Passion's Fury

by Patricia Hagan

  She urged the words upward through her ever-tightening throat, which was still sore from Rance’s death-grip of only a short while ago. “We are here to speak to Willie…” she whispered in the trembly, eerie voice that Rance had made her rehearse until it was believable. “We are gathered here, because Willie has sent signs that he is restless…he wants to speak to his mother.”

  She turned her head slightly to her left. “Speak to your son,” she whispered sternly.

  “Willie…darling…” The voice in the darkness cracked with emotion. “It’s me, your mother. Speak to me, darling. Let me know that you are all right.”

  “Willie, that was your mother,” April rushed on, making her tone excited now. “Did you hear your mother? Do you hear me? You have let me know you wanted to speak through me. We are here. We are waiting. If you are among us, then let your presence be known.”

  “Oh, my God!” Trella screamed to pierce the tense silence.

  April had been sitting with her eyes closed, but at the sound, her lids flashed open, and a small cry escaped her as she saw the shining white object bobbing through the air above the table. What was it? She struggled to see. Mrs. Lincoln began to moan softly.

  “That’s his little bugle,” Lizzie cried. “The li’l bugle his daddy had made out of silver, ’cause he wanted to be a bugle boy—”

  “Do not break the chain!” April snapped tersely, feeling her grip on Mrs. Lincoln’s hand slacken. The woman was pulling away, eyes riveted to the eerily glowing silver bugle that continued to dance above them. Then, just as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone. But the sound of its thinly pitched tone began to echo around them.

  “He’s playing. I hear him playing.”

  “Lizzie, please,” Mrs. Lincoln whispered.

  Suddenly the window clattered open, and a gust of icy wind and rain hit them full force at the same time the bugle sounded louder. The table began to rattle, and April realized it was rising.

  “Oh, my God!” This time Trella’s cry was more subdued.

  Something whooshed by, brushed April’s ear. It whooshed by again, and Lizzie screamed. “He touched me. I felt his touch. Praise the Lord, Miz Lincoln, he’s here! Your boy is here in this room with us. I feel it stronger than ever before.”

  Softly, at first, the drumbeats began, rhythmically, over and over, filling the room with a sense of frenzy, wildness. Something bright and shiny flew across the room and hovered momentarily above the table before disappearing completely.

  April did not know if the chill that was inching its way to her bones was from the open window or from fear. Rance was still holding her hand. How had he caused all this? It had to be a fake—had to be. Yet it seemed so real. It was becoming harder and harder to concentrate with the sounds of the bugle and the drum.

  She began once more. “Willie is speaking to me.” She strained to make her voice high-pitched. “Willie wants us to know he is happy. He describes his home as very beautiful, many stars, much gold. He says he is much happier than he ever was in this life.”

  “Oh, I want him to be happy,” Mrs. Lincoln cried, then raised her voice. “Willie, darling, I want you to be happy. I do. I do.”

  “He says…” April paused for effect. “He says he is with Alex.”

  “Alex! My half-brother!” Mrs. Lincoln started to draw her hand away, but April held tightly. “Oh, praise the Lord. Alexander is my half-brother. He died fighting for the South…at Baton Rouge…not long ago. Oh, he always thought so much of Willie. They’re together.” She began to sob.

  April squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to see any more objects, hating herself for what she was doing. Charlatan! Liar! she accused herself. She was not charging a fee, and perhaps the seance would ease the poor woman’s grief. But the guilt remained.

  She saw a gray mist swimming before her. Strange, she thought vaguely, my eyes are closed, yet I see this mist. Slowly, ever so slowly, the mist became a cloud, and then the cloud was parting. She could see her father, so clearly, and, oh, dear God, no! She shook her head from side to side, moaning, felt Rance pressing harder on her hand, hurting her, but she could not open her eyes, could not speak. She saw him so clearly…lying in his coffin. The lid was being closed, and then he was being carried through those wrought iron gates with the scrolled “J.” He was placed next to her mother. And it was so real she felt as though she could reach out and touch the rough wood of the casket, smell the musky odor of the mausoleum.

