Shades of Gray: A Novel of the Civil War in Virginia

by Jessica James

  Andrea leaned toward him with the wet cloth, but Hunter grabbed her wrist before she had a chance to touch him. “Mattie, can do it,” he said, not wanting to risk his reaction to her hands. “You’ve done enough.”

  Andrea looked surprised, but shrugged her shoulders and dried her hands.

  “Get some rest when Mattie’s done,” she ordered before leaving the room on her crutches. She need not have given the command. His exhausted condition had already brought merciful oblivion.

  * * *

  Hunter heard a light knock on the door the next morning, just before Andrea blew into the room like a fast-moving tornado. He watched in amazement as she flew across the room in long—albeit ungraceful—strides on her crutches.

  “What do you think you are doing?” She grabbed the boot he had been trying to put on with one hand.

  “I need to get back to my men.”

  “You’ll provide no more target practice until a doctor looks at your arm.” She dropped the boot on the floor. “I’ve already sent Gus with a message informing Captain Carter you’re in bed for repairs.”

  Hunter looked at her, trying to figure out how she knew the names of his men, then fully realized what she had just said. “You can’t send messages through my men about me without my knowledge or consent!”

  “I can’t? Or I shouldn’t?” Andrea asked innocently. “Because I did, and it is done.”

  She waved her hand in the air and laughed as if her philosophy of seeking forgiveness rather than permission was a sound one. “Come now, Major, you are no more fit to face the enemy than you are to fly to the moon. Gus was waiting for a message to convey, and Captain Carter is perfectly capable of overseeing things for a few days. What would you have done differently?”

  “That is not the point,” Hunter growled, before mumbling something uncomplimentary under his breath. He reached down to pick up his boot.

  Andrea slid the tip of her crutch forward and pinned the leather shaft firmly to the floor. Hunter looked up at her and then over to the chest where his guns lay, as if they would somehow be of use.

  “Did you sleep well?” Andrea’s voice softened just the slightest bit.

  “Yes,” Hunter lied. Between the pain and the dreams of her, he doubted he had slept at all. He had even been awake the times she had slipped into his room to check on him. Or had he dreamed that she had knelt over him, beautiful and smiling throughout the night, touching his brow to check for signs of fever? And was he dreaming still? Had something vague and enthralling absorbed into him so that even now it pulsed through his veins?

  “Well, you don’t look like it to me.” Andrea cocked her head and scrutinized him. “How do you feel?”

  “Like a piece of Yankee lead ripped through my shoulder.” Hunter stared intently at his boot as he spoke, as if by doing so it would dislodge itself from beneath her crutch.

  “Well, I see it did nothing to improve your mood or disposition.”

  He looked up sharply. “If that was its intention, Miss Evans, then I assure you it missed its mark.”

  Andrea laughed, humor mingled with concern lurking in her eyes. “Oh yes, Major, I know it missed its mark.”

  He watched her scan the distance from his shoulder to his heart.

  “But not by much,” she said, lifting her mischievous eyes to meet his.

  Hunter snorted in contempt. “Then I’m sorry to have disappointed you.”

  “Do not raise your hackles, Major,” Andrea said, placing her hand on his arm. “I did not mean to imply that I would relish the thought of a direct hit.”

  Their eyes met again, and for just the slightest moment, Hunter thought he saw compassion rekindled there. But he did not have time to analyze the glance.

  “It will not hurt you to lie low until a doctor looks at your arm,” Andrea said, turning away for a moment. “I know your blood is the highest pledge you can give to show your devotion to the Cause, but surely you’re not required to give all of it.”

  “Doc is in Richmond getting supplies, and it may be days until he returns,” Hunter said, as if that explained everything.

  “Splendid!” Andrea turned back with a smile. “Then you will have a few days of rest. Highly deserved by the looks of you.” She seemed to take great delight in the fact that their roles were now reversed. “It’s easy enough to preach patience. Now you will have to learn to practice it.”

  “I see it’s a trait that you’ve acquired.” Hunter glanced at her before collapsing back on the bed, holding his pounding head.

