He'd had enough.
Suddenly he jerked his head up to look at them and snarled, "What the hell do you sons of bitches think you're looking at? I don't like to be stared at. Now get the hell out of here!"
He had decided beforehand that if they did not immediately run for their lives, he would be bullish enough to start a brawl. Hell, he felt like hitting somebody, something, anything... to get the gnawing feeling out of his gut.
But surprisingly, the skinny one, who looked as though he had been to hell and back, gazed at him with sad yet hopeful eyes and politely asked, "Are you Captain Arnhardt?"
Derek blinked, jerked his head back as he tried to focus his eyes. "Who the hell wants to know?"
"May we speak with you, sir?" the other man asked.
Derek's head bobbed as he looked him over. Even though the stranger was smaller than he was, Derek figured he looked healthy enough to give a good account of himself if all this came to a fight. The confusing part, Derek thought, was why they were pussyfooting around with all the soft talk.
"What do you want to talk to me for?" Derek demanded. "I told you—I'm sick of your staring. Get the hell out of here before I bust your heads—both of you...."
The two of them got to their feet and came toward him.
Well, Derek took a deep breath, this was it. It'd been a long time since he'd been in a barroom brawl, but maybe he needed this to let off a little steam. Maybe it would make him feel better.
"It's about Julie Marshal."
A gray mist settled about him. He shook himself. This wasn't the way it was supposed to be. About now, chairs should be flying through the air and fists smashing against flesh. So why the hell wasn't it happening that way?
He was dimly aware that the two men were sitting down at his table. He tried to focus his eyes but the misty fog was still there, and through it drifted the voice of the skinny man. "Julie is my sister, Captain Arnhardt. My name is Myles Marshal."
With great effort, Derek forced his vision to clear, his brain to stop spinning. Leaning forward, he stared into the young man's face, searching for Julie in it.
"We don't look alike," he laughed nervously. "I mean, of course we aren't identical twins, but we are twins, and I assure you I'm telling the truth."
"I'm Thomas Carrigan, a cousin." The other one spoke, and Derek's eyes moved to him. "We've been looking for you for weeks, and thank God we've found you."
Derek looked back at Myles, cursing himself because the fog was settling about him again. He wanted his head clear so he could find out what the devil this was all about. "Julie got you out?" he asked, his words slurred.
"Yes. But now she's in trouble...."
That was the last Derek heard before his head hit the table with a jerking thud. The hammer of drink had finally hit.
When he awoke, he was in a strange room, lying in an unfamiliar bed. He wondered dizzily which woman he had gone home with. There had been the redhead with the small teats, and the yellow-haired one with the big teats. He had liked them both, and he'd had them both in the past, but it had not been his intent to lay with a woman last night.
And then he saw them.
They were sitting at a table by the window, watching him intently. Slowly, it was coming back. His mouth felt like it was packed with cotton, and his stomach rumbled precariously. He felt as if he were going to be sick.
"Coffee." The skinny one walked toward him, carrying a steaming tin cup in his bony hand. "We figured it was about time for you to wake up. That was some drunk you tied on. You were pretty far gone when we arrived, and we weren't sure how to approach you."
The other one grinned wryly. "We were warned it's best to leave you alone these days. Maybe now we can talk if you feel up to it."
Derek propped himself up on one elbow and took the coffee gratefully. It was hot, but it felt good sliding down into his empty stomach. Maybe he would live after all, he decided. A few more sips, and he was able to say, "All right. I'm listening."
They took turns telling the story of Julie's plight. Myles finished by saying, "We've got to find her and help her, and you're the only person we knew to come to. We know she was with you last."
"Yes," Thomas added quickly. "I was able to pick up the information from Major Fox's men that you had left her in a bawdy house in Richmond, and she got tired of waiting."
"That's Julie," Myles grinned fondly. "She always was impatient.'
Derek ran his fingers through his beard thoughtfully. So! Julie had gotten herself into a peck of trouble—all because she was so goddamned headstrong and stubborn she couldn't let him take charge. No, she had to go tearing off with a bunch of Yankees. "She can take care of herself," he said finally. "You're free now, Marshal. Go back to Savannah and don't worry about your sister. I'm sure she'll do just fine."
