Ashes in the Wind

by Kathleen E. Woodiwiss

  It was the eighth night that Cole had been at the hospital, and for the eighth night in a row, Roberta had retired to her room to wail herself to sleep, making it virtually impossible for anyone else to find the peace of slumber until she had.

  Sipping from a glass of buttermilk, Alaina strolled musefully across the foyer and paused at the door of the parlor to glance about the empty room. It was no more than eight in the evening, but the Craighughs had retired to their bedroom for the night, perhaps hopeful they could forget their troubles for a brief time or, behind their closed doors, reduce the noise of Roberta’s bawling.

  Alaina stopped, her bare foot poised upon the first step of the stairs, as the clip-clop of a horse’s hooves leisurely rang on the cobbled drive. Peeking out the narrow window beside the front door, she saw the gold-trimmed blue of a Yankee officer’s uniform.

  “Cole!” Her mind raced. “He’s finally coming!”

  Alaina quickly checked her appearance in the ornate mirror hanging in the foyer. The boy, Al, wrinkled his nose back at her, much in repugnance, and for an added touch, Alaina held the glass to her lips, raising it high until she had a wide, buttermilk mustache to sport. Grimacing at herself, she mussed her hair, then sauntered to the front door. Casually she opened it and leaned against its frame to watch the captain dismount and hitch his horse to the post.

  “Thought ya’d deserted us,” Al commented brashly. “And by all that yowling Roberta’s a-doing, I guess she figgered the same.”

  Cole glanced at Al sharply, pulled the saddlebags off his horse, and threw them over his shoulder without comment.

  Alaina was in such a mood to extend his discomfort to the limit. “That caterwauling’s been going on for eight days now—night and day.” She shrugged lamely. “Ain’t seen ya that much at the hospit’l to be sure ya was even around. Why, ya mighta gone someplace. Maybe upriver! Even clear to Minnesotee!”

  “Wipe your mouth,” Cole said tersely, striding past her to enter the foyer.

  Alaina backed around to lean against the wall, eyeing him speculatively as he laid the saddlebags in a chair. “Cain’t rightly see why ya’d come back to that bawling.” She nodded in the direction of Roberta’s bedroom where the wailing loudly continued. “But then, I ain’t sure jes’ how ya managed it all after I put ya to bed that night. You was drunk as an old coot. Why, ya nearly drowned me in the watering trough befo’ I gotcha in the house.”

  Cole peered obliquely at the tousled-haired youth, recalling for himself a small memory of that event. “Seems to me you were intent upon drowning me.”

  “Ah-ha! So ya do remember!” Alaina chortled boyishly and swaggered forth toward the well-groomed captain, hooking her slim thumbs in her rope belt and looking him up and down. “Weren’t so high and dandy that night, ya weren’t. In fact, as I recollect, ya looked pretty damned stupid—for a Yankee sawbones.”

  Cole chafed beneath the lad’s gloating pleasure. “You haven’t wiped your mouth,” he reminded curtly.

  Alaina drummed her fingers against her hips. “What I’m wondering is, would ya’ve rather stayed in the river now that ya find yerself hitched and all.”

  “Don’t be absurd!” Cole snapped.

  Alaina caught the uneasy, almost imperceptible glance he cast toward his bride’s chamber from which flowed Roberta’s droning whine. “Ya can relax,” she assured him impertinently. “Robbie’s almost finished. Cain’t go on much longer.”

  Cole patted his pockets as if he had forgotten something and glanced about him.

  “Ya ain’t looking for an excuse to leave, are ya? I told ya, you can relax.”

  Cole shot the urchin a glare. “Don’t you ever stop talking?”

  His rebuff brought a cackle of glee from Al. “Kinda touchy, ain’tcha?”

  Cole opened his mouth to retort, but before he could utter a word, Roberta’s bedroom door was snatched open, and the woman appeared. Catching sight of only Alaina above the balustrade, she frowned. “I thought I heard voices—”

  Then she saw Cole. With a glad cry, she flew down the stairs, unheedful of her skimpy silk nightgown that strained into transparency across her bosom. She threw herself into his arms and smothered him with ecstatic kisses.

