The chaplain paused in his final benediction when he saw Noble, waving him inside as he continued. Noble joined him for the concluding amen.
“Maybe you can give the poor fools some peace in heaven, because they sure endured a hell on earth.”
George knew him too well not to comment on his words. “And you? Are you finding any peace with this?”
Noble walked away from the four draped figures, moving to stand by the window, where the fading daylight still refused a cooling breeze.
“Colvin’s wife was expecting their first child right after New Year’s. He wanted to see that baby more than he wanted to take his next breath. Worth, he was planning to marry his second cousin as soon as he got home. We used to tease him about how few branches were on his family tree. Rogers was a dirt farmer with six kids to feed and clothe and see raised properly. Bright was just a kid. A kid. They just wanted to get back to the things they loved. No harm in that, no wrong. I told ’em it was the right thing to do, coming out here. I told ’em it was the best way to get home to their loved ones safe and sound. Why didn’t they listen? They stopped believing in me, George, and they died. For what?”
“For what was important to each of them, Noble.”
“I promised to take care of them and they promised to follow me. Who broke their promise first, George? Answer me that. Am I to blame for the four of them lying there like that, with nothing left that their families could identify?” His words fractured, and he waited, hoping George could find some miraculous means to erase his sense of responsibility.
“If you’re looking for someone to blame, blame me.”
Noble turned, surprised by that fierce claim. Apparently just as startled, George continued hurriedly, “Blame Donald for encouraging them. Blame Jeff Davis and Abe Lincoln for pulling the country apart and us from our homes. Blame those ignorant heathens. Blame the heat for slowing them down and making them careless. Blame the stars, the moon. But it won’t make you feel any better. Only time can do that. And only God can forgive any of us.”
Amazingly, Noble chuckled. “Do you want to know what’s the very worst about this, George? The very worst?”
“What, Noble?”
“When I heard they were gone, I didn’t sympathize with them for caving in to the need to go home. I didn’t despise them for being weak. I didn’t even think of the danger they’d be in. You know what I felt, George? I was angry with them for making me look bad. Can you believe it? I was furious with them because they made me look like a liar. If Crowley planned to slap a twenty-five-pound ball on one ankle, I was going to chain a twenty-five-pounder to the other. What kind of a leader does that make me? One who values his pride over the welfare of his men.”
George looked beyond them, then placed a consoling hand on his friend’s shoulder. “It makes you human and too tired to think straight. You have been through enough of an ordeal. Go get some rest. I’ll do what needs to be done here and write letters to their families.” He paused, then added thickly, “It’s the least I can do.”
Too weary to argue, Noble nodded and turned toward the door, startled to see Juliet posed within that open frame and even more surprised by the tender empathy in her expression. He didn’t need that now. He didn’t want absolution or soothing sympathy. He wanted someone to understand the heinous wrong he’d done and why he needed to be punished for it, not Juliet’s melting gaze and tear-moistened cheeks.
He meant to push by her without a word, but that wasn’t her plan.
The instant he was within reach, she put her arms about him, tightening them when she felt him balk. She was stronger than he’d suspected, strong enough to embrace his shame and guilt without condemnation. He’d always been the strong one, the one to carry everyone else’s doubts and fears and woes. He’d never turned to another human being to ask for relief from that burden. But Juliet held him, offering ease, and for once in his life, he relented, surrendering his resolve with a shaky exhalation and letting her guide his head to her capable shoulder.
She didn’t say anything. He couldn’t have borne words just then. All would have rung as empty as his soul. In her silence he found support. From her gentle toughness he drew courage and comfort. But only for a moment. And when he straightened, she stepped back to let him go.
In that gesture, with her show of quiet wisdom, Juliet earned a place in his heart forever.
After he’d gone, Juliet turned to the somber chaplain.
“Is there anything I can do?”
“Pray for them and their families.” He glanced at each covered shape in turn, his own features twisting in unvoiced sorrow. He swallowed hard, then added, “That’s all any of us can do right now.”
