The Rebel Wife

by Donna Dalton

  “Can I help you, ma’am?”

  She turned to find a gray-haired woman peering up at her, a welcoming smile dimpling her cheeks. “I...um...” Drat. She hadn’t thought beyond escaping her stalker.

  A rack of ready-made dresses caught her eye. Just what she needed. “I’d like to purchase an outfit. Black if you have it.” She bowed her head and laced her tone with sorrow. “For mourning.”

  Sympathy softened the woman’s expression. “I’m sorry for your loss, ma’am.”

  Not the kind you’re thinking, but a loss nonetheless. She supplied a slow nod. “It happened so suddenly. My husband and I were on our way to visit relatives in New York, and...” She swallowed around the lump in her throat that was more real than contrived. Would lying about a death make it come to pass? “I-I was totally unprepared.”

  “You poor dear. We were about to close shop, but we can make an exception. Considering your circumstances.”

  “Why, thank you, ma’am. That’s mighty kind of you.”

  “Glad to be of service. I’m Mrs. Sloan.” The shopkeeper gestured at the aproned man standing behind the far counter. “And that’s my husband. We own this shop.”

  “Mrs. Porter. Kitty Porter.”

  “Porter, you say? There’s an Elias Porter who lives up on Federal Hill. Any relation?”

  Tarnation. The Porter name wasn’t hers and never would be. She’d have to take better care with her identity, else she faced more trouble than she bargained for.

  She flipped a dismissive hand. “Oh, no. We’ve no kin in Baltimore. Just passing through.”

  “Well, Jonas and I will do whatever we can to help you.”

  “You’re sweet to offer. As you can probably tell by my accent, I’m not from around here. Your kindness makes this big ol’ city seem a little less frightening.”

  “I’m happy to help.” Mrs. Sloan motioned at the clothes rack. “Why don’t you look through those? I’m sure you’ll find one to suit.”

  She began rummaging through the outfits. Her fingers drifted over a lovely lavender. The cottony material would hug her in a soft embrace, gently molding her figure, a welcome change from the sagging sack she currently wore. Would Jack like—

  She stiffened. No. She had to stop thinking of him. He was no longer part of her life. She had to accept that. Just as she’d asked him to accept it.

  She forced her fingers past the gown. It was pretty enough but not quite the grieving image she wanted to portray. She selected a plain, black muslin and held it up to her front-side. The ample dress nearly swallowed her whole.

  Mrs. Sloan gave a soft cluck. “Goodness, you’re a slender one.”

  Bread and broth did little to fill out a person’s bones. “Times’ve been hard. Especially with War.”

  “They certainly have.” The shopkeeper patted her ample girth and chuckled. “Though you wouldn’t know it from my spreading figure.”

  “More of you to love, so my nanny would say.”

  “Wise woman, your nanny.” She pointed to the gown. “I can alter that if you’d like. Where are you staying?”

  Too many questions for which she had too few answers. “I...um...haven’t found lodgings yet. I was on my way to the Federal Inn.”

  Mrs. Sloan’s smile faded. “With the Army in town, I doubt you’ll find any available rooms there.”

  Bad luck appeared to be stalking her as well. “Do you know of any other place I can try?”

  “Nothing near here. Or anywhere else, I suspect.”

  Louisa glanced at the darkened window, worry returning to chew at her insides. What would she do now? Going back to the Porter house was out of the question.

  “You’re more than welcome to stay with us,” the shopkeeper offered. “Our apartment above the shop has a spare bedroom you can use.”

  “Oh, I don’t...I couldn’t impose.” She couldn’t keep eagerness out of her voice. Staying at the mercantile would be the perfect solution. Neither Jack nor the soldiers would think to look for her here.

  “It’s no imposition a’tall.”

  She gave one last half-hearted try. “I don’t want to put you out.”

  “You wouldn’t be putting us out. Besides, I welcome the company.” Mrs. Sloan leaned closer and lowered her voice. “Jonas is a sweet man, but he isn’t much of a talker.”

  “I’d be happy to pay for the use of your spare room.”

  “Heavens, no. You’ll be our guest.” She nodded at the black muslin. “Is that the one you’ve decided on?”