Myles could only stare at him in disbelief, but Thomas was leaping to his feet to yell furiously: "How can you say such a thing, Arnhardt? We just got through telling you she's with that Yankee, and he's using her, because she thinks Myles is being held prisoner by his men now. He'll never tell her Myles got away."
"That's her problem." Derek sat up, looked about for his boots, found them, and began struggling into them. "You see," he continued slowly, "I struck a bargain with her, and there were a few conditions—such as that she was not to leave me. So she can get herself out of whatever predicament she's gotten herself into."
"And," he added, eyes glittering as a nasty mood suddenly swept through him, "while she would have everyone believe she's suffering, I rather imagine she's enjoying being a martyr."
Myles struggled to leap for him, but Thomas had sensed the explosion coming and was there to hold him back. Myles was no match for such a tower of a man.
"You worthless son of a bitch!" Myles yelped as Thomas held him. "You goddamn miserable son of a dog! How can you speak of my sister that way? I should've known better than expect you to help us. You used her, didn't you? Like all the others..."
Thomas was having a hard time restraining his cousin, and he was surprised to realize Myles had such strength, for he still looked wasted and weak. "This isn't getting us anywhere." He spoke harshly. "Just calm down, Myles. Let's get out of here. We'll find her on our own."
"You made love to her!" Myles screamed at Derek, who just sat there looking at him, expressionless. "Admit it! You're like the rest, wanting only one thing. Those bastards I killed tried to rape her, and that's why I killed them. And I never wanted this stinking war. This goddamn brand on my forehead isn't justifiable. I'm no traitor to the South. I-just-didn't-want-the-goddamn-war! Can you understand me? And neither did Julie! But we were pulled into it. And everything she did, everything, was because of me! Now look at me! I'm just a shadow of a man, and I can't help her. I can't save her. I can't even beat you to a pulp for saying such things about her—"
He collapsed in Thomas's arms, sobbing brokenly as he was helped back to his chair.
For a few moments there was no sound in the room except for Myles's weeping. Then Thomas turned to Derek and said, "Everything he said was true." And he fell silent.
Myles stopped crying and stared out the window, feeling humiliated because he had lost control of himself.
Derek finished dressing, then looked at the two of them and spoke with quiet determination. "Gentlemen, I have listened to you but I've got my own opinions in the matter. You do what you want about Julie, but as for me, I intend to get back into this damn war with both feet. I'm going to fight for the South as long as there's hope. When there is none, then I pray to God I never again spill another drop of human blood."
He turned toward the door, but Thomas was right behind him. "What do you intend to do? Are you going to run the blockade again? Are you saying you won't help us find Julie?"
Derek sucked in his breath, his huge chest expanding to stretch his shirt tautly. "I said I intend to get back into the war. In my own way. As for Julie, I think she can take care of herself. Right now there's more to be d
one than galloping off to try and rescue her, however noble an act you feel it would be."
He started to move once more, but Thomas clutched at his shoulder. "But you didn't answer me. What exactly do you intend to do?"
Derek eyed him warily. "I'm going to fight the war my way. You're welcome to come, both of you, if you like." Then he opened the door and stepped into the hallway, closing the door behind him.
Thomas turned to Myles. "What do you want to do?" He waved his arms in the air. "Do you think we should go with him?"
Myles shrugged helplessly. "We can keep trying to persuade him to go after Julie. But one thing is for certain; he's going to fight the blasted Yankees, and it's high time I did too. I say let's go with him."
They began to gather their things hurriedly, anxious to catch up with Derek.
Outside in the hallway, Derek leaned against the faded papered wall, pulled out a long, thin cheroot, and lit it as he waited. They would be along. He had no doubt of it. And maybe somewhere along the way, they would encounter Julie. But for the moment, he needed time to find out just what that gnawing in his gut really meant—whether he wanted to satiate the yearning—but most of all... he was ready to make some Yankees pay for a hell of a lot of misery.