It didn’t seem enough when there was so much pain weighing down their commanding officer.
“You knew these men, Captain. Why did they run?” Suddenly, she had to know. “To get back to the fighting in the East?”
“No, ma’am. These men saw only one thing worth fighting for and that was their homes, their families. That’s where they were going. Home.”
She studied the shrouded shapes, thinking wistfully of a place one would risk death to return to. She’d never known such a place. She’d never had anywhere she could call home.
“I wish there were some way we could have them buried in familiar soil.” She sighed heavily. “Do what you can to ease their way, Captain.”
“And you need to do what you can to ease the major’s conscience.”
Juliet couldn’t meet the man’s eyes. There was too much intuitive knowledge there ready to see right behind her facade. “He doesn’t need me for that.”
“He needs someone, ma’am, someone to make him understand that he’s not to blame.” Allen’s voice trailed off in anguish. “He’s not to blame.”
Chapter 13
Juliet had only two Christmases to her memory that were white and snowy. Those had been during her stay in Ohio, while her father was campaigning with the Union Army. She hadn’t seen anything to celebrate on those occasions, and she found herself wondering what this year would bring.
It brought a surprise none had suspected.
“Riders coming!”
A shout from the guard house brought the curious out to greet the new arrivals, who came in a column of twos. Juliet stood on their porch with the colonel watching the dusty unit file by.
“I didn’t know we were expecting new recruits.”
Crowley shook his head. “I didn’t know, either.”
“I hope they have some fresh supplies with them.”
“I hope they brought me some cigars.”
The army ambulance swayed to a halt in front of them. The door opened, giving them a view of frothy petticoats as its single occupant scrambled to exit. A head of curly brown hair beneath an enormous hat emerged, and Juliet gave a squeal of surprise and delight.
“Jane!”
Jane Howell tumbled down into her embrace, laughing, hugging, and crying happy tears. “Oh, Juliet, how wonderful to see you again! Merry Christmas! I know I’m a few days early but I couldn’t delay the surprise any longer. Say you’re surprised.”
“Surprised? You’re the last person I expected to see. Drat your husband for keeping such a secret.”
Jane leaned back, her big brown eyes lit with merriment. “He doesn’t know.”
“He doesn’t know? You mean you came all this way without telling him?”
“I simply couldn’t stand another holiday to go by without him. Having a father-in-law who’s a senator gives a girl a certain amount of influence when she wants to have her way.” Dimples danced mischievously.
“Jane! Oh, my God! Jane, is that you?”
Albert Howell broke into a run, barely giving Juliet time to step out of the way so that he could sweep his wife up in his arms. The sight of their reunion woke a twinge of reluctant envy within Juliet’s breast. Never had she had such an emotional welcome. Oh, to have a man waiting to shower one with such a display of dev
otion! She had to glance away.
“Merry Christmas, darling,” Jane cried.
“The merriest ever now that you’re here, you minx. How did you manage—no, never mind.”
“You’re not mad, are you?” Jane leaned back to beseech him with a melting gaze.
“No, of course not, silly creature. How could I possibly be angry?”
Juliet chuckled at the clever manipulation. Angry? The man was most likely livid that he’d had no forewarning so as to be able to prepare for an incoming wife. But Jane was so dear, so eager to please that one simply could not stay irritated with her. One could only get caught up in her enthusiasm.
“Now we shall have to put together a Christmas ball, just like the one we had in Texas, Juliet. I’ve brought all the trimmings. It will be great fun. Now, where is that brother of mine?”
Miles’s usually dour features split into a grin as he spun his sister about. “Jane, you scamp. Why didn’t you let us know you were coming?”
“What, and have you boys worrying over me the whole time? You know how I like surprises.” She winked at Juliet.
She also knew both men would have done everything possible to prevent her trip. But now that she was here, what could they do but welcome her? And Juliet, for one, was thrilled to embrace the sunshine her best friend brought with her.
