Passion's Fury

by Patricia Hagan

  “It’s going to be over in just a few days, honey,” he said tightly, stroking her long golden hair, pausing now and then to brush his lips against hers. Then he moved his hand to her swollen belly, eyebrows raising in wonder. “He’s going to be here soon, isn’t he?”

  She nodded, smiling. “A month, maybe. According to the other women.”

  “Then we’re going home.” He got to his feet and pulled her up and into his arms. Together, they walked to the edge of the mountain and stared down. “It may be a while in coming, but this land will know peace one day. We’ll be a part of it. So will our child.

  “Are you ready?” he asked her then, gazing down at her with so much love that she trembled, feeling it penetrate to her soul. “Are you ready to go home and have our baby?”

  “Anywhere,” she murmured tremulously, as his lips came closer. “Anywhere, my darling, with you.”

  They stood there, among the flowers, smiling at one another. And the white shaggy dog chased a butterfly through the forest, sensing his master and mistress needed time alone.

  No one, the wind seemed to whisper, cries among the flowers.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Rance would not urge the horses pulling the buckboard to move any faster, despite April’s anxious prodding.

  “It will take days to get home moving this slowly,” she complained, wriggling impatiently on the splintered wooden plank seat.

  He glanced at her in amusement. “You want the baby born at Pinehurst, don’t you? If I bounce you around any more I’ll be delivering the baby myself. And I don’t think I’d be any good at that.”

  His bandaged leg was propped up, and now and then pain crossed his face. “It’s bad, isn’t it?” she asked quietly. “Your leg. It hurts, doesn’t it?”

  “I told you it will heal in time. There’s no gangrene. I’m thankful for that. Someday maybe a surgeon will come along who’s smart enough to dig the bullet out without shattering the bone. Till then, I guess you’re just going to have to put up with a husband who walks a bit stiff-legged.”

  She leaned over to kiss his cheek, laughing as her bonnet slipped and she quickly reached for it. The sun was scorching and she was tired, but she would not complain. They were going home! After the hell they had both endured in the past four years, nothing would mar this journey.

  Familiar fields and forests were green and still, and an unearthly quiet hung over the land. Death was in the air—the death of the Confederacy—death of the South as they had known it. “Is there no hope?”

  He shook his head grimly. “We will hear one day soon that Lee has surrendered. It’s over, April.”

  “We aren’t surrendering,” she said with a stubborn tilt to her head, folding her hands across her swollen abdomen. “I will never admit defeat. I will never let my children or my grandchildren say that the South was defeated by the damn Yankees.”

  Chuckling, he turned to look at her. He loved the expression on her face when her mind was set and nothing could change it. “And what, my darling, will you tell them?”

  “That we just got tired of killing Yankees and quit fighting.”

  He roared with laughter, but she glared at him so angrily that he forced himself to stop. She meant it, by God, he realized in wonder. Like thousands of other Southerners, she would never be able to accept the fact that the Confederacy had been soundly whipped.

  And he wondered about that, himself. Had there been enough food, enough ammunition, then the story would have been quite different. What would future generations have to say about the war? A hundred years from now, what would be the impact of the North’s victory upon America? He would long be in his grave, but perhaps, there might be a way of knowing. Who could say what happened after death? Was there awareness? Whenever such thoughts found their way into his mind, he pushed them aside, for the attempt to comprehend was overwhelming.

  They occasionally passed a house still standing, then passed a smoke-blackened ruin. No cattle lowed and no birds sang here.

  “I liked it better on the mountain,” she said, whispering, for the grim scene seemed to demand silence.

  “We’re going to see evidence of plundering Yankees, April. Let’s just hope they didn’t reach Pinehurst.”

  “And what of Vanessa?”

  “When we reach Montgomery, I’m going to go to whatever government is there and ask what’s the proper thing to do. You will have the family ring to prove your ownership. I have money buried back on the mountain to pay any taxes due. I hear that’s how the Yankees will take our land, if we can’t pay the taxes. And you can bet there will be plenty of Southerners who won’t be able to come up with anything. The Yankees will be swarming down here like vultures after bodies on the battlefields.”