  There were no flowers. No friends. No weeping relatives. Only Vanessa standing there, beside the casket, not even wearing a dress of mourning but a bright red ballgown.

  And there was Zeke, and he was smiling, showing the ugly yellow teeth she loathed.

  It was real. She was there. She could see it. The steady beating of the drum began to match the beating of her heart. Real…real. Poppa in his coffin. “No!” She screamed suddenly. “No, Poppa, no!”

  “April, stop it.” She had dropped Rance’s hand to cover her face and try to shut out the horrible scene, and he was reaching for her, shaking her.

  “No—no—no,” she moaned over and over, allowing him to press her face against his strong chest to muffle her cries of agony.

  “Everyone sit right where you are. Don’t move. I think she went too deeply into her trance. We’re going to have to sit here until she returns to us. Don’t anyone make a sound, please.” He held her tighter, moving his lips to press against her ear and murmur, too softly for anyone else to hear, “It’s all right. You can stop now. It’s over.”

  But she could not stop, and after several moments, Rance said, “We can have light now. I think she needs some brandy.”

  Dimly, April was aware that the window was again closed. Cold air and sleet were no longer blowing across them. She continued to cling to Rance, even as the room was lit again. It was Lizzie who handed her a glass of brandy. April drank gratefully.

  Mrs. Lincoln touched her shoulder gently and asked, “Are you all right now, dear? You gave us such a fright. I have never seen a medium travel so far from us.”

  April managed to nod, but her mind was on the vision. She closed her eyes, then opened them. It was gone. Perhaps, she told herself with relief, she had fallen asleep. She had dreamed of her father. Yes, that was it. She was sure of it. She had been thinking of morning, when she would be free to find her way back to him.

  But why had she envisioned him in his coffin? Perhaps it was her instincts telling her to hurry home, there was no time to spare. He needed her.

  “I would like to leave now,” she looked at Rance, saw the concern in his eyes. “I don’t feel well.”

  Lizzie, wide-eyed and quite shaken, backed toward the door. “I’ll get your wraps. I’ll only be a moment. She does look like she could use some rest.”

  Mrs. Lincoln was saying something about hoping she could come back soon. She was so satisfied, she assured Rance, and happy to hear that Willie was with her half-brother. Perhaps next time, Rance responded politely, they might speak with Willie longer.

  Just get me out of here, April implored him with her eyes. Take me out of here before I break down and let her know it was all a sham. I can’t hurt her that way. Please, I don’t want to hurt the woman.

  Once they were in the carriage, Trella was unable to contain herself. “Rance, how did all those things happen? Oh, Lordy, don’t tell me they were real. I was so scared, and I knew you and Edward never left the table.”

  “I’ll explain, if you’ll calm down,” Rance laughed. “We had help. We do have some allies in Washington, you know. The window was forced open from outside. That’s where the drumbeats and the bugle were being played. As for the bugle appearing to float from the air, Edward and I ran a string up near the ceiling when we first left the dining room, before we started prowling around.”

  “And the reason he insisted everyone remain calm at the end,” Edward interjected, “was so I could grope about and remove all the strings that pulled all the objects.”


  She gasped. “Oh, my stars! It seemed so real. You sure had me fooled. I was so scared. But what about the table rising?”

  Edward looked smug. “Rance and I dropped the hands that were holding you and April, and we lifted it from the floor. I think we did pretty good.”

  Trella clapped her hands together in childlike glee, then leaned across Edward to ask of Rance, “But did you find anything of importance?”

  The carriage passed beneath a streetlight, the gas flame giving off an eerie glow that illuminated the grim expression on his face. In a dread tone, he murmured, “Yes, we did. I am afraid we are going to be too late to be of any help, though. Tomorrow, we leave Washington. I have to get beyond enemy lines so I can send a message.”

