Glory Bound (Shades of Gray Serial Civil War Trilogy Book 3)

by Jessica James

  “Indeed he’s simply splendid,” Andrea agreed.

  Alex took her hand and pulled her down to him. “Who said I was talking about the horse?”

  Andrea’s face blushed at the seductive look in his eye. She turned back toward the field. “I cannot wait to ride him.”

  “The creature is very wild,” Alex warned her. “Stubborn and willful.”

  “Are you speaking of the horse? Or your bride?” She threw her arm around his neck.

  “Now that you mention it, I suppose you do share some of the same…qualities,” he replied, doubling his arms around her.

  Andrea smiled at his humor, but worried about the strained look upon his face. “I hope you are not overexerting yourself. You need to save your strength, or we will not be able to wed.”

  Alex laughed. “Believe me, we will be married even if I have to say my vows from bed.” He leaned forward to kiss her on the cheek, but paused when his lips met the moisture there. “What’s wrong?”

  Andrea spoke with her head pressed against his chest. “I fear I’m not worthy of the honor of becoming your wife,” she sobbed. “How can I be worthy of a man such as you?”

  “My dear Andrea.” Alex tightened his embrace. ““I would not relinquish the title of your husband for any other earthly one you could bestow.”

  Andrea took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of him. “Promise you’ll never leave me, Alex,” she whispered. “I could not bear it.”

  He grew quiet and she lifted her head.

  “I can promise I will not leave willingly,” he said, forcing a smile.

  “But if you do, I will follow you wherever you go. I will not leave your side.”

  “I may order it.” Alex stroked her face with a wistful smile on his lips.

  “Then I will countermand your order.” Andrea ran her fingers through his wavy hair, delighting in the sensation of touching the man she admired and loved with all her heart.

  “I had no idea I had taken such a headstrong woman as a bride.”

  “Come now, Colonel.” Andrea looked down at him with mirthful eyes. “Surely I gave an adequate indication of my traits before now.”

  “Yes, I suppose you did.” He laid his head back on the pillow with a deep sigh and closed his eyes.

  “Would you like me to check your wound and change your dressing?” Andrea tried to keep the concern from her voice. With his eyes closed, Alex looked pale and strained. She could see he was in much more pain than he pretended to be.

  “No, Doc will do it later.” His voice sounded casual and indifferent.

  “You do not trust me?” she asked, half-jokingly.

  “I trust you, Andrea.” He took her hand and kissed it, though his eyes remained closed. “With my life. Forever.”

  She gazed at his countenance intently. “But you want Doc to do it.”

  He turned his head away. “Yes. I want Doc to do it.”

  This time his voice was not so casual and the indifference sounded more like despair.

  Chapter 28

  So long lost, and loved at last, too late.

  – The Three Scouts, J.T. Trowbridge

  Andrea stood in the shadows on the balcony and watched the men riding in as her stomach churned with anxiety. She had never really thought of the prospect of meeting them as the wife of their leader. And now she was not really sure she wanted to.

  Even after all had gathered and Alex had been helped downstairs to greet them, she remained in her place of refuge.

  “You lost, young lady?” Carter came up behind her. “The Colonel’s beginning to think he’s been stood up by his bride.”

  Andrea stared at her feet. “I-I do not know how to face them,” she stuttered, “you know—those I stood against.”

  Carter put his hand on her shoulder. “You need not fear them.”

  “But they know, don’t they?” Andrea whispered the words. “Who I am? Who I was?”

  “I believe it is common knowledge among them. But you have fairly won their regard and their esteem. That, and the knowledge that their commander admires you is enough for them.”

  Andrea looked into his eyes to see if he told the truth. “Come,” he said, holding out his arm. “You’ve been out of your husband’s sight for too long. He will soon grow impatient enough to come looking for you.”

  Andrea nodded and allowed herself to be escorted down the stairs. When they entered the dining room doorway, there was a sudden hush, and then three-dozen chairs scooted across the floor as everyone stood.

  Andrea’s eyes swept the room. When they at last fell upon the bold gaze of her husband, she found herself blushing like a schoolgirl rather than feeling any apprehension about his men. Dressed in his military finest, he appeared every inch the stalwart, valiant officer he was reputed to be. He nodded with evident deference and respect at her entrance, and she returned the action with a look of fervent devotion.

  Carter escorted Andrea to his side, while Alex continued to devour her with his eyes. After bending down and placing a reverential kiss upon her brow, he put his hand gently on the small of her back and turned toward his men. “Gentlemen,” he said, “and you, too, Murdoch—”

  The men began to laugh as if at some secret joke between them. “Gentlemen, we are gathered here to celebrate my newest promotion, to a place and title of honor of which I feel I am unworthy—husband. Allow me to introduce my wife, Mrs. Andrea Hunter.”

  The men clapped and raised their glasses in toast to their leader who, for the first time in a long time, wore a wide and contented smile. “And this, gentlemen,” he said, pulling Andrea closer to his side and looking at her for a long moment. “This I would not trade for a thousand victories.”

  “To love,” said one, causing glasses to tinkle up and down the long, glittering candlelit table.