  “I wish you had brought the money with you. I know I won’t feel like riding back, and I don’t want to be alone.”

  “You won’t be. I’m going to find a midwife to stay with you. And I couldn’t bring the money. It’s pure gold, and I am not riding into Montgomery with pure gold. Right now I just want to get you home. Then I’ll worry about other things.”

  He was silent for a moment, tugging at his beard. Finally, he looked at her somberly and said, “If Vanessa is there, I’ll deal with her. She’s insane, and I don’t trust her around you.”

  “You mean if she’s still living at Pinehurst, you’ll ask her to leave?” She shook her head. “Oh, Rance, I can’t do that to my sister. Where would she go?”

  “Damnit, woman, why do you care?” he yelled, unable to control his temper. “What has that bitch got to do to you for you to realize just how goddamn mean she is? She’d kill you and never bat an eye. I don’t want to hear one word out of you about how I handle her if she’s there. Do you understand me?”

  She nodded, aware that no amount of pleading could sway him when he was riled. His strength of character was admirable, but she often found it annoying to have it directed at her so forcibly.

  In midafternoon, Rance turned from the main road onto a deeply corrugated clay road. The horses were barely moving, for the way was rough. In the distance was an old cabin of rotten logs, several having fallen out, giving the structure a precarious lurch to one side.

  “We’re going to have to ask for shelter,” he explained to her. “You need the rest. Let’s pray there’s food to be shared.”

  A woman, old beyond her years, appeared in the doorway. Her faded dress hung shapelessly on her thin body. Behind her, five small children peered out curiously.

  Rance introduced April and himself, then said, “My wife, as you can see, is in the family way, and we need a night’s sleep before continuing on our way. If you could oblige us, I’ll go into the woods and hunt for our supper.”

  The woman’s deeply shadowed eyes stared at them without interest. She shrugged, then said tonelessly, “Lost my man at Gettysburg. Lost one son up in Tennessee. Another in The Wilderness, two more in Atlanta. Ain’t got much. You’re welcome to what I do have.”

  Rance and April exchanged looks of shared sorrow for the pitiful woman. Then he helped her from the wagon, took his musket, and headed for the woods.

  They ate the four rabbits he killed for supper, and the woman, Mrs. Mattie Kirkwood, offered them corn cakes and fried dove eggs.

  There was little conversation. The children were quiet, subdued, retiring to their worn pallets on the floor as soon as supper was finished. Mrs. Kirkwood could offer not even a blanket, but Rance had a worn one in the back of the wagon. April slept in the curve of his arm, uncomfortable on the hard clay floor, her back aching from the weight of the child.

  They were on their way at sunrise, having eaten more dove eggs and fried salt pork.

  They reached Montgomery at noon. Rance immediately went to the office of the provost marshal and returned with the grim, final news that on April 9, General Lee had surrendered to General Grant near Appomattox Court House in Virginia.

  The bloody war was over. The Army of Northern Virginia had s
tacked their muskets before silent lines of federal soldiers. Lee’s surrender left Johnston and his Army of Tennessee with no place to go. On April 26, near Durham, North Carolina, General Johnston surrendered to General Sherman.

  April could not cry. In the four years of hell, there had been too many tears. And tears would not change any of the anguish. She carried a new life within her, soon to be born, and it was a new life that she and Rance were seeking. No, she would not cry.

  “We’d best be getting to Pinehurst,” she said softly, reaching to touch his arm as though to reassure herself that he was still beside her…would always be. “We’ve much to do, and I must know whether it still stands.”

  “I found out that the Yankees didn’t do too much plundering around here. Right now, I’m going to use what money I did bring to try and buy food and supplies. Then I’ve got to find a midwife to stay with you so I can return to the mountain for the gold. Edward was staying to help the others get their things together and make plans to return home. Some of them may be wanting to come here, to live at Pinehurst, if their own homes have been destroyed, or if they’re afraid to return.”

