April clamped her teeth together. So! Rance was stealing from the Yankees, then selling stolen horses right back to them, using the money to buy horses for the Confederacy and selling to them. He made it sound so noble, wanting to supply the South’s cavalry with the best possible horses, when all the while he was making a tidy profit on stolen stock! Despicable! Oh, how she ached to scream it all out so that everyone in the hotel would know.
His words came flooding back and a new realization slapped her full in the face. “I want you. I need you. I want you to be my woman.” He had not said “I love you. I want you to be my wife.” Damn his charm! Damn his handsome face! Damn his wonderful body!
And damn me most of all, she thought, a smothering wave flowing over her. Damn me for being so weak as to even think about falling in love with a scheming bastard like Rance Taggart.
No more!
She whirled around and stalked down the hall.
No more! I’m going home. No matter what awaits me there, I’m going home.
And a little voice inside whispered that she was not running only from a man she considered a traitor—she was running from the man who threatened to conquer her heart, her soul, her whole being.
She could not let that happen.
Edward got up and went to pour them another glass of whiskey, then returned to sit on the edge of the bed. Twirling his drink around in his hand, he watched the lantern’s glow catch the amber liquid and create dark, mysterious dancing shadows. “Have you ever stopped to think how much money you’d be making off this stinking war if you charged the Confederacy for the cavalry horses?” he asked thoughtfully, lifting his gaze to stare at Rance.
“Yeah,” came his friend’s quiet answer. “I have to admit I have. It’d mount up to a tidy sum. A man could get rich doing what I’m doing.” He drew on his cheroot, watched the smoke spiraling upwards.
“Others are becoming profiteers. Why not you?”
Rance gave him a sharp look. “I happen to believe in the Confederacy. And the only reason I’m not in gray and toting a gun and killing Yankees is because I feel I’m doing the South a greater service by providing the Confederacy with good horses.”
He brought his feet down from where they had been propped on the table, the heels hitting the wooden floor loudly. “I’m also hurting the North by stealing from them and then selling what I steal right back to them.”
“Hell, don’t get mad with me. I feel the same way. I just wondered if you ever thought about the way you could be making money.”
Rance was quiet for a moment, then murmured, “I think of a lot of things.”
“Right now, I’ll bet you’re thinking about April and wondering if you’re doing the right thing in bringing her along. I thought she was hell-bent to get back to Alabama. How come she wants to stay?”
“I asked her to. She agreed. I guess she feels the same as I do, which is not knowing what she feels. There’s something between us that makes her want to find out which way we’re headed. If she goes home now, we’ll never know.”
Edward gulped down his drink and stood. “I reckon I’d better get to bed now. One more question?”
“You’re pushing your luck, Clark. I don’t like anybody nosing in my business.”
“Sorry. But I have to ask this. Do you love April?”
Rance stared at him, eyes narrowing. Finally, he said flatly, “I can’t say as I do. And I can’t say as I don’t. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“Makes sense to me. That’s the only person who’s supposed to understand. Do you follow me?”
“Yeah,” Edward laughed shortly and set his glass down before walking to the door. “It’s your way of saying I’ve stuck my nose in your business enough for one night.”
“Exactly.”
“See you in the morning.” He gave a snappy salute and walked out, grinning.
Rance poured himself another drink and went to stand at the window and stare out at the night. The storm had long ago abated, and a half moon had risen to cast a silvery sheen upon the sleeping city. A beautiful night. He wished April were still here. It had felt good to wrap his arms about her and feel her body snuggled next to him.
He thought about waking her and asking her to come back to his bed but decided against it. She needed to sleep. The White House activities had been exhausting for her. Let her rest. Tomorrow was only the beginning of many days together, with long nights of passion to follow.
With a confident smile on his lips, he went to his bed and lay down. One more night sleeping alone could be endured. All he had to do was think about what lay ahead with her in his arms.
It was good, he thought sleepily, that she had agreed to stay.
Because he had never intended to let her go, anyway.
Chapter Twenty
April could make out Trella in the other bed. She stood inside, her back pressed against the closed door, until she could hear the even breathing that told her the girl was sleeping soundly. Then she walked over and sat on her own bed, commanding her screaming brain to calm down, to think, to plan.
There could be no mistake this time. When Rance discovered her missing, he would search for her. There was enough time between now and dawn that she should be able to put much distance between them. Washington was a busy place, with many roads out. He would not know which she had taken, and that was in her favor. He would surmise that she was heading for Alabama, but that was a long way off, and he was caught up in his traitorous war activities. He might not have time to go after her.
And, she thought with a triumphant smile, this time she would be smart. No barging in at Pinehurst. She would not even prowl about to see what was going on. No, this time she would go into Montgomery and seek help there. If the authorities did not care enough to give her aid, then she would try again to get in touch with Uncle James. And maybe a minister would help—surely there would be someone to sympathize with her plight.
