Soldier in Her Lap

by Haley Whitehall

  He put a hand on her shoulder. “They won’t ask you too many questions. And they’ll believe you,” he added, as if reading her mind.

  “I’m not sure about that.”

  “I’m scum, remember? They’ll just be happy to have me back.”

  “You’re not scum.”

  Lucas shook his head, grinning. “All you have to do is stay serious. You let that love creep into your eyes and they’ll be scratching their heads.”

  She tensed, emotion draining from her face. Serious. I can do that. All she had to do was impersonate Mr. Rawlins.

  He pulled the piece of rope out of his coat pocket and handed it to her. Turning around, he placed his hands behind his back. “Tie the rope tight. I hope I won’t be bound for long.”

  Sophia chewed her bottom lip. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  She tied his hands, the rope digging into his skin. Afraid she’d hurt him, she looked into his eyes, but did not detect any pain. Sorrow, yes, but not pain.

  He started walking, leaving her standing there in deep thought. Finally she shook herself from her daze and had to jog to catch up. If he walked into their camp alone, they’d really be confused! Tension hung like a fog in the air. She couldn’t escape it. Could she really escape her papa and Mr. Rawlins with merely a train ticket?

  ***

  A grizzled, middle-aged captain glared at Lucas, his eyes so cold Sophia shivered. The thickset man switched his attention back to her. “So you found him in your barn, ma’am?”

  “Yes, sir. He was looking for a dry place to spend the night.”

  The captain nodded. “Did he threaten you or—”

  “Threaten me?” Sophia said, cutting him off. What a dreadful implication. “Heaven sakes, no. I threatened him. If he didn’t cooperate, I was going to run him through with a pitchfork.”

  The captain grinned and was unable to hold back a small laugh. “Now that’s my kind of woman.”

  Lucas, who had been standing mute beside her, tensed. Refusing to look at her, she could tell the man’s comment dug into Lucas like a sharp barb. Her man was jealous.

  She bit the tip of her tongue to keep from smiling. It took all the restraint she possessed to hold back and not throw her arms around his neck and kiss him.

  “So what’s your name, soldier?” the officer asked.

  Lucas’s slouched posture straightened to attention. “Private Lucas Grady, sir. Fourth Georgia Infantry.”

  The captain stood with his feet shoulder width apart as if he was getting ready for a brawl. Lucas still had his hands tied behind his back. Why, Sophia didn’t know. It agitated her that the officer couldn’t see Lucas was nothing but respectful.

  “You’re lucky, Private Grady, Colonel Larkin has sworn to have the next deserter he caught shot for all the men to see.”

  Sophia gasped, too stunned to bother covering up her gaping mouth.

  “Pardon me, ma’am. I didn’t mean to offend your sensibilities. But the army has rules. Rules that must be obeyed.”

  “Yes, of course.” Sophia swallowed, but the saliva failed to moisten her dry throat. “Still, shooting him seems like such a waste.”

  The captain looked Lucas over with sharp blue-green eyes. “I don’t know. Deserters aren’t usually worth much.”

  No! She screamed silently. Her heartbeat echoed in her ears in a steady, drumming rhythm. In the back of her mind she had known it was a possibility he could be executed, but she never thought it would actually happen.

  Lucas still stood at attention, his skin paling.

  “Is there something I can do for you, ma’am?” the captain asked.

  Sophia forced herself to look him in the eye and offer a cordial smile. “I…well…I thought I’d get a reward for bringing him in.”

  The captain rubbed his chin. “Yes, you’re entitled to thirty dollars, Miss Carpenter. The problem is the Confederate government is going bankrupt. I’m afraid I don’t have any money to give you.”

  Sophia blinked. Did she hear him right? This had to be some kind of joke. The South was losing, but maybe they could spare at least a few dollars? Lucas had been counting on her getting the reward. She had wanted to run off to his ranch and wait for him to return after the war.

