Honor Bound (Shades of Gray Civil War Serial Trilogy Volume II) Read online

  Andrea blinked, puzzled at first. The confusion swiftly changed to disbelief, and then horror. “They were burning homes so you took no prisoners?”

  “What’s wrong, Miss Evans? Are the cold realities of war suddenly too much for you?”

  Hunter’s lack of emotion shook Andrea no less than the ghastly scene she envisioned. “You shot those men in cold blood?”

  “My men came across the atrocity. The officer in charge reacted to deeds that are repugnant to humanity.” Hunter stared out over her shoulder into the distance as he spoke as if incapable of meeting her gaze.

  “And slaying seven men in cold blood is not repugnant to humanity?” Andrea’s voice grew shrill. The anger in her tone did not convey the sadness in her heart at the thought that Hunter would allow his men to resort to such a despicable act of malice. She had grown to think of him as a man who would prevent brutality in his presence and strictly forbid it in his absence. She did not know this man.

  “Does your code of honor come from a barbarous nation I’m not familiar with? Or has mercy and civilized behavior never been a part of your code?”

  Hunter started to turn away.

  “I know you have no heart, but have you no soul?”

  “In case you are not aware, we’re in the middle of a war,” he said over his shoulder as he walked away, obviously trying to put an end to the conversation.

  “That does not excuse barbarism!” Andrea ran after him and grabbed his arm, too angry to be fearful of the consequences. “This act is a stain upon our nation’s honor! It’s revolting! It’s….unconscionable!”

  Hunter swung back around. “You dare insult my men about honor?” He pulled his arm from her grasp and looked at her with burning fury. “Surely the hell your comrades are creating in Virginia is not too hot for the demonic Yankee villains who apply the torch.”

  “You cannot tell me you condone these deaths,” Andrea said, her chest heaving. “You cannot make me believe that, on behalf of your men, you can overlook this carnage, this…this butchery because it was performed in the name of vengeance for a policy of devastation.”

  She was so angry she waved her arms in the air. “War may excuse certain actions of cruel necessity, but it can never justify this! Even you, Colonel Hunter, cannot claim that this is legitimate warfare.”

  Hunter remained silent, brooding, as if weighing the decision to defend himself. When he spoke, his words were distinct, his voice was low and his dust-stained face was just inches from hers. “You insist on justification, Miss Evans? I will give it to you. The reprisal was indeed revenge, taken by my officer in direct retaliation for the—” Hunter paused and drew a sharp breath as if he could barely form the words. “For the cruel, deliberate, merciless hangings of seven of my men last month.”

  Andrea did not speak. She blinked in complete bewilderment, deeming at first that he must be lying, but seeing by the look on his face that he was not. She took a step backward. “You cannot tell me a Union officer ordered such a thing.”

  “Colonel Clayton Shepherd,” was the blunt reply. “And today his men got their payback—and mine divine revenge.”

  Andrea swallowed hard. Seven had perished today, victims of a bloody code of retaliation. In her absence, this ghastly, revolting war had opened a new chapter in horror. It seemed that any and all sense of humanity had taken flight from this once-peaceful land.

  “They were fairly warned,” Hunter continued when she did not speak. “For every Hunter man murdered, they were informed I would take ten-fold vengeance. My men were most humane in that regard, only killing those directly involved.”

  Andrea closed her eyes and imagined the scene. Men inflamed with vengeance dealing out a sentence of death to those who had executed their comrades.

  “So you see, Miss Evans, we are compelled, reluctantly, to adopt a line of policy as ruthless and revolting as your northern comrades. All the prisoners I have taken since that day have been treated with the respect due them.”

  “You were not there?” Andrea’s voice was barely above a whisper.

  “I don’t know what difference that makes,” Hunter said coldly over his shoulder as he started to walk away. “The outcome would have been the same.”

  Then he stopped and turned back. “You may know the officer who was in charge. His name is Pierce—promoted today to Captain—as you may have already been informed.” Hunter continued his journey to the barn, his boots and spurs raising small clouds that enveloped him in a dusty mist.

