This Rebel Heart

by Patricia Hagan

  He laughed—an evil, maniacal sound. "I've come to take what's mine." He lunged for her in the darkness, and she was caught off balance by the sudden movement. The knife slipped from her grasp. He wrestled her to the floor as she groped frantically for the weapon. His lips were covering her face with wet, eager kisses as his hands fondled her wildly.

  Twisting, turning, she struggled to keep her hands free and upon the floor. Where was the knife?

  "You're mine!" he shrieked, fighting to hold her beneath him. "All mine... forever..."

  Her fingers touched the cold steel blade. She had the knife in her hand and brought it plunging downward, feeling the sickening thud as flesh parted. Virgil screamed in agony and lurched to one side. Quickly she scrambled to her feet. The knife was still imbedded in his body. Where, she did not know, and she could only hope he was wounded badly enough that he could not stop her from escaping now.

  "You cut me!" he screamed, thrashing about wildly, hands reaching out for her in the blackness. "I'll kill you for this. I'll fix you so no man will ever want you...."

  She tripped and fell to the floor, then scrambled up again and felt her way along. He was groaning—but struggling, she knew, to come after her. Once she found the door, she groped along the walls, moving her legs as fast as she dared. Reaching the stairs, she clung to the banister, heart pounding and brain thundering as she hurried down. Escape. She had to escape.

  "Julie—" he was out of the room, fighting to make it down the hall. Then she heard him falling. He gave one last moan, then there was only silence.

  Bolting through the house, she ran out the front door, across the lawn, and around to the rear. Icy rain pelted down, and she realized dimly that she wore no shawl. It was very cold. But no matter. She was on her way, thank God.

  Tearing through the woods, she took a short cut to where the wagon waited. Bursting into the clearing, she began to laugh and cry all at once as she heard Lionel's voice. "Miz Julie, is he after you? Oh, Lordy, he's gonna kill us all—"

  He could not make out her face in the darkness, but he could distinguish her figure. She felt his hands reaching for her, and she threw herself toward him. "Help me onto the wagon. I stabbed him. I don't know how badly he's hurt, but for the moment we're one step ahead of him. Hurry...."

  Sara wailed, and Lionel yelled for her to be quiet. He slung Julie up onto the wagon, not taking the time to be gentle. Then he leaped to the driver's seat and gave the mules full rein, popping the whip across their backs to urge them on.

  Julie clung to Sara as they bounced and jostled in the wagon.

  "Are we gonna make it?" Sara kept moaning. "Are we gonna get away?"

  "With God's help, Sara," Julie whispered, breathing a bit easier with every passing second. "With God's help, we will."

  Chapter 17

  Julie's chin trembled as she lifted her head and fought to retain her composure while she moved through the throngs of jostling, drunken men. They seemed to be everywhere, swarming down upon the staid old town of Wilmington like crazed wasps without a home. Sara and Lionel sadly said their good byes, leaving her to find someone to help her.

  She prayed that someone would be Derek. The old woman who had agreed to give her shelter had warned Julie of the terrible conditions that surrounded them. "The town has just turned topsy-turvy," Pearl Watson said with disdain. "Speculators from all parts of the South wait around to go to the weekly auctions of imported cargo, and the town is infested with rogues and desperadoes who make their living by robbing and killing."

  She went on to say that it was not safe to go out at night anywhere, and there had even been shootings and knifings on the streets in the daytime. "Between the crews of the steamers in port and the soldiers stationed here, there's always something going on. There's been plenty of bodies found floating in the water around the docks, and the civil authorities can't, or won't, do anything to try and control the situation."

  Julie also heard how many of the permanent residents of Wilmington had moved elsewhere, letting their houses to those who could afford enormously inflated prices, usually the agents and employees of blockade-running companies. "Those who stay, like me," Pearl explained resentfully, "who can't afford to leave and ain't got no place to go anyway, stay inside as much as possible. You seldom see a lady on the streets, believe me."