And yes, a tiny voice whispered deep within the giant of a man, he wanted to make them pay for what they'd done to Julie as well.
Chapter 29
Julie had lost all concept of time. The days couldn't really be distinguished one from the other, and they would finally blend into weeks which blurred in her memory.
Gordon had placed her in one of Richmond's most fashionable hotels. She could not complain about the comfort provided by her surroundings, though it did not matter.
Luther took her out for walks in the refreshing spring air, and he was constantly harping that she was growing too thin, nagging her to eat more. Bless him, she thought fondly; she knew she could not have endured her existence without him. He continued to make sure that the amorous Confederates she encountered were properly drugged, sparing her the ultimate anguish of their total violation of her body.
He was in love with her. She had sensed it long ago. And he had tried to tell her of his feelings many times but then held back. She was thankful he had not actually spoken the words. Though he was a dear, treasured friend, and she knew her life would truly be an insufferable hell if he were not ever present as a buffer, she did not want to think about love.
Love. Did such an emotion actually exist? she wondered bitterly. Of course, she had loved Myles and would forever mourn him. And maybe she had cared for Thomas once, before her venomous feelings for his mother had obliterated any possibility of their getting together. God, that seemed centuries ago. Had there ever been sunshine and warm, wind-swept skies, laughter and happiness and joy?
Perhaps, she reflected gloomily, she had known those things... in another life.
Thoughts of Derek kissed her mind. To be held tightly in his arms, to burrow her face against his shoulder—oh, it was to experience an overwhelming security that no other man could ever create. Yes, he infuriated her with his arrogance, but he could also make her bloom like a spring rose. His power over her had left her drunk with wonder. Now she wondered once more how her life would have been different had he kept his promise to return. But he had told her over and over that his love was the sea, and no woman would ever anchor his heart. Perhaps he had been completely honest and she was no more to him than a momentary desire which, once satiated, returned him to his life as the tide flowed into the endless horizon.
A sudden rap on her door brought her out of reverie. It was midday, but she still wore her satin dressing gown. Pulling the lace collar closer about her throat, she called out fearfully, "Yes? Who's there?"
"It's Luther, Julie," came the warm, husky voice, and she hurried to let him in.
He was holding a silver tray in his hands. "I thought you might be hungry. I let you sleep later than usual. Last night was rough, wasn't it?"
She frowned and turned away, not wanting to remember. The officer had not wanted to drink, and it had taken a good bit of coaxing to finally persuade him. During that time, he had fondled her naked body, and several times she feared he would go ahead and ravish her. A shudder went through her. Luther saw it and reached out to pat her back lightly. "It's all right, Julie. Just remember I'm in the next room, and if you ever need me, all you've got to do is tap on the wall."
Her laugh was bitter, caustic. "And if I did, and you came running in to defend my so-called honor, it would expose Major Fox's whole set-up, wouldn't it? We'd probably both be killed, he'd be so furious. No." She shook her head with finality. "I just have to keep on praying that I can get them to drink, drug them, keep on playing games.... dangerous games, I fear."
He set the tray on the bed. She stared at the coffee, the plate of eggs and oatmeal, then said she wasn't hungry. "Come on now." He tried to make his voice bright. "We can't have you getting sick. It's my job to take care of you, and Fox would just love an excuse to send me elsewhere and keep you himself."
"I know," she sighed, sitting down and starting to pick at the eggs. "For both of us, I'll try. I don't want you sent into battle, and I certainly don't want to be left alone with Gordon and Veston. We both know you're the only reason they leave me alone. Even though Gordon is your commanding officer, you've made it quite clear you would never stand for him..." Her voice trailed off as she lifted her eyes and saw the strange expression on his face. She lay down her fork, suddenly apprehensive as she asked, "Luther, why are you looking at me like that?"
He bit the inside of his cheek, folded his hands backwards to crack his knuckles nervously, glanced up at the ceiling, then finally looked her straight in the eye and said: "I want to get you out of all this. I want to take you and leave."
