With quick work, Laura plaited Carissa’s hair into a single braid. “And rather dashing. But then, the uniform can’t help but enhance a man’s appearance. Father even said so.”
Carissa giggled. “It wouldn’t help old Gaston.”
Her reference to the butler made Laura smile. “No, I suppose it wouldn’t.”
Mr. Gaston had been with the Marquardt family for as long as Laura could remember. He was already in his forties when he came to help at the Marquardt house, and that had been nearly twenty years earlier. He had once mentioned having been born in another century, so Laura figured him to be approaching seventy, if not already there.
She quickly pinned Carissa’s braid in place. “There. You are as pretty as a picture.”
Carissa jumped up and pressed a kiss on Laura’s cheek. “Thank you, sister.” She all but danced to the door.
“Don’t forget that after breakfast Mother is hosting a gathering of church women to discuss the needs of the less fortunate.”
“Oh bother,” Carissa said, turning at the door. “I don’t have to attend, do I?”
“I know Mother would be greatly disappointed if you didn’t. She wants to show us supporting the cause as one.”
“Well, I haven’t any desire to support her cause. I care about the less fortunate, but in my own way.”
Laura narrowed her gaze. “And what way would that be? By flirting with them? By parading around in your finery?”
“What finery?” Carissa countered with a harsh laugh. “I haven’t had a new dress in well over a year, and even then it was only a gown remade from one of Mrs. Sonderson’s. I hardly call that finery.” She puckered her lips. “What I wouldn’t give for a wardrobe full of Worth gowns.”
“Oh, cease with your pouting.” Laura checked her hair in the mirror. Their maid Carlita had done a good job in sweeping it all into a manageable bun atop Laura’s head before hurrying off to help their mother. Carissa had been more than a little miffed to be neglected, but she knew better than to say anything.
“Mother will expect us both to be there, so don’t be late. The meeting starts at ten.”
Carissa shook her head. “I shall just speak to Mother about it. Malcolm plans to come calling today, and I think that much more important. She will, too. I’m certain.” She flounced out of the room.
Laura sighed. She knew the war years had been hard on her sister. Carissa wanted big things out of life: a wealthy husband, a palatial house with plenty of servants, and at least a half-dozen carriages at her disposal. Laura was never really sure why the numerous carriages were important. As she had once pointed out to Carissa, a person could only ride in one at a time—to which her sister had countered, “You can only wear one gown at a time, but a responsible woman of means wi
ll have several.”
At breakfast Carissa picked at her fruit and complained that the tea was too strong. Laura could see her mother and father’s displeasure at their younger daughter’s complaints, but still they said nothing. She supposed they felt guilty for all that Carissa had missed out on because of the war. Never mind what Laura had lost. Some of the same men whom Carissa pined for were the very ones Laura had eyed with matrimony in mind. Not only that, but there were concerts, plays, and other wonderful entertainments Laura never had the chance to enjoy. She could still remember lectures she’d attended with her friends . . . friends whose families had quickly evacuated when the Union attacked in 1862. No one knew the deep loss she felt.
She supposed it was her own fault for not complaining. Carissa made sure everyone knew of her displeasures, where Laura remained silent in her grief. When the war came and she was forced to sell off some of her gowns, cloaks, shoes, and jewelry in order to help the family purchase much-needed food, she said nothing. She was proud to be able to help. But the fact that Carissa was treated like a princess and given gifts—while the others went without—irritated Laura. Carissa had become spoiled and opinionated over the years. If she thought everything would go back to the way it was before the war, Laura figured her to be mistaken. Leaders in Washington weren’t sympathetic to the Southern states, and fears and rumor of punishments persisted.
Of course, they hadn’t suffered as much as others had. Father had been wise and his provision and plans had helped the Marquardt family endure the worst of the hardships. Even now, they were faring far better than their friends.
“I do hope that your Mr. Lowe is doing well,” Mother said, turning to Carissa. “Do you suppose he will be coming to call today?”
“I believe so. He did ask to do just that,” Carissa replied. “But Laura tells me that we’re to be in attendance at your ladies’ meeting.”
“Oh, that’s not necessary for you,” Mother countered. She smiled at Carissa, then turned her attention back to her plate. “After all, you are close to becoming engaged, and I would not want to interfere with that.”
Touching the Sky Page 2