  Andrea looked over her shoulder when she heard Izzie yelling from the direction of the slaves’ quarters.

  “Miz Andrea! Gabriella havin’ her baby!”

  Andrea watched Hunter turn briefly with a look of concern on his face. Then he continued to the barn, his long powerful strides and straight, rigid back in no way revealing the great weight he carried upon his shoulders.

  Chapter 56

  You can no more win a war than win an earthquake.

  – Jeannette Rankin

  Once mother and her new daughter were resting comfortably, Andrea walked toward the lake, guided by the magical hum of insects that convened there. Climbing down a small bank, she reposed herself on a fallen tree and tried to make sense of the day. Despite the miracle of birth, there seemed little to celebrate when she thought of Pierce’s crusade of vengeance and the horrifying reason for it.

  Had the world gone mad since she left? Leaning forward, she put her arms around her legs and rested her forehead on her knees. What else had happened that she knew nothing of? She listened half-heartedly to a bullfrog bellowing on the far side of the water, and became aware of the scent of pipe smoke.

  Turning her head, she made out the form of Hunter illuminated by moonlight, standing on the bank behind her. She had been wholly unconscious of his presence until then and wondered how long he’d been there.

  “Mind if I join you?”

  Andrea shrugged and stood as he made his way down the bank.

  “I hope I’m not interrupting,” he said after a few minutes of silence. “It’s really peaceful down here.”

  Andrea shook her head. “I’m truly sorry about—”

  Hunter stopped her with his hand. “I don’t want to talk about it. How’s Gabriella doing?”

  “She has a daughter. Angelina.” Even as she said the words, Andrea’s mind drifted away from the miracle of birth to the horrifying deaths of the month before. She still could not believe that such a despicable act of malice had occurred. Even in a time of war, it seemed outrageous and shocking that there could be such little regard for human life.

  “You could have told me about your men’s deaths,” she suddenly blurted out. “You needn’t have kept such an atrocity a secret from me.”

  “It was not my intention to keep it a secret, Miss Evans.” Hunter stared absently over the water as he spoke. “I simply saw no point in concerning you with it.”

  “Concerning me with it? Seven of your men were murdered by men who claim to be soldiers!”

  “Miss Evans, you have spared no effort to remind me we are your enemies,” he replied. “Considering your unhappy status at Camp Misery, I deemed the news would not be of interest to you.”

  Andrea sucked in a choking breath. All of the unpleasant words she had spoken in the past rose with painful vividness before her, and a feeling of shame surged at the thought of her vengeful tongue.

  “In fact, the day the murders occurred…you may recall, you seemed especially relentless and cruel in your condemnation and scorn.”

  A sad and sullen silence ensued as Andrea closed her eyes and remembered the conversation in his study over Victoria…and the vicious comments she’d made.

  “But you cannot believe I would take pleasure in the deaths of your men.” Andrea gazed up at him, her hand on his arm. “That I would defend the Union’s ruthlessness?”

  Hunter looked out over her head into the distance and did not answer.


  Andrea let her hand drop to her side in silent acceptance. “But you are wrong, Colonel Hunter.” Her voice trembled as she bowed her head. “I do not, nor could I ever, support such an indefensible deed. And I have never, nor will I ever, rejoice in the deaths of any of your men.” She paused and looked up to meet his gaze. “And I deeply regret the loss your Command has suffered.”

  Andrea took another deep breath, squared her shoulders, and started back toward the house. “I do deeply regret the loss,” she said again, this time to herself.

  Chapter 57

  The loss of enemies does not compensate for the loss of friends.

  – Abraham Lincoln

  Andrea heard the clamor of horses outside about a week later and opened the door with a smile. She expected to see Johnny with a string of horses, so when she spotted the grim face of Hunter coming up the steps instead, her smile quickly faded. She looked around him and took in the sight of four of his men huddled around a wagon bed.

