Several rabbits stood still, only their whiskers twitching. A rabbit den must be close by. Daniel raised his index finger to his lips and shook his head.
Chandler nodded his understanding and stood perfectly still. After studying the small animals, Daniel bent on one knee and raised the firearm, aiming for the largest one. A quick shot scattered the group of rabbits, and the largest one lay on the ground, blood seeping from its head.
“You got ‘em!” Chandler shouted, and raced to where the animal lay. He picked the body up, and held the dripping carcass out, a bright smile on his face.
Daniel slung the rifle over his shoulder and joined him.
“Are we gonna shoot some more?” the boy asked, jumping up and down.
“Not today, son. I’m a little nervous with your ma back there all alone with the two little ones.”
“Oh, that’s right.” Chandler grinned. “We’re the men, and we have to protect them.”
Daniel ruffled the boy’s hair. “Indeed we do. It’s our job to make sure the women-folk are safe.”
Why did his comment feel so good? He’d always known one day he would have a wife and hopefully a family. He shook his head at his foolishness. The boy’s words had affected him. Now was certainly not the time, nor place, to be thinking along those lines. He needed to remove himself from enemy territory and re-join his regiment. Besides, Rosemarie Wilson despised him, and most likely would fill him full of buckshot if he wasn’t gone in a few days.
He grinned. The best part of this whole package would be that fiery woman confined to bed. She was all spit and vinegar, but the softness in her seeped out when she dealt with her children. Had her husband seen that soft side too? It was too bad he couldn’t stick around to find out.
In fact, given the attraction he was beginning to feel, he best beat a path as far away from her as possible.
4
Daniel slapped the gutted rabbit on the table and hung the rifle over the fireplace. “I’m gonna check on your ma. Can you go out back to the few hens left and collect whatever eggs are there?”
Chandler nodded and raced out the door.
Rosemarie tossed on the bed, her mass of brown and gold hair tangling as she moved. Daniel approached the bed and checked her forehead for fever. It had spiked again.
“Hans?” Her voice barely rose above a whisper.
“No, Rosemarie. It’s Daniel.”
Her brow furrowed. “Thirsty.”
“Give me a minute to bring you something to drink, and to cool you down. I’ll be right back.” He touched his fingertips to her arm, and she stopped moving. Her dry skin seeped heat into his fingers.
After retrieving the pan of water from the floor, he strode down the hallway to the kitchen.
Chandler added eggs to the bowl from the pocket he’d made with the front of his shirt. “How’s Ma?”
“Her fever’s returned. I’ll have to bathe her again.” Daniel pumped fresh water into the pan and glanced over his shoulder. “Can you see to your brother and sister when they wake up?”
Chandler frowned. “What about the rabbit?”
“I don’t suppose you know how to skin it?”
The boy shook his head, his face paling. “No. Ma always did that stuff.”
“All right, I’ll do it when I’m finished with your ma.” He nodded in the direction of the basket sitting on the floor. “Why don’t you wash those vegetables and set them into a pot of water? We’ll add the rabbit in a little bit.”
Daniel grabbed the cloths left to dry next to the sink, then carefully carried the pan of water down the hall. As he reached the doorway, he turned and spoke in a loud whisper. “Bring your ma a glass of water, please?” Then he ducked under the door jamb and headed to the bed.
Tears slid down Rosemarie’s cheeks. When the bed dipped as he sat alongside her, she opened her eyes. “Where are my children?”
“Chandler is fetching you a glass of water. Jace and Amelia are asleep in the parlor.”
“What are you doing here? I thought I told you to leave.” Her sore lips barely moved. He had to bend close to her mouth to hear what she whispered.
“You people sure know how to welcome visitors.”
Her lips twitched.
“You need help, ma’am, and your children require someone to watch over them while you’re laid up.”
“Ma?” Chandler stood alongside the bed, glass in hand. “Do you feel better?”
She nodded and reached for the water.
Daniel slid his hand under her head, and eased her up so she could drink.
“Not too much,” he said after she’d taken a few sips.
