Passion's Fury

by Patricia Hagan

  April could not believe what she was hearing. She fell back on her knees staring, openmouthed, as the woman’s tirade continued.

  “I got sent here because I was a spy for the Union. I’d do it again. But as long as I’m in this hellhole, I’m going to make the best of things, and that includes claiming Kaid Blackmon for my man. Sure, he may fool around with the rest of you once in a while, but ask any of them, and they’ll tell you it’s me he really likes to do it with.

  “I get the best of the food, and I get just about the best of anything that’s to be had around here, because it’s me he cares about. You’re pretty. No doubt about that. But just don’t think you’re going to move in and take over, ’cause you ain’t.”

  Ellison quickly walked back down the row. “You just won’t learn to shut up when I tell you to, will you, Jewel?” he cried, reaching to scoop her up roughly by her elbow and slap her once again. She tried to fight back, but he quickly twisted her arms behind her back with one hand, fastening his other hand in her hair. “I’m gonna teach you a lesson. In front of everybody. Now let’s just go over to that tree yonder and tie you up good, and then I’m gonna take off my belt and beat your worthless hide.”

  “No!” April clambered to her feet and began tugging at his arms. “Don’t do it! She wasn’t doing anything. You can’t!”

  He turned on her viciously. “You better stay out of this, woman, or you’ll get a beatin’, too. Now you get back to work.”

  “No, I won’t. She wasn’t doing anything.” She reached to grab a handful of his hair and jerk as hard as she could. With a cry of pain, he released Jewel and struck out to knock April away from him.

  “You’re gonna get it now, you slut—” He stepped toward her as she and Jewel backed away together.

  “No, she isn’t, Ellison.”

  April recognized Selma. She still looked pale and wan, but she was approaching, a shovel in her hand. “You aren’t going to do a thing to April, because if you do, Sergeant Blackmon will have your hide trussed up and beaten, and you know it. So why don’t you forget the whole thing and everybody get back to work?”

  He looked at them, red-faced, chest heaving. At last he took a deep breath and said hoarsely, “All right. Just get back to work. All of you.” He pointed a finger at Jewel. “I know you’re just upset about having a new girl around, so I’ll let you go this time. But you sass me again, bitch, and I’ll beat you so bad Blackmon won’t want to touch you for a month.”

  “Oh, go to hell!” Jewel dropped to her knees and began plucking at the weeds. This time she was unable to hold back the tears, and they began to stream down her face, mingling with the grime to make crooked muddy paths along her cheeks.

  Selma patted April on the back and murmured, “Come on over here and work with me. Jewel likes to keep to herself.”

  Jewel’s head whipped up, eyes flashing once more. “You’re damn right I do, and you just remember what I told you, woman. I catch you trying to play Kaid for a fool, and I’ll claw your goddamned eyes out.”

  “I…I wouldn’t…” April stammered helplessly.

  “Oh, come on. No point in arguing with her.” Selma led April away. When they had reached the far side of the field, she bent down and started jerking at the weeds, showing April how to do it.

  They heard a long, low whistle from a guard and looked up to see one of the women taking off her dress. Naked, she continued with her work, oblivious to the taunting remarks.

  April was aghast. “How can she?”

  Selma laughed softly, bitterly. “You got a lot to learn, honey. When the sun beats down and your skin sticks to your dress, you’re glad to come out of it. Besides, these guards have seen everything we got, anyway. It don’t matter.”

  “It…it does to me,” April cried, frightened.

  “It won’t after you’ve been here awhile. You get to the point where nothing matters and you don’t even give a damn if you wake up in the morning. Welcome to Hell, honey, ’cause if this ain’t it, then there ain’t one.”

  Incredulously, April glanced around and saw several other women prisoners giving in to the torturous rays of the sun. They, too, stepped out of their clothing.

  “How can the Confederate government allow this?” she whispered in anguish.

