“I can take some of that pain if you need me to. It won’t take that much from me.”
“Thanks. I’d appreciate that … in a bit. Right now, eat.”
She smiled shyly at him, accepting the bread and cheese he handed her. She wasn’t sure why she was suddenly shy again, except their relationship had changed yesterday. To what extent, she wasn’t entirely certain.
While she was eating, Travis limped over to Iris and drew something from her saddlebag. He came back and presented it to her. It was a gun, small but deadly looking.
She gasped, choking down the last of her breakfast. “Where did you get that?”
“Your uncle brought it by. Said General Stuart had picked it up somewhere. Very nice one too. Only a single shot, but that one’s a .41. It will put a lovely hole in anyone who gets too close.” He handed it to her, butt first.
She took it gingerly, as if it might go off just by breathing on it.
He laughed. “Don’t worry. It’s not loaded.”
She held the thing up like a dead fish, staring at it.
“Do you know how to use a gun, Miss Anderson?”
“Not really.”
His mouth quirked sideways. “So much for your threats when you stole mine.” Abruptly, he became very serious. “The first thing I’m going to do is show you how to load and use this here Deringer. You’re going to carry it with you from now on. Sew it into your dress if necessary. That’s an order from your general himself.”
“But … why?”
He looked down at her with intense gray eyes. “Miss Star, there will be no repeat of yesterday. Not so long as I am here with you. I swear that. But you need some way to protect yourself. In case something should happen to your uncle, or the general, or me.”
Her heart skipped a beat, her dream crowding close for a moment. Then she nodded, swallowing hard. I should feel safer with a weapon, she thought. Instead it scares me even more. He seemed to understand her hesitancy, because he patted her shoulder gently.
She gave him as big a smile as she could muster. “Then let the lesson begin.”
The Deringer was an incredibly easy weapon to use, and it did do a fair amount of damage when used up close. A weapon of last resort, Travis called it. She winced the first time she’d examined the hole her gun made, her mind seeing its effect on a human body. But by the time the bugler had blown “boots and saddles”, she felt relatively comfortable with it.
“Load it one last time,” he instructed, “and then put it in your pocket. Make sure the hammer is at half cock. It wouldn’t do at all to shoot yourself in the leg.”
She resisted the urge to smack him. I know that much, she thought.
Will joined them at the back of the column that morning. Both he and Venus looked dispirited. He put out a hand to touch her scratched cheek, eyes dark and somber.
Starla felt she had to say something. With a lighthearted confidence she did not exactly feel, she said, “I’m fine, Will. Nothing happened. Please, don’t be upset.”
“Upset? I’m furious, Starla. At myself. I should have known he would show up sometime. If he’d found you….”
“That’s my fault, sir,” Travis said unhappily. “I should have been there.”
“And what could you have done, Travis?” she threw back. “Beat him over the head with your crutch?”
“If necessary I can do quite a bit more than that, remember?” he growled.
Will interrupted. “Did you get a chance to show her how to use the Deringer?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. By the way, lieutenant, I’ve arranged for you to have your own mount for a little while. I would have let you stay on Vulcan, but I can’t keep using Venus like this. I’ll bring her around this evening, once we stop for the night.” And he was gone in a cloud of dust.
Gone, but not gone—Starla felt eyes watching her all day long. Dr. Buchanan dropped by to speak with her for a few moments, ostensibly about a soldier she had worked on the day before. Somehow she doubted that was his only reason. She saw General Stuart ride by on Highfly more than once, bright blue eyes focused on her as he passed. Even von Borcke paused to wish her a “Guten Morgen, Fraulein.”
Am I supposed to feel comforted or suffocated by this sudden increase in attention? she wondered. Then, They are just trying to help. For once in your life, accept it gracefully.
And then there was Travis, riding silent beside her, a dark blue forage cap—salvaged from Heaven knows where—pulled low over his brow, eyes restless, scanning both sides of the road.
