And they did. With a small smile, Abby walked over to the stove. “How about I help you with the tea tray?” Before Julianne could refuse the offer, the girl poured the hot water from the kettle into a teapot. After she added tea to steep, she opened a likely drawer and pulled out three teaspoons.
Julianne poured cream into a pitcher and set a few cookies she’d made yesterday on a china plate.
Moments later Carl carried the tray to the parlor. After she poured and they all sat down, he grinned. “We are quite the team now, aren’t we?”
“I should say so.” After she took a fortifying sip of hot tea, Julianne smiled too. “Why is it that something made by someone else always tastes better?”
“I couldn’t say, but I will agree that it is true.”
When she set down her cup, Abby clasped her hands primly on her lap. “Now that we’ve determined that for now, at least, you cannot follow the captain, we need to work on your belief in him.”
“I’m afraid it isn’t as simple as that.”
“Of course it is,” she said earnestly. “It’s like faith, don’t you see?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Remember the parable about Jesus and the mustard seed?” she said quietly. “How Jesus chastised his followers, saying one only needed the smallest amount of faith to believe?”
Feeling a little helpless, as though they were talking about two different things at the same time, Julianne sputtered, “Of course. But—”
“You need to have faith, Julianne.”
“I do have faith in God.”
“No, not just in God. You need to have faith in the captain too. Because they aren’t two different things. The Lord wants you to have faith in him, and in how he is guiding your life. And I feel if you keep that faith, and you let Captain Monroe know how much you believe in him, in the two of you, well … everything will work out like it is supposed to.”
Julianne frowned. This young girl, with her sprite-like mannerisms and perpetual optimism, made it sound so easy.
But it wasn’t. Was it?
Or … maybe it was? Maybe that’s what it took to understand how things worked, she realized. Life was hard. But love and faith? Perhaps they didn’t need to be.
“I am beginning to believe your fiancé has found himself a perfect partner.”
Eyes sparkling, Abby raised her chin. “Of course he did,” she replied with a cheeky grin. “He asked for my hand in marriage, didn’t he?”
Her brother grunted. “As you can see, the Lord has much to work on with my little sister. On her humility, for example. That’s obvious.”
“Not at all,” Abby retorted. “I am well aware I have many flaws.”
“And a lack of humility is a big one.”
Julianne giggled. “I’m glad you two came over. You’ve done wonders for my mood.”
Carl leaned forward, about to reply, when a noise outside caught his attention. Getting to his feet, he looked out the window. “Are you expecting more company?”
“No.” Walking across the room, she looked out the window. Then felt her stomach drop. He’d come back. “Oh no,” she whispered.
Abby joined them. “Do you know this gentleman?”
It took everything she had to keep from saying her visitor was most definitely not a gentleman. Instead, she merely nodded. “I know him.”
“What is his purpose? Why is he simply standing on your walkway?”
“He knows he’s not welcome inside.”
Carl’s expression hardened. “Has he been giving you trouble? Would you like me to ask him to leave?”
The very last thing she wanted was for these young people—so fresh, so innocent—to be tainted by Daniel Bushman. “I think it would be best if you stayed inside with Abby while I go outside to speak with him.”
“Of course you cannot do that.”
“He is rather unsavory.” A knot filled her throat as she struggled with how to continue. How could she tell them this was the man for whom she’d been a mistress? And Devin had told her not to open the door to him, but she was afraid he’d create a scene—threaten Abby and Carl.
Looking out the window again, she felt Daniel’s gaze right into her heart. He was standing there, taunting her. And there was a new expression on his face. He looked triumphant.
But why?
What had he done?
Feeling as though she were about to enter a deep, dark hole, she rushed to the door.
“Julianne!” Abby called out. “What is wrong?”
Suddenly, she felt even more unkempt than she had before the pair arrived. Brushing back a strand of hair that had fallen onto her face, she realized she was going to have to confess all. “That man is Daniel Bushnell. I was his mistress during the war. He … he is everything you don’t want to know, Abby.”
“But I thought you were done with him,” Abby protested.
“I thought I was too.” She opened the door, stepped outside, and closed the door. All she could do was hope and pray neither of her guests decided to follow. She would really like to shield them. “Daniel,” she said. “What do you want?”
A slow, knowing smile lit his face. “It seems pigs do fly. At last, you are speaking to me again.”
“What are you doing here?”
He folded his hands across his chest. “I wanted to see your face when I told you your new protector will no longer come to your aid.”
All the trepidation that had engulfed her fell away. And though everything inside her ached to simply turn her back on him and go back inside, she couldn’t ignore his words. “Why not?”
All traces of amusement faded from his gaze as he stared at her. Hard. “Because I went after him, Julianne.”
“After Devin?” She could hardly get the words out.
“Of course, Devin. I followed him out of town yesterday. Then I shot him.”
She gasped.
“For what? For calling on me?”
“He threatened me with that false story about me giving away secrets during the war. But mostly because you are mine, Julianne. I wanted you when no one else did. I took care of you when no one else would. Did you really think I was going to stand aside and let a man like Devin Monroe have you? Touch you?”
