Ashes in the Wind

by Kathleen E. Woodiwiss

  The unrelenting, dark rust hue of the autumn oaks gradually gave way to occasional houses that stood close upon the riverbanks. The sternwheeler rounded a bend to the left, and ahead of them, beyond a last small island, a cliff separated the rivers like a huge ship’s prow. High on its summit sprawled a stone-walled fort that flew the stripes and blue of a Federal flag. A precipitous road led down the left face of the hill to a narrow bank below where a cluster of wooden buildings squatted along a low stone landing. As they neared shore, the captain came out of the pilothouse and directed the helmsman until the steamer carefully nudged against the quay.

  “Secure her!” he bellowed to the deckhands below, then to the helmsman, “Shut her down!” The man reached up and pulled a lanyard down. The ship’s whistle emitted a single, piercing shriek, and the stern paddle wheel halted its restless churning.

  Several wagons awaited the packet’s arrival, and a short distance from these a large, enclosed brougham was visible. A pair of figures stood beside it, and with a woman’s sureness, Alaina knew the tall, lean one was her husband. All about her, passengers were drifting from the railing, but her own limbs felt leaden. She stood as one mesmerized, not able to lift her gaze from the man leaning on a slim, black cane.

  Farther aft, Mister James hurried from his cabin with a parcel of papers clutched in one hand and his valise in the other. When he saw Alaina, the small, dapper lawyer came to stand beside her. Resting his satchel between his knees and the railing, he held a tactful silence.

  A sudden gust of cold wind swept across the deck and struck Alaina full force with a spattering of raindrops. She huddled deeper into the warm folds of her cloak, pondering on the events that had made such an unmatched pair as she and Cole, man and wife. He waited on the dock like some dark Teutonic lord, seeming much in accord with the dreary, rain-swept landscape. Even without an exchange of words between them, she was taken with the chilling thought that this whole affair had been a terrible mistake. In more ways than one she would soon step from the temporary haven of the steamboat into a new world, and she felt much the foreigner in it.

  Mister James waved until he gained his client’s attention. Raising his head, Cole returned the gesture in acknowledgment. Almost immediately his gaze shifted to the trim figure of the woman who stood beside the rail. Alaina’s knees had a moment of weakness as she waited for some evidence of recognition. Among the families of the South a mild show of warmth and greeting would have been in order, but he gave no sign of welcome, not even to move from his stance beside the carriage.

  Mister James respectfully tipped his hat to her. “If you are ready, madam, we’ll go ashore now.”

  Alaina nodded her agreement, lifted her resolve, took a firm hold on her courage, and followed the lawyer down the stairs. On the lower deck they were joined by Saul who had slung across his back the threadbare blanket that held his belongings. Hoisting Alaina’s large trunk onto a broad shoulder, he followed behind them.

  With a word to his driver, Cole left him and, leaning on his cane, moved carefully toward the packet. The chill damp air bit through the greatcoat he had shrugged about his shoulders, settling like a numb lump in his thigh. Since the ride out, his leg had stiffened from the cold and inactivity, giving him cause to regret the fact that the steamer had docked here at the Fort Snelling landing and not at the more comfortable one at Saint Anthony, but it carried supplies and mail for the fort and, after a stop here, was bound up the Minnesota River.

  As Cole neared the steamer to receive his bride and party, his gaze found the huge black who trailed her, and he knew a moment of relief, for he had often wondered if Saul had survived the war and the upheaval after it. But Cole’s attention was drawn back to Alaina, and his brows drew together beneath the wide brim of a black, low-crowned hat. He was anxious to fathom her mood. But where he had known her earlier as a quick-tempered, many-sided vixen, he now perceived an air of seriousness about her. She displayed none of the frivolity that was common in other young ladies her age. She moved with a fluid grace, but with an intent directness that was at once both pleasing and a trifle disconcerting. It was as if she had carefully considered all the alternatives and, having made up her mind, was not to be swayed from her purpose. Perhaps the hardships and tribulations of the war had stripped all humor from her. She bore no hint of the saucy “Al” as she came across the landing ramp, but was as cool and aloof as if she were a nomadic queen holding herself from a distasteful event. He could guess at the depth of her reluctance to be here among the hated Yankees, and no less would be her distaste with being married to one. Cole braced himself but could not shrug off a dismal bend of mind. He had come full circle, from the vivid rages of Roberta, to the cool disdain of her cousin, and the outlook seemed far from bright.