And what comes next for you, Travis Black? You are healed; it’s only a matter of time before you are sent away, or worse. A sudden vision: Travis, his chest blooming crimson, falling, falling. She inhaled sharply, shaking her head to clear away such thoughts.
“Miss Star?” His voice, instantly alert, worried.
She managed a smile. “Nothing, Travis. But I think I swallowed a gnat.” She made a great show of coughing and spitting. He snickered, then went back to scouting around them. She too went back to wrestling with the problem at hand.
I must find some way to get you out of here.
They halted in early evening, the main force continuing down the road while Stuart and his staff turned aside to an old house.
“We’re stopping here for the night,” Will told them before disappearing into the house with the rest of the staff. “Your new mount is here, lieutenant. The chestnut picketed next to Venus.”
They settled Vulcan and Iris in for the night, leaving their saddles on, then Travis drew her away from the horses, towards an old gray barn, and sat down beside her on an overturned trough.
“Miss Star, I’ve been thinking. You need some other way to protect yourself, in case your gun isn’t available.”
His tone made her stiffen, suddenly apprehensive. “What do you mean?”
He got up and began to pace. “I know you think it’s wrong, but I want you to … you need to figure out how to take strength, life, energy from someone.”
She bolted up off the trough in dismay. “No. Absolutely not.”
“Please, will you just listen to me all the way through?”
She looked away from him, nodded.
“Last time that devil came after you, you drove him off with pain, right? But if he’s as crazy as I think he is, that’s probably not going to work again. In fact, it will probably make him angrier and more determined to finish what he’s started. You need to be able to incapacitate him in some way. Now, from what you’ve told me about how Healing works, you force the auras to change colors, correct? So logically, you should only need to force the color of health—blue, wasn’t it—closer to the browns and blacks. The opposite of whatever you do for those people you give of yourself to.”
What he was saying made sense, but she still shrank from the whole idea. “Even if that be true, how am I supposed to practice such an unnatural thing?” she demanded, not bothering to hide her disgust.
He stopped pacing and turned to her with serious eyes and a determined set to his jaw. “On me.”
“Travis!”
“Heck, you’ve poured enough of yourself into Healing me. Might as well get some of that energy back.”
She sat back down heavily, feeling the blood drain from her face. This is wrong, wrong to even consider, she thought. You’re dealing with forces you know little about. That I know little about. But your assessment of my cousin is far too accurate….
He knelt in front of her, took her cold hands and held them on either side of his head. She just stared at him, shivering, unwilling to force herself to hurt him, even if he was offering. Too many things might go wrong.
“Would it help if I picked a fight with you?” he asked, voice lighthearted in contrast to the tension in his body.
“You’re not going to let this rest, are you?”
“No, ma’am. And I’m every bit as stubborn as you are.”
Somehow, she knew he could and would outlast
her when it came to this, and let out a small sigh of surrender. She focused on the bright blue light surrounding him. “Please, please tell me the minute you start to feel weak. I just need long enough to get the concept.”
“Understood.”
She focused on his aura and began to pull on it. A feeling of euphoria, of power, washed over her as the color shifted, the blue melting towards the purples, and then into the reds. If I was the wrong kind of person, this could become very addicting, she thought distractedly.
Travis bit his lip, clenched his fists, but said nothing. She moved quickly past the colors of pain, but in her anxiety moved too fast. Without warning he crumpled into the dirt. With a little shriek she fell to her knees beside him, pouring herself into the dark brown, pushing the little blue sparks deeper into him. Oh God, please … please let him be unharmed!
He groaned, a most welcome sound, then rolled over on his back for a few minutes, blinking up at the sky and breathing hard.
“Now that was an interesting experience,” he muttered when he finally sat up.
“Interesting?!” Star clambered to her feet and stood there glaring down at him, angry to cover the relief she felt. “You fool! You thick headed, pea brained Yankee eejit! Why didn’t you say something? I nearly killed you!”
