Gramps was right, she repeated to herself. They would come across civilization soon.
“There,” Jeffrey pointed across the river.
Claire immediately recognized the houses. They were on the outskirts of Natchitoches—probably around Grand Ecore. She’d visited one of the houses many years ago. A distant cousin, a relative of her grandmother’s had held a ball and they had all three been invited.
Tears welled in her eyes and she sniffled. They had made it.
“This doesn’t solve our problem,” Jeffrey pointed out. “We’re on the wrong side of the river.”
“There’s a ferry down below,” Gramps said. “At Cane River Crossing.”
“We can’t cross the river yet,” Claire said.
Both men turned and stared at her.
“We have to go by our home.”
“We can’t. It’s occupied.”
“I can slip in and pick up… something.”
Gramps narrowed his eyes.
“Claire,” Jeffrey began, “the house burned. There’s nothing there.”
“I can at least look. If the house burned, the army will have left as well.”
“It’s possible,” Gramps said. “We aren’t far.”
“You too?”
“We should try to find water and food and go there in the morning,” Claire said.
Jeffrey shook his head. “I can’t win against the two of you.”
Claire smiled. “Why would you want to?”
“I don’t suppose I would,” he murmured, and taking her hand, pulled her along the riverbank.
About twenty minutes later, they came to an inn—the Frenchman’s Cup. Claire had never been near here.
There were three horses tethered near the door and boisterous music drifted from inside.
“Maybe you should wait out here,” Gramps suggested.
“No, thank you,” Claire said, tamping down aggravation. “I’m dying of thirst.”
“Let’s hope they have water,” Gramps said.
“Right now I’ll take whatever they’ve got,” Claire admitted.
The three of them trudged up to the front door and after a slight hesitation, Jeffrey opened the door and stepped inside with Claire and Gramps right behind him.
Claire wasn’t surprised by the noise—boisterous male laughter. She was surprised, however, when she stepped out from behind Jeffrey and saw a roomful of Yankees.
What had the world come to? She took a step back, stopped by Jeffrey.
“It’ll be all right,” he whispered in her ear. He nudged her forward.
“But…”
“We have to have food and water.”
Except for a couple of curious glances, the Yankees ignored them.
“We’d like some water, please,” Jeffrey told the barkeeper, when they reached the bar.
“You look like you’ve been through the ringer,” the grizzled barkeeper said.
He brought back three glasses of water and set them down.
“Willie,” he asked, puzzled. “Is that you?”
Claire turned to stare at Gramps.
Gramps nodded. “How are you, Earl?”
“Old Willie,” the barkeeper said, holding out his hand for Gramps to shake. “I haven’t seen you in a year of Sundays.”
“It’s been a while,” Gramps agreed.
“Who’s this you’ve got with you?” Earl asked, peering at Claire.
Jeffrey put an arm around Claire and pulled her to him.
“My granddaughter, Claire.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Earl said, “Would you like something to go with that water?”
Claire shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
“We’d like something to eat in a little bit,” Jeffrey said.
“I got vittles,” Earl said. “What the Yankees didn’t eat.”
“What’s with all the Yankees?” Gramps whispered.
“The country’s crawling with them,” Earl said. “Can’t spit without hitting a damn Yankee. But…” he leaned in, lowered his voice. “You won’t hear me complaining.” He winked in Claire’s direction. “They have plenty of Yankee money on them.”
Claire recoiled, taking Jeffrey’s hand.
“I think we’ll go ahead and take that food, then get some sleep,” Jeffrey said, holding tight to Claire’s hand.
“I’ll get you the food,” Earl said, “but where do you plan to sleep?”
“Here,” Claire said, glancing at the stairs leading to the second floor. At the thought of sleep, her muscles all but cried out in pain. I’m not sure I can take another step.
“I don’t have any rooms.”
“None?”
Claire groaned and swayed against Jeffrey.
Earl scratched his head.
“Is there another inn close by?” Jeffrey asked.
Earl shook his head. “I’m telling you, the place is crawling with Yanks.”
“It’s all right,” Claire said, taking a deep breath and pulling on Jeffrey’s arm.
“No,” he said, standing firm. “Are you telling me you don’t have even one room for a lady? You can’t ask her to sleep on the ground.”
Earl studied her. Claire held her breath at the perusal. How did Gramps know such a letch?
“Tell you what,” Earl said, “my woman is off visiting relatives. And I’m gonna be up all night. You can sleep in my room in the back. The other two of ya, y’all will have to sleep outside.”
Claire shook her head. “No.”
“We’ll take it,” Jeffrey said. “How much?”
“No charge,”
“How much?” Jeffrey repeated, reaching into his pocket.
“You have money?” Claire asked.
“Sure.” He paused a moment. “We haven’t exactly had a use for it.”
Jeffrey paid the man in Yankee coin. “We’ll wait over there for our supper.” He leaned his head toward the one empty table in the place.
Claire sat at the table, Jeffrey on one side, Gramps on the other. And groaned. Her feet ached. Her legs ached. Her head ached. She ached in every corner of her body.