She began to tremble with... what? Fear? Hope? When she could find her voice, she whispered, "Are you sure? Are you positive you want to take such a risk? They'd kill us if they caught us."
"I'm sure," he nodded firmly, "but I just haven't figured out when or how." He sucked in his breath and averted his gaze from those luscious breasts peeking through the sheer lace bodice of her gown. He hurried on, "I just wanted to find out if you'd go with me. I mean, last night, lying there in my bed, right next door, knowing what that son of a bitch was in here doing to you... dammit, Julie, I couldn't stand it. I almost came bustin in here, but I held back, not sure how you felt—"
"You mean about escaping?" She blinked, bewildered. "Surely you know I hate my life, Luther. I don't know what waits for me out there, but anything is better than this."
"Even..." he caught his breath, then plunged onward, "even being my woman?"
"Your—your woman?" she gasped, her mind dancing in circles as it tried to comprehend what he was saying.
"Yes, my woman, dammit! Surely to God you've known how I've loved you all this time... wanted you. I've tried to fight it, but I can't, not anymore..."
But I don't love you, Luther." She said quietly.
"It doesn't matter. Not now. But I'll be so good to you that one day you will love me. Please. Just let me make you happy."
Happy. The word played in her mind like musical notes. She no longer asked to be happy, only that she not be unhappy. That dream was gone forever, that dream of bliss... like Myles, and Derek... and Rose Hill. And Luther would see to it that she was, at least, not sad. He was good and kind and gentle, and they shared a love for music, and he cared for her, and dear Lord, it was a start, a beginning.
Then why, she asked her swirling inner being, did she still hold such a deep sense of despair after such rationalizing? Again, there was no answer.
He moved to kiss her, and neither of them heard the gentle scrape of the key turning in the lock and were not aware of Gordon Fox's presence till he chuckled, "Well, how touching! Of course, I've known all along why you were so protective of our little jewel, Luther."
"You get your kicks spying on people, do you?" Luther
snapped angrily, getting to his feet.
"Oh, don't be a fool," Gordon sniffed. "I've allowed you to drug the Rebs to keep them from having their way with her, haven't I? I think I've been very damned cooperative, so the two of you can return the favor tonight."
Luther gritted his teeth and turned away toward the window to stare down at the streets of Richmond. "What's so blasted special about tonight?" he demanded.
"We have a different situation." Gordon sat down near the bed, crossed his knees, and smiled as Julie glared at him. "You won't be prying information out of anyone tonight, my sweet. You will be merely setting a trap."
Luther frowned. "What kind of trap?"
The major's gaze remained riveted upon Julie as he asked, "Have you ever heard of the Gray Devil, Luther?"
"Yeah, I guess everybody has," he said tightly, curiously. "He's the crazy son of a bitch that dresses up like a Federal cavalryman, him and his men, and they ride right into our lines and massacre right and left. He's becoming a living legend."
"After tonight, he will be," Gordon chuckled. "But not a living legend. He'll be quite dead."
Suddenly Luther moved to stand beside him and exclaim, "You mean he's here, in Richmond? How can you be certain?"
Fox raised an eyebrow and gave him a contemptuous look. "It's my business to find out these things, Luther. Yes, he's here in Richmond. One of my most reliable sources informed me where he's hanging out, and that is where you will go tonight and take Julie. I've arranged for her to sing at the little saloon, and I'm having a very special dress sent up for her to wear. Our friend the Gray Devil will be quite taken with her. You will let him know she's available, for a price. Once he arrives here, in this room, and Julie gets him in a vulnerable position, he will be... let us say... disposed of."
"You're talking about me setting up a man for murder?" Julie cried, shaking her head from side to side. "I've done many things, but never this. You can't ask me to."
"Oh, you'll do it," Fox said confidently, looking almost bored over her outburst. "And don't act so virtuous. When you pass along information you wheedle and coax out of your lovers, how do you know you're not passing a death sentence on hundreds of Rebel soldiers?"
This Rebel Heart Page 40