  Now none of this was happening. The urge to stamp her feet and cry like a little child grew stronger. This wasn’t fair. “Maybe not thirty dollars, but I was counting on a little money, sir,” she said, a twinge to her voice. She drew a deep breath. Losing her composure would not help matters. “You see my Papa died and I can’t stay on the farm by myself. I need a train ticket to go to Franklin, Tennessee to live with my cousin.”

  The captain’s face softened. “Here.” He pulled out his wallet and handed her a ten-dollar bill. “That’s all I have, ma’am. It should get you a train ticket.”

  Sophia stared at the Yankee ten-dollar bill. A small piece of paper. Lucas had traded his life in for a small piece of paper. For her. The lump in her windpipe made it hard to speak. “Thank you,” she managed. “I hope this war ends soon.”

  “Have a safe trip, ma’am,” he said, ignoring her comment about the war.

  Damn him. How could anyone be so callous? She’d thought her papa and Mr. Rawlins were the only heartless men in Clark Springs. Apparently not.

  Telling Lucas good-bye wasn’t sufficient. She hurried away from the camp, head down to hide the tears brimming her eyes. In Franklin she’d start her life over like he wanted.

  Her life suddenly felt empty, her soul felt bare as if her heart had been ripped from her chest, her future felt empty. Could she really move on without Lucas by her side?

  Chapter Eleven

  Lucas met the captain’s stare. If he had to face the firing squad to get Sophia away from her father, then so be it.

  “Anything to say for yourself, Private Grady?” the captain asked.

  “No, sir.”

  He grunted. “Struck mute knowing you’re going to be shot. It would have been better for you to stay with the regiment and take your chances with the Yankees.”

  “Yes, sir. I see that now.” Miraculously he managed to keep his voice steady and even. His insides were trembling, not because he was afraid to die, but because he wouldn’t have more time with Sophia. “I hope it helps the cause.”

  “What?”

  “I deserted because the South was losing and I wanted my life to mean something, sir. Since I’m going to be executed, I hope my death will help the cause. I don’t want to die in vain.”

  The captain shook his head. “That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard. Go tell that to Colonel Larkin.”

  Lucas wiggled his hands, but the rope didn’t budge. They might decide to shoot him with his hands tied together.

  Holding onto his arm, the captain escorted Lucas through camp. His neck prickled, feeling all the soldiers watching him—the condemned man.

  “Tell the colonel I have a deserter,” the captain said to a young man standing outside a wall tent.

  “Yes, sir.” The man ducked inside and a few minutes later walked back out. “He said to bring him in.”

  The captain nodded. With one hand he held up the flap and motioned for Lucas to go inside. Lucas heard the flap fall and looked behind him. The captain had not entered. His heart dropped to the pit of his stomach. Facing the colonel alone terrified him. He snapped to attention, unable to salute with his hands tied behind his back.

  The colonel lay back in his chair, his legs outstretched under his field desk. The man had graying black hair and small sideburns. Arms folded across his chest, he sized Lucas up with slate gray eyes.

  “Private Lucas Grady, sir. Fourth Georgia Infantry.”

  “You won’t be a private much longer, soldier. You’re a deserter.” The colonel spat out the last word, his mustache twitching.

  “The captain told me my fate, sir. I understand.”

  Both of Colonel Larkin’s eyebrows rose. “You don’t seem too
concerned.”

  What did the man expect him to do? Plead for his life? “I deserted. It was wrong.”

  The colonel grunted and shook his head. “You sound like a little boy confessing to stealing a cookie.”

  That comment irked him. He was taking this matter seriously. Was the officer? Lucas wetted his lips. “What do you want from me, sir?”

  The colonel rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know. I’ve been chasing down men like you for a while now. You don’t seem to fit the mold.”

  Exactly what was the mold?

  “When did you desert?”

  “After the last battle, sir—August first. I was shot above the knee. I was more afraid of the sawbones than the Yankees.”

  The colonel tipped his head back and laughed. “Now that would explain it.” He eyed him again, this time with a hint of a smile. “I believe you, son. I believe you.”

  Lucas drew a deep breath. That was a good thing, right? Maybe he’d find a way to escape the firing squad….

  “So what have you been doing these past few weeks?”