  “Yes. This is perfect.”

  “Good.” Mrs. Sloan whisked the gown into her arms. “Let’s get supper cooked, and then we can see to taking it in for you.”

  She followed her savior across the floor, her heart much lighter than when she entered the store. This fortunate outcome was much more welcome than the less-than-kind cards life had dealt her so far. Would her luck hold out?

  ****

  Thor’s hammer pounded inside his skull. His eye burned as if coated in sand. Even his teeth hurt. But he couldn’t stop. Kitty was out there somewhere. Alone and vulnerable. He had to find her. Bring her home. Much as he wanted to strangle her for leaving, he prayed he’d find her safe and unharmed.

  Two heads were tucked together, one capped with fine gray hair and the other salt and pepper hued. Conspiratorial whispers carried to the doorway. The proverbial saying thick as thieves came to mind. If he wasn’t so damned drained, he might’ve been concerned.

  Elias glanced up, caught sight of him, and jolted upright. Rather quick for a man of his age. What other secrets did he conceal?

  “Master Jack,” Sally blurted, worry lines adding to the wrinkles on her face. “Did you find her?”

  Jack shook his head. “Not a trace. I searched all night. Every nook and cranny in this moldering city.”

  “Lord have mercy, where could that chile be?”

  “I wish I knew. I thought for certain she’d go to the Federal Inn. We passed by the place on our trip to the market. She even commented on the architecture.”

  Elias grunted. “Good riddance, I say. She’s caused enough trouble as it is.”

  Heat charged through his veins. He fisted his hands at his side to keep from doing something he’d later regret. “How can you be so callous? She’s a stranger to this city, much less a woman alone. Anything could happen to her.”

  “She’s a smart bird. Like our Sally. She’s likely roosting somewhere safe and sound.”

  In a city filled with Yankee soldiers? She was likely scared out of her wits. A sharp pang lanced his chest at the thought of ill befalling her and him not there to offer protection.

  Sally crossed to his side and rested a hand on his arm. “Come, Master Jack. Get some breakfast in your belly. I cooked up a rasher of bacon. And your favorite buttermilk biscuits.”

  How could he eat when Kitty was out there possibly without food or shelter? “I’m not hungry.”

  “You have to eat. To keep up your strength. You won’t do yo’self or Miss Carleton any good if you give out.” Sally tugged on his sleeve. “Have a seat. I’ll bring you a platter.”

  “I don’t want anything, Sally. Truly.”

  “Hmmph. Best let the woman fix you something, boy. Or you’ll never hear the end of it.”

  Now wasn’t that the pot calling the kettle black. “I only stopped by long enough for a change of clothes. I’m going back out soon as I’m done.”

  Sally wrinkled up her nose. “Phew. You smell worse than skunk spray. What you got into?”

  “I was looking for her down at the docks. Slipped and fell into a bilge pit.” He pulled up his trouser legs stained from the knees down to reveal bare feet. “I left my socks and boots on the back stoop. Didn’t want to track muck into the house.”

  “Lands sake, Master Jack. You sho’ do get into more muddles.” She turned, clucking like a mother hen. “You change and get somethin’ to eat while I clean up them boots. Then you can go back to looking for Miss Carleton
.”

  “Thank you, Sally,” he called after her as she sped down the hall. “You’re a Godsend.”

  She didn’t stop to answer, merely waved a hand in the air and kept going. Jack turned back to the parlor. His grandfather had moved to one of the armchairs in front of the hearth. A small fire burned in the grate. The temperature had dropped to an unseasonable chill during the night. Much like his spirits had dipped as search after search for Kitty turned up nothing.

  “Perhaps it’s a good thing Miss Carleton left. You’re shed of her now. There won’t be any ugly scenes.”

  “What do you mean ugly scenes?”

  “When the two of you part ways. It’s going to happen sooner or later.”

  If their parting was inevitable, he’d preferred it happened later. After he girded himself for the pain. A chill rattled his bones. He crossed to the hearth and rubbed his hands in front of the fire, though no heat could penetrate the coldness that filled his soul.

