Honor Bound (Shades of Gray Civil War Serial Trilogy Volume II) Page 29

  Returning again, Andrea saw only one more string of prized Hawthorne stock remaining to be moved. In the early morning light, a column of dust rose and hung above the road—likely a cavalry unit that had discovered the turnoff to Hawthorne only a half-mile away. Blinking against the acrid smell of smoke, Andrea spied Victoria wringing her hands on the bottom step of the porch.

  “We’re all going to die! I told Alex it wasn’t safe here! They’ll kill us all!”

  Andrea rode Justus up to the porch, leaned forward, and grabbed the panicked woman by her collar, shaking her. “Do as I say, Victoria! Go to the barn, get an armful of hay, and put it in the library!”

  Letting her go, she turned Justus away. “And leave the front door open,” she yelled over her shoulder.

  “Alex’s library? Are you insane?

  Andrea pulled Justus to a halt and shot Victoria a look that implied she might take the time to dismount and show her just how insane she was. “Do as I say!” The tone of her voice made Victoria scamper to the barn.

  Grabbing the remaining stock, Andrea returned a few moments before the troops appeared in sight at the bridge. Without stopping, she rode Justus up the steps and into the house. Dismounting in the foyer, she led him to the library where Victoria sat huddled.

  “Here.” Andrea handed her the reins. “Give him the hay and keep him quiet.”

  “Oh no.” Victoria backed up and shook her head. “No! I’m scared to death of horses!”

  “Do it, or death is exactly what you’ll be facing!”

  Andrea hastened back toward the door, trying to straighten her ravaged dress as she walked.

  “Aren’t you going to take a gun or something?” The voice was loud and an octave higher than usual. Andrea turned to find Victoria standing on a chair, holding Justus’s reins at arm’s length as if he were going to attack at any moment. The horse, on the other hand, was calmly eating the hay while eyeing the woman on the chair with curiosity.

  Andrea’s gaze rose to the old muzzle loader hanging over the fireplace. Though the idea of carrying a weapon appealed to her, Andrea turned back and gave Victoria a disgusted look. “I don’t see how a single gun will serve any purpose against an entire regiment of cavalry, Victoria. I can’t just shoot government soldiers.” Andrea wished she knew what would work against an entire regiment of cavalry, but she was at a loss for an answer.

  A frightened Izzie suddenly appeared in the doorway carrying an armful of haphazard belongings that Victoria had apparently ordered her to take to safety. Among the items was a beautiful black mourning gown of silk.

  “Izzie!” Andrea exclaimed, making the girl jump. “Bless your heart. Give me that.”

  “That’s my gown!” At Victoria’s outburst, Justus jerked his head up, causing her to scream. “Take this beast! Izzie, I demand that you stay here and take this horrible creature! Don’t leave me or I’ll see you whipped.”

  “Follow me, Izzie.” Andrea grabbed Izzie’s hand and closed the door, ignoring Victoria’s sobs and screams. She then took the dress, and with Izzie’s help, threw it over the top of the open front door. When they closed the door, the skirt portion appeared like a large, black fan from the outside.

  As soon as Andrea had completed that task, she looked up and beheld a long line of riders in blue trotting toward her. Above and beyond them lay a billowing unnatural blackness of smoke that had spread out and settled over the valley like a thick blanket of fog.

  Andrea limped down the steps, leaning heavily on her cane to exaggerate her injury, and went out the lane to greet the visitors. When they were but fifteen rods away, her legs began to shake. The men carried torches in their hands, sabers on their saddles, and guns around their waists. She had never felt such helpless terror before. Never. Yet never did she feel more determined or carry stronger resolve. The thought of watching Hawthorne go up in smoke overcame any hesitation within her.

  Chapter 61

  Fate loves the fearless.

  – James Russell Lowell

  “Gentlemen, what can we do for you?” Andrea allowed her voice to reveal some of the distress she felt.

  “We’re under orders to set fire to every building in this vicinity. We can give you the consideration of fifteen minutes to remove personal belongings.”

