“I’m not sure what to say. I would like to hold back, be modest and not make any promises to you, because I guess that’s what men like, a girl who is reserved and makes a man work for her love. But, I was never very good at being coy, Sam. And if you don’t already know how I feel about you I would think you were a fool.”
“Just for the sake of it, consider me a fool. For once and for all how do you feel about me, Serena?”
“Oh, I feel enough to leave everything I knew behind and chase you all over the country dressed as a boy. I feel enough for you to have endured army life, and it hasn’t been an easy thing for me, Sam. I feel enough that, as you can see, I’ve gotten in well over my head just to be near you. Does that tell you anything?”
He smiled. “Then you always were my girl, and I just didn’t know it.”
“Yes. I always was your girl. How proud does it make you to have the affections of a girl named Frank?”
“Very proud,” he assured me. He moved in closer to me, kissing me and holding me close. I felt so safe, so happy. I could hardly believe it was real. The thing I wanted most was really mine to have!
I spent the remainder of the day resting on and off, staying in my tent. Sam dug up some boots that had seen better days, and some other supplies such as a bedroll and haversack for me, then he doctored my feet up. The next day I ate my breakfast, and then I reported to the field for drills. And when I saw Old Whiskers he seemed to try to hide his astonishment at my being there.
I didn’t take my eyes off of him. I wanted him to know I wasn’t afraid of him. If he should chance to look at me, I was looking right back. I felt defiant. I wanted to show him he couldn’t hurt me. So I set my jaw and gave him a hateful stare. It made me angrier still when he didn’t seem affected by it at all. If anything, he seemed to be ignoring me. When drills were over Sam strode right up to him to confront him.
“I will have words with you!” he said. Jack was casual in his response to Sam’s harsh words.
“What for?” he replied with a disinterested sneer. What for? How dare he? Boy that really riled me. He knew good and well what for.
“I heard what you done to Frank, and I won’t stand for it,” Sam informed him, getting in his face and poking his finger at him. Sam was growing heated and I feared he might engage him in a fight right there on the field.
“What has the little buzzard been saying ’bout me?”
“You know what’s been said, and it’s something I won’t stand for!” Sam growled.
I tried to intercede. “Sam, please…Please do not do this. I don’t want it. Why won’t you listen to me?”
Sam ignored me. “I will have satisfaction,” he said to Jack Monroe.
“Oh, and how do you aim on doing that?” Jack returned.
“We’ll take care of it privately, you and me.”
“No!” I yelled. “Sam, please! I don’t want you to get in trouble because of me. Just walk away from this. You don’t have to do it!” But Sam refused to listen to me. He was glaring sullen at Jack and if it were possible I believe he would have burned Jack up with his look.
Jack casually shrugged. “Suits me.”
“This evening in the field out back of the old barn down the road,” Sam continued.
“Just you and me?”
“Certainly,” Sam agreed. “Just you and me.”
“After supper. Wouldn’t want you to get thrashed on an empty belly.”
Sam smiled mirthlessly. “So be it. And we will see who gets thrashed!”
Chapter 25
NOW THERE WAS NOTHING FOR ME TO DO but beg and plead for Sam not to go. But he refused to acknowledge a word I said on it. In the privacy of our tent I shed tears; I tried to convince him with the most woeful imploring a person could have. But my solicitude did nothing to soften his heart. He would not hear of backing out.
“I want you to stay here, Serena. Do you understand? You must not be mixed up in any of this.”
“I won’t!” I told him. “You’re up to no good, and I can’t sit by and wait to see what becomes of you.”
“I don’t want you there! You stay put or I’ll be very angry with you.”
The moment he struck out for the field, on his own, I went to Mr. Haney. Mr. Haney was with some of the others, Darby and Felix and the Carroll brothers and Boss Tanner, playing a game of poker. I hesitated. How was I to get him away from the others tactfully without arousing the suspicion of everyone present?
“Mr. Haney, may I have a word?”
Mr. Haney seemed as though he didn’t want to be bothered. “What is it?” he asked unwilling to put his cards down.
