“Why don’t I just run?” Catey asked, her voice sounding weak and childlike. “I can go back to the swamp, hide out. If your men ask, you could say I ran off like Sally.”
Jess frowned, considering. “No. It’s not safe out there. You know yourself the dangers—gators, snakes, rogue bands of deserters.” Catey started to protest but he shook his head, adamant. “You’ll be safer with me. My father won’t harm someone I care about.” God, he hoped that were true!
Catey sighed, then relaxed slightly. “I’ll have to trust you, I have no choice. It seems that’s all I ever do these days is rely on you. You know, it’s not easy.”
Jess nodded. He did know. He could imagine how tenuous she felt her position was. She’d been playing a very difficult part in a not-so-happy drama for some days now. He lifted her chin to look into her eyes—eyes the color of deep, clear water.
“You know, sweet lips,” he said, “I think you have more courage than any Yankee or Reb soldier.”
She smiled, her lips parting, her eyes sparkling. “Maybe,” she said. “Or maybe it’s like Daddy used to say, ‘Catherine Mary, you have the damndest luck of any child I’ve known. God grant it never let you down.’”
Jess laughed. “He sounds like a good man.”
A shadow passed over her face and she looked away. “Yes. Yes, he was.”
A confused silence fell for the breath of a moment as Jess assembled the fact Catey’s father was dead and probably killed by Jess’ own compatriots. On the heels of his swell of sympathy for her and an awkward sense of shame came an inexplicable twinge of jealousy that his own father would never be someone he’d call a good man.
* * * * *
“Where have you been, Lieutenant?” He was a tall, thin man, ramrod straight, with almost white beard and thick moustache, both threaded with strands of darker gray. His hard brown eyes peered at Jess from beneath heavy brows.
There was no “Nice to see you’re well, Son” or “I’ve missed you, boy”. If nothing else, John Granger was an excellent soldier who never allowed personal matters to distract him.
“Good to see you too, Sir,” Jess said pointedly. “I’ve just returned from tracking a band of Rebs but lost them near the bayous.”
Colonel Granger eyed his son for a moment, his weather-toughened face unreadable. Then he nodded shortly. “And is this one of them?” He tipped his head in Catey’s direction.
She stood uncomfortably in the shadows near the door. Still dressed in her brother’s oversized clothing, her hair tumbled and frizzing from their interlude at the spring, she looked like a ragamuffin, her face pinched and pale.
Jess drew himself up to his full height and faced his father directly. “No. Her name is Miss Catherine Allendale and she happens to live here. Her parents are dead and her family scattered because of the war. I didn’t want her left to the devices of the men, so felt it best to bring her with me.”
The colonel raised his eyebrows and his moustache twitched. “I see,” he said. And Jess could tell by his tone he did see. It would be useless to lie.
Jess turned to Catey. “You’d best go to your room while we sort things out.”
Catey nodded and hurried off. Colonel Granger’s eyes followed her, his hand tapping the hilted sword at his hip.
Finally Jess spoke, his voice strained. “Come into the library, Sir. We can discuss things in better comfort there. I believe my men uncovered a whiskey still in the area recently. The product’s rough but it’ll clear the dust from your throat.”
“Yes, excellent,” his father said. “It’s been a long ride and I’ll be very interested to hear what’s going on here—and especially how Captain Clemens has come to be missing.”
Jess gritted his teeth but led his father to the library to try to put together some semblance of an explanation.
* * * * *
Catey sat at her mother’s dressing table and brushed the tangles from her hair. Her hands trembled and her palms were damp. Jess’ father was not a man to toy with. She could tell by the way he spoke, the way he stood, the way he treated Jess as if he were just another soldier under his command. Catey knew her fate lay in the hands of these two men. Could Jess convince his father to let her stay here, or would she be packed off to the nearest detention camp—or worse? It seemed hours and still Jess didn’t come.
She gazed out the window. Storm clouds were once again swelling on the horizon and the wind was gusting in hot eddies, picking up leaves and swirling them up, up, before releasing them to flutter earthward momentarily. She set her brush down and moved to the window, closing her eyes and breathing in the sweet, fresh smell of impending storm.
For the hundredth time she asked herself why she’d stayed—why she hadn’t stepped onto the raft with Emery and John. But logic had never been a good opponent to her emotions.
* * * * *
The colonel gazed at Jess over the rim of his glass. Jess knew it was best to stick as close to the truth as possible. His father was renowned for his keen perception. That said, Jess had grown up under his father’s eye, so he was experienced at masking his thoughts.
“So Captain Clemens just…disappeared, without word or warning.”
Though it wasn’t a question, Jess nodded, meeting his father’s eyes directly. There was a moment’s silence as Colonel Granger studied his son’s face. Finally he took a gulp of his whiskey, grimaced and put the glass down with a thunk.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said. “But Clemens was not the most quick-witted of men. And if you say you’ve seen bands of Rebs about, he could very well have been captured.”
Jess didn’t reply but took a gulp of his own whiskey. It was very bitter and burned like fire as it made its way down his throat to his gut.