  The morning Julie set out for the Office of Orders and Details, Pearl was aghast. "You just can't do it, child. You can't go walking down to the waterfront."

  "I have to," Julie tried to explain. "I talked with a soldier passing by the house yesterday, and he told me that the office was established to handle all orders and assignments for pilots and signal officers. He said he had never heard of a Captain Arnhardt, but that if his ship had been destroyed, and he was an experienced pilot, he would be registered with the Orders and Detail office. So that's where I must go to locate him."

  "But you said you didn't even know if he was alive," Pearl argued.

  "I can't just sit here, can I? My purpose in coming to Wilmington was to try and find the one person I felt had the courage to help me. And if I find out he is dead, or he says he won't help me, then I'll just have to find another way, because I have to get my brother out of that prison—" Her voice broke, and she glanced away quickly, blinking back tears.

  So she made her way through the streets, ignoring the crude remarks and hungry leers. Once a drunk grabbed at her skirt, ripping it as she twisted away frantically. She began to walk even faster, wishing it had not been necessary to sell the wagon and mules when they arrived in Wilmington. It would have been better had she not been forced to walk, but with no money for food, she'd had had no choice except to sell the animals.

  Suddenly a fight erupted in a crowd through which Julie was about to pass. Trying to avoid the melee, she turned down a nearby alley, not knowing where it would take her, but wanting to escape trouble, if possible.

  "Well, well, what we got here?"

  Terror gripped her as she saw two bedraggled men struggling to their feet. They had been sitting in the shadows, drinking, and as soon as Julie saw them, she turned and ran back toward the street.

  Suddenly a man appeared and said, "Please don't be frightened. I'm not going to hurt you. What ever are you doing back here in an alley?"

  She stared at him in silent confusion, praying he was telling the truth, that he intended her no harm. Nonetheless she remained on her guard.

  He laughed softly. "I see. You don't trust me, do you? Even after I saved you from those two rogues! Well, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Harley Beaumont, and I'm a soldier in the Confederate army. I'm on leave. So tell me who you are and what you are doing here. It's certainly no place for a lady."

  She eyed him warily. He was perhaps the same age as she, and while not handsome, he could hardly be considered repulsive. He had dark eyes, a ruddy complexion, and thin, straight lips. Despite his friendly overture, there was something indefinably sinister about his facial expression, and she still did not wholly trust him.

  She saw no harm in telling him her name, however, or her mission. He listened, nodding now and then, and finally she said, "Thank you for being here when I needed help, but if you will excuse me, I do have to be on my way."

  "Call me Harley. I intend to call you Julie, if I may. And I would like to escort you to the Orders and Details office. I think by now you realize it just isn't safe to be on the street."

  Julie saw that the fight she had fled from earlier had ended, but there were still mobs gathering about. She would have liked to take leave of her new-found acquaintance, but the idea of continuing on her way unescorted was not appealing. "Very well, Harley. I accept your kind offer, though I don't know why you should bother with me. You've done enough already, and I can never repay you—"

  He tucked her hand in the crook of his arm and murmured, "Don't worry about that. I've been rather lonely here in Wilmington, and it's my good fate to meet so beautiful and charming a woman."

 
Apprehension rippled through her and she decided it best to discourage any interest he might have in her as a woman. "I think it fair to tell you that the man I'm looking for is..." she took a deep breath, then easily rolled the lie from her tongue, "my fiancé."

  She felt him stiffen, but only slightly, and the smile did not leave his lips. "Well, that is his good fortune, Julie. I envy him. But that doesn't prevent me from still wanting to help you."

  She breathed a sigh of relief.

  When they arrived at the office, they found it crowded with soldiers and crewmen who gave Julie curious glances. She left Harley standing just inside the door and made her way toward the counter that divided the room in half. She had no choice but to stand in the haphazardly-formed line, and almost an hour passed before she was actually pressing herself against the wooden bar.