“Might I speak with you in private?” I requested a little more urgently. He looked at his hand and then to me, as if he were torn. Probably he held a good set of cards he wanted to play, but he reluctantly put the cards down and got up to follow me. We walked far enough away so the others couldn’t hear.
“What’s this about?”
“Sam. I…Well, he’s gone out to fight Jack. And I have a bad feeling about it. I plan on going out there to make sure no harm comes to him and I need you to come with me.”
“Why would Sam fight Jack?” Mr. Haney asked.
“On account of me,” I told him.
He seemed confused. “On account of you?”
“It’s difficult to explain,” I said. I was growing more and more agitated because I wanted to go to Sam and make sure he was all right. Mr. Haney was wasting time.
“What is going on here, son?” Mr. Haney wanted to know.
“Sam found out Jack tried to kill me.”
“What?”
“He was awful mad about it and he challenged Jack. Only I know Jack and I know he might do something low down, and I am afraid for Sam.”
“Listen, Frank. Nothing you are saying right now is making any sense to me. How did Jack try to kill you?”
“That night at Rappahannock Station, when Jack said I was shot by a Reb, he was lying. I was trying to fish somebody out of the river and Jack pushed me in. He knew I couldn’t swim. You were there when Vern told it to him. You and Sam and me and Vern and Jack. Remember? He pitched me into the river and left me for dead, then came back to camp with some made up story. Now Sam’s set on teaching him a lesson.”
“Why didn’t you or Sam report this to Upton?” Mr. Haney wondered. I remained silent, torn between telling the truth and settling upon a lie.
“I didn’t want anyone to know,” I finally said.
“Why not?”
“Mr. Haney, it’s personal,” I said feebly.
“Something is not right here. You aren’t telling me everything,” he accused with his brow furrowed thoughtful. “If you’ve nothing to hide, we should go and see the Colonel about all of this.”
“Please! Please!” I begged. Finally, I turned away from him and started off on my own. I was perhaps too weak to take Jack Monroe on my own, but I’d be darned if I let anything happen to Sam because of me. I was running, desperate to get to Sam. Mr. Haney must have felt some compassion for me, because he took up with me, the two of us hastening to the field where Sam and Jack were to meet.
Now, when we came upon the field it was good and dark, so we heard them fighting before we actually saw them. They were grunting and breathing heavily from the effort of it. In the murky night we could not tell who was who. They were like two cats engaged in a fight, growling with their hackles standing on end and then entangled and rolling erratically over the ground, one blending into the other until you couldn’t tell which was which.
As tangled and tied up as they appeared, they finally fell away from each other, both exhausted, arms hanging at their sides to conserve strength in a short moment of truce. Their faces were already bloodied and bruised, their breaths ragged and distressed. While they were almost perfectly matched in height and weight, Sam had the advantage of youth. That small edge was now dissipating and falling away quickly as he grew fatigued.
It was clear in
the following brief moments Sam was tired out and close to exhaustion. He was a mill worker, accustomed to throwing dead weight around, timbers and logs that didn’t struggle against him. He would push, or pull and they would eventually yield to his power. Sam could box, no doubt about it, but he was not accustomed to the dirty fighting Jack was skilled in. No gentleman would fight in such a manner. It was clear Sam didn’t have the experience the older man had with bar fights and violent quarrels. I assumed it was years of serving large working men who became sore at the thought of a tab coming due or being told they’d had enough liquor and must leave the bar which gave Jack his skills.
Sam wasted precious energy pacing and dodging back and forth, looking for an opening, and when one would open, he would lunge, only to have Jack, with a cool smile step quickly just to one side and redirect him, sometimes all the way to the ground. Sam looked enraged. I was sure much of his discontent was in having to see Jack smiling so smugly, that predatory smile I had before witnessed for myself.
It was obvious what the outcome must be, although Sam couldn’t see it through his sweat filled eyes. He went for another feinted opening; Jack stepped to one side with little effort. Before Sam hit the ground Jack brought his knee up to his groin, and Sam’s legs buckled. His body folded, his knees and then his face hitting the dirt, as his hands clutched between his legs.
