The wind tore at her carefully styled coiffure as she leaned out into the night chill. Snowflakes kissed her excited, feverish cheeks as she called softly, "Hello... is anyone down there?"
"Here!" The voice was gruff but reassuring. "I'm throwing a rope. Catch it and tie it to your bedpost as you were told."
She heard the sound of something slicing through the air, and she groped blindly but felt nothing.
Curses came from below. "Dammit, you've got to catch it, woman. We've got to get the hell out of here...."
Again she missed.
"I'm sorry," she cried, the frustrated tears that streamed down her cheeks freezing upon her skin. "I can't see...."
And then the rope looped upward and fell across her outstretched arm. She clutched at it frantically. "I've got it! Oh, thank God, I have it. Now wait... let me tie it...."
Her fingers were so cold they were stiff, and her nerves were on edge, so tying the rope securely proved quite time-consuming and difficult.
"Dammit, woman, if you don't hurry, I'm going to leave you...." came the irate voice from below.
She paused to call back down, "Please be patient. I'll only be another moment...."
Finally she was ready. Throwing one leg over the window sill, she grasped the rope tightly with both hands. "Now what do I do?" she asked, shivering from fear now instead of from the cold wind.
"You climb down the damn thing," snapped the voice. "Unless you can fly!"
She pulled her other leg up, and she was sitting on the ledge, the rope in her hands. Twisting about so that she was facing the house, she gave herself a little push. The sudden jerk was terrifying as she felt herself hanging in mid-air, the rope burning into her flesh as she held on tightly, knowing that one slip, and she would plummet downward. And in the darkness, the stranger who waited below might not be able to see her and catch her. It was a long drop.
"Okay, I can see your outline," her rescuer whispered above the wind. "Just put one hand below the other, very slowly, and don't panic. Stay calm...."
She hated to release one hand from her deathlike grip on the rope. If only she could just slide downward, but that would mean the flesh on her hands would be torn to shreds by the rope.
"Come on... come on..."
She slid one hand down. The rope burned, and she winced with pain. It was just going to have to hurt, she thought miserably. She could not make herself let go and maneuver herself down that rope like a monkey on a vine.
She slid but a few inches before she screamed in pain and gripped the rope tightly again.
"Dammit, you can't slide down!" The man raised his voice angrily. "Now come on down. You can do it. Stop acting like a silly, helpless female!"
Now she was angry. Helpless, was she? Bristling with a white-hot flash of determination, she removed her left hand from the rope, clinging tightly with her right, and lowered herself at least a foot. When she moved her right hand, she lowered herself perhaps two feet. Down and down she went, and suddenly she felt hands wrapping about her ankles.
Startled by the touch, she released her grip. Her abrupt fall into the man's arms sent both of them tumbling into the deep snow.
Scrambling to his feet, the stranger yanked her to hers roughly. "My name is Leo. Just come along with me and don't ask any questions...." He began trudging through the snow, and she hurried to keep up with him, listening as he muttered to himself about the stupidity of women.
After they'd gone at least several blocks, Julie's cape and dress were soaked from the heavily falling snow. "I can't go on like this much longer," she panted. "I'm weak, and I'm going to be sick—"
"It ain't that far. Hurry up. I was told to get you away from that house as quick as possible, and you took up a hell of a lot of time shimmying down that rope."
"Well, I've never done much rope-shimmying before," she retorted. "It's not the usual way I leave a house."
"It is if they won't let you out the door," he snickered.
She ignored his ungenteel attempt at humor, using her remaining energy to stumble along behind him. It was a dark, moonless night, but here and there a lantern glowed from the window of a house as they passed, and they managed to make their way along.
Finally they rounded a corner and Julie cried out with relief as her escort shoved her toward a waiting buggy. To the driver he quipped. "Okay, she's all yours now. My part's done, and now I'm off to have a drink. Thanks to her, I sure can use one."
The driver extended his hand, pulling her up beside him. "Sorry there's no top," he said as though he really didn't care. He wore a wide-brimmed hat and a heavy poncho, so he was protected from the elements.