She would disguise herself. If Rance were angry enough to go after her, he would not have even the slightest chance of finding her, because she would be in disguise. The confidence surging through her made her smile. There was no need to stay a moment longer, to need to pack. She wanted nothing to remind her of this time with Rance.
She quickly donned a plain dress and then opened the door quietly and stepped into the hall. Glancing about, she moved quickly to the stairs and downward. To her left, in the main lobby, she could see a few people milling about. She would not take a chance on seeing anyone who might know her, remember her. It was far better to be unseen.
She turned to the right and made her way down the narrow, shadowy hallway past the kitchen, past the storage rooms, into the alley directly behind the hotel.
She stepped out into pitch darkness, bumped into a garbage barrel and sent an annoyed cat screaming to distant places.
She stiffened, commanded herself to calm down. A long night lay ahead, and excitement could cause mistakes. Perhaps the most formidable task would be just getting out of Yankee Washington. Women did not move about at night unescorted unless they were prostitutes. So, while she needed to cover as much distance as possible before morning, she knew she had to move carefully.
Pressing her back against the walls, she slowly ventured a few steps at a time, shuffling her feet along to feel her way and make sure no obstacle lay ahead. If she touched something, she was forced to move out a little and get around it, then press back into the shadows once again.
The silence was erupted by a woman’s shrill, drunken laughter. Just ahead, she saw her—standing in the doorway of a dilapidated building and holding a lantern above her head as she bade her customer good night. “You’re too good, soldier. I swear—I’ll be sore for a week. I ought to be paying you instead o’ the other way around.”
“Well, that can be arranged,” a man’s voice slurred. “But I know you’re only joshin’ me, girl. You got others a’waitin’.”
The door closed. April could not tell which way the soldier had gone. She held her breath and pressed herself as close against the building as possible. But where had he gone? She cursed him for the valuable time she was losing.
Then she heard the sound of a bottle smashing against the ground, followed by a loud oath. The door opened again, quickly, and the lantern the woman held illuminated the body of the soldier crumpled against the opposite wall in the alley.
“Well, you damn drunk, you can just spend the night there for all I care!” the woman snapped, annoyed. The door slammed, and darkness engulfed April’s world once again.
She breathed a sigh of relief. She’d had just enough of a glimpse of the drunken soldier to tell that he was out for the night. He would pose no threat to her. She began to move along once more.
She was almost opposite the spot where he had crumpled when the idea came to her. He wore a Yankee uniform! She was stripping out of her dress almost before she realized it, then fumbling in the dark to find him and began stripping off his clothes.
Removing his pants and shirt, she struggled into them, nose wrinkling at the odor of cheap booze and the faint reminder of what had just taken place between him and the woman. She hated putting on the soiled garments, but they would get her safely out of Washington. There was no other way.
She tucked her long blond hair up inside the man’s cap. Then she struggled into his boots, though they were much too large and would slip and slide uncomfortably. She would have to endure them, for she could not walk in bare feet, or wear her own slippers.
The drunken soldier snorted now and then but made no effort to resist. She left him lying in long-handled underwear, and stuffed her own clothes into a garbage barrel, making sure she went far enough down the alley that no one would suspect a woman had taken the soldier’s garments.
Leaving the alley several minutes later, she stayed on side roads, refraining from moving onto main thoroughfares where there would be people. When she felt she was far enough away from the hotel that Rance, should he awaken and discover her gone, would not know which direction she had taken, April ducked into a doorway to catch her breath and assess her plight.
It was with some irony that she admitted to herself that, in the process of making sure she would not be followed, she had lost her way! She now had no idea where she was.
The sound of footsteps caused her to glance up. Three soldiers passed beneath a streetlamp. They clung together, lurching and bumping, and she heard one say, “…hell to pay. Late…real late…”
They moved on, slowly, most likely heading for their camp. She decided to follow at a discreet distance. Perhaps she would be able to find out where she was, at which side of the city, so she would know which direction to take.
She had difficulty keeping up, even though the drunken soldiers moved slowly. Now and then they would stop for someone to be sick, and she would search quickly for a doorway in which to hide. But they had reached the outskirts of the city, and there were few doorways. Panic began to well in her as she thought of turning back. She surely did not want to talk to any Yankee soldiers, for her disguise would certainly be discovered.
A halo of light appeared as they topped a hill. Ducking behind a tree trunk, April peered out over a large campground. Tents dotted the landscape like sleeping birds, wings ready to fly should danger descend. Here and there campfires sent gray smoke twirling into the night. A sentry walked his post silently, crossing to and fro in front of the gate.
She watched as the three drunken men slowed their pace. One stumbled, fell, and the sentry was instantly alert, pointing his rifle in their direction and yelling, “Halt! Who’s there?” The trio quickly sang out their names, which company they belonged to, and the sentry called to someone nearby, “We got three drunks here.”