“Mr. Haney,” I cried. “Please, we must help him!”
“Jack, this has gone far enough!” Mr. Haney yelled.
Jack was defiant. “It’s between him and me!” he grunted, pointing to Sam and then jerking his thumb back to his own chest. “We agreed upon it. You’d do best to get on out of here. Let us handle it.”
Sam managed to pull himself from the ground despite his terrible pain, turning on Jack and throwing himself at the man with the full weight of his body. Jack tumbled backward, landing hard. Sam was winning for a brief moment. He beat on Jack with a fierce rage, pounding his fists over and over into his face and head with his full fury. His face was clenched, his body full of tension as he grunted with each blow.
Mr. Haney rushed over to intercede. He attempted to pull Sam off of Jack, tugging at his arm and then hooking his hands into the crook of Sam’s armpits. Sam did his best to shrug Mr. Haney off, but was unsuccessful. Mr. Haney finally succeeded in pulling him away.
“You must stop this before someone gets killed!” Mr. Haney advised him as he ripped Sam from Jack. “Cool down, boy!”
Mr. Haney stood with his back to Jack, and Sam’s attention was drawn away as well. The rascal saw his chance, reached down to his boot and brought up a hidden carving knife, only about three inches long, but lethal enough to do Sam in. While Mr. Haney was talking to Sam, they were oblivious to Jack’s purpose. He must have intended upon playing dirty all along, the scoundrel, to have a knife hidden in his boot like that.
“Sam! Watch out!” I yelled.
Mr. Haney jumped clear. Sam sprang backward just in time to keep from being killed, as Jack came at him. Jack swiped across his belly with the blade, cutting deep enough to slice through his shirt and draw blood. When I saw what he did to Sam, I screamed. The scream was high pitched and desperate and I didn’t even worry about the fact it sounded like a girl screaming. I sprang onto Jack wrapping my arms and legs around him, distracting him just enough to let Sam drop away. Jack staggered under my weight, but then got his bearings directly and brought the handle of the knife to my temple sending me sprawling and dazed. As I looked up Sam was bent over in pain and stumbling on his feet. The knife surprised him but my warning at least delayed his end. I tried to call out to him, and I might have but I couldn’t hear anything for the deafening ringing in my ears.
When Sam saw my affliction, he was back in the fight again. Jack and Sam were struggling with one another, fighting for ownership of the knife. What would Jack do? Carve us all up? All three witnesses? He surely wouldn’t leave it undone. A fear for my life and for Sam’s and Mr. Haney’s left me nearly paralyzed. I felt disoriented and crazed. Unable to get up of my own accord, I crawled desperately through the grass, trying to get away from him. In my haze, my hand came across something hard and cold. Sam and Jack had removed their coats and lay their pistols to the side before the fight, presumably so no weapons would be involved. I tried to concentrate my gaze, aware Sam and Jack were struggling over the knife which Jack gripped tightly in his fist. Sam was doing all he could to wretch it free from him. He might have come here to teach Jack a lesson, but the lesson was ours, Sam’s and mine. In a life or death fight there is no fair, there is only the survivor. At that moment I didn’t care for anything more than for our survival, for our future. I picked up Sam’s Colt revolver and gripped it resolutely in my hand.
“Stop this now!” Mr. Haney was yelling. He stepped forward as if he might try to come between the two men, but Jack was not about to stop. He dived at Sam with the knife, and Mr. Haney, rather than come to harm, leaped out of the way again.
Through my still blurred vision I took the colt and placed a bead on Jack, just as he twirled the blade in his hand and readied to stab downward into Sam.
“Stop!” I shrieked.
I squeezed off a shot. The boom resonated loudly as the gun went off. Both men tumbled away from me. In my confusion I feared briefly I may’ve hit Sam, but he and Jack came up almost instantly, unharmed. The bullet went wide sparing them both. Sam briefly shouted toward me but was cut short by the flashing blade Jack wielded. He still had enough strength to stop Jack’s upward strike through his belly and into his chest.