He popped the reins across the donkeys' rumps and the wagon began to move slowly forward, the way made difficult by the snow drifts.
"I hope we don't have far to go," Julie said with chattering teeth. "I don't believe the donkeys can make any distance in this snow."
"Oh, don't you fret about Jimmy and Bill, here. These are two of the strongest jackasses around. If anybody can get through the snow, they can. And we ain't got far to go. You just sit there and try to relax."
"Relax? When I'm soaking wet?"
"Like I said, we ain't got far to go."
To Julie it seemed hours, but finally the man was pulling the donkeys to a stop in front of a darkened house. "You're to go up there and knock on the door two times, wait a minute, and then knock three times. Need some help getting down?" He sounded as though he hoped she didn't.
"I can manage," she said, determined to do so or break an ankle trying. She did stumble, but managed to grab one of the cart wheels to steady herself. Then she went around to the front of the donkeys, struggling to lift each foot as she moved through the deeply piled snow.
There was no railing on the steps. Lowering herself to a stooping position, she groped with her hands. Taking one step at a time, she made her way up to the porch, then slowly shuffled through the thin coating of snow that had blown across the floor.
She felt for the door, took a deep breath, then knocked twice, sharply. She could hear no sound from within. Waiting the requisite moment, she pounded three more times in succession.
The door opened so quickly that, startled, she fell forward. Strong arms went about her, and she heard a familiar voice whisper, "Thank God, you made it. I was beginning to worry. We don't have much time. We've got to get Myles out of the city and to safety. The commandant of the prison is calling every available soldier in to search for him."
It was like a dream. She told herself it was real, but her heart kept screaming it could not be. It had been too long. So much pain and anguish, so many prayers. Julie clutched at his greatcoat, her words coming out in a frantic, almost hysterical, stutter. "He—he is... here. You did it. You... freed... my brother...."
"Oh, Lord, Julie, you're soaking wet and shaking like a frightened puppy," Gordon said in a rush. "We've got to get you into something dry." He called into the darkness for someone to get him a blanket.
"Now strip out of those wet things at once. After you've seen Myles—and remember, you can only see him for a moment—we've got to be on our way out of town, too. I know a place not too many hours' ride from here where I can get you into bed and try to keep you from coming down with the fever."
"Here." Something woolen was thrust into her hands. "Now strip."
Despite the chill that was consuming her whole body, she hesitated.
"For God's sake, Julie, it's dark. No one can see you. Now hurry. Do I have to keep telling you we haven't much time?" He groped for her in the darkness to give her an impatient shake.
Her hands too numb with cold to undo the fastenings, Julie asked Gordon to help her remove her dress. His touch was warm, gentle, but not seeking. She was grateful that their relationship continued to be based strictly on business and nothing more. That was the way she wanted it, the way it had to be. And she had already made up her mind to let him be aware of that fact should the time ever come and he did happen
to get any foolish notions.
When she had wrapped the thick blanket about her, Gordon said he was taking her downstairs, into the cellar, where Myles was waiting. "We have a lantern there that cannot be seen from the outside."
As he led her along, the past danced before her in the mind-boggling darkness. The old sugar mill... playing with Myles when they were children... laughing happily together as they skipped along the river bank. Neither of them dreamed in those days that such miseries lay ahead. But, she reasoned, she had come to learn that life was a mystery... a composite of happiness and sorrow.
There was a loud, grating squeak of ancient hinges as a door opened that Julie could not see. Then, from below, a mellow light cast shadows up the steep, narrow stairway.
Suddenly she heard a voice that answered so many prayers: "Julie... God, Julie... is it you?" Gordon tightened his hold on Julie. "We told him you were coming," he whispered quickly. "He's weak from being in that hell-hole for so long, Julie, and we didn't want him to face another shock tonight without preparing him for it. When he realized he was actually being rescued, I'm told he fainted and had to be carried out."