Later that day, as the two of them sat together in the shaded twilight, watching a detail strike the colors, Juliet was grateful for the empathetic company.
“So, tell me, how did you end up with a company of Southern boys?”
Juliet chuckled. Her friend asked no easy questions. “My father captured their unit and was so impressed by their horsemanship that he had them paroled from Point Lookout and brought out here to serve under him.”
“And you sleep nights?”
“Not very well.” When she hesitated, Jane gave her a shrewd glance.
“Tell me everything.”
“Just after we arrived, someone shot at my father.” She tried to make the statement nonchalant, but the catch in her voice betrayed her anxiety.
“Oh, darling, how awful! So that’s why you’ve been so jumpy. One of the Rebs?”
“I don’t know.” She rubbed at her temples, wishing she could ease the constant throb of worry. “I can’t imagine why anyone else would have a reason.” She couldn’t look at Jane. Noble’s suspicion came back to her, pointing the finger at another man. Because she didn’t believe his insinuation for a moment, she wouldn’t trouble her friend with it. She sighed. “Father’s trying to pretend nothing happened, and their leader swears it wasn’t one of his men.”
“Their leader? Oh, you mean that positively gorgeous major? It seems he would have more reason than anyone.”
“More than you know,” Juliet murmured.
“What does Miles think?”
“Of Major Banning?” She made an unkind noise. “He thinks he’s a treasonous dog who’s looking for the first opportunity to kill us all in our sleep.”
“Delightful. Do you believe that, too?”
“Of Major Banning? No. He’s many things, but I can’t name murderer as one of them. Miles can’t see beyond the color of his uniform.”
“And is he perhaps just a tad jealous?”
“Well, Major Banning does outrank him.”
“I wasn’t speaking of rank, dear.” Jane smiled at Juliet’s confusion. “Oh, come now, that Southern boy positively sizzles when he sets his eyes upon you.”
Juliet gaped at her. Color flooded her cheeks. Jane laughed at her naïveté.
“Well, if you haven’t noticed, Miles certainly has. And I couldn’t be more pleased. My brother needs something to light a fire under him. And I plan to add kindling.”
“Jane, I really don’t think you should meddle—”
“Why not? What else is there to do out here?” She fanned herself lazily, her mouth pursing in speculation.
“Noble Banning is not in the least bit interested in me, and I think it unfair of you to taunt your brother with what is not true.” If her matchmaking friend ever got wind of Noble’s impetuous offer, she’d never hear the end of it. But there was no reason to mention that, either, when there was nothing motivating his proposal other than duty—a fact that gave her no pleasure at all and heartache best not discussed. Being humiliated in front of her father was certainly nothing she cared to rehash.
“Oh, Juliet, you have no womanly wiles at all. How else do you plan to get Miles to propose?”
Startled from her train of thought regarding another man, Juliet stared at her. “Who said I wanted Miles to propose?”
Juliet’s comment shocked Jane. The other woman stared at her, aghast. “You don’t want to marry Miles? Juliet, he dotes on you.”
“He’s a good man, a fine soldier—”
“But—”
Juliet sighed. “I don’t know, Jane. I don’t know anything about love or courtship.”
“And my oaf of a brother knows even less. You certainly aren’t going to learn anything reading those dusty old books and fetching your papa’s slippers. I can see how desperately I’m needed here.” She patted her friend’s knee confidently. “Leave everything to me, dear.”
“Jane,” Juliet warned her uneasily.
But her gaze was already far away, focused on the schemes her mind was busy hatching.
And that gave Juliet another reason for worry. It was one thing to dodge her father’s battering-ram attempts to force her toward the altar and quite another to sidestep Jane’s more subtle plotting. If she wasn’t careful, she could find herself saying “I do” with Miles before she knew what she’d agreed to.
Trouble started when Jane invited her to her new home to help her plan a dinner party for that evening.
“What do you think?”