  Andrea’s heart began to beat at a normal pace while she half-listened to the conversations going on around her. All of the tales related to some heroic deed that had been performed by, or had involved in one way or another, her husband.

  Her gaze dropped to the table as she silently studied the strong hand that rested upon hers possessively. In time of battle this hand wielded the terrible power of death, but it now wore a band of gold that pledged his life to her.

  Alex must have noticed the contemplative look upon her face. He leaned over and whispered as he gave her hand a squeeze, “Dear wife, my heart and soul are wrapped around that finger.”

  Andrea looked up at him, eyes suffused with a mist she quickly blinked away. It seemed to her incredible, and frankly unbelievable, that a man so strong and powerful as the one who sat beside her should wish to call her by that title.

  When everyone had finished eating and the drinks began to flow, Andrea struck up a conversation with the red-headed boy they called Murdoch, who she sensed had caused his commander more than a little consternation.

  “So, Mr. Murdoch, were you on the mission at the hospital in Winchester?” Andrea asked innocently, referring to Alex’s expedition into the enemy camp to retrieve her. She vaguely recognized his face as being one of the men on the back of the wagon.

  “You mean the ‘wildcat’ raid. Why almost all of us was involved in that one in some way or another.”

  “Murdoch!” Alex said sternly, overhearing the conversation.

  “The wildcat raid?” Andrea gave Alex a sideways glance. “Why do you call it that?”

  The man, or rather boy, continued. “The Kulnel said we was gonna go catch a wildcat. Said he needed more than the average number of men, because—”

  “Murdoch!” Alex tried again to put a stop to the story as hearty laughter rolled through the room.

  “’Cause this wildcat was smarter than most men, more cunning than a fox, and meaner than a—”

  “Murdoch!”

  The men broke out into convulsive laughter.

  Andrea pretended to be offended. “Never mind. I don’t need t
o know anymore.”

  “And,” the boy continued, obviously enjoying the spotlight, “the Kulnel said he was going to capture this wildcat, even if he had to lose every man and horse in the Command in the process.”

  The room grew silent. Andrea stared, unblinking, straight ahead, then looked up into her husband’s eyes. She had known the risk he had taken that day. She had never realized how very much he had been ready to sacrifice.

  “I should have known you men would start trouble with my bride.” Alex shook his head, while trying to make light of the situation.

  “It wasn’t us,” one yelled. “It was Murdoch!” Again the group roared.

  When next Andrea looked over at Alex, she noticed he held his side, though he still wore a strained smile upon his face.

  “It’s been a long evening,” she said standing, “perhaps it’s time for us to call it a day.”

  “Yes, my dear, I think you may be right.” Leaning heavily upon her, they walked to the door and bid each guest goodbye one by one. Hunter watched with apparent contentment as Andrea grasped each hand, looked each man in the eye, and repeated each name.

  “Your husband knows the roll so well he can call it in his head,” one of the men said. “Perhaps, in time, you can do the same.”

  Andrea laughed. “I will never try to best my husband in the war department.”

  “I appreciate the compliment Mrs. Hunter,” Alex said kissing her hand. “But it can’t be disputed that you outrank me everywhere but on the battlefield.”

  When Andrea got to the last man, Carter, she threw her arms around his neck, and felt him nod in a signal to Alex behind her. When she released him and looked at her husband, she could read nothing on his face. Yet she knew the communication had meant something of significance.

  Taking Alex’s hand, she turned toward the stairs, dismissing the scene. It was too late to begin trying to decipher the secret language between Alex and his second-in-command, and she was too tired to try.

  “One more minute,” Alex said. “I’ve…ah, asked the men to wait outside. There’s something I need to tell them. I’ll be right up.”

  “Are you sure? You look so tired. Do you wish me to wait?”

  “No. No.” He waved his hand. “Carter will help me up the stairs. Go on.”

  Andrea obeyed, but sensed that something was wrong. When she heard the front door close a half hour later and walked out on the balcony to watch the men ride off, her suspicions were confirmed.

  Gone was the festive attitude of just an hour before. There was no joking, not even any talking. Although she waved cheerfully at those passing beneath her, they seemed intent on avoiding her gaze. Some nodded sadly in her direction, while others stared straight ahead as they rode silently toward the bridge and into the night. Every countenance reflected a calamity of which she thus far had no knowledge.

  Andrea pushed away any thoughts of foreboding. The night had been too magical, her life too wonderful, her future too incredible to worry about such mysteries now.

  Chapter 29

  O! you gods, why do you make us love your goodly gifts, and snatch them straight away?

  – Pericles, Shakespeare

  Andrea continued to stand on the balcony and breathe in the cool evening air, even after hearing Alex talking in hushed tones in the room behind her. Shrugging away the shadow of apprehension that continued to pursue her, she concluded the men were just tired. Now that she thought about it, so was she.

  Opening the door quietly in case Alex was already resting, she overheard him talking to Doc—not Carter—his voice solemn and low. “Yes, I will tell her.”

  “I do not envy you the job,” Hobbs said, leaning over her husband. “But it must be done…tonight.”

  It was his grave tone that gave Andrea the first tremor of warning and evoked the first faint stir of fear. “What must be done tonight?” she asked, forcing a smile.