  “Healing, sir.” How much should he confess? Short answers were probably safest.

  “And you were planning on coming back when you were strong enough?” The colonel’s questioning tone probed him deep.

  Lucas bowed his head. “No, sir. I’m tired of this war, tired of fighting.” When he looked up again, he couldn’t meet the man’s eyes. “We’re losing the war, you know? When I die I want my life to mean something.”

  “And now, Private Grady?” Colonel Larkin asked. “If I order you shot, will your life mean anything?”

  Lucas felt like his heart was being clawed to shreds. If this interrogation lasted any longer, he wouldn’t have to be shot. He’d just drop dead in the tent. Squeezing his eyes shut to hide his coming tears, he worked on controlling his voice. “Yes, sir. I believe my life has meant something.” At the least I helped Sophia escape. She’ll have a better future because of me.

  The colonel was silent for a long time. Lucas averted his gaze, not wanting to try to read his thoughts. His heart pounded harder with each passing second, a dull pain pulsing through his chest. His tongue circled his mouth to help alleviate the dryness, but he couldn’t stop the cold sweat.

  Lucas didn’t know how much more he could take. Inside his head, he shouted, Make up your mind already. His gut wound so tight he could barely breathe.

  The colonel scratched behind his ear. “You’ve put me in a hard spot. All my men have heard me swear up and down I’d kill the next deserter I caught. I’m tired of tracking your kind down.”

  “Yes, sir,” Lucas breathed.

  “But there is a loophole.” The officer tapped his fingers on the desk. “I’ve said I’d shoot the next deserter I tracked down. I didn’t catch you.” Colonel Larkin smirked. “A pretty young woman did.”

  Lucas’s cheeks burned. How did Colonel Larkin know she was pretty? Had he spied her when she left? Lucas pictured Sophia’s round face, the sunlight illuminating the caramel highlights in her dark brown hair. Her deep blue eyes strong yet gentle just like the rest of her body.

  Colonel Larkin cleared his throat, pulling Lucas out of his lovely daydream and back to the bleak present. “If you now think your life is worth something even if I order you shot, don’t you think it would be worth more if you fulfilled your duty to the Confederacy?”

  A way out. “Yes, sir,” Lucas said quickly. “I’d like to do my part to fight the Yankees.”

  The colonel’s face remained somber, his thin lips glued together. “Good. I’ll send you back to your regiment then. They’re not too far from here.”

  “You’re sending me back to the front?” Lucas asked, hardly believing his ears.

  “Yes, Private Grady. We need men to fight for our cause. If I killed you, I’d be helping the Yankees. I wouldn’t want to do that now, would I?”

  “No, sir!” Lucas’s eyes widened and he grinned. The vice clamping his insides together released. Relief cascaded over him and he relished the feeling.

  “Fight, Private Grady,” Colonel Larkin ordered in a gruff growl. “You say this war is a lost cause. It will be if half the army decides to quit. You understand?”

  “Yes, sir. I do, sir. I will fight, sir.”

  “Good.”

  Lucas spied a glint in the colonel’s eyes.

  “I believe you now have someone to be fighting for.”

  Those words caught him off guard, and he inhaled sharply. Could he be that transparent? While the captain questioned Sophia, he hadn’t even looked at her. He thought he’d remained serious. Did he have “I’m in love” written across his forehead?

  It didn’t matter. Colonel Larkin was right. Yes I do have someone to fight for.

  Now he had to survive on the battlefield until General Lee surrendered, and then he could marry Sophia.

  ***

  Sophia clutched her carpetbag in her lap. Her tight grip on the handles turned her knuckles white. Almost to Franklin, she wished she’d changed her destination. The ranch would be dreary, empty if Lucas would never be coming home. Tears coated her eyelashes and she sniffled.

  She didn’t have anywhere else to go. Staying at his home, even for a little while would honor his wishes, live his dream. Living his dream for him because….

  Why did her every thought remind her he was dead? Her quiet tears grew into muffled sobs. She held her hand to her mouth trying to restrain her sorrow, but the burden was too heavy.