  Alaina studied her new husband surreptitiously as he stepped to the end of the gangplank. Beneath the greatcoat casually draped over his shoulders, he seemed somewhat thinner. His long, muscular frame was well turned out in black, the color’s starkness being broken only by a double-breasted vest of silver brocade and a crisp, white shirt of silk. He had the look of a riverboat gambler and appeared most worldly. It was the first time she had seen him garbed in anything other than a military uniform, and it was like coming face to face with a stranger. It frightened her, especially when those thoroughly blue eyes locked on her and slowly raked her. She had forgotten how brilliant and clear they were. In some magical way they seemed capable of stripping the lies from whatever passed before them. It was all she could do to face his unspoken challenge and not retreat to the safety of her cabin.

  The change, she sensed, had more substance than the clothing. Measure by measure, the realization dawned that this was a man none of them had known. He had been an intrusion into their lives, and a desperate Roberta had seized upon the hope that he could lift her above the depravations of the South. Now his manner bore an odd touch of threatening boldness. He appeared able to hold himself apart from the world, and yet, with his mere presence, dominate the scene around him as he did now. He tipped his hat to her, and Alaina almost expected him to click his heels in a mocking bow. But then, the scrap of metal in his leg had left him somewhat less than agile.

  “I trust you had a comfortable journey, madam.” His voice had the same rich timbre, and Alaina began to wonder if he had any flaw she could touch upon and draw some strength from. His brow raised as he took in the detail of her long cloak and recognized the black gown she wore beneath. “Mourning garb, Alaina?” He smiled ruefully as he chided. “Usually a marriage is more a time for gaiety and laughter.”

  She opened her mouth to reply, but a frigid gust of wind slanted stinging droplets down upon them and swept the breath and words from her. Gasping, she turned her face away from the pelting raindrops, and Cole moved close until his bulk sheltered her. He carefully refrained from touching her, remembering all too well Al’s reluctance to be fondled.

  Saul set the trunk to the ground beside them, drew the collar of his thin woolen jacket close about his neck, and stamped his feet in an effort to banish the prickling iciness from them. His well-worn shoes afforded little protection against the cold and wet.

  “Good heavens, man!” Cole thrust out a hand in welcome, and the other took it in his huge one. “Didn’t anyone warn you about the weather up here?”

  “No, suh!” Saul’s face split into a wide, white-toothed grin. “But ah is learnin’ mighty fast.”

  Alaina felt a need to explain the man’s presence. “I had to bring him along—for the same reason I had to come,” she ventured, at first apologetically, then realized that in this matter she had no cause to be contrite. “I assure you, Major Latimer, we’re not asking for more charity. I paid for his passage myself, and Saul can find work. If not with you, then with someone else.”

  “With someone else?” Cole’s tone was scoffingly incredulous. “Madam, I will hear of no such thing. The man saved my life.” He faced Saul with the statement. “I’m in need of a new foreman fo
r the field hands. Have you had any experience along those lines?” At the man’s eager nod of affirmation, he settled the matter. “The position is yours if you wish it.”

  Saul grinned, lifted the steamer trunk again, and made his way to the back of the brougham where he deposited it in the boot.

  Brushing aside Alaina’s attempt to thank him, Cole gestured to his driver who came at a run. “Olie, see Mrs. Latimer to the carriage. I’ll be along shortly.”

  “Yah, sure t’ing, Doctor Latimer.” The brawny, pale-haired man, of an age more than two score, lifted his odd little, narrow-billed cloth cap and gave Alaina a jerky nod. “Olie vill get yu out of dis cold, yah?”

  Alaina thrust down the feeling of pique at being brushed off into another’s care, reasoning it was probably just as well she avoided the close attention of Cole Latimer. Stiffly smiling her assent, she allowed the driver to escort her to the brougham.