  “Well I hardly believe a few days rest will cause you fatal injury,” she retorted, mimicking again the words that had been spoken to her. “You are a mere mortal, Commander, much as you may hate to admit it. Hence, your flesh will heal at the same rate as the rest of the human race.”

  Hunter put his hand to his head and squeezed his temples hard, then took a deep breath. Too exhausted and physically drained to argue, he decided to give in. Closing his eyes again, he made one last attempt to bring back the image that lingered in his memory. Had he really caught a glimpse of a woman that could be as compassionate as she was bold, and gentle as she was stubborn? Or did such a being exist only in his mind? Had she been real or an angel of the dreamy subconscious?

  As if to answer his question, Andrea bent down and picked up his boots. When she reached the door, she smiled deviously, her green eyes sparkling with a light that appeared to be of frank good humor as she held them up for him to see. “I regret the necessity.”

  “Where are you going with those?” Hunter attempted to stand up and groaned at the ensuing pain.

  “I’m making sure that my orders are executed, Major.”

  “Come back here this instant,” he yelled, holding his head and sitting back down, hard. “I do not take orders from you!”

  “Nor I from you,” Andrea said over her shoulder before the door slammed closed.

  Chapter 25

  “Hard lot of mine! My days are cast

  Among the sons of strife,

  Whose never-ceasing quarrels waste

  My golden years of life.”

  – Psalms 120:2

  Andrea did one trip around her room with only one crutch and smiled. Although she gasped for breath and leaned heavily on the support, she had made progress. Her gaze turned toward the chamber door, and her thoughts turned to the one task that remained untried—the stairs.

  Determined to achieve her goal, Andrea began her descent, but she soon discovered it was too soon to have made the attempt. When only halfway down, she began to grow dizzy with pain and her legs to tremble with the effort. She stopped and leaned on the banister, staring back at the eight steps she had already traversed. She knew she would never be able to induce her aching limbs to climb back up. She had no choice but to continue.

  Turning back to the task at hand, Andrea swept her gaze over the room before her. Like the upstairs, the first floor appeared beautifully decorated, yet pleasantly unostentatious. A huge open foyer and elegant sitting room appeared neat and orderly, with beautiful dark-hued floors covered with elaborate and stylish rugs.

  Hearing the sedate ticking of a large timepiece somewhere in the hall, Andrea renewed her journey with gritted teeth. She remained focused on a large oaken door to her right—the gateway to freedom. Although she knew it would not be today or even this week, someday soon this would be her way out. At the moment, she wished only to touch the large brass latch to accomplish what she had set out to do.

  To her surprise, a loud, impatient knock echoed from the other side just as she reached her destination. Instinctively she pulled open the massive door and beheld a stern-looking man with disapproving eyes, blinking in obvious confusion at the sight of her.

  “Good afternoon,” he said. “Would the Major be about by chance?”

  Before she could answer, Hunter strode across the foyer with his good arm extended, the other still bound in the sling she had made. “Doc. Come in. You don’t know how glad I am
to see you.”

  “I leave for a few days and you go get shot I hear,” the doctor said, shaking hands with Hunter. “Thought I should stop in and check on you and the patient.” The doctor cleared his throat at Hunter’s silence. “That is, if she’s still with us.”

  “Oh, she’s still with us,” Hunter said. “You just saw her.”

  Hobbs turned a slightly red color and looked back toward Andrea. His eyes went from her face to the crutch she leaned upon, then back to her face. “Impossible,” he muttered under his breath.

  Andrea meanwhile, looked from the man, who was a stranger to her, to Hunter, and back again, waiting for someone to speak.

  “My dear, I apologize,” Hobbs finally said, “but I’m the surgeon for Hunter’s command, the doctor that treated you, and I had no idea you would make such a … ah, swift recovery.”

  “It has not seemed swift to me in the least.” Andrea closed the door and turned toward him.

  “Well … while I’m here, do you mind if I take a look at your leg?” The doctor sounded anxious.

  “Not at all,” Hunter answered for her, patting Hobbs on the back as they turned. “This way.”