She handed the glass back to Chandler. “You taking care of your brother and sister?” Rosemarie’s voice had eased with the water.
“Yeah. And me and Mr. McCoy shot a rabbit.” Chandler’s chest puffed out, his mouth in a wide grin.
Rosemarie’s gaze swung to Daniel. “Where’s the rifle now?”
Before Daniel could answer, Chandler jumped in. “Mr. McCoy put it away−up high over the fireplace, so’s the little ones can’t reach it.”
Rosemarie closed her eyes and nodded.
“All right, son, why don’t you leave that water there, on the dresser, and check on Jace and Amelia while I cool your ma off.”
Daniel slid the sheet down, then dipped the cloth into the water. With great care, he bathed her heated body with the water, trying to ignore her full curves.
“I hate Rebels.” She spoke with her eyes still closed.
“I know. And ma’am, for what it’s worth, I hate what they did to you, too.”
She moved her head and opened her deep blue eyes. “You’re one of them.”
He shook his head and wrung out the cloth. “No, ma’am. I’m a Confederate soldier, but not one of the men who stole everything from you.”
The clock ticked in the background for a minute before she spoke. “Not yet, anyway.”
He smiled at the slight tilt of her lips.
The next morning, Daniel carried his cup of chicory-laced coffee to the front porch and settled on the top step. He took a sip, grateful it wasn’t plain chicory, which was all he’d had to drink practically since the war had started. He and Rosemarie had declared a truce for as long as she needed his help. He grinned at her sassy attitude, despite being bedridden. She continued to call him “Reb,” but some of the disdain had gone from her voice.
The sun crept over the hill in the distance, slowly removing any trace of the dusky dawn−his favorite time of day. He inhaled deeply, but the cold winter air of Indiana didn’t soothe him. Before the war had taken over his life, he’d sat on his front porch just about every morning in Virginia, coffee in hand, readying himself for the day.
Days spent training horses and caring for them. Working on his own land where he’d been born and had expected to die. He’d thought to spend the rest of his life repeating those days, eventually marrying one of the young ladies from the county, having a passel of kids. The horse farm had been his life, his legacy, in his family since his great grandfather, Sean McCoy, had stepped off the ship from Ireland and earned enough money to buy his first few horses.
Then the war came, and after days of heated arguments over the dinner table, his brother decided to honor their mother’s people, who were from nearby West Virginia, by signing on with the Union Army. Maggie had been proud, Daniel disgusted. What he’d seen as Stephen’s betrayal had caused a break in their lifelong friendship that might never be healed. He took another sip of the warming beverage and rubbed the back of his neck.
Where was his younger brother now? Had he been killed in battle? Wounded? He might never know. Once the ire had subsided at what he’d considered his brother’s betrayal, a gnawing fear for the younger man’s life took the anger’s place, never to diminish during all the years of the war. Even fighting against each other wouldn’t break the brothers’ bond.
“Mr. a’Coy, whatcha doing out here?” Amelia’s soft
baby voice interrupted his musings.
He turned to smile at the little girl, face flushed from sleep, dragging a rag doll behind her.
“Just enjoying the sunrise, darlin’.”
She settled alongside him, snuggling into the warmth of his body.
He placed his arm around her thin shoulders and pulled her close. “You shouldn’t be out here without your coat.”
“I forgot.” She tucked her fingers into her mouth, and regarded him wide-eyed. “Are we goin’ to have oatmeal for breakfast again?”
“No, ma’am. Chandler brought in some more eggs yesterday, and we’ll scramble ‘em up for you.”
She nodded. “Good. I like scrambled eggs.”
Daniel stood, scooping Amelia into his arms. “It’s time to start breakfast, and I need to check on your ma.”
Amelia yawned, tiny tears forming in her eyes. “She’s sleeping. ‘Cause I just looked.”
He deposited her on the chair as Chandler entered the kitchen, rubbing his eyes. “Why were you outside?”