  Before she could make it out onto the porch to investigate, Hunter grabbed her by the arm and led her back inside. He was spattered with mud… and blood, and looked pale and weary.

  “I’ve got an injured man,” he said solemnly.

  Andrea looked up questioningly.

  “Doc did all that he could,” Hunter answered the look. “He has no family. I want him to be made comfortable. Here.”

  Andrea nodded and watched the men unload a makeshift stretcher from the back of the wagon. By the time she turned to ask Hunter the name of the man, he was already heading back toward the wagon, speaking in a low voice she could barely hear.

  “Easy with him,” he instructed. “Be careful.”

  Holding the door while the men carried the prone figure into the house, Andrea blinked her eyes in surprise and alarm as she recognized the gaunt face of Johnny lying still and pale beneath a bloody blanket. Hunter appeared instantly by her side as if he sensed what her reaction would be.

  When the men started up the steps, he turned and held both of Andrea’s arms down at her side, forcing her to look at him. “We must be strong for him,” he commanded. “Mattie and Izzie are…not good at this. I was hoping I could prevail upon you.”

  Andrea was trembling, but she accepted the request with a nod of her head and the silent fortitude of a soldier ordered to hold an impossible position.

  “He’s so young,” she said as she distractedly watched the men carry the stretcher up the stairs. “Just a boy.”

  “He will have the honor of dying like a man.”

  Andrea swallowed hard and took a deep breath. “How…?”

  “We were ambushed, bringing back some horses,” Hunter said, running his hand through his hair. “It was a deserter. There was…nothing that could be done.”

  Andrea was only half-listening. What did it matter now?

  * * *

  Johnny was already feverish and pale when Andrea reached his bedside, and she was soon left alone with him. The men who had gently laid him in the bed had not stayed long, as if they did not wish to witness what was to come. Mattie had brought hot water and immediately retreated. Izzie would not come through the door at the slightest chance of seeing blood.

  Unfortunately, that chance was an unavoidable circumstance, because there was already plenty of it. Not knowing the source of his injury, Andrea pulled back the cover and groaned when she saw the redness seeping through the bandage where a leg should have been.

  Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself for the task at hand. This was no time for pity. Bravely, she got back to her duties, gently removing the old bandage, cleaning the wound and re-bandaging the stump.

  Andrea did not leave Johnny’s side at all the first night and most of the second. On the third day, his fever diminished somewhat and he awoke.

  “Miz Andrea?” he said in a weak voice, noticing her by the bed. “Where am I?”

  Andrea leaned close. “You’re at Hawthorne. You’ve been wounded.”

  “I’m in the Kulnel’s house?” His eyes grew large as they traveled weakly around the room.

  “Yes, the Colonel wanted you to…” Andrea paused and took a deep breath. “He wants you to recover here. He’s real proud of you, Johnny.”

  “The Kulnel said that?” Johnny’s eyes glowed, then closed again, but not before Andrea saw the weight that her words had carried.

  “You just get some rest.” Andrea leaned over and brushed the hair from his eyes. He was asleep before she finished the sentence.

  Andrea was encouraged when Johnny was strong enough to sit up for a few minutes the next day. Wishing to see the smile she remembered so well, she told him one of Boonie’s jokes.

  Johnny laughed until he groaned in pain from the exertion, but he still had a smile on his face when Hunter strolled into the room. “I see you’re feeling better, Private Benson.” He glanced over at Andrea with a look of surprise and disbelief when he noticed the sight of the boy’s grin.

  “Kulnel Hunter, suh.” Johnny perked up as if the president had just stopped by. “Miz Andrea is takin fine care of me. I must thank you for your hospitality.”

  Hunter’s gaze went back to Andrea, causing her to look away. She knew he was studying the exhaustion that clung to her eyes and did not want him to see how drained she really was.

  “You look a far sight better than you did when you arrived, I must say.” Hunter talked to Johnny, though Andrea could tell his eyes were still on her.

  “I’ll be back ready to fight those Yanks before you know it.”