They had made their way down the steps, their feet finally touching the damp dirt floor. Moving into the halo of light, Julie blinked her eyes rapidly, not at the sudden brightness, but at the horrifying sight before her... the ghastly, grotesque creature struggling to rise from a cot. The arms feebly reaching out to her were merely bones covered with sick, yellowed skin that hung loosely.
Julie's brain was silently protesting that this could not be Myles. Her stomach lurched with nausea as she moved even closer to Gordon, seeking protection from this frightful, shuffling... thing. His hair hung long and matted, slimy as the muddy bottom of the Savannah River, and the emaciated, cadaverous body was stooped over, gnarled, twisted, as he struggled in obvious pain to reach her.
Where was Myles? Where was the man who had stood so tall and proud, with eyes that sparkled like dewdrops on a rose petal, and hair the color of golden corn? She shuddered, pressing her knotted fist against clenched teeth to suppress the scream bubbling in her throat.
The thing spoke. "Julie..." He was getting closer. Wave after wave of sick revulsion ripped through her body. No, this wasn't Myles. It was a stranger—and these people gathered about were playing a cruel, cruel prank. Myles could never look this way... never.
Jerking her head from side to side, her voice cracked with anguish. "No, stay away from me—" Gordon held her tighter as she sobbed, "No, this isn't my brother!"
Myles stumbled, but someone grabbed him before he toppled to the floor and held him on his feet.
"I was afraid of this," Gordon mumbled, moving quickly to slap Julie's face sharply, attempting to bring her out of her rejecting hysteria. "Listen to me. This is your brother. Remember, he's been in that filthy place almost a year, and this is what they did to him. You must accept it, because we don't have much time for you to spend with him. We have to get out of Richmond at once."
The others helped Myles back to his cot, but he struggled to keep them from laying him down. "Julie... oh, God... Julie. I hate for you to see me this way...." Tears were streaming down his sunken cheeks, his bony shoulders trembling, shuddering.
Suddenly she stiffened. Pulling herself away from Gordon, she took a cautious step forward. The sound of Myles's heart-shattering sobs was bringing her out of her shock. Slowly she moved toward where he sat with his face buried in his skeletal hands. He had always taken care of her. He had been the stronger one, but now... now it was up to her to lend him strength. Taking a deep breath, still fighting to hold back her own tears, she knelt before him. He must not find her weak now. "Myles, it is you," she whispered painfully, fiercely. "And this is what they've done to you. Oh, may God damn them to eternal hell!
"Please don't cry." She covered his hands with hers, anger making her strong. "You're going to be all right, Myles. Well make you strong and well again. You'll see. It's behind you now, all of it."
With great effort, he raised his head, lifted his hands slowly to cup her face lovingly. "Julie... thank the Lord for answering my prayers. I thought I'd never see you again—"
"He's got more grit than most men!"
It was a familiar voice, speaking from the shadows, and Julie glanced sharply about. Whose voice was it? So much had happened in such a short period of time that it was difficult to order her thoughts. Then she looked back at Myles as she heard Gordon snapping that they had to be on their way.
There was something on his forehead... on the skin... there... beneath the shock of matted hair. Hesitantly, with shaking fingers, she reached to push the hair aside. Then she saw... and could not contain her scream of rage.
For there—burned into his flesh—was the letter T, branded upon his forehead forever.
"Why?" she shrieked with rage. "Why did they do this to you?"
Myles tried to speak, but he began to cough, his withered body convulsing. Someone moved forward with a tin of brandy, holding it to his bluish lips, urging him to sip it slowly.
"Julie, they brand a lot of the prisoners," Gordon told her impatiently. "It's also a form of punishment that both the Federals and the Confederates use on their own soldiers. They brand a D for deserters or a C for cowards. In this instance, from all I've been told, I would assume that he was marked with a T because he was considered a traitor to the South."
"The bastards..." She spat the words out venomously. "The savage, monstrous bastards!"