  “I’ve told them they will be welcome,” she assured him. “There’s much work to be done, and we’ll need all the help we can get. If we hurry and plant now, and get some cows and hogs, we can have food for all.”

  It did not take long for Rance to find an old Negro woman who was delighted to stay with April in exchange for food and shelter.

  Jessie was a freed slave. She had stayed on at the Atlanta plantation where she was born until Sherman burned it. Her husband was dead and her children were grown and scattered. She remembered having cousins in Montgomery. Rance and April were amazed that she had found her way to Alabama, for she could neither read nor write and had been eating out of trash barrels and sleeping in barns.

  “You’ll be just fine with Jessie lookin’ after you,” she said with a grateful grin as she heaved her body up into the back of the wagon. “And if’n a doctor ain’t around when yo’ time comes, Jessie can birth that baby. I birthed maybe hunnerds o’ babies in my lifetime.”

  April glanced nervously at Rance, and he gave her a reassuring smile as he whispered, “I won’t be gone over a few days, sweetheart. Then I’ll be back with the others. Don’t worry. You said the other women figure you have another month to go.”

  “The way I feel now,” she responded wearily, “I can’t make it another day.”

  He patted her knee and gave the reins a snap to start the horses. “You’ll feel better when we get you home.”

  Soon they rounded the last curve before the mansion would come into view, and April squeezed her eyes shut and held her breath.

  “We’re here!” Rance cried triumphantly.

  Only then did she look, shrieking with joy at the sight of the stately columnar house still standing regally upon the bill, still a sentinel of awesome beauty overseeing everything within its realm.

  The grounds were still unkempt, but that was of no consequence. All that mattered was that the Yankees had not destroyed her home.

  “Will you go faster?” she cried excitedly. “Oh, Rance, I can’t believe it—”

  From the rear, Jessie saw the awesome house and exclaimed, “Lawdy, what a big place. Why that’s bigger’n what my mastah had over in Atlanta. I sho’ hope you gonna get some mo’ help, ’cause I’ll never be able to take care of that big place by myself.”

  Rance laughed and told her not to worry. “We’ll clean up living quarters on the first floor and worry about the rest after the baby comes.”

  The moment the wagon stopped in front of the wide marble steps, April tried to stand up, but he held her back, snapping, “Will you wait till I get down first and help you, April? Try to remember you’re in a delicate condition.”

  “How can I forget?” She grinned, trembling with joy. She was home at last! Home! How wonderful the moment.

  He lifted her to the ground, then kept a protective arm about her as they walked slowly up the steps. Jessie hung back, staring about in awe.

  They found the front doors locked, but April remembered that a key was always hidden in a large stone urn at the end of a porch. The rose bush once held by the urn was now blackened.

  Unlocking the door, April hurried inside, glancing about excitedly in the semidarkness. There was an overwhelming musty smell, but she cried, “The furniture is still here. The Yankees didn’t come at all! I’ll have to check on the silver, and—” Her voice trailed off as her gaze dropped to the dark stain on the oak floor in the parlor. The memory of Kaid Blackmon’s body lying there, blood oozing from the wound in his throat, made her shudder. Sensing her thoughts, Rance placed his arm about her shoulders in a protective, comforting gesture.

  April turned toward the stairs, struggling to dismiss the awful past. “It…it looks lived in,” she said.

  “Of course, it’s lived in, you fool. I live here. It’s my home!”

  They stared upward to see Vanessa on the landing, blue eyes luminous with rage. Her knuckles showed white as she gripped the dusty mahogany railing. Long golden hair was tousled about her flushed face.

  April could not speak. Rance’s arm tightened about her. Vanessa was wearing a green satin dressing gown, which she boldly allowed to fall open, exposing her naked breasts. He pretended not to notice as he spoke quietly, ominously. “This is not your home, Vanessa. It’s April’s. Mine and April’s. Get your things and get out. You have brought enough misery to this place.”

  Vanessa laughed shrilly, tossing her head, her hair flying about wildly. “So you want me to get out, do you? We shall see about that, you arrogant cripple.” She gestured towards his bandaged leg. “This house is mine. Everyone knows that. It is you and that snit who shall leave. At once.”