Jeffrey took her hand and squeezed. She looked up into his eyes. His skin was scruffy from going days without shaving. But his eyes were clear.
He smiled.
And her heart tripped. They’d been together all day, trudging through the woods and they had barely spoken to each other. Yet every cell in her body had been tuned toward him. Even now, those very cells were on fire.
Jeffrey leaned in, kissed her lightly on the lips. Her eyes fluttered closed.
And the world faded away.
Then he pulled away and she opened her eyes. Glanced at Gramps.
He just smiled at her.
A flush crept along her cheeks, but a smile sieged her lips.
Jeffrey winked at her. And her smiled deepened. She brought her glass of water to her lips.
A commotion at the front door distracted their attention. A group of three Southern young men came into the room.
“What the Hell?” one of them asked.
“The place is crawling with Yanks”
Earl came from behind the counter. “You’ll mind your manners if you want to drink in here,” he said.
“Jeffrey Couvion?” one of the men asked, spotting Jeffrey.
Jeffrey’s head jerked up and focused on the man.
“It is you,” the boy said, rushing toward Jeffrey.
Jeffrey shifted backwards. “Melvin,” he said.
“How the Hell have you been?” he asked, holding out his hand.
“I’ve been good,” Jeffrey murmured.
“How’s your sister,” Melvin asked, glancing over at Claire.
“She’s good,” Jeffrey said.
“You up and got married?” Melvin asked, slapping Jeffrey on the back.
Jeffrey shook his head and shot a glance at Claire.
A Southerner who knows Jeffrey?
“I haven’t seen
Alexandra since,” Melvin took off his hat and scratched his head. “since the McGregor ball.”
“It’s been a long time,” Jeffrey said, shifting in his chair.
How did Melvin, obviously a southerner know Jeffrey’s sister? Much less attend a ball with her?
Maybe Jeffrey and his sister had spent some time down south. That was it. Perhaps he had relatives in the south. That was not uncommon at all. Claire relaxed. Of course, that was it.
“We rode down by Chene Ruelle just a few months ago,” Melvin continued.
“Really?” Jeffrey leaned forward and focused his attention on Melvin.
“Did you hear any news?”
“Not really. Things are chaotic these days. All anyone talked about was the steamboat explosion.”
Jeffrey sat back.
“Come to think of it,” Melvin said, narrowing his eyes. “I heard tell you were on that steamboat.”
“I guess you heard wrong,” Jeffrey said.
Melvin narrowed his eyes. Waited a beat. “I suppose that’s how rumors get started,” he said. “Well, I need to go on and get a drink. It was good seeing you.”
He didn’t look at her. She narrowed her eyes at him. Willed him to look at her. It was time for Jeffrey Couvion to come clean. “What steamboat explosion is he talking about?” she asked.
“There was one down south a few months ago,” he said, keeping his eyes straight ahead.
“Where down south?”
“Close to Baton Rouge.”
“I heard about that one. Why would your friend think you would be on that boat?”
Jeffrey shook his head, glanced at her, then looked away. “Beats me. People say all kinds of things.”
She watched him. Then frowned and looked away. If he wanted to be vague, she had nothing to say to him.
Earl set bowls of soup on the table in front of them. She ate in silence.
Something didn’t add up. And more importantly, he didn’t trust her—with whatever his story was.
After eating about half of her soup, she sat down her spoon, and looking at Gramps, said, “I’m going to bed now. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Ignoring Jeffrey, she strode toward Earl. “I’d like to go to my room now.”
Earl leered at her. “Right this way.”
Jeffrey scowled at Claire’s retreating back. “We can’t just let her go with him,” he said to no one in particular.
“I’d like to see you stop her,” Gramps said, sitting back in his chair, wiping his mouth with his napkin.
“Maybe I can’t stop her,” he said, “but I can protect her.” He pushed back his chair and as he moved to follow Claire and Earl, he caught a glimpse of Gramps’ smile.
“The blankets are warm,” Earl said. Jeffrey followed the sound of the man’s overly cheerful voice.
Earl was standing inches from Claire—much too close.
“Thank you,” she said, as she inched back a step. Earl inched forward two steps.
Enough is enough. With a feral growl that he belatedly realized was out loud, Jeffrey entered the room. “My wife and I would like to be alone,” he said.
“Your—?” Earl sputtered, glancing from one to the other. “Nobody said nothing ‘bout no wife.”
“Didn’t know anybody had to be saying anything about it.”
“And nobody does. I’ll just be moseying on my way,” Earl said, backing toward the door.
“Good idea,” Jeffrey assured him, with a nod.
“Just going on my way,” Earl repeated, as he turned on his heel and sped down the hallway.
Jeffrey turned back to face Claire.
“He wasn’t hurting anything,” she said, murmured.
He took a step toward her.
She stood her ground, her chin lifted.
“What were you doing?” he asked.
“Gramps knows him.”
“I know a lot of people and I wouldn’t want you to be left alone with them.”
She narrowed her eyes. “That’s actually a good point,” she conceded.
“So,” he said, taking another step closer to her. “What were you doing?” he repeated.