  “The government don’t know the conditions here,” Selma answered. “They think Tarboro prison is a nice little agricultural farm for women prisoners. They’d have Blackmouth’s head on a platter if they knew the shit that goes on here. Why do you think he keeps a guard posted on that road out of here? It sure ain’t ’cause he worries that one of us is going to escape. He wants to make sure he gets warned if a surprise visitor shows up.

  “Things are different when there’s a visitor, you can bet on that. All of a sudden we get our undies back, and suddenly everything becomes pleasant. The visitors see a happy bunch of women doing easy little chores and living good. And we know better than to let them know otherwise, because the sergeant would see anybody dead that squealed on him.

  “You see,” she went on, yanking at the weeds as she talked, seemingly oblivious to the blood oozing from her hands as the thorns pricked her flesh, “Blackmouth has it made, and he knows it. He lives pretty easy, and he’s got a woman any time he wants one. As ugly as he is, you know he has a hard time finding one on the outside. He’s also out of the fighting, and he don’t have to worry about getting his guts blown to hell on a battlefield. The soldiers under him know they’ve got a nice setup, too.”

  “But the…the women,” April stuttered, still astonished. “What about when their time is up? Don’t they report him then?”

  Selma laughed harshly. “Now who do you think they’d believe? A respected Confederate officer or an ex-prisoner? Besides, not too many ever get out of here. If Blackmouth figures he can’t trust somebody, they just disappear.”

  “Oh, God.” April fell forward on her hands, shaking her head from side to side. “You…you’re talking about murder.”

  “That’s strong language, honey. I’m talking about ‘accidents,’ you know? Like falling in quicksand or getting bit by a moccasin. Those things do happen.”

  “But what if a woman…you know…gets in the family way? Wouldn’t the government wonder how she got that way here?”

  Selma shrugged. “It happens. They just keep her tucked away till she has the baby. Then they take the baby away someplace. There are lots of women who’ve never been able to have their own, and they’re glad to get one.”

  She jerked her head toward a soldier who was approaching them, a scowl on his face. “Look, we’re doing too much talking. They do beat your hide around here for not working, so let’s get busy. We’ll have all the time in the world for talking later, honey, ’cause believe me, you ain’t going nowhere.”

  April forced her trembling hands to reach out and grab at the weeds, pausing now and then to swat at the gnats that swarmed her face, or to brush at the sweat that dripped from her forehead to sting her eyes.

  Welcome to Hell, she thought in anguish, for surely she had died and been sucked into the very pits of Hades.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  April lay on the rough canvas cot, tossing and turning now and then as the relentless humidity of the night caused her to itch and prickle. Now and then a mosquito’s incessant whine would cause her to slap out wildly in the darkness.

  No breeze stirred through either of the two windows, and they were not allowed to have the door open at night. Snakes, Sergeant Blackmon had said. In the daytime, they could be on alert for the silent black snakes that roamed out of the swamps every now and then.

  Her hands stung from the thorns and blisters suffered working in the fields. Her muscles ached painfully. Selma had told her that she would get used to it, but almost a month had passed since arriving at Tarboro, and she still suffered the miseries of the damned.

  In the distance, she could hear the sounds of shrill laughter caught on the wind. Each night, it was the same. Aft
er they had eaten supper and taken their baths, the guards would come in, one by one, and select the woman of their choice for the night. Some of them actually seemed pleased at being chosen, but, for the most part, they resisted.

  She thought of little Redora Grimsley, hardly more than a child. Fourteen, she said she was, as best as she could remember. She had come to Tarboro only a week after April’s arrival, having been caught slipping through the enemy lines at night to forage for the Yankees. Though not exceptionally pretty, she had such wide brown innocent eyes that she seemed adorable. A sprinkling of freckles across her upturned nose accentuated her youthful look.

  She was from a small town in Pennsylvania. Her father had been killed in one of the first battles of the war, and her mother had died that winter of the fever, though Redora suspected her heart was broken and she gave up the will to live. Having no family, Redora was befriended by a Union soldier, who promised to take care of her. He had, she told them firmly, promised to marry her when the war was over. In this time of turmoil, with the cloud of death always looming over everyone, she saw nothing wrong in giving herself to him wholly, to prove the love that quickly grew in her.