“Looking at the beautiful sunrise,” Daniel said as he ruffled Chandler’s hair. “Why don’t you fetch those eggs you collected yesterday and scramble ‘em up while I see to your ma?”
“And don’t make oatmeal, Chandler.” Amelia’s voice drifted down the hall as he headed to Rosemarie’s bedroom.
She lay on her side, the sore leg balanced on a pillow, just as he’d left her the night before.
“Good morning.” He approached the bed as her eyes opened. “How do you feel?”
“The leg pains me, but I don’t think I have a temperature anymore.” Her eyes, no longer glazed with fever, watched him as he felt her forehead.
“Nice and cool. You’re right.”
Rosemarie shifted, and winced. “Can you help me sit? I’m sore from lying in the same position all night.”
Daniel fluffed pillows behind her, and then reached his arm around to pull her up to a sitting position, carefully leaning her against the headboard.
Her face paled, and she bit her lip.
“I’m sorry, I tried not to move your leg too much.”
She took in a deep breath. “It’s all right. I have to get up today anyway.”
Daniel rested his hands on his hips. “I don’t think so.”
“Excuse me?” Her chin rose, and her eyes flashed in defiance.
“I don’t mean to tell you what to do, but it’s really not a good idea to get out of bed yet.”
“Look, Reb, I have work to do, children to take care of.”
“That’s why I’m here, ma’am. I can stay for a few days until you’re on your feet again.” He pointed at her leg. “You could rip those stitches out, and you’d be back where you started.”
“Won’t the army be looking for you?”
Daniel nodded. “Most likely both sides. But I won’t leave until I know you can handle things.”
She closed her eyes. “Why?”
Even though she couldn’t see, he shrugged. “I wouldn’t be much of a man if I left you in this condition, with three little ones to care for.”
“We’re not your concern.” She raised her eyelids and peered at him.
His jaw tightened. “You are now.”
“Mama, Jace wet the bed again, and Chandler’s mad. He said he’s gonna make me eat oatmeal, even though Mr. a’Coy said he would cook me scrambled eggs. He’s being mean.” Amelia climbed on the bed, and Daniel grabbed her when he saw Rosemarie’s face pale.
“Best to stay off your mama’s bed until her leg is better.” He shifted Amelia in his arms, and glanced at Rosemarie . “Can you wait until I settle the kids with breakfast before I tend to you?”
“Take care of them, I’ll be fine.”
Rosemarie studied the large man as he left the room carrying her little girl, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck.
He’s a Reb.
It would do her well to remember that. The southern scoundrels took all their food, shot her husband, and left him for dead. Even with the best nursing she’d ever done, Hans had succumbed within days. And she’d been left alone with three young children.
Since then, not a day passed that she didn’t feel the burning of hatred in her stomach. At one time, she’d been a contented—if not happy—wife and mother, and within days she stood alone, struggling to keep her children from starving.
The Rebs had taken her animals, including the horses. With winter upon them, and no way to visit any of the surrounding farms to solicit help, she and her eight-year-old son had dug her husband’s grave while the two little ones watched in confused silence. She’d conducted the burial service herself, praying from the worn Bible Hans had brought with him from Germany.
After a supper of soup and bread, she had put the children to bed. Then she sat in the rocking chair Hans had made, and rocked, a blanket wrapped around her shaking body. Her eyes were still wide open and dry when the sun peeked over the horizon and flooded the bedroom she’d shared with her husband for nine years. A man she hadn’t really known.
Now another large man had entered her life. One as unwanted and unwelcomed as Hans had been. Only this large man had gentle hands when he wiped her down with cool water. He carried Amelia in his arms and made her scrambled eggs because she didn’t like oatmeal. He took Chandler hunting, and didn’t push the boy aside and tell him he was too young.
She winced as she moved again, trying to ease her sore bottom. Despite what the Reb said, she would be up today, and back to her work in a day or so. The children were already too attached to him. A man who smiled at them, rather than frowned.
But a Confederate escaped prisoner.