  Andrea glared at Hunter for answering on her behalf, but since he did not seem to take notice, she followed his sweeping gesture toward an open doorway at the back of the house.

  The two men were so engaged in talking behind her that they almost ran into Andrea when she stopped abruptly in the doorway, awed by the magnificence of the room she entered. Twelve-foot windows adorned each side of a French door that opened onto a portico. To her left and right stood ceiling-to-floor bookshelves filled to the brim with handsome leather-bound volumes. A massive stone fireplace that looked like it would consume wood by the cord graced the remaining wall, with Hunter’s desk close to its yawning mouth. No room Andrea had ever seen compared in grandeur. Yet it was not pretentious in the least. It was a room filled with warmth and inviting, manly charm.

  “Come in. Come in.” Hunter gave Andrea a nudge. “Have a seat.”

  Hunter sat at his desk, and Andrea sat with her back to him in a plush chair he pointed out. The doctor pulled a stool up in front of her, and picked up her leg, resting her foot on his lap. Andrea grabbed the side of the chair at the throbbing pain the movement caused.

  “How much laudanum are you on a day?” the doctor inquired

  Andrea blinked and looked somewhat surprised. “I take no laudanum.”

  The doctor looked up to see if she was joking, and then over her head to Hunter. “My lady, you must be in excruciating pain.”

  Andrea heard Hunter’s pen stop moving behind her and imagined him leaning forward to better hear the conversation. She loosened her grip on the arms of the chair and tried to conjure a smile. “It’s tolerable.”

  “How does it look, Doc?” Hunter’s voice now came from directly over her shoulder.

  Hobbs looked from Andrea to Hunter and back, as if he did not know what to say. “I’d like to prescribe some laudanum.” He kept his eyes averted while he lowered Andrea’s leg to the floor.

  “You may prescribe all you like, but it shan’t be used by me,” Andrea said in a low, distinct voice. “I have recovered from worse.”

  “Miss Evans, the doctor knows what is best,” Hunter said. “I think perhaps you should obey—”

  “I think perhaps I know what is best for me,” Andrea said, her voice trembling with emotion. “And I believe, sir, that you are exceeding your authority by giving me orders.”

  Hunter sighed. “It’s not an order, Miss Evans. It is merely for your own good.”

  Hobbs, who had been standing by speechless, interrupted. “Miss, your leg is not fit to be walking on. It’s broken and out of line.”

  Andrea turned her head and her inscrutable gaze to him. “I had my suspicions about the first, and never entertained a doubt about the second. Thank you for your expert opinion, Doctor.”

  Hobbs blinked in astonishment at her words and looked with dismay toward Hunter for support.

  A knock on the door interrupted the tirade, and Gus Dorsey burst in.

  “’Scuse me, sirs, ah … miss.” He nodded and smiled at Andrea like she was an old friend, then turned toward Hunter and handed him a dispatch. “Sir, the men are meeting at Locust Hollow. Something’s cooking near headquarters. They’re moving the horses from the Talberts’ now.”

  Hunter put up his hand to stop his scout and gave a worried glance toward his houseguest. Andrea stared at the wall as if she was not listening, but he knew she had not missed a word.

  “Give me a minute, Gus,” he said, running his gaze over the dispatch. “Have Zach saddle Dixie and I’ll meet you out front.”

  “Please,” Andrea said, rising with an alacrity that surprised even her, considering the depth of her pain. “Do not end your interview on my account.”

  Leaning heavily on the crutch, she headed toward the door, followed by Gus, who took the time to exchange a few words before rushing to follow orders.

  * * *

  The two remaining men were silent until the sound of the crutch faded.

  “What do you think, Doc?” Hunter handed the doctor his customary glass of brandy.

  Continuing to stare at the open door, Hobbs took a moment to answer. “I think that is one remarkable woman,” he said before downing the contents and plopping the glass on the desk.

  “Do you believe she is in much pain?” Hunter thought back to her kind treatment of him and worried that the return of her hostility might be a manifestation of her injury.

  The doctor did not pause. “Excruciating. Beyond the capability of mortal endurance I would think.”