  When Jasper Wiley was killed in a battle, Redora told April and Selma, sobbing brokenly, the rest of his regiment kept her with them. They were her friends and Jasper’s, and they wanted to look after her. Besides, she said, there were things she could do, like cooking and cleaning utensils, doing laundry for the soldiers. She even learned to clean their guns. They never touched her “that way,” she swore, out of respect for Jasper.

  Then the soldiers found themselves cut off from the rest of their company. It was Redora’s idea to sneak through the woods and steal food for them from the Rebels until they could find their way back to their own lines. If captured, she was sure she could convince the enemy that she was merely lost and trying to find her way home. Unfortunately for everyone, she was discovered. The Rebels suspected the truth, so they followed her, capturing her friends and charging her with spying. She was quickly shipped off to Tarboro prison.

  She was left alone the first two nights, but then Private Ellison came for her. She had screamed and fought, and even though they were slapped and shoved aside, Selma and April tried to save her. He had called other guards to hold them back while he took the shrieking girl away. During the seemingly endless night that followed, they heard Redora scream…and they knew what torment she was enduring.

  The next morning, the fresh, innocent look was gone from Redora’s eyes. She looked older, wiser, bitter. And after that night, Redora never smiled anymore. It grieved April to watch the girl wither, like a flower plucked and tossed aside.

  She still struggled when they came for her, just as she had tonight, but not fiercely, for she was no match for them.

  April heard another shrill laugh. On the next cot, Selma muttered, “That’s not Redora. We’ll never hear her enjoying it. That’s probably that whore, Jewel. She always makes a lot of noise, hoping Blackmon will hear and get jealous.”

  April folded her arms behind her head and stared into the darkness thoughtfully. “Why does she care about him, Selma?” she asked. “Do you think she loves him?”

  “I don’t know,” came the sighing reply. “He’s chosen her more than any of the others. Once or twice he’s even taken her for a wagon ride on Sunday afternoon. I’ve seen them laughing some together. You know, he’s really not so bad when you catch him in the right mood. Unfortunately, that isn’t very often.”

  “Mmmm,” April considered. “He’s taken my dog away from me. Lucky would rather be with him than me. I always heard to be leery of a man a dog doesn’t like.”

  “Blackmouth’s got a mean streak to be sure, but maybe he’s always kind to Lucky. Who knows? But one thing I do know—he’s sweet on you. What I can’t figure out, though, is how come he never sends for you to go to his cabin. Hasn’t he ever tried anything?”

  April had never confided to Selma about that first day, when Kaid had been about to rape her, then stopped abruptly with no explanation. It had been so strange, and somehow she could not bring herself to talk about it. He had acted oddly since. He spoke gruffly to her, ordering her about like the other prisoners, but when he thought she was not looking, she would catch him staring at her with a tender look on his face.

  “No,” she lied, finally answering Selma’s question. “He hasn’t.”

  She heard her sigh, then, “Well, he will sooner or later. He’s been acting downright weird lately. He’s always taken the new ones for himself for a few weeks. First it was you he left alone, then Redora. Something funny is going on, and Jewel’s noticing, too. That’s why she’s out there screeching like a cat, hoping he’ll hear and get jealous, like I said.”

  “It could be Redora.”

  “No, whoever’s making that noise is enjoying it. Redora would be crying.”

  They fell silent. April closed her eyes and tried to sleep but, as always, miserable worries prevented slumber from coming easily. And, as happened so often, Rance Taggart invaded her thoughts. Memories of kisses like warm sweet wine caused her to lick her lips in ecstatic remembrance.

  “April?”

  Her eyes flashed open, blinded momentarily by the sudden illumination. Terror prickled through her body.

  “Come with me, darlin’.”

  “No!” she cried out, involuntarily.

  From the next cot, Selma spoke nervously. “Go with him, honey. Don’t make a fuss.”