  Hunter walked to the side of the bed and squeezed Johnny’s shoulder. “I think you deserve a long rest before that happens. Why don’t you get some sleep while I talk to Miss Evans? I’ll stop back a little later.”

  Johnny nodded and watched Hunter turn for the door. Then his eyes turned questioningly to Andrea.

  “Can I get you anything?” she asked.

  “No. I’m purdy tired though.”

  “Close your eyes and sleep.” Andrea turned to go, but Johnny grabbed her hand.

  “You’ll be here when I wake?” There was a noticeable tinge of fear in his voice.

  “Of course,” Andrea answered, looking at the door where Hunter waited impatiently. “I’ll be here.”

  Johnny relaxed and appeared to fall almost instantly asleep.

  * * *

  “You need to get some rest,” Hunter began as soon as the door closed behind them.

  Andrea kept walking down the hall, apparently refusing to answer until they were well out of earshot of her patient.

  “I don’t need rest right now,” she finally answered over her shoulder. “Not until he is better… stronger.”

  Hunter touched her arm from behind to get her to stop. “He’s not getting better,” he said softly. “He has no chance.”

  His tone was as compassionate as his words were severe, but Andrea refused to listen. “Didn’t you just see him?” She began to walk away again. “He is getting better.”

  Hunter could hear the determination in her voice, could sense her hopeful urgency. He wrapped his fingers around her arm and this time used enough force to turn her around to face him.

  “Wishing for something and wanting something does not make it become reality,” he warned. “It’s not right and it’s not fair, but that boy is going to die.”

  The hostility in his voice was in utter opposition to the emotions he felt as he looked down at Andrea’s innocent, determined face. Deep shadows shrouded her face, and the expression she wore was somber—yet not despairing.

  “You may believe what you wish,” she replied in a tone of defiance. “I will continue to hope for the best.” She shook herself free from his grasp and turned away.

  “It is all right to hope for the best,” Hunter said quietly behind her, his voice more tender and sympathetic now. “But you must prepare yourself for the worst.”

  Andrea looked over her shoulder, as if to s
ee if the expression in his eyes matched his gentle tone.

  “Mattie will stay with him tonight.” Hunter changed his tone to that of being a commander again to make her listen. “Once you get a good night’s rest, you can return to your duties.”

  Andrea stared at him blankly and then sighed as if too tired to argue. Shrugging her shoulders without answering, she disappeared into her room.

  * * *

  Andrea felt like she had just laid her head on the pillow when Izzie came in and shook her awake.

  “Miz Andrea. Momma says Johnny’s fevah back.”

  Andrea sat straight up in bed for a moment, trying to clear her head.

  “Get some cold water from the springhouse,” she instructed Izzie as she slipped on her robe.

  When she got to the room, Hunter was standing by Johnny’s bed, a worried look on his face. He turned when Andrea entered and pulled her back toward the door.

  “I must go,” he said, looking deep into her eyes. “If you need anything…anything…send Zach for me.”

  Andrea was leaning to look around him at the boy on the bed. “Do you understand?” He shook her gently to get her attention.

  Andrea nodded and broke away from him. Sitting on a chair beside the bed, she took Johnny’s hand and gently touched his cheek as she heard the door close behind her.

  When Izzie arrived with the cold water, she gently began to sponge Johnny’s forehead.

  “Johnny,” she said softly. “Johnny Reb. You awake?”

  She didn’t think he was, but to her surprise the boy opened his eyes briefly and attempted a smile. The effort was valiant because the color that had been in his cheeks just that afternoon was gone. He appeared pale and drawn now, with beads of perspiration rolling down his temples

  “Miz Andrea,” he mumbled, before closing them again. “That was you that night, wern’t it?”

  “What night?” Andrea looked closer at him, thinking perhaps he was hallucinating due to his fever. She refused to admit that Hunter had been right. It appeared nothing more could be done, and the end would probably come soon. “Just rest, Johnny. Get some sleep.”