  A bespectacled man glared at her and said in an impatient tone, "Yes, what is it? We're quite busy here, and I can't see where a woman's got any business—"

  Ignoring his rudeness, she said in a rush, "I must find someone. His name is Derek Arnhardt. Several months ago his ship was blown up by the Yankees near Bermuda. He was a blockade-runner. I wish to know if he is registered here as being in service."

  He sighed with exasperation and snapped, "I've more important things to do than help you find your beau. This office was not established to locate missing suitors. Now if you'll just step aside and let me help someone who has real business—"

  "Wait a minute, Leland," a stern voice spoke behind Julie. She turned to see a heavyset man standing there, and he looked quite angry as he said, "It won't take you long to see if the man she's looking for is registered here. Seems to me I heard about a runner by the name of Ironheart, or something like that. And you can look at this young lady and see that she's no waterfront trollop out to track down her lover."

  Several others nearby chimed in in agreement, and the man called Leland realized he had no choice but to cooperate. Muttering angrily to himself, he moved from the counter to a shelf behind him, where several thick ledgers were stacked. Leafing through them with obvious irritation, he finally turned and snapped out the words Julie had prayed she would one day hear: "Yeah, there's a pilot registered by the name of Arnhardt, assigned to the steamer Pamlico."

  Julie felt dizzy, and she gripped the edge of the counter with her fingertips to steady herself. He was alive. Derek was really alive. He had made it, and with a maddening whirl that sent her heart skipping, she wondered momentarily if she was overjoyed at the news because it meant he might indeed help her rescue Myles, or if there might be another, deeper, reason.

  But this was no time to ponder the feelings in her heart. "Is he in port now?" she cried exuberantly. "And if he isn't, when is he due in?"

  Leland slammed the ledger shut angrily. "Look, lady, that's all the information you're getting out of me." He looked about the room at those listening and snapped, "What's the matter with you men? How do we know she isn't a spy for the Yankees? We've got a war going on, in case you forgot."

  An awkward silence fell over the room, and then the men began to shuffle their feet, moving away from her with suspicious glances.

  Pushing his way through the crowd, Harley wrapped his fingers tightly about her arm and whispered anxiously, "Let's get out of here, Julie. You've gotten all the information they're going to give you. I think I can find out whether or not the Pamlico is in port. Let's just get the hell out of here."

  They walked several blocks in silence before he said, "I think his steamer may be in port. Seems like I heard that one mentioned in a bar the other night. But if she is, she's due to run the blockade out of here any time."

  Julie stopped walking and faced him excitedly. "Then let's go at once and try to find him. We can walk along the docks and read the names on the ships, and when we find the Pamlico, all we have to do is ask to see the pilot—"

  "No!" His eyes narrowed, and once again she was overcome by an ominous feeling about this man. He stared at her thoughtfully, then said, "I'll slip down there and see what I can find out. It isn't safe for you. Now where is this place you're staying? I'll walk you there, and when I get the information, I'll come and tell you about it."

  She wondered why he seemed so nervous. He knew her financial plight, and could not expect to be paid for his services, yet there was definitely something on his mind. Surely he did not expect to be rewarded in "other ways." Rather than chance his entertaining that sort of notion, she murmured, "I'll just handle it from here on, Harley. You've been most kind, but I won't impose on you any longer. You are on leave and supposed to be enjoying yourself, certainly not getting involved in my problems. So I thank you, and—"

  To her surprise, he laughed, but it was not a pleasant sound. There was something insidious in the tone and the gleam in his eyes. "If you think I'm going to expect favors from you, Julie, you can set your mind at ease. I assure you I've got more important things on my mind just now. So just do as I say, and we'll both wind up quite satisfied, I assure you."

  She was puzzled over his behavior but decided she was in no position to argue. It would be quite dangerous to venture to the waterfront and wander about looking for a steamer called the Pamlico, forced to ask questions of anyone she chanced to meet along the way. There was nothing to be done except allow him to help.

  They returned to Pearl Watson's, and then Harley left her, saying he would be back as soon as possible.