  Andrea’s heart leaped to her throat even though she had known what was coming. He had orders to lay the region to waste, and she could tell by his tone and attitude that he fully intended to obey those orders to the letter.

  “Fifteen minutes?” Andrea’s voice was full of disbelief. “Then your men will help remove the sick from inside? I fear most of them cannot get out unaided.”

  “What do you mean ‘sick’?” The officer gazed over her shoulder at the house.

  “Certainly you were informed there are men with smallpox here.” Andrea nodded toward the front door where the black gown fluttered in the wind in silent warning.

  “Smallpox?” The colonel pulled his horse backward a step, his gaze shifting from the house to the disheveled, frazzled-looking girl before him.

  Andrea knew that, to a soldier’s mind, the disease was more painful, more prolonged, and more agonizing than death from the enemy’s guns.

  “Yes. I have fifteen men in there.” She turned toward the house and then gazed sadly off into the distance. “Sixteen if you count the one who just passed and we’ve not had time to bury.” She wiped a make-believe tear from her eye. “It’s hard to keep up.”

  Another officer rode up beside the one to whom she spoke. “Colonel, we can’t take her word for it. We need to see one of these here patients.”

  Andrea tried to ignore the sound of her pounding heart as it swelled in volume in her ears. “Of course, you don’t have to take my word for it.” She motioned to the one who had spoken. “Follow me. I’m afraid they’re too sick to come out. Smallpox is a deadly disease you know.”

  The two men looked at each other and began shaking their heads. “I ain’t goin’ in there.”

  “We’re wasting time,” the colonel growled. “Set fire to the barn instead.”

  Andrea turned toward the officer. “Sir, I know you have your orders, but as you can see, the only horses here are those a regiment dropped off a few days back. They took all our breeding stock and left only these poor miserable creatures who have served your troops so nobly.”

  The colonel nodded his head toward his lieutenant, who dismounted at the barn and went in. Indeed all he found were poor, jaded and wounded animals that Hunter’s men had captured—and all possessed the U.S. brand.

  “She’s right,” he said when he reappeared. “Might be better to leave the barn and come back in a few weeks for remounts once the horses have had time to rest.”

  “We’ve got to burn something!”

  Andrea looked sadly toward the large chicken house. For some reason, the hens had refused to lay in it, or even go near it, for the past few weeks. But giving the soldiers a woeful look, she pretended it would be a great loss. “Oh, not the henhouse,” she said, wringing her hands.

  “I’m sorry, miss.” The colonel motioned for a torch. “This is war.”

  As the wreathing serpents of flame curled around the rather large outbuilding, Andrea realized why the chickens had neglected to lay there. A swarm of angry yellow jackets flew out, and the Yankees went riding and cursing out of the barnyard at a much faster gait than they had arrived. The officer in charge took one last lingering look at the house and the beleaguered woman sobbing with her face in her hands, then turned his horse and left with the rest.

  * * *

  Hunter and his men rode into the stable yard of their headquarters stunned and dumbfounded. The Talbert house, where they had gathered, eaten, and danced the night away on so many occasions was now a flowing bed of coals. The stone chimney alone stood as a monument to the barbarous destruction the Yankees had wrought. The riders drew together in the glare on the hillside and stared at the spray
of sparks and smoke that continued to rise. Every now and then, when the wind stirred, flames would flare, illuminating the sad faces that surrounded it.

  Laura and her mother stood in the yard, sobbing. “Oh, Colonel,” Laura said, running to Hunter. “What are we going to do?”

  Hunter clenched his jaw, knowing the same fate had most likely befallen his own estate. “Take the ladies to Hawk Shadow if it’s still standing,” he said over his shoulder to his men. “It appears they’ve turned north. I’m going to Hawthorne.”

  Major Carter rode up beside him. “You want some company, Colonel?”

