Patricia Hagan

by Loves Wine

  She made no sound at all, too miserable to speak. Norman had been right. He’d said there’d be trouble tonight, because they knew she’d be away.

  Norman! Had he gone against her wishes and been on her land? And where was Sally? She hadn’t been seen all evening. “Oh, God!” she whispered hoarsely.

  Quickly she told Scott her fears, and they rode even faster through the night, taking shortcuts through the woods while the men in wagons and carriages had to stay on the road.

  Smoke stung and watered their eyes as they drew closer, and the sound of flames crackling screamed like an evil, devouring forest creature. They rounded the final bend and reached the cabin.

  There was nothing left of it, only burning chunks of wood amidst rubble and glowing ashes. Holly slid from the horse, running toward the smoke and flames. He jumped off, grabbed her, held her back. “There’s nothing we can do for the cabin.” He shouted to the three officers just arriving, “Let’s get a bucket brigade going from the inlet there. The others will be here in a minute. We’ve got to stop the woods from catching fire.” He gave Holly a shake. “Get hold of yourself, damn it. There’s work to be done.”

  “Buckets in the shed, there,” she called to the men.

  Within moments the brigade was started, and soon the other men arrived, led by Jarvis, and joined in. Some trees had caught the flames, and had to be chopped down quickly before the flames spread to the tops of others. Several grass fires were burning, too, but these were brought under control quickly.

  Holly carried a bucket, working as fast as the men, until Jarvis hollered to her, “You had no business coming out here, Holly. Colonel Colter will hear from me about going against my wishes, you may be sure of that.”

  In shock, exhausted, his well-meant words of concern sounded like criticism, not like fear for her welfare. He saw the way his words had struck her and came over, awkwardly putting his arm around her. Gently, he said, “I think it’s obvious everything’s gone, Holly. I’m sorry. But there’s nothing more to be done here. I’m going to take you back so you can get some rest. You’re dead on your feet.”

  She shook her head. “We still don’t know about Sally and Norman. They might be—”

  At that moment, the officer Scott had sent back to Magnolia Hall to search for Norman and Sally rode up, calling, “Nobody’s seen ’em, sir.”

  Holly began to tremble violently. Scott organized a search party of the men who could now be spared from fighting the few remaining flames. “Remember, they might be frightened and hiding,” he barked.

  Tenderness and sympathy were gone. He was all military. Two people were missing and nothing else was important just then, not Holly’s home, not their lovemaking. He hurried away, snapping orders, and Holly stared after him for just a moment before she turned away to examine the smoldering ashes of her home.

  It had never been much, just a rough-hewn cabin, but every one of those boards had been hand-cut and shaped by Grandpa. The furniture had also been lovingly carved by him. As she stood there thinking, she realized that the few clothes she owned, the little bit of money, all was gone. Everything hers was just…gone.

  The tears began, and simultaneously she felt a hand on her shoulder and someone’s arms around her. She looked up at Neil, whose face was twisted in misery. “I just heard. I went to Magnolia Hall, looking for the colonel, and they told me. God, Holly…” He looked around, surveying the total destruction of her whole life. “I’m sorry. Oh, damn.” Embarrassed, knowing there wasn’t a thing he could say, he gave her another hug, then said, “I have to see the Colonel right now, Holly. I’ll check on you later and do whatever needs to be done.”

  He hurried toward the woods, pushing his way into the weeds and brush, moving, he realized, parallel to the swamp inlet. Far ahead, he saw the torches of the search party. As he drew closer, he saw that they were standing in a semicircle at the water’s edge, torches held high. They were all staring down at the ground, unmoving.

  He pushed his way through to stand next to Scott. On the ground were the bloodied remains of a Negro man and woman.

  Scott spoke slowly, voice catching. “They shot them, or cut their throats. Impossible to tell now. Threw them in the swamp for the alligators. There’s not much of them left.” He drew in his breath, let it out slowly. “Get them out of here—and make sure Miss Maxwell doesn’t see them.” He moved away from the others, knowing that Neil had something important to tell him or he wouldn’t have come all the way out there. Out of hearing range of anyone, he snapped wearily, “Well?”