I squeezed the trigger again, again without any results. Jack was not looking at Sam now; he eyed me with a ferocity that made me quake in fear and with the same wicked smile upon his lips. Knowing Sam could wait and I was the greater threat, he kicked Sam down and then focused on me. I took another bead but he was coming at me in a half circle. Another round sounded, loud and jarring. Yet it didn’t seem to affect the approaching man.
“Jack Monroe!” I shouted. “You put that knife down, or I will shoot you!”
Old Whiskers seemed to pause for a moment, perhaps judging whether I could find my target under such duress this time around. My record was not very impressive thus far. Was I capable? I did my best to focus, aiming the gun at him while I tried to steady my trembling hand. I did not hear the shot, but saw the crazed look drain from his eyes, and the smile twisted and distorted in shock.
I kept pulling the trigger until the revolver stopped jumping in my hand. I shot him again and again. For a brief moment there was just Jack and me in this world, and the fear and hatred he inspired burst through me in a blistering rage I was incapable of controlling. The darkness hid what must have been a grizzly scene, but his ashen face, and those lifeless eyes were unmistakable. I knew he was dead, but I continued to try to fire the gun, only producing a clicking sound now that the cylinder was empty, until Mr. Haney put his hand upon mine and stopped me.
“Frank,” he murmured, “put it down.”
I did as he told me to, dropping the pistol to the ground. Both he and Sam were looking at me with troubled expressions. Without any warning I began to cry. I moaned loudly and then my body was overcome with great and terrible sobbing. Sam clutched his arm across his stomach, where Jack cut him open. He came to me with sympathy in his eyes, putting his other hand upon my shoulder.
“Are you all right?” he asked. I threw my arms around his neck, letting the tears come freely, without the strength to even attempt restraining them.
“I thought he would kill you, Sam,” I whimpered. “He wouldn’t stop.”
“It’s over now,” he assured me. “All is well. It’s all right.”
“It’s not all right! You’re hurt!” I told him.
“I’m all right,” he insisted, drawing me close.
“What would I have done without you?” I wept.
“It is over now. It is over,” Sam assured.
“What would I have done without you?” I asked again. I
pulled away feeling angry and relieved all at once. “You shouldn’t have come here! Don’t you ever do anything like this to me again!” I yelled at him, pointing my finger at him accusatory. I was shaking, my nerves stretched to a breaking point. But then I looked at Sam again and felt a collapse, as though everything inside of me that was holding me up had disintegrated all at once and there was nothing but massive rubble left. I began crying again and I clutched him to me, kissing him, burying my face in his neck.
We realized then, Mr. Haney was still with us, watching our interaction with a mix of confusion and horror. I pulled away from Sam, wiping my eyes in shame.
“What in the world is going on here?” he said incredulously. He was as I’d never seen him before, borderline infuriated. Mr. Haney who was so even tempered, so difficult to rile, was growing irate.
“It’s not what you think,” Sam replied with a pleading look on his face. He tucked me protectively behind him as he addressed Mr. Haney.
“Sam…” I began. The last thing I wanted was another person in on my secret. I thought to stop him from telling Mr. Haney, but I could see it was too late. It was far beyond being explainable. There was no going back. Mr. Haney would know it now too, and I must hope for compassion from him. Sam turned to me, looking from me to Mr. Haney as though he were torn as to what he should do. Without saying a word, I gave him my consent. He faced Mr. Haney resolutely.
“She is a girl, Reed. Frank is a girl,” Sam blurted. He was watching Mr. Haney to see what he would do, waiting for his response.
“What?” he asked, his eyes searching me in disbelief. It was clear from his countenance he couldn’t understand what was transpiring. When you are so thoroughly shocked by a revelation, it is difficult to recover your wits.
“Her name is Serena. She is the daughter of Matthew Stark,” Sam continued.
“How did this happen?” Mr. Haney wondered. His befuddled reaction was only to be expected. He was looking at Sam and then back to me with what I can only describe as pure astonishment. It was incomprehensible to him. I didn’t speak. I couldn’t speak.
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