  He knew he shouldn’t put himself back in the line of fire by going after her. She’d left without a fare-thee-well. Had stolen out of the house like a thief in the night, taking his heart with her. But he couldn’t stop himself. He couldn’t give up on something that felt so real.

  He turned to face his grandfather who eyed him like a hawk from a perch. “You’re right about one thing; she has probably found a place to lay low until the trains start running again. When that happens, she’ll emerge and I’ll find her.”

  “What will you do when you locate her?”

  “I’ll resume our arraignment. Travel with her to Elmira to free her brother.”

  “And after that? Will you make her your wife in God’s eyes?”

  His heart bucked. Kitty had made her wishes quite clear. She didn’t want a relationship with him. Felt she wasn’t good enough for him. He hoped to eventually change that notion. He had to find her first.

  “I haven’t thought that far ahead.”

  “I have.” Elias pounded a hand on the armrest. His bushy brows snapped together. “You must give up on this woman, Jackson. She’s all wrong for you.”

  Heated blood rushed into his skull at his grandfather’s condescending tone. “Wrong how? She’s not of our privileged set? She’s got more class in her pinky finger than many of the ladies you’ve tried to foist on me. She’s smart and funny and makes me feel alive.”

  “God save us.” Elias grimaced and held his temple as though it pained him. “You’re in love with her.”

  Jack blinked and blinked again. Did a twinkle flash in those hard gray eyes before Elias had ducked his head? No. Couldn’t be. His exhausted mind was merely playing tricks.

  “I don’t know what I am. I just know I can’t give up on her.”

  Elias looked up, head shaking. “Mule-headed. Just like your grandmother, God rest her soul.”

  “Grandmother would take you to task for your hard-heartedness, and you well know it.”

  “Hmmph. How would you know?”

  “I might not have known grandmother, but if my mother was anything like her, she would have found the good in a person. Any person. Of any station.”

  Elias stared into the fire, jowls and mouth sagging. He looked every bit of his seventy years. Jack’s heart sank. He hated being at odds with his grandfather. Their quarrels sapped all of his strength. He knew it had to be much worse on the older man.

  “Grandfather—”

  Elias gave himself a shake. Hardness returned to his eyes. “You’re a fool, Jackson. Miss Carleton will only bring you heartache.”

  Anger replaced his concern. “I’m going to find Kitty and go to Elmira. And there’s not a damn thing you can do about.”

  “And how will you pay for this addlepated undertaking?”

  “I’ll find a way. Once my article is submitted, I can honor my debt. Mr. Abell—”

  “Will be disinclined to provide you with any kind of assistance. I reminded him of my generous patronage of his newspaper.”

  He speared Elias with a barbed look. “And warned all your other wealthy acquaintances as well, I’d wager.”

  “A wager you’d win.”

  Gripes. Jack reached up and yanked his cravat lose. Little good it did. The strangling sensation wrapping his throat remained. He didn’t have to work hard to force gravel into his tone. “You go too far, Grandfather.”

  “Perhaps.” Elias steepled his fingers under his chin and regarded him through narrowed eyes. “I’ve given it some thought and have decided that I shall lend you the funds you require...on one condition.”

  His stomach fell. “Do I even want to ask?”

  “As soon as this assignment is over, you will return to Baltimore and accept the position Arunah Abell offered.”

  “That’s not a problem. I had already considered accepting that offer.”

  “You will do so without Miss Carleton in tow.”

  ****

  “You’re in luck, ma’am. Tracks were cleared for northbound trains just this morning.”

  Louisa slumped against the ticket counter. Hallelujah. She’d soon be out of Baltimore and no longer looking over her shoulder in fear of being spotted by the soldiers—or by Jack.

  “I’ll take one passage to Elmira, New York.”

  The clerk nodded. “That’ll be four dollars, ma’am.”

  She fished a handful of coins out of her purse. The silver one with the eagle was a dollar. She plunked it on the counter. And another. Plus a half dollar. That’s...drat. She counted even worse than she read. Avoiding the clerk’s stare, she shoved the coins across the countertop.

  He counted the money and slid one coin back. “You gave me too much, ma’am.”