  “I understand there is a family heirloom to prove the claim. Do you have that ring, Vanessa?” he challenged.

  She answered coolly. “Why don’t you leave before you force me to have you arrested?”

  “Vanessa, don’t make me drag you out of here bodily.” He took a step forward. “I’m not going to argue with you. The war is over and—”

  “Yes, it is, isn’t it?” she cried gleefully. “The Union won, and you’re nothing but a dirty Rebel. A traitor to the noble Union. I think there is someone you should meet, before you continue threatening me in my own home.”

  She turned slightly, her eyes still fastened upon him, glittering. “Ernest,” she called. “Would you come here, please? There’s a dirty Rebel down here making threats. I think he needs to be reminded just who won the war, and then be properly chastised.”

  Rance motioned for April to step into the parlor, and she complied, frightened to see him draw his sword. Soon a tall, thin man appeared and stood beside Vanessa, bare-chested, wearing only the blue trousers of his federal uniform. Rance was standing at the foot of the stairs, legs wide apart, sword held tightly, ready for confrontation.

  Vanessa pointed. “See? He draws his weapon against a Union man. Take him to prison or whatever it is you do with die-hard Rebels who refuse to admit the war is over and make threats against private citizens.”

  Rance sized the man up immediately. His Adam’s apple was bobbing up and down nervously. It was obvious that he wanted no fight. Had he been backed up by other soldiers, it might have been different.

  “I’m Lieutenant Gant.” The stranger spoke in a thin voice, eyes fearful as he sized up Rance. “What seems to be the trouble here?”

  Before Vanessa could repeat her complaint, he spotted April peering out the parlor door. “Who’s she?” he demanded, eyebrows raising. “Why, she looks just like you—”

  “She’s my twin sister,” responded Vanessa with venom in her tone. “My father disowned her years ago. Now she’s come back with this Rebel trash to make trouble. Get rid of them both.”

  Rance moved to end the situation. He advanced slowly toward the stairway and said, “I’ve no quarrel with you, Lieutenant, and this has n
othing to do with you being a Yankee and me being a Rebel. I don’t know who you are or why you’re here, but this woman is my wife, and she is the legal heir to this property and can prove it. Your friend here has no proof of ownership, I assure you. If you want trouble, it’s trouble you’ll get. And unless you have a real interest in that slut you’re standing with, I’d suggest you get your blue belly out of here about as fast as those skinny legs of yours will carry you.”

  Lieutenant Gant whirled and disappeared from sight, and Vanessa screamed after him, “You come back here, you gutless coward. Don’t you run out on me after all I’ve done for you.”

  Gant was back in seconds, yanking on his shirt, fastening the buttons with nervous fingers. Without looking at Rance, he told Vanessa, “Look, we’re getting out of here. You told me you had claim to this property, and that man down there seems to think he can prove you don’t. I can get in a hell of a mess with the Union brass if I hang around here and get mixed up in a family brawl. We’re supposed to occupy this territory peacefully. So I’m leaving, and you can go with me or stay and fight your own battle.”

  They locked eyes, each blistering with anger. Then Vanessa threw hating glares at Rance and April in turn and cried, “I’ll go, damn you, but I’ll be back. I’ll be back to stay.”

  The Lieutenant slung her roughly down the hall, and she reached out to steady herself lest she lose her balance and fall. “You get your stuff together and do it fast,” he snapped. “I told you, I’m not getting mixed up in all this. I thought something funny was going on all along.”

  Boots in hand, he hurried down the stairs to Rance. “Look, whatever your name is—”

  “Taggart. Captain Taggart. Confederate States Army…or was,” he said unwaveringly.

  “Captain Taggart.” Gant ran his fingers through his hair, nodding apologetically toward April. “Look, I am sorry about all this. Vanessa…Miss Jennings…opened this place to the Union army. She allowed soldiers to stay here, cooked for them. She said she was a sympathizer. All the servants had left, she said, and she was alone. She and I…well, we sort of got together, understand?”