  Left alone with Mister James, Cole turned to the lawyer with a question in his eyes, yet as the man began his tale, Cole could not resist the view of swinging skirts and trim back he was afforded over the lawyer’s shoulder. Even as he watched her go, Cole counted it strange that the memory of one night shared with her long ago should return to warm his loins this strongly.

  Alaina paused before accepting Olie’s assistance into the carriage and glanced back over her shoulder toward the two men. She was startled to find the blue eyes locked on her with a frowning intensity. It was like being caught naked in a public place, the way he looked at her. Returning his stare with haughty gray eyes, she gave her hand to Olie and mounted to the carriage. She knew full well what the lawyer was relating to her husband.

  The rear seat was spread with a large fur robe, and though it looked warm and inviting, Alaina settled herself on the forward seat. As she relaxed to await her husband’s pleasure, her eyes watched the slow, meandering river, but in her mind, she saw only those startling blue eyes. A rueful smile slightly touched her lips. Ignore her that Yankee might do, but sooner or later he would have to deal with her.

  Mister James banded over the marriage documents to Cole, assuring him, “Once away from New Orleans, the rest of the trip was uneventful.”

  Cole’s brow was harshly furrowed. “You say she was reluctant to accept the proxy contract until Jacques kidnapped her?”

  “Indeed, Doctor Latimer. When she found out you hadn’t come, she flew off in a tizzy.” The man cleared his throat apologeticaly. “I believe her words were something to the effect that you could rot in a hot place before she would marry you.”

  Cole unconsciously rubbed the aching leg and swore beneath his breath. The little twit! She had always been too stubborn and proud for her own good, and if that weren’t enough, she seemed to have a special knack for getting into trouble.

  “Jacques’s men were determined to find her, sir,” Mister James informed him. “We had to hide your wife in a trunk to carry her safely aboard the packet. Indeed, she caused a great deal of stir in New Orleans, considering a good bit of the waterfront burned along with Jacques’s warehouse. I can imagine that Mister DuBonné is hiding out after the sheriff took an accounting of the cotton bales the man had tucked away in his storehouse.”

  Abruptly Cole gestured to one of the wagons. “Murphy came with us to pick up some supplies. If you wish, you can catch a ride home with him. Mrs. Latimer and I will be stopping at a hotel, and I am not sure when we will continue home. Otherwise, I would invite you to join us.”

  “No need of either, sir. I boarded my buckboard and horse at a livery near here. If Murphy can take me that far, I’d be obliged.”

  Cole withdrew a flat purse from inside his coat and passed several bills to the lawyer. “Here! Give this to Murphy and ask him to outfit Saul in some warm clothes before the man freezes to death.”

  “Of course, Doctor Latimer.” Mister James accepted the money and hurried to the wagon, leaving Cole frowning thoughtfully as he gazed toward the brougham and the slim, cool features of his young wife.

  Returning to the carriage, he threw his greatcoat and hat into the seat opposite Alaina, then climbed in to take a place beside her. He swept the fur throw from beneath his coat and spread it over her lap, leaning across to tuck the robe securely into the corner behind her. Though Alaina avoided meeting his eyes, she was vividly aware of the clean, fresh scent of his cologne. But where he was concerned, she wished to remain distinctly detached and erected an icebound wall of silence to achieve that end. It had been an affront to her pride to be informed that, while he could receive her as his wife, he did not desire her as a woman. Had it been some other man, she might have wondered at his virility, but in Cole’s case, she knew better. He was certainly not impotent, whatever the disabilities caused by the injury to his leg. Indeed, if their last meeting had been any indication, his appetites ran toward the satyr and he had the tendencies of a hot-blooded roué. The fact that he had looked to her as easy prey for his lusts was a thorn in her side now that he had stated his preferences for their marriage. Her pride ached for some assuaging vengeance.

  The driver shouted, and as the brougham began to move, Cole clasped the hand strap by his window. Alaina noticed that his only concession to the cold was to drape a corner of the fur throw over his right leg, as if the wound made it more tender to the weather. Otherwise, he seemed scarcely affected by the chilly dampness.

  She paid no heed to the motion of the brougham until a hard-sinewed arm suddenly reached across her, drawing her complete and immediate attention as he braced a hand on the window molding beside her and rested the back of his arm with bold familiarity against her bosom, pressing her firmly back into the seat.