  Thankfully, no one around her said a word. Maybe they didn’t notice. Maybe they were immune to her grief, having to deal with their own. Maybe they understood her pain and knew nothing could help. Indeed, many of the women and children in the seats next to her wore black mourning dresses.

  Too much death. And Lucas….

  Had she caused his death? Her stomach roiled. The thought of food made her ill.

  She had wanted him to return to the army, but she hadn’t ordered the firing squad. And if he’d never deserted, he wouldn’t be blindfolded and…. Briefly she imagined his lifeless body lying in the grass. His chiseled chest covered in blood. Her name the only thing on his lips.

  If he hadn’t deserted, she’d never have met him. She’d broken free from Papa and from Mr. Rawlins and she owed that to Lucas. His chivalrous ways and beaming smile opened her heart up, let her know what it felt to be loved after so many years feeling nothing but a slave.

  She opened her carpetbag and took out the note Lucas had written to his parents explaining she was his fiancée and to welcome her into the family. His betrothed. They were supposed to get married and live happily ever after.

  Cinderella got her prince. All the fairy tales ended with marriage and she supposed children. She wanted that with him. The two of them settling down on his horse farm to raise a family sounded like the perfect life.

  But she wasn’t living in the middle of a fairy tale. She was living in the middle of a war.

  The train rumbled down the tracks, but she didn’t hear the noise or the chatter of the passengers around her. Buried so deep in her own thoughts, she did not notice the train had stopped. The porter had to shake her arm before she acknowledged him.

  “Ma’am, we’ve pulled into the station.”

  “Oh. We’re in Franklin already?”

  “Yes, ma’am. May I help you with your bag?”

  “No, thank you.” She picked up the carpetbag and stood. After sitting for hours, it felt like her body had molded to the seat. Her bottom and back ached from the long ride. She stepped carefully, aware of the discomfort in her limbs. It felt good to stretch her legs. After stepping off the train, she stood on the platform, holding the note Lucas had written. The back of the note gave the farm’s location.

  Few people occupied the sidewalk and the street appeared equally as deserted. Should she ask for directions? She wanted to remain invisible. It felt wrong to be in Franklin under these circumstances, to live off the generosity of his family when�
�.

  No. She stopped her thoughts and mentally slapped herself. This was what Lucas wanted, and he wouldn’t approve of her being devoured by guilt. Shaking off the last of her reservations, she strode down the street, her head held high. The horse farm would be out in the country somewhere.

  Heading toward the edge of town, she entered the last business—the smithy. The ringing of a hammer striking metal reached her ears long before she stepped inside. The dark building, matched her spirits, lit mainly by the fire of the forge.

  Likely the blacksmith had done business with Lucas before. He should be able to give her directions.

  The muscular mulatto man, did not seem to realize her presence. He continued hammering a horseshoe into shape, his eyes focused on his work.

  “Sir,” Sophia shouted over the ear-splitting noise.

  His hammering stopped and he looked over at her, an eyebrow quirked. “How can I help you, miss?”

  “Do you know Lucas Grady?”

  “Yes, miss.”

  “Oh good.” Her lungs took in air a little easier. “I need directions to his ranch.”

  The man straightened and rubbed the back of his neck, his brown face sweaty, sleeves rolled up on his shirt.

  He motioned with his head to the right. “Continue walking down the road. It is the third homestead on the left.”

  “And his parents?”

  “They live right across the way from his place, ma’am.”

  “Thank you.”

  The long dirt road stretched in front of her. Despite her unrushed pace, she covered the distance too quickly for her nerves. Sophia had rehearsed what she was going to say to Lucas’s parents a thousand times, but the words still remained tangled in her mind.

  Briefly she wondered whether to head to Lucas’s horse farm. No. That wouldn’t be proper. She needed to talk to them before she moved into Lucas’s house. Introducing herself was only right. Her tongue felt thick in her mouth. Would she be able to speak? She rubbed her clammy hands on the sides of her dress and climbed the two steps onto the porch. Taking a deep breath, she raised her arm to knock, but the door swung open.