“I was… um.” She took an imperceptible step backwards, her legs hitting against the bed.
“Yes?” His eyes held hers. Her beauty took his breath away. Her skin begged for his touch. He longed to touch her lips with his. To feel her lithe body against his.
“I um…” she lowered her eyes, licked her lips.
His body responded. “I’m sorry,” he said.
Her eyes returned to his. “Sorry?” she echoed.
“Yes, I didn’t tell you everything.” Jeffrey took her hand, guided it behind his back, and pulled her against him. He tilted her chin up, pressed his lips against hers. “There’s something I need to tell you,” he said.
“Tell me then,” she said.
He dropped onto the bed, put a foot on the wooden chair, and leaned back on his elbows. “I was born and raised just outside of Baton Rouge.”
“Then you moved north?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I’m as southern as you are—well, maybe not quite.”
“I’m confused.”
“Except for spending some time thinking I wanted to fight for the North.”
“Why did you think that?” She sat down next to him.
“There’s no accounting for why a man gets things in his head. Fortunately, someone set me straight.”
“Who did that?”
“You did.”
“Me? How did I do that?”
He sat up, ran a hand down her elbow—felt the shiver run through her. Her eyes widened. Her lips parted.
You got into my head. Wove your way into my heart.
He took her hand, linked his fingers with hers.
Then, with a groan, he placed his lips on hers. Held them there as their breath mingled.
Neither of them moved. He leaned back. Her eyes fluttered open for a second, then closed again. It was more than he could stand. His lips captured hers again, this time, moving into a kiss.
Claire’s senses reeled. Something clicked into place in her heart. Her knees felt weak and she leaned toward him. She couldn’t move.
She couldn’t think.
She didn’t want to think.
She didn’t ever want to move… or think.
He deepened the kiss and her nerves tingled all the way down to her toes. She kissed him back.
A door slammed across the hall. A dog howled somewhere outside.
His tongue slid past her lips and caressed hers.
Her body burst into flames.
The rest of the world receded into nonexistence.
It was only Jeffrey and her. There was nothing else she desired.
He pulled back, ran a fingertip across her cheek. “I can’t let you stay here alone,” he said.
She nodded. Don’t go.
He glanced about the room. “I’ll have to sleep here,” he said.
“I know,” she answered, her eyes still closed.
“I’ll let Gramps know.” He pulled her tight against him, held her as though he would never let her go.
He shifted, and lifted her chin until her eyes fluttered open and she looked at him.
Her lips tingled. Her knees were weak, but his strong arms held her pressed against him.
“I love you,” he murmured.
“What?”
“I love you,” he said again.
“I love you,” she answered.
He nestled her head beneath his chin, buried his fingers in her hair, and kissed the top of her head.
“Lock the door. I won’t be long.”
After locking the door behind him, she laid her forehead against the cool wood of the door.
“I’m in so much trouble,” she murmured. Taking a deep breath, she turned back and studied the bed. It was small, but not much smaller than the beds at her house. What had been her house, she reminded herself, as the lump
in her throat returned. What would they do now? She and Gramps were homeless.
Perhaps they could rebuild. Yes, that was it. They would build another house. With the money, if it was still there, they would be able to at least get started.
With that resolution in mind, she folded back the bedding and, after glancing down at her dress smeared with dirt and grass stains, shrugged, and climbed into bed.
And sighed. After sleeping in a hard wagon and on the ground, even this bed with its threadbare mattress was heavenly.
She pulled the coarse blanket up beneath her chin and allowed her eyes to drift closed. I’ll stay awake until he gets back.
Sometime later, she wasn’t sure how long, she dreamed that she snuggled against Jeffrey as she slept. His strong arms wrapped around her and his breath warmed her cheeks.
She smiled. And drifted back to sleep, wrapped in a cocoon of safety.
Jeffrey sipped his coffee, one eye on Earl. The saloon keeper wiped down countertops, mumbling to himself.
Jeffrey had slipped out before Claire woke. She’d been so exhausted, she’d never known he was there. Her scent lingered all around him. While she slept, alone in Earl’s bed, Jeffrey refused to let her be far from his sight. If anyone approached the door to the bedroom, he would see them. And Earl was first on his to-watch list. Although Earl had given him a key, who was to say that Earl didn’t have a second key?
He had no idea where Gramps had slept. The bar had emptied out and except for Earl and now Jeffrey, was empty.
He’d give Claire a few more minutes, then he’d go wake her.
For days now, they had been attached at the elbow. Only apart for a few moments a day.
He didn’t want to spend another night apart from her. Not tonight. Not ever. For the rest of his life.
The realization didn’t surprise him. Or frighten him. He’d always known he would find the right girl one day. He had given up, even before going to war. He would rather live out his days alone than be with the wrong one.
But he’d known it was Claire from the start. And the tie had strengthened these past few days. And now, damn it, he didn’t want to wait any longer.
If he had his way, this would be the last night they would spend apart. Surely there was a preacher in this town. Where were they? Natchitoches. Surely there was a preacher in Natchitoches who would marry them. Tomorrow.
Hearts Under Fire Page 12