When Jane lifted the evening gown for Juliet’s inspection, it was like the sun rising. Pale gold silk overlaid with row upon row of bronze lace dazzled her eyes. Her lips formed a silent O.
“I had it made by Worth. I ordered it ages ago,” Jane told her, holding the sumptuous creation up to her shoulders, then fitting it to her waist with the wrap of one arm.
“It’s beautiful,” Juliet whispered. She’d never had the occasion or desire to own elaborate clothing, but now, thinking of how she’d compare in her serviceable calico with Jane in this golden dream and Maisy Bartholomew in her flashy frills, she wished for just one impractical gown that would make her feel their feminine equal.
But what would a woman with no wiles need with such a dress when there was no one she had to impress?
“Yes, it is lovely,” Jane agreed, holding the gown away from her to examine it critically. “Unfortunately, the clothier must have thought I was a good six inches taller and of a sunny complexion. When I put it on, it positively washes me away.” Then she smiled and placed the wide scoop of the lace-tiered neckline against Juliet. “But on you it would glow.”
“Surely you’re not suggesting—”
“No, I’m not suggesting at all. I hate to see my husband’s good coin go to waste. Please say you’ll take it, so I won’t feel so guilty having it packed away in my trunk.”
Juliet caressed the stiff silk of the bodice reverently. “I’ve never had anything so fine. Are you sure?”
“Absolutely. And it’s high time you gave the single fellows of this post a glimpse of your full female potential. Not that there’s a thing wrong with you just as you are,” she was quick to assure her.
But Juliet was too entranced to take offense.
“Try it on.”
Juliet needed no urging. She shucked off her commonplace plaid and shimmied into the embrace of silk and lace. As she stared in surprise at her reflection in Jane’s cheval glass, her friend chattered happily.
“I’ll heat up some slate pencils to curl your hair, and with a dab of cornstarch to take the shine off your nose, poor Miles won’t know what hit him.”
Miles … Juliet wasn’t thinking of Miles a
t all. She gazed at the figure in the mirror, wondering where the gawky girl had gone. The sleek golden sophisticate looking back at her wouldn’t shame an up-and-coming Kentucky lawyer in front of his highfalutin’ friends.
Tonight she would make him see that Juliet Crowley wasn’t a burden any man had to bear.
Her father’s reaction gave Juliet all the encouragement she needed.
“Jules,” he murmured in awe. “Seeing you like that makes me think of the first time I met your mother.”
As his tears welled up, Juliet stepped forward into his embrace to scold, “Now, Papa, don’t get all misty. It’s just a dress.”
“It’s more than the dress. It’s the woman in it. She would be so proud, Juliet. So proud.”
Emotions crowding up in her throat, she took his proffered arm and let him guide her toward the true testing ground.
Chairs scraped loudly as all the men in Albert Howell’s main room surged to their feet. And it wasn’t because a superior officer had entered the room. They were staring at her with an amazement so apparent that it would have been insulting had Juliet not been rendered so suddenly shy by all the attention. Jane and Pauline beamed in approval. Behind them, Maisy glowered. The sight of her envy restored Juliet’s confidence.
“Please, gentlemen, do be seated,” she murmured in a husky purr. “There’s no need to stand on formality.”
“I hate to disagree with a lady,” Noble answered, lifting her gloved hand in his, “but I think in this case there is every need.”
While he touched his lips to the back of her hand in a show of Southern gallantry, Miles simmered hotly beside him, wishing he’d thought to pay the compliment first.
Throughout the meal, Juliet followed Jane’s lead, making flirtatious small talk punctuated by fluttering lashes and playful gestures. Feminine wiles, Jane called it. Games was a better description to Juliet. She had no talent for games, either for playing them or for watching them, but Jane continued to coax her on. The behavior felt awkward, as if she were wearing someone else’s personality as well as someone else’s clothes, but the men responded to it. All except Noble.
The Men of Pride County: The Rebel Page 14