  “Oh, Cole! Darling! I’ve been so worried about you.”

  Painfully Alaina averted her eyes from the exuberant bride greeting her groom. She wanted to be a thousand miles from where she was now, anyplace but here witnessing this.

  Cole glanced at the urchin’s forbidding back. There was almost a cringing attitude about the small shoulders, and he could see only one cause. “Roberta, we seem to be embarrassing the boy.”

  “What boy?” Roberta seemed genuinely perplexed until Alaina’s brooding gray eyes turned, then she laughed gaily. “Oh, him! Why, I guess I was so thrilled when I saw you, Cole, that I just didn’t stop to think.” She feigned a blush as she passed a hand across her bosom, leading his eyes to the ripe, swelling fullness. In the past days she had been plagued by one fear, and that was the flaw in their marriage vows; they were unconsummated. She had worried that Alaina would fly to Cole and tell everything. After all, the twit had fallen into bed with him when he was too drunk to know what he was doing. She wouldn’t put it past her cousin to go a step further and try to separate them.

  Now that the consummation was only moments away, Roberta’s dark eyes gleamed tauntingly at Alaina, boasting of the victory she had won. The younger cousin faced away again and disconcertedly jammed her hands in her pants pockets while Roberta crooned to Cole.

  “Come, darling.” She slipped her arm within his. “You must be exhausted.”

  “I should stable my horse.”

  “Nonsense! Al can do that.” She threw a coy wave over her shoulder as Alaina glanced at her sharply. “He’s good at it.”

  After a restless night, Alaina rose at her usual time and glumly donned her dirty garb. She avoided the mirror as she rubbed the soot from the fireplace onto her face and arms, not wanting to see her red-rimmed eyes and be reminded of the tears she had shed during the night. Like a coward, she had buried her head beneath a pillow for most of the night, fearful that some sound might venture from Roberta’s bedroom and remove any doubt as to the activity of the newly wedded couple.

  Solemnly Alaina made her way down to the kitchen, her heavy boots dragging. The aroma of hot biscuits, mingled with the surprising but deeply appreciated smell of strong, savory coffee, hit her as she pushed through the door. Her amazement mounted still further when she saw Cole sitting at the table. She had thought that he would sleep late this morning and not return to the hospital immediately. But he was already dressed and ready to meet the day. At least, that was her first impression, until she drew nearer. He had not even glanced up when she came into the kitchen, and as she pulled out a chair across the table from him, she saw that he was so preoccupied with his thoughts that he was stirring an empty cup, while he stared unblinkingly into the crackling fire that blazed in the hearth. Her questioning eyes turned to Dulcie who shrugged in bewilderment.

  Cole had obviously brought the coffee, and he seemed in the greatest need of it. Thinking to be helpful, Alaina fetched the pot and poured the black liquid into his cup. She had never seen him so engrossed in his musings before, and she couldn’t help watching him. But in the next instant, Cole was torn painfully from his trance as his stirring overturned the cup, spilling scalding liquid into his lap. He yelped and shot to his feet, wiping furiously at his lap with a napkin, while Alaina gaped at him.

  “What are you trying to do, you young fool! Make a damn eunuch of me?” Cole shouted. The wool of his uniform was still steaming, and in considerable discomfort, he was nearly dancing.

  Unable to think of anything better, Alaina grabbed a bucket of cold water and threw it on him where the coffee had spilled. It was a full moment before Cole released his breath. He glared at Al menacingly, while Dulcie beat a tactful retreat, her hand clutched over her grinning mouth. It was a rare day one could
douse a Yankee and get away with it.

  “I’m sorry,” Alaina shrugged lamely, drawing herself up into an even smaller form. “I didn’t know ya was gonna do that! You just looked like ya needed some coffee.”

  “I don’t think I can bear any more of your favors,” Cole growled, jerking open the buttons of his blouse.

  “All right!” Alaina’s own ire rose at his apparent ungratefulness. “Next time I’ll leave ya in the river.”

  “I might fare better,” Cole muttered and winced as he picked at the wet fabric covering his groin. “Hell! I’ve been burned to the core.”