  April knew she had no choice. She stumbled along, and when they reached his cabin, Kaid Blackmon set the lantern down on a table just inside the door, then told her to go and lie down on the bed.

  She did as she was told, pulling up a blanket to cover herself. She could hear the sounds of his boots hitting the floor and movements as he undressed.

  “Look at me!”

  She cringed.

  “I told you to look at me!” With his lips mere inches from her own, he spoke in a strained, ragged voice. “Tell me I’m not ugly. Tell me you like me, April. Tell me you want me to make love to you.”

  “I can’t,” she screamed. “Damn you, I won’t say those things to you! I won’t!”

  “I’ll make you want me! I’ll make you want to love me.”

  Then, suddenly, just like the other time, he moved abruptly away from her.

  He stumbled across the cabin, this time throwing himself on the floor and beating on it, sobbing, his huge body heaving.

  April huddled under the blanket and continued to stare. What could have happened to this man?

  Finally, he sat up and sighed. “It’s you doing it to me, darlin’.”

  “Me?” April blinked.

  “You’re different from any woman I ever wanted before.”

  His voice broke, and he jerked his head to one side so she could not see the tears. “Damnit, girl, I must be in love with you. I can’t stand the thought of…doing anything that might hurt you…anything you don’t want me to do.”

  He forced himself to look at her once again. “I don’t even want another woman. I could have Jewel or any of them whores, but I don’t want ’em. I want you, because I love you. But when it comes right down to couplin’ with you, something inside just won’t let me. I’ve never had this happen to me before, never, and I’ve been bustin’ women since I was twelve years old and found out what this thing was good for.”

  April winced, embarrassed.

  “You’ve gotta understand me,” he went on miserably, searching her face for some sign of understanding. “You think I like being ugly? You think I like being so big? I can’t help the way I am. I’m not ugly, inside. Leastways, I don’t try to be.”

  He took a long swallow from his jug of popskull. “If I was good-lookin’, you wouldn’t want to throw up every time I touch you, would you? You’d want me to sling you down on that bed and really put it to you.”

  Suddenly, April had had enough. She quickly got to her feet, anger giving her the courage to face hi
m. “It wouldn’t make any damn difference to me if you were the handsomest man on earth, Kaid Blackmon! Did you ever stop to think that maybe I’m not a whore? That maybe I don’t want you to ‘put it to me,’ as you so crudely call it? That I just don’t want you or any other man raping me? If I loved you, then your looks wouldn’t matter. Do you understand me? Can you stop feeling sorry for yourself long enough to understand?”

  He blinked in surprise.

  “You mean you could care about me if I treated you like a lady? It wouldn’t matter to you if I was ugly?”

  She shook her head frantically, wanting to tell him that was not exactly what she had meant, but not wanting to hurt his feelings.

  “I won’t try to do it to you again, April.” He reached for her hand, but she snatched it away. He went on quickly, “I can make you want me. I know I can. I’ll be good to you. I won’t make you work in the fields no more. We’ll spend some time together, me and you, and it won’t make no difference what the others think. You’re the woman I’ve always wanted all my life…a real lady. And I’m gonna make you love me, like I love you. I swear I am.”

  He reached out and pulled her down to sit beside him once more, stroking her long golden hair back from her face lovingly as she sat rigidly still. “Before the war,” he said quietly, “I was a blacksmith. You know what that is? It’s a person that makes horseshoes. I was good at it, too, because I’ve got big arms, and I can stand the heat of the fire. Then when the war broke out, I wanted to do my part. Didn’t have no family. Ma died when I was little, and I can’t remember having no pa.”

  He sighed, reaching for her hand once more, and this time she allowed him to take it. “I was powerful lonesome, April, and now I know why. All those women I tussled with, night after night, them actin’ like they loved it, squealin’ and clawin’ and kickin’ their legs in the air and diggin’ their heels in my back—it was all an act. I know that now. With you, it’d be different. I know it would. You’d never put on an act. You’re a lady.”