  Neil was swallowing against the nausea that welled in his throat. He’d never seen bodies look like that, not even during the war. “Jim Pate’s in town. Says he’s got the information you wanted.”

  Scott whipped his head up, excitement in his voice. “Did he tell you anything?”

  “No. He said he was told to report directly to you.”

  “Where’d you take him? Not to the barracks, I hope. I want him out of sight.”

  “I know that. I told him to be at the Delta Hotel, room seven, at midnight. You’re going to have to move fast to get there by then,” he warned.

  But there was Holly. “I’m leaving now,” he told Neil. “Go to Holly. It’s going to be hard on her, but I’d rather she heard about Norman and Sally from us. If she doesn’t want to go back to Jarvis’s, then bring her into town. Take her wherever she wants to go. Just stay with her as long as she needs you, understand?” Neil nodded briskly. “Let’s move.”

  Scott gave his horse full rein. Pate’s assignment had been to track down a rumor that the father of one of the gold thieves was ready to talk. It seemed the old man had been “saved” at some fire-eating revival and wanted to confess all of his sins—one of them being that he’d sired a son who stole. One night, drunk in a riverfront tavern a few hundred miles north, he’d told his story to a bartender. He’d been overheard by a soldier who remarked to one of his commanding officers that it was strange to hear someone talking about a stolen Union gold shipment when there was no such thing, was there? The officer passed the unusual story along until, finally, it reached the ears of the right person. If the old man knew anything then, by God, things were looking brighter, as long as word of the theft didn’t get too far.

  Vicksburg was asleep when Scott rode in. He tied his horse to the hitching post in front of the Delta, then went around to enter the building from the alley in back. It was almost midnight. The only signs of life came from the saloons.

  He hurried up the creaking stairs, hoping Pate would be waiting. Slowly opening the door to room 7, he took one look, leaped inside and slammed the door behind him. “Lisa Lou! What the hell are you doing here?”

  She was lying on the bed, a sheet pulled over her naked body, her clothes on the chair. Her long golden hair was fanned out on the pillow, an effect she had arranged carefully. Flashing him a practiced smile, she cooed, “Why Scott, you knew I’d be meeting you here, didn’t you? That’s why you left the door open.” She sat up, allowing the sheet to fall away from her thrusting breasts. “Maybe you were just hoping I’d come.”

  “I want,” he said slowly, evenly, eyes narrowing, “for you to get dressed and get out of here. I wasn’t waiting for you, Lisa Lou.”

  “No?” she raised an eyebrow. “Then who are you expecting, Scott? Surely not that ragamuffin Holly Maxwell. Why are you here? Who’s your whore?”

  He wanted to say she was already one whore too many in his life. Gathering up her clothes, he tossed them at her, then stood back and waited, arms folded across his chest.

  Lisa Lou stared at him, her fury mounting as she saw that he meant it. “Damn you, Scott Colter,” she erupted. “Just who the hell do you think you are? I…I’ve done everything I could to please you.” Tears threatened, but he didn’t move.

  “This has nothing to do with another woman, Lisa Lou. Just get dressed and leave, please. We’ll talk later.”

  She looked at him hard for a second, then knew he
wasn’t going to relent. He didn’t want her. “Believe one thing, Scott Colter. You’re going to be sorry about this. You’re going to pay.”

  She pulled on her clothes in furious silence and left. Scott lay down on the bed, then, tensed, waiting. The minutes rolled by.

  A half hour passed. He paced the room. Hell, if he’d known Pate wasn’t going to be on time, he could’ve been the one to break the news to Holly about Sally and Norman.

  He sighed, exasperated. It was almost one o’clock. Where the hell was Pate?

  He turned at the sound of footsteps clattering up the stairs, instinctively knowing Pate wouldn’t be so stupid as to make that kind of noise or bring anyone along with him. Drawing his gun, he moved behind the door quickly. It opened, and at once the room filled with men, four of them, each holding a pistol or rifle. Talton Pollock led the pack.

  “Drop the gun, you raping bastard!” Pollock growled. “You can’t kill us all.”

  “I’ll get a few,” Scott said evenly. “Who wants to go first?”