  Alaina’s cheeks took on a vivid hue of red. “Guess it’s time for me to be leaving.”

  Cole flung up a hand to halt her. “You’re not escaping so easily. Go upstairs and ask Roberta for my saddlebags. There’s some salve in them.”

  “But she’s probably sleeping!” Alaina whined in protest, not wanting to venture near their bedroom. “An’ she hates to be woke up!”

  Cole bit his tongue as a caustic comment threatened. After the first initial submission, Roberta had proven herself dully unresponsive in bed. Indeed, he had gotten the impression that she rather loathed exerting herself. She was certainly different from that warm and intoxicating creature his muddled mind remembered from that night.

  A heavy frown came onto his face, and seeing it, Alaina fled, not daring to protest further. She had angered him enough for one day. There might be serious consequences if she persisted.

  At her timid knock on Roberta’s door, a sleepy voice mumbled from the other side, “Who is it?”

  “It’s me, Al. The cap’n sent me after his saddlebags.”

  In the next moment the portal was snatched open, and Roberta stood in the doorway, wearing a thin, silk gown. Her eyes narrowed as she questioned suspiciously, “Why didn’t Cole come for them himself?”

  “Got hisself burnt,” Alaina stated bluntly. She gestured impatently. “He wants them saddlebags, if you’re of a mind to fetch ’em.”

  “Really, Al, must you use that vulgar language when there’s no need?” Roberta chastened, portraying no concern for the depth of Cole’s injury.

  “When there’s a Yankee in the house, I ain’t takin’ no chances.”

  The older woman smiled superciliously. “I believe I forgot to thank you, Lainie, for bringing him home. Who knows but what you didn’t save me a considerable amount of time and effort.”

  Alaina glared. “You got them saddlebags handy?”

  Roberta stepped back into the room, and Alaina kept her eyes carefully averted from the bed while the woman searched about for the saddlebags. When she found them, Roberta came back to the door and handed them over. “You made it so easy for me, Lainie, I just couldn’t resist. And Cole will never know the difference. Just to make sure of that, I’d better warn you. If you think you’ll be able to tell him without having the Yankees know who you are, then you greatly underestimate me—Al.”

  “You can relax, Robbie,” Alaina admonished mockingly. “Since I don’t want it spread about any more than you, it will be our deep, dark secret.”

  “Then we understand each other.” Roberta raised a brow as she queried, “And you’ll stay away from him?”

  “Not likely.” Alaina answered flatly and, turning, hurried toward the stairs, flinging back over her shoulder, “We not only work at the same place, but now we live in the same house.”

  The noise of her boots on the stairs drowned out the comment Roberta hurled, and in a quick moment Alaina returned to the kitchen. Cole was in the pantry with the door closed behind him, and she called through the wood, managing to sound more brash than she felt.

  “Got yer saddlebags, Yankee. I’ma leaving ’em here at the door. Now I gotta run befor’ them bluebellies dock my pay fer being late.”

  Snatching up her floppy hat, she did a lickety-split scamper out the back door, not waiting to hear if Cole had anything to say.

  When some time later Cole strode through the foyer at the hospital, Alaina jauntily braced her arm on the handle of the mop and gave him the best of a boyish smirk. “You’re late, Yankee. Major Magruder’s been askin’ where you was at.”

  Cole glared at her. “I’ve no doubt you explained everything with your usual relish.”

  “You can bet on it, Yankee.” Al grinned and cackled gleefully. “Guess you’ll be known around here from now on as Mister Hotpants hisself.”

  Cole briefly cast his eyes upward as if seeking some divine help for keeping his control. “If I let myself think about it too long,” he growled, “I might consider that you intended it as some sort of prank.”

  “ ‘Tweren’t me what done it,” Alaina denied. “You done it yerself when you was a-moonin’ over Roberta.”

  “I wasn’t mooning over Roberta,” Cole corrected sharply.

  “Well, you sure was acting like ya was!” Al accused. “Sittin’ there stirring an empty cup! What was I suppose to think?”

  “I had other things on my mind besides Roberta,” Cole stated heatedly. “And it’s none of your damned business what.”

  “Did I ask ya? Huh?”