It also annoyed her at how her heart sped up when he looked at her with those piercing hazel eyes. And the tilt of his lips when he began to smile. Just her luck to be attracted to a southern Rebel wanted by the Union Army. Thank God he’d be gone soon.
“Careful you don’t drop it.” The Reb’s deep voice rolled over her as he and Amelia entered the bedroom. Jace toddled behind them, then raced for her bed when he spotted her. McCoy scooped him up before he landed on her leg, and tossed him over his shoulder, causing the child to giggle and shriek.
Amelia carried a tray with a cup of tea and a bowl of oatmeal. She never looked up as she approached the bed, keeping her eyes on the tray. “Mama, I brought you breakfast.”
“I see that, Amelia. How nice of you.” Rosemarie’s heart melted at the sight of her little girl carefully walking across the room.
The child’s face broke into a smile as she reached her mama’s side. “Whew,” she sighed as she placed the tray on the table next to Rosemarie’s bed.
“Good job, Amelia. You remembered to not place the tray on your mama’s bed.”
Amelia puffed her chest out. “I remembered.” Then she slid her fingers into her mouth.
Jace reached his arms out. “Mama.”
“Let me eat my breakfast, and then you can sit on my lap.” Rosemarie reached for the cup of tea and sipped as the Reb juggled a red-faced Jace. The baby was having none of it, and let out a wail.
Rosemarie returned the teacup to the table and stretched her arms out. “I can eat while he sits on my lap.”
Daniel handed over Jace, who cuddled up to her, burrowing his nose into her generous breasts. She glanced up at Daniel, her face heated at the look in his eyes.
Lucky kid.
Daniel smiled to himself as he watched Jace nuzzling Rosemarie. The clarity in her eyes denied the flush on her face came from fever. The little guy had embarrassed her. He bit his lip to keep from smiling. Somehow he didn’t think she would appreciate knowing his thoughts. “When you’re finished with your breakfast, ma’am, I’ll want to take a look at your injury, be sure it’s still healing.”
She nodded and reached for the bowl of oatmeal.
He turned to leave when she called him. “Reb?”
“The name’s Daniel, ma’am.”
“If you want to change, there are
clean clothes you can use, hanging on the nails in the mudroom. They were my husband’s and might fit you.”
Daniel nodded. “Thank you, I appreciate it. Is there a creek nearby where I can wash up?”
“About half a mile east of the house, but it’ll be mighty cold this time of year.”
“No matter. I’ll take those clothes you offered and head to the creek.” He nodded and left the room.
Daniel plucked a soft flannel shirt and worn wool pants from the nail, grabbed a linen cloth from a small pile on the table underneath, and headed to the kitchen. There he took a small brown jug containing lye soap and left the house.
Although different from his homestead, this section of Indiana had an appeal all its own. Consisting mostly of rolling forests and prairie, the area provided good, rich farmland. It appeared the Wilson farm provided plenty of food to sustain the family, along with several acres of corn, which most likely brought in cash.
Hans had built the house to withstand the heat of summer and the cold winds of winter. The structure sat nestled between several large oaks, which would provide plenty of cooling protection from strong summer sunlight.
Sturdy shutters framed each window, which boasted much coveted panes of glass. All in all, the farm looked solid and productive−a place that could easily add horse breeding to its design.
Get your mind off that subject. This is all temporary for you.
Had it not been for the war, he would certainly stick around to see if this attraction he felt for Rosemarie was something permanent. And discover if she felt it, too. Running his palms over her soft, curvy body as he cooled her down, had transferred the heat from her body to his. But he needed to put those thoughts aside.
Daniel whistled as he surveyed the area, and made his way to the creek. After scrubbing his body and hair, then rubbing the goose bumps on his skin dry, he tugged on the pants, which were a bit loose in the waist. He switched his suspenders from his worn uniform to the wool pants. The flannel shirt stretched across his chest, straining the buttons. The cuffs were a bit short, so he rolled them to his elbows. Hans Wilson had been a large man, but not quite as large as Daniel.
The McCoy Brothers Boxed Set Page 4