  The men began to exchange uneasy glances. It was one thing to go along with their friend in defending his daughter’s honor—especially when the odds were in their favor. But nobody had figured on Colter being ready for them. Staring down the barrel of a gun made the picture look different.

  “You tried to rape my daughter,” Talton said between tightly clenched teeth, his shotgun pointed straight at Scott. “You may think you’re the law in this town, but, by God, there’s law bigger’n you. You took advantage.”

  Scott knew the man wouldn’t listen to reason, but he knew he was expected to try anyhow. “I didn’t try to harm your daughter. You’ve got it wrong.” Lord, if he only knew about his daughter! “When you’ve cooled down, we’ll talk. Tomorrow.”

  Talton looked around, expecting his men to share his outrage and contempt, but they were all moving toward the door. “All right, we’ll go for now,” he said. “But you ain’t heard the last of this. No man hurts my daughter and gets away with it. You’re dead, Colter!”

  They shuffled out, muttering among themselves, and Scott locked the door. What in hell was going to happen next? And where, damn it, was Pate?

  He waited another half hour, and then, finally, he was forced to admit that it was foolhardy to remain there any longer. Pate was way overdue, and Talton would, no doubt, be drinking somewhere and fanning the flames of fatherly rage. He just might get up the nerve to come charging back.

  Scott’s hand was on the doorknob when he heard the sound of soft, cautious footsteps. Once more, he drew his gun and waited.

  But Neil Davis was not so foolish as to slip up on Scott Colter. He called through the door, and Scott yanked it open, pulling him inside. “Where the hell is Pate? I thought you said…” Then he saw the expression on Neil’s face. “Tell me,” he said tersely.

  “Someone found his body down at the livery stable,” Neil said, spreading his hands helplessly. “His throat had been slashed. Probably been dead since right after I talked to him.”

  Scott sent his fist crashing into the doorjamb. This could mean only that Jim Pate had indeed had the information they needed. Worse, someone had known he was in Vicksburg, which meant Roger Bonham and his thieves knew someone was on their trail. Did they know it was him? He realized suddenly that Lisa Lou’s rape charge might not be all a bad thing. He had a cover now, a reason for leaving the site of the fire without explanation.

  He asked Neil what had been done with the body, and his friend shrugged. “What else could I do but treat it like the death of any stranger? I acted like I didn’t give a damn, and sent poor Jim over to the undertaker. They’ll identify him eventually. I couldn’t admit I knew him.”

  No, it could be no other way. But he and Neil had lost a friend, a man they’d been through the war with, and felt the scorching brimstone with. For now, there wasn’t a damn thing they could do to avenge Jim Pate’s murder. For now. But later, he vowed in silent fury, later, someone would pay for the death of a good man.

  Neither Scott nor Neil looked at the other during the ride back to the post. Why embarrass another man by letting him see your tears—or his?

  Chapter Nineteen

  Roger was extremely pleased with himself. It was the next day, Saturday morning, and he sat in his father’s study, behind the large mahogany desk, enjoying a cup of coffee laced with brandy. A brilliant sun shone through the windows, birds were singing, and a soft breeze was blowing in from the river. It was a lovely day. Holly’s cabin was gone. The Negro troublemakers were gone. It might have been less messy, he recalled with a distasteful sniff, but Barney Phillips had always been a bit crazy with a knife in his hand.

  Alex Wellman was out of the way, too, and now Holly was in debt to Roger for having saved her virtue.

  His eyes clouded. Her virtue! She’d handed it right over to that goddamn Colter. Well, Colonel Colter was going to be easier to get rid of now. Roger’d been prepared to send a telegram to a friend in Congress who owed him a favor, asking that Colter be relieved of command in Vicksburg, but hadn’t planned on giving a reason. Now he had one, thanks to that slut, Lisa Lou Pollock. According to the message he’d received from Phillips, Pollock had caught his daughter slipping into the house after midnight. After he’d given her a sound thrashing, she’d confessed to meeting Colter.

  Roger leaned back in the leather chair and propped his boots on the edge of the desk. To top everything, Phillips had succeeded in getting rid of the spy, Pate. That had been a stroke of luck. Linwood Dobbs had heard about his father, Speight, suddenly becoming religious, heard his old man was talking too much. Linwood confided all of it to Phillips, explaining that he was sure he could make his father shut up. Phillips took no chances, however. He sent two of his men to see Speight Dobbs, and when they learned the old man had been talking to a stranger, one of them followed the stranger when he left town. The other remained behind to see that Speight had an accident, a fatal one.