  Her smile faded when she took in the somber expression of the one and the sad countenance of the other. She found no answers in their eyes, but each face conveyed obvious shock and grave concern that she had overheard part of their conversation.

  “Mrs. Hunter,” Hobbs said, bowing, his gaze never meeting hers. “I…I was just leaving.”

  A sense of terror began crawling up Andrea’s spine. “What is wrong?” She tried to sound calm, but a wave of dread and alarm left her close to losing control.

  Alex lay propped on the pillows with closed eyes. He appeared to have aged since she had last seen him, grown older by years in the past hour. He opened his eyes and motioned for her.

  “Come.” He patted the empty space on the bed. “Sit with me.”

  Andrea watched Hobbs retreat from the room as she took a seat beside him.

  “We’ve been married only a short time,” he said taking her hand, “and already I’ve made my first mistake as a husband.”

  Andrea could tell he was trying overly hard to sound unconcerned. “Whatever you’ve done, I forgive you.” She leaned down and kissed his cheek. The thought flashed through her mind that he felt overly warm, but she dismissed it.

  Alex drew a deep breath and Andrea waited for him to speak. “I…haven’t been entirely honest with you.” His voice was low and weak, and it frightened her. “I did not want to concern you, at first, but now—”

  One look at his face told Andrea this was not something she wished to hear. She closed her eyes, wishing that by doing so, everything would go back to the way it was before they started having this conversation. “Whatever it is, I don’t care.” She waved her hand in the air. “You can tell me when we’re old and sitting on the front porch on our rocking chairs with our grandchildren.”

  Alex closed his eyes and seemed to grow even sadder at her pronouncement. He cleared his throat and spoke with apparent difficulty. “I’m afraid the matter will not wait that long.”

  Andrea let out her breath as the vague anxiety within her gave way to a helpless, unreasoning panic. Her heart began to flutter and struggle like the beating wings of a caged bird, stealing the air from her lungs. Trying to hide her alarm, she squeezed his hand. “Proceed.” She closed her eyes again as if that would somehow help.

  “My wound is a little more serious than—”

  Andrea’s eyes flew open to meet his. “What are you saying?”

  “Doc believes,” he paused, took a breath, and began again. “Well…I have fever.”

  Andrea sat and stared at him, unblinking. He didn’t need to say anything more. She knew very well what he meant. She’d watched soldiers at the hospital linger in agony for days, weeks, longer. But they rarely survived. Although her heart refused to believe what he was telling her, a part of her knew the truth.

  Her husband was dying.

  The tall, stalwart, uncompromising officer, who was aggressive, and relentless, and unyielding, was to be snatched from her by something she could not even see. Like a mighty warrior, the infection would stalk him, overtaking him no matter how hard he fought.

  Andrea moved her hand to the bandage under the covers. She felt the warmth of his fever pulsing against her fingers. Her eyes grew moist as she consumed the information.

  Then the defiance began to mount. “We will fight it,” she said, looking into his eyes boldly.

  “I am fighting, but Doc does not believe—” His voice lowered to a whisper. “He wants us to be prepared for a different outcome.”

  Andrea began to fully grasp what was happening. The pain and grief that had consumed her in all her year’s past were nothing compared to the agony his news brought her now.

  She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it, then opened it again and spoke calmly with the same veil of detachment she had relied upon so many times before. “And you’ve told your men.” It was a statement. She saw everything clearly now…how he had waited until the night’s festivities were complete before breaking the news—even to them.

  “Yes. I’ve told
the men.”

  “And that is why the wedding was hurried.”

  “It was selfish, I suppose.” He nodded sadly. “But I wanted you, desperately, to be my wife, to give you my name before I—”

  Andrea’s gaze drifted away from his and rested on her wedding gown, unable to accept that a mourning gown would soon take its place. She dismissed the thought and turned back toward him. “You are in much pain?” Her tone conveyed concern, though she stared intently at the bedpost now, suddenly unable to look into his eyes.

  “Little, save the thought of parting from you.” His voice trembled as he squeezed her hand.

  Andrea dared not move her lips nor try to speak lest she should give away her despair. This man was dearer to her than life. She could not live without him.

  “I know you want to be strong, but it is all right to cry, Andrea.”

  The room fell silent for a moment and then a strident wail of indescribable anguish arose that would smote the heart of anyone who heard it. “Please, Lord! N-o-o-o-o!”

  Andrea laid her head on his chest and sobbed, unable to comprehend that after four, long years of war, and all of the obstacles between them, a single, tiny piece of lead could be responsible for tearing his mortal soul from hers.

  “Dear Andrea.” Alex stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head. “I promised myself I would never be the cause of pain in your eyes again, and I have failed.”

  Andrea took a deep breath then and raised her head, resigning herself to the fate in store for him. Her eyes cleared of their tears, though she stared into space replaying in her mind the events of that fateful day and the role she had played. “You have not failed,” she said, reassuringly, “but perhaps if I had—”

  “There is nothing you could have done,” Alex interrupted her. “I am thankful my men—and you—were spared.”

  “It is little to me that I am spared if you are not!”