“Son, I didn’t come here to talk about Clemens.”
Jess looked up. His father’s tone had changed. He’d called him “son”. Something must be up.
“What is it, Sir?” he asked.
His father removed his hat, laid it on the table and ran a hand through his thick white hair. “It’s Johnny,” he said and for the first time, Jess saw his father’s sallow cheeks and the dark circles beneath his eyes. His elder brother, John, was with the cavalry. Jess had lost track of where he was fighting. John Jr. was the apple of his father’s eye. But Jess knew him to be arrogant and spoiled, traits John kept well hidden from his parents—or his parents chose to ignore.
Jess remained silent, waiting. His father finally looked at him, his eyes dull. “John took a bullet in the back. He’s alive. The doctors were able to save him. But unfortunately he’s lost the mobility of his legs.”
Jess blanched. “Where is he now?”
The colonel took another gulp of whiskey. “At present he’s in a field hospital just north of here. I’ve just come from seeing him.”
“I see.” Jess lifted his own glass, wondering why the news bothered him at all, considering the years of torment he’d experienced at John’s hands. But Jess wouldn’t wish such a fate on anyone. “Is there any chance of recovery?”
“No.” His father was terse. “I’ll see he’s transported to a better medical facility as soon as he’s able and he’ll learn to handle a chair.” He paused, considering. “He’s lucky to be alive.”
Jess gazed at his father and felt an odd sense of disconnection with the scene. It suddenly occurred to him his father might be incapable of showing emotion. This concept was extremely liberating. For the first time in his life, Jess understood his father had no real hold over him. There was no reason to try to garner favor. He needn’t try to be the perfect son. Because it didn’t matter. Suddenly the emotional shackles that’d held him captive his entire life fell away and it was as if he could breathe again.
“I’m sorry, Sir,” he said and he meant it. “I know this must be difficult for you.” It was the best he could do.
His father cleared his throat, then straightened his shoulders. “It’s a consequence of war,” he said. “Now tell m
e what progress your company has made in securing this area.”
Jess nearly smiled. Instead he refilled their glasses and leaned back in his chair, relishing his newfound sense of emotional independence. Outside he could hear the rise of wind around the house and a shudder of distant thunder.
* * * * *
Catey paced the bedroom, her stomach in a knot of uncertainty. What should she do? If Jess came back to tell her she’d be sent away, she’d have no chance of escape. Should she take the risk, or should she run—and run now? But where would she go? What chance did she have wandering the countryside alone? Jess told her to stay. But she was confused. While she wanted to stay with him, her rational mind kept reminding her he was a Yankee. Wasn’t it time she stopped letting her heart rule her head?
She stopped her pacing and clenched her fists. What chance did she have here surrounded by Yankees? Oh God, the look on Emery’s face when she’d told him she was going to stay haunted her day and night. Why hadn’t she gone with Emery? And at the thought of her brother, the sight of her sister running out the back door to the safety of the woods came vividly back to mind. Sarah! Where would she be now? Was she safe? She’d promised her mother she’d look after her younger sister.
“Oh, Mama,” she breathed, “I’ve made a mess of everything, haven’t I?”
Suddenly she knew she had to go. Despite her feelings for Jess, it was patently obvious there could be no future for them. She had to think of her family, now. She had to find Sarah and Em—and Jake. She’d been blinded by her feelings for a man she hardly knew. She’d allowed herself to fall into the trap of believing in a dream—a dream that simply couldn’t come true. It was time she listened to her head instead of her heart.
* * * * *
Jess filled the colonel in on their activities over the past six months. He managed to improvise where the story became less than savory, though he suspected his father read easily between the lines.
Colonel Granger told Jess the state of the war. Jess was surprised and pleased to learn the war was virtually over, bar the formalities. He breathed a sigh of relief. Now, maybe, he could start his life over.
Eventually his father pushed back his chair and stood up, stretched, then placed his hat beneath his arm. “My men and I will be staying here the night,” he said. “But make your boys ready to leave in the morning. We’re to move on to Texas and help settle the situation there.”
Jess frowned but nodded. The last thing he wanted to do was join his father on a trek into Texas. If nothing else, his sojourn here had opened his eyes to many possibilities. But he needed time to think—time to plan.
Absently he offered his father the only bedroom still boasting a proper bed. Thankfully the colonel declined, preferring to bivouac with his men.
“I trust you can make better use of it,” he said, without a hint of humor in his voice.
Jess smiled to himself. The old man was wily and knew much more than he’d ever let on. He knew Catey waited upstairs and this was his only mention of it. Jess was grateful he’d been spared a grilling over his relationship with her.
* * * * *
The storm that had threatened all afternoon was closing in with a vengeance. It was late by the time Jess settled his father and the extra men, helped see to their horses and had a word to his own men. Darkness filled the echoing shell of the house, except for the small lantern Jess carried as he made his way up the stairs. He was exhausted but excited at the same time. He couldn’t wait to tell Catey the war was nearly over. But more, he wanted to feel her in his arms and taste her sweet lips. His mind relived their afternoon at the freshwater spring. It was as close to heaven as he’d ever been.