She could barely hear his words. Could barely understand them. “Is he dead?”
“I shot him in the back. I doubt he made it another hundred yards before falling from his horse.”
“So you don’t know for sure? He could be suffering on the ground somewhere, all alone?”
Daniel narrowed his eyes. “That is extremely doubtful. You forget that I shot my fair share of men during the war. I know how to shoot to kill.” While she gaped at him, he continued on, his voice gaining confidence with each word. “I don’t know why you are concerned about him, anyway. He is of no consequence.”
“If you killed Devin, you will rue the day.”
“I’m sure I shall.” He raised his eyebrows. “But perhaps the two of us will rue the days together, no? Because one day soon I’ll be back. And since you’ll have no one else … Well, I’m sure I’ll have you again. It will be just like old times.”
“Never,” she countered as he turned and walked away.
“Of course I will. You’re my property, after all,” he said over his shoulder. “I bought and paid for you long ago.” Then he mounted his horse and rode out.
Julianne felt frozen. She wrapped her arms around her middle again, trying in a futile attempt to keep herself together when all she really wanted to do was fall in a heap on the ground.
“You don’t know he’s dead. He could have made it to San Antonio. You’ve got to find him,” Abby said from behind her. “You need to get packed and let Carl help you get on the next stage.”
Feeling as if she was still in a daze, Julianne turned. Abby was standing next to her brother. Close enough to have heard every ugly word Daniel had just uttered. The way they were both staring at her in concern confirmed that guess.
“Forgive me, but I think we’re done with apologies, don’t you?” Carl said crisply. “Now, please, stop arguing and do what we say. Listen to Abby. If this man you care for made it to his friend in San Antonio, he’s going to need you as soon as possible. I mean, you aren’t simply going to step inside and assume Captain Monroe didn’t survive, are you? Or hope some old major was able to adequately help him?”
Eyes swimming with tears, Julianne bit her lip. Carl was right. So was Abby. She needed to stop waiting. Stop degrading herself. Stop worrying about her past. Stop being afraid Devin could have changed his mind about her.
“You’re right, Carl.” And with that, she walked through the front door, pulled a carpetbag from a hall closet, and walked to her bedroom. “I’ll be out presently.”
Abby called after her. “I’ll stay here with Ginger until Bula returns and explain she’ll need to take care of everything here. Carl can come back for me once you’re on the stage. And I’ll clean up the tea service too.”
Julianne almost laughed. She’d completely forgotten about the tea.
All she did know was that Carl and Abby were right. She needed faith in the Lord and faith in Devin.
She also needed to embrace her reality. She cared for Devin Monroe, and she needed to get on the next stage to San Antonio.
There would be plenty of time to think about her future when she was sitting at Devin’s side.
If she made it in time.
19
Johnson’s Island,
Ohio Confederate States of America Officers’ POW Camp
Ethan could practically feel Thomas Baker’s intense gaze. Stretching his legs out on his cot, Ethan tried to ignore the younger man’s fixation on the letter he held in his hand. After all, this wasn’t anything new. Thomas was alone in the world and had yet to receive a letter from a loved one. Consequently, he ate up everyone else’s news from home like a starving man being given a Virginia ham.
But that didn’t mean Ethan was always in favor of sharing his mail with him. Some news was meant to be private. Such as letters like this. Letters from Faye.
Wanting to draw out the anticipation of it, he ran a finger along Faye’s perfect handwriting. One day she was going to be Mrs. Ethan Kelly. One day he wouldn’t have to wait months and months to talk to her. He’d simply be able to roll over and pull her into his arms.
Thomas groaned. “You’ve been staring at that envelope for fifteen minutes, Ethan. When are you ever going to open it?”
Tearing his gaze from the letter, he glared over his shoulder at Thomas. “Whenever I feel like it. No offense, but it has my name on the envelope. Not yours.”
A flash of pain appeared in Thomas’s eyes before he spoke. “Yeah, all right. But at least answer me this. What are you waiting for?”
“I don’t know.”
“Oh.”
Two cots over, Phillip Markham chuckled softly. “Guess he’s in a selfish mood today, Baker. Want me to read you part of my letter from Miranda? They had a fierce storm in Galveston last month. She described it in detail.”
“Thanks, but I’ll pass, Lieutenant. While I’m sure Mrs. Markham’s account is real exciting, we had our own storm here yesterday.”
Phillip laughed. “You have a point there.”
“I’ll read you part of my letter, Baker,” Devin said. “My cousin has a new baby.”
“Thanks, Cap.”
Behind him, Ethan could hear Thomas walk over to Devin’s side. Seconds later, Devin was reading him a passage of his letter. It was obvious most of the men were listening too.
And that gave him the small amount of privacy he craved so badly.
Smoothing the envelope again, Ethan forced himself to wait another two minutes. Faye didn’t write all that often. It was likely he wouldn’t receive another letter from her for several weeks. He hated to rush it.
Which privately embarrassed him. Never would he have thought he’d be the type of man who put so much emphasis on a single letter.