  Hunter frowned. She had never complained of pain, though he had often witnessed her sitting with closed eyes and gritted teeth, as if concentrating on some unknown purpose.

  The doctor cleared his throat. “I … never expected her to be walking on that leg.”

  Hunter looked at him with probing eyes. “What are you trying to say?”

  “It needs to be reset.”

  Hunter blinked with surprise. “Reset? Now?”

  Hobbs walked over to the decanter and poured himself another drink, which again he downed in one gulp. He nodded. “She was too weak, too fragile. I did not want to attempt it before.”

  “Damnation, man!” Hunter ran his hand through his hair. “She’ll never stand for it.”

  “She is a bit of a lioness, isn’t she? I’m afraid it will require further bed rest.”

  Hunter groaned in response, knowing she would never consent to such a thing without a fight.

  “How long will she be down?”

  “She should not rise for four to six weeks.”

  “Four to six?” Hunter sounded incredulous.

  “I fear her recovery will be slow and her impatience will be great,” Hobbs said. “I don’t envy you the trouble it will cause.”

  Hunter, incapable of speaking, groaned as he paced the floor. Hobbs had only just met her, yet already recognized Andrea’s intolerance for idleness and repose.

  “I am not a doctor,” Hunter said, “but I believe in some cases, and with some individuals, rest can be more hurtful than action.”

  Hobbs grunted. “I am inclined to agree. However, it cannot be helped in this case. It must be done today.” He gazed at Hunter over his spectacles. “Now.”

  Hunter looked up at the urgency in the doctor’s voice and watched him pull a vial from his bag.

  “Do not fear. She won’t know what hit her.”

  * * *

  Andrea wanted to go back to her room, but standing at the bottom of the stairs, she knew better than to make the attempt. After exchanging pleasantries with Gus, she made her way to a comfortable chair in the front foyer. Perhaps after a little rest she would be able to find the strength to make the journey. For now, she needed to sit. Glancing around to make sure she was alone, Andrea collapsed into the chair in a most unladylike fashion.

  Not long after, Mattie
emerged. “You want something to drink, missy?”

  Andrea started to decline, but one look at the sparkling glass of lemonade and she could not refuse. Drinking none too sparingly, Andrea could almost feel the cool liquid enter her veins, easing beat by beat the throbbing in her leg.

  But just as abruptly, she began to feel warm and shaky. Closing one eye, she stared at the glass, and watched it grow distinctly out of focus. Why did she suddenly feel so horribly dizzy? So amazingly tired? Andrea fought to keep her lids open, to keep her head from falling to her chest.

  She looked up to see Hunter standing over her, talking in slow motion, not making sense. Mattie and the doctor appeared too, all floating in some sort of cloudy substance.

  Something’s wrong, Andrea thought with strange detachment. She stared at her fingers and thought how peculiar they looked, seeming to wrap around the glass like a vine.

  She looked up again at Hunter, alarmed now, and tried desperately to read his lips. But the more she concentrated, the more his image began to distort and fade away like smoke carried on a breeze. A great gushing roar began to vibrate in her ears, and the room began to careen. Andrea wrapped her free hand around the arm of the chair in a panic, just as the floor in front of her opened its mouth.

  She felt the glass in her hand slipping from her grasp. Did someone catch it?

  She never heard it shatter. She never heard another sound before the room swallowed her whole.

  Chapter 26

  “To restrain her is to restrain the wind.”

  – Proverbs 27:16

  Hunter mounted the staircase to his chamber for a welcome rest after two hellish days in the saddle. His head throbbed violently, and his injured shoulder ached with a pain so intense it nearly robbed him of breath. He hoped his houseguest was not in similar agony.

  The sound of footsteps hurrying down the stairs made him pause in mid-stride. His gaze came to rest on Mattie, and then on the tray she carried—still laden with food.

  “The lioness is not hungry?”

  “She won’t eat nor drink,” Mattie wailed. “Say she gonna leave Camp Miz’ry one way or anutter. Tol’ me if I enter her room again, she gonna—” Mattie, whose stern disposition was usually feared by all who met her, sniffled like a child and did not finish.