Carefully standing up and dusting off his clothes, he shook his head slowly. “I apologize, Miss Star. It wasn’t intentional. Everything just happened too quickly.” Then with a flash of dark humor he added, “Though it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve nearly killed me.”
She held on to her anger as a crutch. “There, I did what you wanted. Are you quite satisfied?” she demanded, turning to leave before he noticed how wobbly her legs were, and before she lost control of her emotions.
He put out a hand to stop her and made her look up at him. “Can you do it again, if you need to?”
“Aye.”
“Then I’m satisfied,” he said, releasing her.
She wanted to stalk away, to go find someplace to cry herself silly, but she forced herself to settle down and not act hastily. She closed her eyes, took a few calming breaths, then turned back to him.
“Travis, I’m sorry. I was just frightened, that’s all. I do … I do appreciate … I mean, you’re right about Jake and … oh blast, what am I trying to say?”
“You’re welcome, Starla,” he said softly.
They walked slowly and silently back to the house, by some unspoken agreement putting the past fifteen minutes in the category of “don’t speak of ever again”.
“I think you gave back more than you took after all,” was his only comment. “My leg doesn’t hurt near as bad as it did when you started, and I’m certainly a lot less shaky than you look.”
After a cold meal grabbed from their haversacks, he left her on the porch steps, first making her promise not to go out of sight of the house. Going to meet the new horse, Star supposed as she watched him limp back towards the corral. She sat quietly, almost too drained to think straight, and listened to the voices arguing inside.
Now she listened harder as von Borcke’s voice grew louder. Something about Yankees in the area. Lieutenant Dabney responding that none had been seen around here in weeks. Still, she touched her hastily sewn on pocket again, the slim shape of the Deringer.
Yankees. One Yankee in particular was her problem, and she still had no idea how to help him. She shifted uneasily. Wooden steps were definitely not made for comfort. Behind her the porch echoed hollowly. Step, scrape, step, scrape. Travis settled down heavily on the step below her.
“Speak of the devil, and he will appear,” she said quietly, not looking at him.
He raked a hand through his sweat soaked hair.
“With that greeting, perhaps I should leave.” She could hear him smiling, and he made no effort to move. The wind picked up, and he leaned back against her step. “My, that feels good.”
“How is your new horse?”
A groan. “Miss Star, first let me express my gratitude to your uncle for so kindly providing me with my own mount. That out of the way, I have a simple question. Where in the name of all that is holy did he find that beast?”
“I’m not rightly sure. Why? Has she a temper?”
“Oh no, not at all. She’s a sweet, gentle, even tempered girl … ’til the minute you try to get a saddle and bridle on her.” He shook a fist in the general direction of the horses. “You know what I’ve been doing since supper? I figured, if I’m to be riding her tomorrow, I had better go introduce myself and get to know her. So we talked for a while; she’s got quite a drawl for a horse. I thought we were getting along just fine, until I tried to slip the bit in her mouth. Up went her head, and it stayed up. Nothing I said made a bit of difference. I’ve dealt with mules that were less stubborn!”
Starla suppressed a giggle. She couldn’t help it—the look of pure frustration on his face was priceless.
“Shall I finish my story?”
“Oh, pray continue, my dear sir.”
“So I reached up, was going to give her a bit of a shake, I was. But the brute smiled, and then bit me! Luckily it was my other shoulder. And will you stop laughing! It wasn’t funny at all. It hurt. I’m likely bleeding all over my only shirt.”
She swallowed her amusement long enough to pull on his sleeve. “Come here and let me look at it.”
Grimacing, he did as she said. She opened up his shirt and examined the offended shoulder. It would be just a moment’s work to draw out the bruise and most of the pain….
He gently pushed her hand away, and buttoned his shirt. “I’m fine. You needn’t spend yourself on such a little thing.” A tacit reminder.