  Alaina’s temper flared at this open affront. That he should dare! She opened her mouth to vent a caustic reprimand. In the next instant, the coach lurched upward, and had it not been for the restraint, she would have been spilled ignominiously to the floor. The rebuke dwindled to a gasp, and she clutched the now-welcome arm tightly, securing her dignity.

  Olie whistled to the team and cracked his whip over their heads. The animals lunged against the traces, dragging the sturdy carriage upward along the steep road. Finally, with a last scrambling charge, they topped the brink, and the teamster pulled the steeds back into a more leisurely pace. With as much grace as she could muster, Alaina loosened her firm grasp, allowing her husband to withdraw the restraint. With the ride more stable now, Cole moved to the opposite seat where he could take full advantage of the view. Indeed, he made no effort to limit his perusal to anything superficial, and Alaina felt his eyes move with exacting slowness over every part of her.

  Let him stare! she thought indignantly and turned her face to the window. He’s at least bought the right to look.

  They passed the main gate of the fort and crossed the wide, cleared area that encircled the walls. The carriage darkened abruptly as they entered into a towering elm forest, and a mile or two further on, the road dipped downward into a shallow valley. Soon, the brougham was rattling across the rock-strewn bed of a small stream.The low murmur of tumbling water came to Alaina’s ears, but she could see no sign of a falls. As the carriage plunged and bucked on its way, she kept her gaze fastened out the window, little aware of the scenery they passed. Her mind churned with festering resentment as she continued to be subjected to a most familiar scrutiny that gave no hint of ending soon. She cursed the day she met Jacques DuBonné. But for him, she would not be here now, married to a cocksure Yankee who had the audacity to openly ogle her as if she were some tender morsel expressly prepared for his enjoyment. She was almost glad she had worn the widow’s black, for in anything else she might have felt herself ravished by those piercing blue eyes.

  Suddenly realizing Cole had spoken to her, Alaina glanced around. He held a cigar in one hand, a match in the other, and was apparently waiting for her consent. “Do you mind?” He lifted the cigar questioningly.

  “No, of course not.” So he would smoke and look, she mused testily as she again d
irected her attention out the window. They were splashing through the muddy outer streets of a rapidly growing city, but she had no time to dwell on their surroundings before she was brought once more to the awareness that Cole was speaking to her. Her eyes quickly met his. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear—”

  “Would you mind taking of that silly bonnet?” he repeated and punched the match into the tip of the cigar, opening a small hole in the leaf. “I would like to have a better look at you.”

  Alaina’s temper rolled over restlessly at his request, but she obediently removed the bonnet and selfconsciously tucked a stray darkly burnished curl into the simple coil at her nape. Having had only a small hand mirror on board the riverboat, she could imagine that her appearance not only resembled a pauper, but was greatly disheveled at best. The scowl that came to Cole’s brow made her all the more uncomfortable. He still held the unlit cigar and was fairly flaying the end with the butt of the match.

  “Do you frighten children with that frown, Major?”

  Irritably, Cole jammed the cheroot into his mouth and, striking the match on the sole of his boot, puffed the thing aglow. His blue eyes considered her through the wraith of smoke that curled into the air.

  Alaina swept a slim hand toward the window, feeling a need to turn aside that audacious stare. “I’ve heard many stories of wild Indians, of snow deeper than one’s head, and of great wolves ranging through the streets. I see nothing of that. Instead, a city growing in the midst of a wooded land.”

  “Your tales were not unfounded, madam.” Those clear, bright orbs of blue regarded her with an intensity that made her warm with embarrassment. He gestured with his cigar. “That robe is made from the pelts of several winter wolves.”

  She smoothed the long, silky fur in wonder. “I would have thought them hoary beasts, short of coat and stiffly furred.”

  Cole winced suddenly as the brougham bounced over a pothole. They were coming into the center of the metropolis where a scattering of stone and brick buildings were settled in a crowded nest of smaller ones. Some were wood with high false fronts, others monolithic structures of stone, two, three, sometimes four stories high. Raised boardwalks provided passage from one edifice to the next, a necessity since the streets were unpaved and well churned to a muddy depth.