  “We need to leave, anyway,” he continued, looking at Edward as though conveying secrets. “There are other things to be done now.”

  Trella continued to bubble happily about the success of the seance, while everyone else fell silent, engrossed in private thoughts.

  Arriving at the hotel, Edward and Trella went straight to Edward’s room. April retired to her own without looking at Rance, but once inside, she was possessed by a strange feeling which she could not understand. She was free to go tomorrow morning, but nothing had been said tonight about any arrangements. Surely, he would not leave her destitute. They had a bargain, and she had kept her end.

  Finally, she realized that she would have to talk to Rance. That, she told herself as she opened her door and left the room, was the only reason she wanted to see him.

  She rapped softly on his door and did not have long to wait before he called, “Come in, April. It’s not locked.”

  So, she thought, he had been expecting her. She turned the knob and stepped into faint darkness, the only light coming from the window and the gas lights beyond it. The storm had abated, and there was only silence to surround.

  She took a deep breath and began, “I want to talk to you about how I am to leave tomorrow. I will need funds, but I will pay you back one day, I promise.”

  He was beside her so quickly that she did not see his movements. “That’s not the reason you came to me tonight, and you know it!” His lips claimed hers, hard, smoldering. She stiffened in his embrace, pressed her hands against his chest and tried to pull away, but he held her tightly.

  The desire she could not fight began to take hold. It began as a warm moisture in her loins, then spread upward to caress her insides. Her lips became soft, yielding, and she received his tongue.

  In one easy movement, he lifted and carried her across the room, laying her on his bed. He removed her clothing quickly and then stripped off his own clothes.

  His fingers danced upon her body, caressing, teasing, making her writhe and moan. “Take me,” she whispered wantonly. “Oh, Rance, please, please take me.”

  “Show me!” he commanded gruffly. “Show me what you want me to do.”

  He rolled over on his back, grinning his smile. She shook her head in shy confusion.

  He grasped her waist and pulled her over and up on top of him, spreading her thighs so that she was straddling him. He held her just above him and then, slowly, maneuvered her onto the probing shaft.

  “Ride me,” he commanded. “Ride me as you would your horse. I’ll move with you. All the way.”

  At first, she moved slowly, still shy, but as the tingling sensations began to spread into spasms of delight, she undulated her hips to gyrate faster, harder. His fingers slid from her waist to her breasts, caressing, moving to pinch her nipples. She was free to set the pace, to move with him, against him, around him. And when she felt herself about to explode with the ultimate joy, he sensed it and quickly threw her over and onto her back. Then he took her wildly as though she were a mare daring to be tamed.

  But tame her he did, until she was whimpering beneath him with inexpressible rapture. She clung to him tightly for a very long time, not wanting it to end.

  Finally he rolled away but held her in his arms, her head tucked against his shoulder.

  “Stay with me,” he whispered, as the wind through the night. “Stay with me, April, and be my woman.”

  She blinked. “Are you,” she began in wonder, “asking me—?”

  “To be my woman,” he interjected. “Nothing more, but nothing less. There’s a war on, April. I’ve a job to do. I’ll keep you safe, but I want you with me.”

  “But…but I have something to do, also, and we agreed…” She felt her brain whirling wildly. It had all been settled! She would leave in the morning, return to Alabama, and try to help her father. Rance had promised to set her free. Yet now he was asking, not telling her, to stay with him. “I just don’t understand.”

  He turned on his side, staring down at her face which was bathed in the pale light from the window. He brushed back golden tendrils of hair, kissed the tip of her nose. “I want you, April. I need you. That’s all I can honestly tell you right now. When the war is over, we’ll see what happens.”

  “But Vanessa—”

  He sighed, exasperated. “April, you can’t handle her by yourself, and with the war, nobody else is going to have time to help you. Wake up. If you go back there and get yourself in trouble, as much as I care for you, I won’t be able to do anything about it. I’ve got a job to do for the South.”