Then she saw his teeth gleam palely in the moonlight. “She said she didn’t have a name she wanted to keep, so I’ve decided to call her Virginia,” he remarked casually, “after this beloved state of yours.”
“Whyever for?”
“Because, my dear Miss Anderson, it looks so genteel and civilized, all green hills and soft spoken people. But underneath it has a will of steel.” He rubbed his shoulder in exaggerated pain. “And teeth too.”
She grinned impudently down at him. “And don’t you ever forget it, Yankee boy.”
He reached up and tugged lightly on her braid. “How can I, with you always so ready to remind me?”
The night was suddenly much colder. “You won’t always be here, Travis,” she said softly.
“Does that bother you, Miss Star?” His voice sounded very far away, as though he were already gone.
She glanced over at him. He was watching her, eyes glowing silver pale with a strange, too intent look. One that did unexpected things to her stomach. Closing her eyes, she tried to catch her breath. What are you doing to me? The thought of losing you…. “Aye.” It was barely a whisper.
He traced a finger down her cheek, hesitated, then it was gone, leaving a line of fire on her cold skin. I daren’t look at him, she thought wildly, else I will cry this time. Or worse.
A silent awkwardness settled between them for the second time that day.
The stamping of many boots and raised voices announced the approach of Stuart’s staff. The officers, with little fuss, lay down on the porch, and rolled up in their cloaks to sleep.
Travis cleared his throat noisily. “Well, Miss Star. It is late, and we should be following their example,” he cocked his head towards the porch, “and getting some shut eye.”
“No. I … I need to do some thinking.”
“Couldn’t you do that tomorrow on the road?”
“I won’t sleep until I get this figured out.”
She knew he was curious, could almost feel it rolling off of him. But thankfully he said nothing, only stretched his bad leg out in front of him and made himself more comfortable. She considered telling him to go lie down with the others, but some selfish part of her wanted to keep him nearby. She yawned again.
The next one will split my face if I’m not careful, she thought, f
orcing her eyes open. The night was cooling rapidly. She shivered slightly, but made no move to get her cloak—at least the cold would keep her awake.
The problem, as she saw it, was that Travis had promised not to leave, and he would not, could not break that promise. That much she knew. He would hold to his word, no matter how lightly given, with little thought to his own welfare. That Federal captain told him to look after me, and he did, though look at the trouble that’s caused him. She sighed. The only way to get him safely home is to have him exchanged. But that’s impossible, since he isn’t on any official prisoner lists! And the only way to get him on a list is to send him to Richmond, and I cannot let that happen.
She gnawed ferociously on her lower lip, ignoring his look of concern. If only he’d never been captured.
Captured.
That’s it! He needs to be recaptured! She brightened momentarily, then drooped again. But how do I arrange that without risking anyone else? Oh Lord, I know I haven’t been the best of people, but if You could just help him, I would be ever so grateful….
Starla awoke the next morning, early, as someone strode by her and down the steps. She was stiff, but strangely warm. Sitting up groggily, she realized Travis was gone, but he had draped her cloak over her. He was at the front gate, limping back and forth in the pale dawn. General Stuart stood nearby, looking down the road.
Suddenly there was spatter of pistol shots and the pounding of hooves—Lieutenants Mosby and Gibson racing up the road, hugging the sides of their steeds and shouting.
“Yankee cavalry!”
She jumped to her feet, the last vestiges of sleep draining from her. That was fast! Directing a swift thanks heavenward, she bolted for Iris. Stuart’s officers raced across the yard, grabbing their mounts and galloping for safety. As she ran, she saw Will and a bare headed Stuart jump their horses over a fence and disappear into the woods, Dabney trailing behind. Von Borcke fled the opposite direction. And Travis…? Travis was still arguing with his new mount.
She paused by Iris’ head. I can’t just leave without knowing what happens, was her only coherent thought.
An Uncivilized Yankee Page 12