  Hunter pulled his horse to a stop. “No,” he answered after thinking for a moment. He pretended calmness, but his heart beat frantically as he searched the horizon for signs that his beloved Hawthorne still stood. If the hot breath of war had come upon his home and destroyed its sacredness, he needed to see it alone.

  He urged his mare forward and headed toward his birthplace with a heavy heart. As he crested the final hill, a small column of smoke appeared, curling and swirling before disappearing above the trees. With his last hope dashed, he steeled himself for what was to come.

  But when he rode into the clearing above the house, he had to blink to make sure his eyes did not betray him. First he saw the towering chimneys—still intact—then the house, untouched. Surprise, relief and pure joy washed over him in a mixture of overwhelming emotion.

  “Alex!” Victoria ran to him as he cantered up the lane, her skirts flapping haphazardly.

  “The Yankees were here!”

  “I can see that.” Hunter’s gaze fell upon Andrea’s lithe form as she hurried from the barn toward the house without looking in his direction. Even with her cane she walked gracefully, with long fluid strides that bespoke of someone who was going somewhere and wanted to get there as quickly as possible. He watched every motion of her slender figure and was curiously enthralled.

  “They spared the house?” He brought his attention back to Victoria.

  “They set fire to the henhouse and were chased away by bees.”

  Victoria appeared ready to say more, but apparently changed her mind when she saw where Alex’s gaze had lingered.

  Hunter stared at the smoking charred remains of the small building thoughtfully. Nothing remained but some blackened boards and ashes, though he could see that an effort had been made to save it from the flames. “Bees?”

  “Yes, bees!” Victoria continued without pause. “They saved the day!”

  The sound of a cane tapping across the front porch and then the door opening and closing caused them both to look toward the house. Hunter watched Victoria’s eyes take on a look that appeared to be resentment—and envy—as Andrea disappeared inside. Then she turned her smiling face up to him. “I did everything I could to save your beautiful home too. But oh, it was dreadful.”

  * * *

  With baby Angelina in her arms, Andrea walked into the kitchen the next day and discovered Mattie and Izzie laughing so hard tears spilled from their eyes. “What is so amusing?”

  “We was just talking about that hoss standing in the library with Victoria.” Mattie wiped her eyes, still laughing.

  “That was a hoot of a thing!” Izzie, who rarely showed emotion, slapped her leg in glee.

  “I do not think she admired her duty.” Andrea laughed along with them.

  “She was scairt to def,” Izzie said. “I couldn’t believe my own eyes! A hoss and Victoria in Ole Him’s big room.”

  The sight of the slaves’ amusement caused Andrea to close her eyes and join in the laughter. When she opened them again, she noticed two things. First, neither woman was laughing anymore. And second, both of their expressions had changed to surprise and alarm.

  Andrea turned slowly to where their eyes were now focused and discovered Colonel Hunter in the doorway, leaning nonchalantly against the doorframe with his arms crossed. He wore a look of confusion mixed with intense interest.

  “A horse? In my library? With Victoria?” Hunter questioned with curiosity. “I don’t believe I’ve heard this story.”

  His words were met with astonished silence as the three women stood grim-faced and uncertain for a few long moments.

  “It was a dream, of course.” Andrea put the baby up on her shoulder, and tried to pretend the topic was trivial. “I told everyone about this crazy dream I had that Victoria had a horse in your library.”

  “Oh, I see.” Hunter nodded his head.

  “Silly, isn’t it?” Andrea stepped around him and squeezed through the door, anxious to get away before he questioned her further. “But you know how dreams are.”

  She heard Hunter push himself off the doorway, and was afraid he was going to follow. But all he did was mumble under his breath. “I’m quite afraid I do not.”

  Chapter 62

  Look to the future, there is no road back to yesterday.

  – Oswald Chambers

  Hunter listened to Andrea making her way down the stairway, her anger evident in her noisy tread. He’d summoned her to his library, and she was apparently none too happy about it. He heard her muttering to herself, something that was not completely decipherable—but clearly none too ladylike—just before the door to the library flung open like it had been hit with a battering ram. He watched the impatient fury on her face turn to confusion—and then nervousness—when she noticed that Victoria, Mattie, Izzie and Gabriella already occupied the room.