Gordon's voice was filled with elation as he stepped forward to clamp firm hands upon her shoulders. "That's the spirit, Julie. That's why you're going to fulfill your mission to perfection. This way you'll be getting even with them for what they did to your brother. Now we must be on our way. It will be daylight soon, and we simply must be out of the city. You aren't to worry about Myles. He's going to be taken care of. Later, when it's safe, perhaps we can arrange for you to see him again...."
Her eyes filled with tears, Julie looked up at Gordon through a blur, as though she had never really seen him before. With a bewildered shake of her head, she murmured, "I can't leave him. Not now, the way he is. And what do you mean—I'd be getting even with them? I don't understand."
"We made a pact, dammit!" Gordon gave her an angry shake. "'I kept my part, at great risk to myself and others, and you are going to fulfill yours. You might as well know, Julie, I'm a Union spy. I work for the Federal army, just as you are going to do also."
"Leave me?" she heard Myles whisper as she tried to grasp all that Fox had just told her. She saw Myles's head bobbing and wagging as he struggled to remain conscious. "No, Julie, you can't leave me now."
She tried to fight her way toward him, and Gordon lost patience and brought his hand up to strike the side of her head, sending her reeling backward to the cold, damp floor. She heard a great roaring sound, and it was only through tremendous effort that she was able to hold on, to keep from slipping away to the waiting black void.
In the shadows a man clenched his fists and ground his teeth together as he fought to keep from going to her aid.
Julie heard a soldier whisper through the dizzy shroud that enveloped her, "This is a big crock of shit, Fox! It ain't going like you said it would. She's out cold, and now he's out again too."
Another angry voice reached her ears. "Ain't nothing going like you said. You was supposed to get us out of Richmond once we got this bag o' bones out of prison, so's we could hide out in the mountains till the goddamn war is over. Now we've got the two of them unconscious, and Richmond is crawling with soldiers looking for us. We'll probably all end up in front of a firing squad!"
"Nonsense. We're going ahead with our plans." Julie heard Gordon snarl and snap his fingers at one of the men. "Luther, pick the girl up and let's be on our way. Maybe it's better that it turned out like this. I had my doubts she would ever be properly persuaded to get secrets from the enemy. Now she'll either do it or this wretch here will die. And not in prison,
either."
Then he yelled that Myles was to be taken to the hideout in the mountains and kept there until Gordon sent further orders. "Once she knows he's alive only as long as she obeys me, I doubt I'll have any more trouble with her."
Julie's head was aching fiercely from Gordon's blow. She was using every ounce of her strength to keep from slipping away, wanting to hear as much as possible so she would know what was going on, even though she was powerless to do anything about it.
She felt herself being lifted and thrown over someone's shoulder. They were moving up the steps.
They reached the upstairs hallway, and once the door to the basement clicked shut, Julie heard Gordon say to the man carrying her, "Luther, you think I can trust them to get Myles to the mountains? They're all strangers to me. I can only go by what you and Veston tell me."
"Most of them can be trusted," she heard him answer. "A few will probably desert as quick as they get out of Richmond, but there are a couple who will follow orders. I don't think you have to worry, but frankly, I'm worried about us getting out of town without being spotted."
"We'll be careful," Gordon replied.
"There's a new man down there I don't know nothing about," the man called Luther said, tightening his grip on Julie. "He insisted on coming along. He heard about the escape plan and threatened to blow the whistle unless he was included. Said he wanted out of that place."
"No matter," Gordon snapped. "Let's be on our way."
* * *
The sound of the squeaking door caused Myles to stir slightly. "Julie..." he whispered weakly, "don't leave me... please."
"Let's go!" a man cried, then pointed to another who had moved out of the shadows. "You! Carry him upstairs. You insisted on coming along, so you might as well make yourself useful."
The others hurried up the steps, leaving the soldier in gray behind with Myles. Bending, he clasped the bony arms and whispered hoarsely, "Myles, listen to me. We've got to get out of here. We've got to get you out of Richmond."
This Rebel Heart Page 34