  Julie wondered how she would feel when she actually saw Derek again. Just being close to him, his strength, his courage, his all-encompassing command of any situation... these qualities would make her feel that she could face whatever life had to offer.

  She stood at the open door of the barn watching the stars above, a thousand fireflies twinkling in a cloak of black velvet. Soon, she rationalized, she would have to face the reality that Harley Beaumont was not going to return. He'd probably found his way to a saloon, started drinking, and forgotten all about her. She couldn't blame him. Why should he worry about her problems?

  "Julie..."

  She stepped from the barn, straining to see into the darkness.

  "Over here. Come quickly."

  She moved into the thick foliage of the scuppernong vines that enshrouded the old barn. "Harley?" she whispered anxiously. "Is that you?"

  "Of course it's me," he said nervously, stepping away from the thick vines. "We must move quickly. I found the Pamlico, and she's being loaded. They may run the blockade before dawn."

  "Then we've got to ask to see the pilot." Her breath came in excited gasps. "Let's be on our way."

  As they hurried through the night, Harley explained that the ship was being loaded on the opposite side of the river from Wilmington, on a low, marshy flat, where the steam cotton presses had been erected. There were sentries, he said, posted on the wharves, and she and Harley would have to be very careful or they might be shot as spies.

  "Spies?" She laughed nervously. "Harley, all we have to do is explain to the sentries that I wish to speak to the pilot, Derek Arnhardt. They will go and get him for me. It's all quite simple."

  "Not as simple as you think," he almost snarled. "Now let's don't waste time talking. Let's move fast."

  Julie was puzzled, but she quickened her pace to keep up with him. It was a long distance, and by the time they reached the waterfront and Harley paid the owner of a small boat to take them to the other side, her legs were aching.

  The boat pushed ashore among brush and brambles, and by the time they waded through the marshes, Julie's dress was soaked almost to her waist. "I see no need for all this secrecy," she complained, a mixture of anger and annoyance in her voice. "Harley, Derek knows me. He'll see me, I'm sure—"

  "Will you shut up?" he snarled, his fingers digging into the flesh of her arm till she winced with pain. "Do as I say and stop nagging me."

  "You're hurting me," she cried, trying to jerk away from him, but he held her tightly, dragging her through the reeds and saw grass as she stumb
led and struggled to stay on her feet. "I want you to just go, Harley. Leave me be. I can make it the rest of the way alone. I don't know what's wrong with you, but—"

  Abruptly he stopped and turned around, grabbing her shoulders to shake her so hard her teeth were rattling.

  "Listen to me, you little fool. You think I'm doing all this because I'm a gentleman out to help a woman in distress? Why do you think those sentries are posted? They are there to stop deserters from sneaking on board the ships being loaded. I happen to be a deserter, and I want to get on board the Pamlico. I'm sick of this stinking war. I'm not going to get my guts blown out by some Yankee ball. I'm going to stow away and make it to Bermuda or wherever the hell they go, and then I'm going to lie on some beach and relax till the blasted war is over. And you're going to help me do it, or I'll slit your goddamned throat here and now and throw you in the river for the crabs to eat. Do you understand me?"

  She felt cold steel pressing against her neck, and she could only murmur "Yes..." as terror struck her in the pit of her stomach. "Yes... yes..."

  "Now I'll tell you how we're going to work this out. I'm going to hide in the bushes, and you're going to get the sentry's attention. That shouldn't be hard to do. You're pretty, and the son of a bitch will be only too happy to talk to you, figuring he can line up a little lovin' later on. Just leave the rest to me."

  She felt a slight sting as he pressed the blade harder against her skin, knew the flesh was broken. "One more thing. You give me away, and I'll see you dead before they can get me. You understand?"

  She could hardly push the word from her lips: "Yes..."

  "All right. Now here's what I'll do for you: I'll get you on board. We'll hide out, and when we reach wherever we're going, I'll turn you loose to go to your lover."

  He gave her a rough shove. "Let's get this over with."