  “Ah, Miss Evans,” he said. “You’re right on time. Thank you for showing up for my little meeting.”

  With slow, measured steps now, she joined the line of women in front of him, her eyes questioning and guarded.

  Hunter sat on the edge of his desk and flung one boot casually over the other. “The reason I called you ladies together…” He paused and scratched his chin as his gaze wandered down the line of apprehensive faces. “Well, it’s a funny thing.” He turned around and pulled something from behind him. “I dropped a paper under my desk, and upon trying to retrieve it, I found this.”

  The women gasped in unison at the handful of hay he held in his hand.

  “And I got to thinking about Miss Evans’ dream.” He stood now and walked in front of them like a drill sergeant. “And I thought to myself, how odd that hay would materialize from a mere dream.”

  Hunter’s gaze drifted again down the line of faces. All were looking at the floor, except Andrea. She nibbled on her top lip and had fixed her eyes upon the chandelier overhead.

  “Oh, it was terrible!” Victoria was the first to break. She ran to Hunter with her face in her hands. “She made us do it! And then she made us promise not to tell!”

  Everyone looked at Andrea and nodded in agreement. Hunter watched her jaw tighten, saw the color rising in her cheeks as she tried to maintain her self-control, and then, amazingly to him, she merely dropped her head and stared at her feet.

  In former times, Hunter would have expected her to explode with harsh language, and, more likely than that, with physical violence. Instead, Andrea appeared determined to restrain herself. Hunter pondered the change in her, his lips curling with surprised amusement.

  Everyone began talking at once, trying to explain how the event had unfolded. Hunter pictured Andrea barking out orders, going about the business of defending his home with great calmness and authority. He could not help but smile. Her ingenuity was as limitless as her patriotism.

  Victoria began whimpering like a child, as Hunter presumed she had done that day. “I could have been burned alive. It was the most cruel and malicious thing I have evah endured.”

  “Victoria, you were probably in the safest place you could be. Miss Evans would never allow her horse to come to any harm.”

  “Oh, no, Alex. She threatened me!” Victoria grabbed his arm and sobbed into his chest. “She told me if I made a sound, she’d see that I perished with this house. She said my Virginia soul wouldn’t save me from burning into a pile o
f black ashes. Oh, it was so tormenting and frightening!”

  Hunter looked at Andrea, who stared with half-closed eyes at the sniveling Victoria as if she now wished she had followed through with her threat. He could not help but agree.

  “Truly, Miss Hamilton, if your conduct was as intolerable then as I’m witnessing at present, you should thank your lucky stars that you escaped cremation. And I believe you should be grateful to Miss Evans for the clemency granted you.”

  Victoria’s head jerked up as though she had received a slap. “You will take her side?”

  “I take no sides. I state the facts.” Hunter looked down at the hay he still held in his hand. “And now that the mystery has been solved, you are all dismissed.”

  Victoria turned with a toss of her head and everyone else made moves to follow.

  “Ah, except you, Miss Evans. I’d like to have a word.”

  Victoria looked at Andrea with a smirk on her face, apparently thinking Hunter’s remarks were only an effort to obscure the punishment that was about to be unleashed on the girl for her cruelty.

  When the door closed, Hunter stared at Andrea as she nervously shifted her weight under his gaze. She appeared uncomfortable. Unnerved. “You wished to ask me something, sir?” She did not look at him, but stared at a painting on the far wall.

  For a moment Hunter did not make a reply. He stood rubbing his jaw, eyeing the distance from the door to the center of the library. “I’m trying to figure out how you got that horse in here. You came through the garden?” He nodded toward the large French doors that opened in the back.

  “No, we came up the steps in the front and through the house.” Andrea responded while drumming her fingers nervously on the back of a chair. “We didn’t have time to come around to the back.”