Though it wasn’t especially constructive, sometimes he couldn’t help but reflect on where he’d been. He’d grown up a gentleman of privilege. His family had gained thousands of acres of land back when Texas was still a republic. His ancestors had nurtured their investment and tripled their wealth.
Consequently, before Texas entered the War of Northern Aggression, he’d lived a rather narrow and spoiled life. He’d had more servants than he could count to see to his every need. He’d been surrounded by beauty and comfort and had eaten well. His family, both his parents and his two siblings, had been affectionate and agreeable. Even his time at West Point had been successful. He’d distinguished himself by having an affinity for strategy. He’d also been able to get along with most everyone and been popular with both the instructors and his fellow plebes. For the most part, he’d lived a charmed life.
Then he entered the war. He’d fought with honor. He’d fought with valor. He discovered he was capable of not only guiding troops but devising strategies for battle. Truly, he’d felt at home being an officer.
But then, while on a scouting mission, he, Monroe, Truax, and Markham had been taken prisoner and put on a train north. Now he was living in circumstances that were unfamiliar and difficult. He was doing menial tasks, and growing hungry, and seeing good men die all around him.
All of this was hard.
But the worst was that he was no longer ever alone. Ever. He was sure it was a fact that man needed time and space. It was a necessity.
Feeling he’d waited long enough, he carefully opened the letter’s seal and pulled out Faye’s letter. He frowned when he realized it was only one page in length.
And only written on one side of the paper.
Dread filled his insides as he smoothed the fine stationery and began to read.
Dear Ethan,
As much as it pains me to tell you this, I fear I can no longer put it off. You see, I got married two weeks ago.
Ethan blinked, sure he had read Faye’s words wrong. Hands now shaking, he turned the paper over and opened up the envelope, looking for another sheet of paper. Maybe he’d missed something?
There was nothing.
He turned back to the letter.
I am sure you understand how hard life have been for me here, what with you being taken prisoner and all. People have told me stories about the atrocities that happen in those camps. Thinking about you in such a situation has been hard for me.
He didn’t. He didn’t understand at all.
But maybe the opposite was true?
Maybe he understood too much. Faye was certain he was either being tortured or starved—if he was not already dead. She had decided he wasn’t worth her loyalty or love. He’d become a burden she didn’t want to shoulder.
It took every ounce of willpower to read the remainder of the letter.
I recently met a very nice lieutenant who was discharged because of an injured leg. Luckily, he healed well and won’t even carry a limp. I didn’t expect him to ask for my hand so quickly, but he claimed he could not wait to make me his.
If you do get this letter, I hope you will understand my decision. Please know, too, that I’ll keep you in my prayers, just like I pray for all our brave men.
Mrs. James Chubb
She’d married another. A Lieutenant James Chubb, who was whole and present while he was not. Who was eager to place her in his marriage bed and willing to ensure Faye would not be shackled to an imprisoned soldier with an uncertain future.
Well, he guessed he now knew what Faye had wanted. He blinked, realizing tears had filled his eyes. It seemed rejection was as painful for him as anyone else.
Unable to stare at her words any longer, Ethan crumpled the thin sheet of paper in his hand, then tossed it on the floor beside his cot.
His movements didn’t go unnoticed.
“Major, are you all right?”
Thomas asked. He’d come to stand by his side. “Is something wrong at home? Was that from your mother?”
His mother wrote long, involved letters about nothing. Nothing besides her shopping, her gardening, and what minor inconveniences she’d been forced to endure because of the war. For some reason, Thomas found her letters to be his favorites.
“No. It was from Faye.”
Gesturing at the wad of paper, Thomas cleared his throat. “I’m guessing she didn’t send you any good news.”
“She did not.”
“Do … do you want to talk about it?”
“Baker, you would try the patience of a saint.”
Thomas stepped away. “Sorry, Major.”
“Don’t be so hard on him, Ethan,” Markham called out. “You know Thomas meant no harm. He was just asking what the rest of us were wondering. Besides, we’ve been stuck inside these bare walls for three days now. You can’t blame a man for being curious about the contents of a letter you just crumpled in a ball and tossed on the floor. What did she say?”
He wanted to ignore them all. To tell Thomas his pain wasn’t any of his business. To tell Phillip Markham Faye’s letter was too personal to share. But Markham received regular missives from his beauty of a wife and read aloud much of what she’d said … all except the really private parts, where she supposedly professed her love in nauseatingly glowing ways.
Feeling as though he had no choice, he bent down, smoothed out the paper, and read aloud Faye’s letter from start to finish.
Feeling helpless, he glanced at the other men.
As a whole they were motionless. Some of the men were staring at him. Others had their heads bent down, as though they were afraid to meet his eye. The barracks were completely silent. Only the sound of sleet hitting the walls and roof and sliding through the chinks in the mud cement could be heard.
The silence was so desperate, so out of sorts, that Ethan realized he had not misunderstood anything. Faye had found someone else and didn’t even sound terribly regretful about breaking his heart.
He tossed the letter on the floor again. “So that is what was inside, gentlemen. A not-too-gentle dismissal of my love and my future, all wrapped in a dozen sentences.”
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