  When the stranger came to Vicksburg, Phillips killed him, then decided Linwood had to be eliminated, as well. Once he learned of his father’s death, he’d have become a problem.

  The trouble was, Phillips had killed Pate before giving him time to make contact with anyone. There’d been no choice. They couldn’t risk Pate doing any talking. But had he planned to meet anyone? There was no way of knowing, and Roger hated that kind of loose end.

  Roger downed the rest of his coffee and got up and stretched. There would be time enough later to worry. Now, he would enjoy the fruits of his labor.

  He made his way upstairs, and as he neared the top of the stairs, he heard Jarvis’s voice. Drawing closer to Holly’s room, he stopped and listened.

  “You must attend the party tonight,” Jarvis was saying. “Holly, I understand how you feel, truly I do. They were your friends. It was a horrible thing. But this whole weekend means a lot to your mother—and to me.”

  Holly’s voice was just as firm as his. “I will attend the wedding tomorrow, of course, but out of respect for Norman and Sally, I will not socialize tonight. I want to make sure they have a decent funeral and burial, and I want to be with their friends tonight, not sipping champagne with yours—some of whom may even know who killed them,” she added bitterly.

  Jarvis’s voice rose. “We can have the funeral late this afternoon. Claudia and I will even attend with you. Then there’ll be time for you to dress for the party.”

  “Maybe their friends don’t want to throw them in the ground so fast,” she lashed out angrily, “like so much garbage. If you’ll leave me now, I want to go and see what plans their friends want to make.”

  Jarvis held on to his patience. “Do as you think best, dear.” He left then, Roger meeting him in the hallway as though he’d just gotten there. He nodded to his father, and went into Holly’s room. She accepted his condolences in stony silence, then went to see her mother.

  Claudia was still in bed, propped on pillows, sipping tea. She looked so pale. She beckoned Holly
to sit in the chair beside the bed, and she tried hard to make her smile bright. “I’m just tired, dear. The parties are wonderful, but talking to everyone, dancing till late…it’s all exhausting, to tell the truth.”

  Holly said bluntly, “You weren’t dancing last night, Mother. You’re worried about me, aren’t you?”

  Claudia shook her head from side to side, tears sparkling. “Oh, Holly, those men won’t stop. Poor Sally…Norman…” She gave way to sobs, and Holly took the teacup away, threw her arms around her, and sobbed right along with her.

  They clung together for some time, each seeking comfort, and then Holly said, “Crying won’t help.”

  “No,” Claudia sniffed in agreement, “and I want to tell you something, Holly. I’m not sorry the cabin’s gone. Oh, I know how you felt, but now you can’t go back there, and maybe they’ll leave you alone. You will stay here, won’t you?”

  “Maybe I’ll stay with Abby, in town,” she said, thinking about being in the same house with Roger while her mother was away on her honeymoon. “When you get back, we’ll talk about the future. I just don’t want you worrying about me. Put everything out of your mind except your wedding.”

  “Only if you agree to stay here while I’m gone.” Claudia clutched her arm in a desperate plea. “I mean it, Holly. Roger is headstrong and spoiled, I know, and he can be quite unpleasant, but he’ll look after you and I won’t worry about you. But in town, with Abby…” Her voice trailed away as she pictured the two females alone in Vicksburg, one of them a lightning rod for troubles. When Holly did not respond, her mother tightened her grip. “Please do this for me.”

  Reluctantly, Holly nodded. Her mother’s anxiety was, indirectly, her fault, and she couldn’t refuse.

  They talked awhile, and just before Holly left, her mother said, “I saw you with Colonel Colter last night and I…I’m sorry if I’m prying, I am curious about your relationship with the Colonel.”

  Holly couldn’t suppress her smile. “I like him, Mother, I really do,” she confided. “We had some differences,” she said cautiously, “in the beginning, but we’ve resolved things. He is a Yankee, after all, but he’s nice, and I do like him. Do you approve?”