  “You didn’t need to. I saw the curiosity burning in your eyes.”

  “You was a-seeing nuthin’ more’n seething hatred, Yankee!”

  “If you hated me so much,” Cole mocked, “why did you pull me from the river?”

  “Didn’t see who ‘twas ‘til I pulled ya out. Then I came close to throwing you back. Now I’ma thinking I shoulda done it while I had the chance.”

  Cole snorted impatiently and brushed past, convinced that Al would never admit to having a kind thought about a Yankee, even if the twit was capable of any.

  Her day at the hospital done and seeking some excuse to delay her return to the Craighugh home, Alaina turned Tar onto the old river road. But it seemed that she was not meant to escape Cole’s company, however much she tried to avoid him. She was nearly to her destination when a thunder of hooves behind her made her turn in the saddle, and as she recognized the roan and its rider, she groaned aloud.

  “Yankee!” she barked as Cole drew near. “Ain’tcha got a home to go to? Whatcha comin’ out here fer?”

  “This is the first opportunity I’ve found to talk with Mrs. Hawthorne. Do you mind?” he asked sardonically.

  “The whole reason I was a-comin’ out here was ’cause I thought ya’d be home with Roberta,” Al complained. “Ain’t she expectin’ ya?”

  “I wasn’t specific about what time I’d be home.” Cole shrugged. “And I had to see to this.”

  Petulantly Alaina turned Ol’ Tar toward the iron hitching post. She had hoped for a little free time in which she could relax and just be herself. Those moments she could spend as a woman were becoming more and more important to her, and she was not pleased when she had to give them up. Cole’s presence only heightened her discomfiture.

  “If ya was a lil’ more anxious to get yerself home, it wouldn’t bother me none,” she grumbled, sliding from the saddle. “I seen more enthusiasm in an ol’ steer my pa had.”

  Cole grunted obstinately. “Thanks to you, I’ll have to abstain from being the loving husband for a few days. And if you can’t grasp my meaning—” He frowned intently into the wide gray eyes that turned upon him. “You damn near ruined me.”

  Alaina ducked her head and hunched her shoulders as she hurried toward the porch. She had a feeling that life was going to be rather bumpy around the Craighugh manor for a while, and perhaps it would not be unwise if tonight she stayed close to the shelter of Cole’s shadow, just in case Roberta was waiting to talk to her. At certain times, it was best to avoid trouble rather than charge fullbore into it.

  But on the way home, Cole broached a subject Alaina would have preferred avoiding. He was silent and thoughtful as he kept the roan’s prancing pace attuned to Tar’s stable-bound gait. Then thoughtfully he turned to the sprig. “Al, are you sure you didn’t take me someplace else before you got me to the Craighughs’?”


  Alaina found it difficult to answer him casually and, in a croaking voice, inquired, “Jes’ what kinda place were ya thinkin’ ya was at?”

  Cole peered at her, trying to see her features in the dark, but Alaina kept her face averted and fidgeted with her hat, thwarting his efforts.

  “How old are you, Al?”

  “How old do ya think I am, Yankee?”

  “Thirteen at the outside—maybe.”

  “That’ll do.” Alaina yanked the brim of her hat down low, uneasy beneath his casual glance. Sometimes darkness had a way of revealing more than it ought.

  “Do you know about houses of—ill repute?” Cole asked.

  Alaina choked and coughed to get her breath, strangling out a reply. “Maybe.”

  “I seem to remember finding myself in one,” he stated bluntly.

  “Let me ease yer mind, Yankee. You weren’t in any.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yup. As sure as I’m sittin’ here on Ol’ Tar.” Alaina shrugged concedingly. “Unless, of course, ya was there afore I found ya. Maybe ya went there first, got robbed by some o’ them fancy fillies.”

  Cole found no balm for his troubled thoughts. There was still the matter of his missing medallion to be dealt with, but he just couldn’t put anything in sequence. It was only a scattered set of impressions that he struggled with.

  Much later that evening Alaina was in her bedroom waiting for the household to settle for the night when the door burst open without warning and Roberta stalked in, forcing her presence upon the unwilling cousin.