  She covered for her wretched adding skill with a wry smile. “So, I did. I’m so excited about the trains running again, I miscounted. Thank you for catching my error.”

  “We’ll be boarding soon.” He handed her a ticket and dipped his head toward the far end of the lobby. “You’re welcome to wait over by those benches.”

  Satchel in hand, she crossed to the row of wooden benches and squeezed into the only vacant spot left. Despite the early hour, nearly two dozen customers milled about the small, high-ceiling stationhouse. A young mother worked to calm her fretful baby. Another pursued a runaway toddler. A group of men stood near the clock tower, chatting sociably. All were well-dressed. None wore an eye patch.

  Relief warred with disappointment. She’d fully expected to find Jack waiting for her. A raw ache speared her chest. Had he accepted her decision to end their pact? It was the right thing to do, she knew. But Lordy, why did it feel so wrong?

  Something moved behind a large potted fern tucked in one corner of the station. Brown trousers and a tweed jacket were just visible through the thick fronds. The man appeared to be hiding. From who? And why?

  She leaned forward for a better view. The man shifted and buried deeper into the shadows. Tarnation. The only way to see him would be to get up and—

  A shout rang out followed by the thud of hurried footsteps. Half-a-dozen soldiers rushed through the front entrance, expressions fixed, rifles at the ready. Another group scurried in through the rear entry, effectively trapping their quarry.

  Her pulse stampeded. Her, perhaps?

  She grabbed her satchel. They wouldn’t take her that easily. As she leapt to her feet, gunshots erupted from the potted fern. The soldiers hunkered down and returned fire. Screams and shouts filled the chamber. Ears ringing from the noise, Louisa swarmed with the equally frightened crowd toward the platform just outside the open doors. Their flight provided the perfect cover, but not without a price.

  A boot heel ground her toe. An elbow jabbed her side. She pulled up with a yelp and cupped her throbbing ribs. Before she could resume her escape, someone crashed into her, sending her sprawling forward.

  She landed on her hands and knees, gasping, the breath knocked from her lungs. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of tweed trousers. A second later, blue uniform
s engulfed the man.

  The platform echoed with angry shouts, the scrape of scuffling boots, and the muffled thuds of fists striking human flesh. A heavy clunk sounded, then a pistol went skidding across the planks. The thrashing brawlers quieted and grew still.

  Her breath restored, she rocked back on her haunches. The soldiers had backed away from their quarry, giving her a clear view. Familiar brown eyes met hers. She froze. Smith. The man from the docks.

  A hand clamped around her arm. “Ma’am?”

  Startled, she jerked her head around and looked up at the solider standing over her. Sweet Mary. Her luck had finally run out. She was caught tighter than a rabbit in a snare.

  “Ma’am?” he said again, his tone oddly polite and spiked with concern. “Are you hurt?”

  Blue uniforms surged around her. Well, there was naught for it. To resist would be pointless. She gave a resigned nod and with his help, stood upright. As she reached for her satchel, her knees wobbled, and she had to hold onto his arm for support.

  “Let me get that for you.” He hefted her satchel and straightened. “Can I help you back into the stationhouse?”

  Help her? Weren’t they going to haul her off to prison along with Smith? The soldiers had secured his hands with rope and were herding him across the platform.

  Her helper nodded toward the procession. “I’m sorry you were caught up in that. But we couldn’t let him get away.”

  “Get away?” Her voice squeaked in spite of her effort to keep it steady.

  He leaned closer and whispered, “He’s a Rebel spy.”

  It was just as she suspected. Smith had come to Maryland with ill intentions. Would he tell the soldiers she’d sailed with him across the Potomac? Brown eyes once again met hers. He gave a brief nod, then clamped his lips shut.

  Maybe her luck hadn’t run out after all.

  “All aboard,” the porter announced. “All aboard for destinations to York, Harrisburg, Williamsport and Elmira.”

  Praise the Lord. “That’s me.” She eased her arm out of the soldier’s grasp and took her satchel from him. “I can make it from here. Thank you for your help.” Though her feet itched to run, she forced a slow, steady pace. No need to call attention to herself. The soldiers weren’t after her. Not yet, at least.