  She nodded. As desperately as she wanted to go home, she could see the wisdom of his words. Hesitantly, she asked the question that was burning in her mind. “But will you help me when the war is over? Would you return with me then?”

  He rolled once more to his back, staring upward into the darkness. “I don’t like to make promises unless I know I can keep them. Like I said, April, I want you, and I need you, and if everything works out for us, then, yes, I probably will. More than that, I just can’t promise.”

  “Then that has to be enough.”

  He was silent for a moment, then asked softly, “Are you sure?”

  “I think so. I’ve hated you, Rance, you know that, but all the time I was hating you, a part of me was struggling against that, crying out that there was something between us…some kind of caring. I kept saying, ‘another time, another place, and perhaps it would have been right for us,’ but the part of me that hated overshadowed everything else.”

  “There were times that I didn’t like you,” he admitted, his voice softly amused. “You can be quite a handful, April, but I considered you a challenge, like a wild pony. Just when you think you’ve got him broke, he throws you. I wonder if I would ever feel in control of you.”

  She turned to trail her fingertips through the thick mat of hair on his chest. “You don’t want to control me. Not really. If I were all sweetly obliging, then you wouldn’t want me.”

  “Perhaps.” He caught her hand, raised her fingertips to his lips, and kissed them. “One day, we’ll find out.”

  Quickly, roughly, he gathered her in his arms and pressed his mouth upon hers. The kiss was long, stirring. He laughed softly as he pulled away. “We’ve got a hard day tomorrow. We’re leaving, heading south. We need to get some sleep.”

  “You want me to sleep with you?” She pretended to be horrified. “What will Trella think?”

  He muttered some obscenity as he reached to pull the folded blanket from the foot of the bed to spread over their naked bodies. She cuddled against him, a wave of peace settling over her. At last, she had given in to the secret cries of her heart.

  The first waves of sleep were rocking her gently, and she had to struggle awake when the knocking began. Rance called out gruffly, “Yes? Who’s there.”

  “Clark. I need to talk to you.”

  Rance uttered an oath, then called, “Can’t it wait until tomorrow morning?”

  “No,” Edward replied firmly. “I need to talk to you now.”

  “Oh, damn!” Rance threw back the blanket and sighed, “Wrap yourself up in the blanket and go back to your room. Trella will be wondering where you are, and Edward obviously has some business to discus
s. No telling when I’ll get to bed now.”

  She nodded, disappointed. It had felt so wonderful to fall asleep in his strong arms. She pulled the blanket from the bed and wrapped it about her tightly, then opened the door, surprising Edward. Ducking her head with embarrassment, she whispered a good night and moved quickly down the hall. Behind her, she heard the door close, the lock snap.

  She was almost to her room when she remembered the clothes she had left behind. They would have to be packed. She turned around and padded back to the door. She was just about to knock when her hand froze at the mention of her name.

  “I thought she was leaving.” That was Edward’s voice. “All of a sudden, things look pretty cozy. What’s going on?”

  She leaned closer to hear Rance say in a flat tone, “Nothing to concern you. April wants to stay with me, that’s all.”

  There was the sound of an exaggerated sigh, then, “What’s the matter? Are you afraid if you let her go, you might find out later that you want her and then it’ll be too late?”

  “Something like that,” came Rance’s comment. “Look, Clark, it’s not going to hurt anything having her along. You’ve got Trella. We look like two nice married couples. You and me alone look suspicious. Folks will start wondering why we aren’t in uniform. With the women, we’re more easily accepted as businessmen.”

  There was a long period of silence. April could not move. Rance made their union sound like a business arrangement.

  She stood frozen, listening again. “There was a paper in the President’s desk which gave the location of a nearby federal cavalry unit. We can round up our men and shouldn’t have any trouble stealing them,” Rance was saying. “Then we change the cavalry brand to artillery and sell the Yankees their own horses. They’ll bring top price.”

  “Quite a nice profit,” Edward agreed. “Then we take the money and go to Mexico and get prime stock for our Rebel cavalry. A nice deal all the way around.”