In a matter of seconds, other uniformed men were moving through the gates, taking the tardy, drunken soldiers in tow. April continued to watch, not knowing what to do next. Then she heard the rumble of a wagon passing through the gate, a soldier holding the reins. After being told what all the excitement was about, he snapped, “Well, let’s get this road cleared. I’ve got to get these supplies all the way to Maryland. We got wounded men down there—”
Maryland! South! The right direction. The words danced feverishly in April’s mind. She watched excitedly as the man got down off the wagon and moved to where one of the inebriated soldiers lay on the ground, heaving and gagging. No one was looking, and the wagon had stopped just beside a row of trees extending from the grove in which she was hiding. April did not really know how far Maryland was from Alabama. All that mattered was that the wagon was headed south.
She made her way along carefully, finally sprinting for the wagon. At last, she sprang quickly upward, clamped the back of the wagon with trembling hands, hoisted herself up, and dropped over among the cartons and boxes piled inside. Something jabbed her side painfully, and she ground her teeth together to keep from crying out. The commotion over the drunken soldiers had covered her drop into the wagon, but even so, the driver glanced back. Had she shaken the wagon? Would he come back to investigate? April held her breath, her heart pounding.
No, the driver was again berating the sentry for blocking the path. The two men argued while April got her breath back, and then the driver—Ryerson, the sentry had called him—shook the reins. The wagon lurched to a start.
April was extremely uncomfortable, but she dared not move about for fear of making the cartons fall. She forced herself to lie perfectly still, her body exhausted from her ordeal, lack of sleep, and anxiety.
After a while, it felt as though a part of her were sleeping, while the rest of her body were wide awake and would never sleep again. She stared upward into the darkness, and soon the images began—dancing, fluttering, vague, and vivid. She saw her father’s face, and Vanessa’s, and then, brighter and clearer than these, Rance appeared, desire shining in his eyes. He held out his arms, and everything within her cried out his name. She was moving toward him, her own desire melting through her body until she felt as though she no longer possessed a solid form, but rather a wild, weaving spirit seeking only the pleasure he alone could give.
But then, just as she reached his arms, felt herself being crushed against his chest, felt his eyes burning into hers, breath sweet and hot upon her face, his lips parted in that arrogant grin…his smile told her that he alone would possess her always…while she was nothing more to him than the satiation of his lust. That was all she would be, for as long as she pleased him.
He kissed her, long, hard, hungrily, and she whimpered with the passion he awakened. Then he was chuckling softly, thrusting her away, turning his back. He moved away, and she cried after him, but there was no sound except his laughter. He no longer wanted her.
She was left empty, alone, and anguished.
The sound of her own soft whimpering awakened her with a start. She lifted her head and glanced about, realizing sleep had come despite the overwhelming stress of the night. Had Ryerson heard any sounds? She was instantly alert. But the only sounds were the plodding hooves of the horses. The wagon had not slowed. He had not heard.
Suddenly, the sigh of relief that was about to escape her parted lips froze and terror made her cringe. Voices. Then she realized that she was hearing the sound of more horses than just the two pulling the wagon. Slowly, carefully, she raised up to peer over the pile of boxes. Up front, she could see nothing except the man holding the horses’ reins. Looking to the rear, she saw them—framed in the soft moonlight which filtered down through gentle clouds. Six soldiers riding two abreast directly behind them.
She sank back out of sight. Of course, there would be a patrol traveling with a supply wagon. How could she have been so stupid as to not think of an escort? Now that was going to make her situation much more difficult. She had planned to leap
from the wagon at the first opportunity toward dawn. Now it would be impossible without being seen by the escorting soldiers. There was no choice left but to remain hidden for as long as possible. And there was always the chance that she would be lucky and a chance to get away would come.
Now all weariness had left her as though washed away by cascades of rain. Alert. She had to be alert. If they found her, they would probably force her to leave, not caring that she would be stranded along the side of the road. Each turn of the wagon’s wheels put her that much closer to the Southland, where, she felt confident, help could be found much more easily than here in the enemy’s land.
“…bad. Just terrible. Lord, there’s no telling how many men we lost.”
She stiffened as the sound of the voice from behind the wagon drifted in.
“Yeah,” came another, sounding deeply concerned. “But think how bad it would’ve been if those two soldiers hadn’t found the orders. I’d hate to be in the Reb officer’s boots that lost them orders. And it was lucky for us there was an officer in General McClellan’s headquarters who could identify Lee’s assistant adjutant general’s handwriting, so McClellan would know the thing was genuine.”
Yet another voice chimed in. “It sure threw things into McClellan’s hands, finding out that Lee’s army was split into three separate fragments. Them orders told all about how the advance was at Hagerstown, Maryland…not too far from the Pennsylvania border, I’m told. Then there was another division sent back to a place called Turner’s Gap, to make sure none of our men got through. And then the rest of ’em was split into three wings that was going to try to surround and capture Harpers Ferry.”
The man who had spoken first cried, “Damnit, if McClellan coulda moved faster, we’d have won that damn battle. As it was, he broke through that gap and Lee was caught with his forces scattered. He still fought all day and didn’t give much ground.”
Passion's Fury Page 23