When he reached the door to the bedroom, he pushed it open, expecting to see her asleep on the bed. Instead, his eyes met dark emptiness.
“Catey?” He held the light high, his eyes searching. Then he saw the note leaning against the mirror. He picked it up. His stomach clenched. He knew.
Jess, I can’t pretend any longer. I care about you but there’s no future for us. I need to be with my own kind. I’m grateful for your protection. I wish you good fortune, if that’s possible in this new world filled with hate and destruction. I’ll never forget you. Please don’t look for me. With loving gratitude, Catey
Jess cursed, crumpled the note and hurled it away. He placed the lantern on the table and sat on the edge of the bed, running his hands through his hair. He had to think! Where would she go? What did she mean she had to be with her own kind?
But he knew there was nothing he could do. With his father camped outside and a storm crackling and ready to break, he couldn’t go wandering aimlessly through the woods.
The thought of her out there doing just that made him feel sick.
“Goddamn it, why?” He pounded his fist against the mattress and as though to emphasize the action, lightning lit the room, followed in seconds by a resonating boom of thunder.
* * * * *
Catey made it to the stables and kept well hidden until dark. Yankee soldiers came and went as they settled their horses. It was all she could do to maintain her resolve when she heard Jess’ voice speaking to one of his men, gentling one of the horses—the way he’d gentled her. The thought of never seeing him again, never feeling his lips on hers or his strong body against hers, left a deep and bitter sadness that seemed to reach icy fingers to her very core. But she’d experienced plenty of sadness during this war and now her logical mind told her she’d survive. It was the other part of her mind—the part she tried to ignore, despite its insistence—that said this time things were different. She closed her eyes and waited for Jess and the men to leave.
Once she was certain she was alone and the darkness was interrupted only by the occasional flash of lightning, she crept out of her hiding place. She had some vague idea about taking one of the horses. But as she moved from stall to stall, she wasn’t so sure. They were cavalry mounts, trained for the battlefield and used to a firm hand. Still, it would be better than leaving on foot. It wasn’t as if she’d never ridden a horse.
* * * * *
When Jess stopped railing against Catey’s stubborn streak, he began to think more clearly. She wouldn’t go wandering around the woods at night with a storm brewing, she’d try to find someplace to hide until everyone was asleep.
The stable was the first place that came to mind. She wouldn’t attempt to hide in the house—it was too risky. There were other outbuildings, of course but he knew it was where she’d hidden Emery and Big John.
He snatched up the lantern and strode from the room purposefully. She’d said “Please don’t look for me” but she was asking the impossible.
Chapter Fourteen
Her plan, although sketchy, was to get safely away from Allendale under cover of darkness and the impending storm. If she’d been thinking straight, she’d have realized there were few places deemed “safe” anymore. Between deprived Confederate deserters, Yankee soldiers and jayhawkers, not to mention nature’s own evils, there was plenty to fear. But she couldn’t forget the amused gleam in Colonel Granger’s eyes when he’d looked between her and Jess. She knew he’d seen her as Jess’ plaything—and it made her see the reality of her situation. After all, what did she really know about Jess except the fact he was the sworn enemy of the South?
Now all she could think about was finding the remnants of her family. How she’d do that, she had no idea.
She chose a roan mare that seemed unperturbed when she ran her hand down its neck and withers. The horse’s tack lay on the floor outside the stall. She threw the blanket on, then held her breath as she heaved the saddle onto the broad back, expecting her to rear, or nip. Instead, the horse stood placidly, munching on a bit of straw as Catey pulled the cinch tight. Catey whispered encouragement as she gently pulled the bridle over the large head, urging the bit between large, strong teeth. The mare gave a sudden shake of her head, sending a jingle of harness Catey was sure could be heard miles away.
* * * * *
He was right in his theory she’d hidden in the stables but he was too late. He saw immediately one of the horses was missing and tracks leading out into the windswept night. He cursed under his breath.
There was no time to spare. No time to explain to his father. He quickly saddled his own horse and headed out after her. He could only hope she’d stick to the road and not try to go cross-country. Christ! What was she thinking?
* * * * *
Catey couldn’t believe her luck. With all the Yankee soldiers bivouacking on the grounds, how she’d managed to smuggle the horse and herself off the property was a miracle indeed. She could only assume, with the rising storm and arrival of new men, they were all busy organizing themselves and battening down. Plus, they weren’t expecting problems this close to the house. After all, Jess had made it clear to his father he’d been keeping the area well protected. Obviously this wasn’t completely true but Catey knew he’d personally ridden boundaries in search of any Confederates or deserters.
So, despite the roar of the wind and the more frequent and closer lightning strikes, Catey managed to find her way off the property and onto the road leading away from Allendale Plantation. The town of Hamilton was not far, perhaps a day’s ride and she hoped Sarah would’ve headed there. It seemed the only thing a young local girl with no place to go would do.
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