“Sorry, but you ain’t going nowhere.”
“But you don’t understand.” Sarah tried to keep the panic from her voice. “I must get back to Waverly.”
While they had been talking, a wagon had been brought up and Benton was already loaded. Sarah saw Major Connelly leaning over the side with a relieved look on his face, his hand on Benton’s shoulder.
When the major lifted his gaze and made brief eye contact with Sarah, she saw an expression that made her immensely uncomfortable. Here, she could tell, was someone who would not be trifled with…a man who thought deeply and reacted strongly. One who perhaps said little, but missed nothing—an officer who obviously took his position seriously.
Nevertheless, relieved to see a familiar face, Sarah tried to walk toward him—but rough hands stopped her again. As Connelly straightened back up and began to stride toward her, it was clear from his expression that military responsibilities were going to be placed above any former acquaintance or display of compassion.
“You have put me in an awkward position, Mrs. Duvall.”
“Colonel Benton will explain everything. You must understand how urgent it is that I return to Waverly…so they do not find out who I am.” Sarah talked fast, but not fast enough to keep her teeth from chattering. She knew she must look a mess having barely slept for more than a week, and her hair knotted and stringy from the rain.
“Who is they?” Connelly looked at her in such a way as to make it clear he thought she was delirious.
“The Yankees.” The mixture of curiosity and disbelief on his face frightened her. “They cannot discover who I am.”
“And just who are you?” Connelly crossed his arms and gazed at her suspiciously.
“Oh, please, Major Connelly, you must believe me! Colonel Benton will explain everything, but right now I need to get back to Waverly.”
Connelly shook his head apologetically but remained steadfast nonetheless. “In good time perhaps—after I speak to the Colonel.” He turned and started to motion for one of the men. “Dressed as you are…” He paused and his eyes swept over her. “And considering the circumstances under which you were found, I cannot allow it tonight.”
“No!” Sarah ran toward him. “You don’t understand. I must get back before they suspect me. Already time is against me.”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Duvall.” He nodded toward two soldiers who grabbed her arms and led her toward a house she had not even seen, hidden as it was behind a stand of trees. Despite kicking, screaming, and fighting with all her might, Sarah found herself being forced up a flight of stairs and into a bedroom. She heard the door close behind her and the sound of a key being turned.
“You don’t understand,” she sobbed, pounding on the door. “I am under Colonel Benton’s sole direction.” She fell to her knees and continued to pound on the door and the floor. Her courage had been subjected to every kind of test that the mortal soul could be tried. And now, through all the tragedy and trials of war, she could not believe she was meant to falter and fail now.
When no one responded to her, Sarah finally pulled herself into a chair where she remained all night, staring blindly into the darkness. When morning light had just begun to stream through the window, she at last heard a key in the door. Major Connelly and an aide entered, but Sarah did not bother to stand or even look up.
“My sincere apologies for the delay, Mrs. Duvall.” She heard him shifting his weight nervously. “Colonel Benton sends his regards and has asked me to escort you to Waverly.”
Sarah swallowed hard, but did not lift her gaze. “He is conscious then?”
“Yes. Conscious and anxious to return to the field, I’m afraid. He wished to escort you himself, but the surgeon, fortunately, intervened.” Connelly paused a moment and took a deep breath. “He is on the mend, but as you know, is very weak.”
“They will suspect me now.” Sarah spoke while continuing to gaze straight ahead.
“The colonel is quite insistent that you return to remove personal items and find quarters elsewhere. He agrees it is too dangerous now. If Colonel Snipes has been told of your absence, he is most likely suspicious.”
“Elsewhere?” Sarah gazed up at him for the first time. “That is impossible. Waverly is my home.”
“Nevertheless, it is not safe. I have been given quite a large detachment as an escort in case there is trouble.”
Sarah stood and smoothed her wrinkled clothes. “I will accept the escort, but as for leaving Waverly, I will not go.”
The major sighed heavily. “Colonel Benton suspected as much. He has given me the authority to post a guard if I deem it safe and reasonable.”
When Sarah bristled again, Connelly put his hand on her arm. “You are tired, Mrs. Duvall, as well you should be. Let’s go to Waverly. We can discuss the details later.”
Chapter 14
The consciousness of having discharged that duty which we owe
to our country is superior to all other considerations.
—George Washington
Major Connelly glanced over at Sarah as they rode side by side, but she remained stone-faced and silent, staring straight ahead. He wondered if her quietness was a result of anger at him for the delay in getting her home, or pure exhaustion from so many long nights without sleep.
Although her back was straight and her shoulders did not droop, he could see the weariness in her eyes and the strain in the lines on her face. It was obvious she had suffered a great deal as a result of her devotion to Colonel Benton.
Connelly could only marvel at how one so young and so pure could have taken command of the circumstances thrust upon her, and have so effectively play her part. Although he knew of no other woman that had not succumbed to the charms of Colonel Benton, it appeared their relationship had remained purely businesslike over the months. Somehow Mrs. Sarah Duvall had resisted the magnetism that others could not.
After moving at a trot for some miles, Sarah suddenly urged her horse into a canter when they were about a mile away from Waverly. Connelly nudged his horse forward too with a slight smile on his face. He remembered what it was like to finally be home, and knew well the impatience that drove her.
When he broke free from the woods and possessed a clear view of the home, Connelly gasped and drew his horse to a sliding halt beside Sarah, who had sucked in an audible breath that sounded like her last on earth.
The house, which had stood as a family home for more than a century, was gone. Fire still crackled along the blackened wood, and a part of the roof tumbled in as they watched its fiery tongue continue to dissolve the last of the home and all its memories. The destruction was immense—the loss to the one who gazed silently upon it, immeasurable.
As Connelly stared at the ruins, Sarah rode slowly forward and then dismounted, gazing at the rubble with a calmness that seemed unnatural. When she looked back at him though, Connelly felt his heart twist in its cage. Nothing could lessen the heartbreak of seeing the dancing flames reflected in her clear, blue eyes.
As the rest of the escort rode up, they gathered around the pile of debris and stared angrily at the devastation. Connelly heard their uttering low sounds of shock and fury as their focus was led inevitably to the place where the pillared house had once sat so regally beneath the spreading boughs of the oak. The men sat in rigid but dismayed discipline as they stared at the smoking remains and waited for orders.
Connelly too sat in controlled silence as he watched Sarah take a few steps toward the smoking debris and drop to her knees. With her cheek on the ground and her eyes tightly closed, she clutched blades of grass, her lips moving silently as if saying good-bye to the land of her birth. She rose then and turned back toward the men.
“We’d better go.” Her gaze lifted to meet Connelly’s, and he saw it was stamped with firm resolve. “They’re probably watching.”
As if on cue, the thundering of hoofbeats could be heard rushing toward them from the edge of the tree line. Connelly ushered his men
toward a path pointed out by Sarah, and watched her mount her already-moving horse. Hearing a tremendous bang a short time later, he turned his head, long enough to see two Federal soldiers fall from their mounts as if smote by thunderbolts.
Following the gazes of the remaining Union soldiers, he saw Sarah sitting on her horse on an embankment that ran parallel to the road. She must have split off from the group as soon as she had shown Connelly the way, and was now taking potshots from a higher location that gave her an advantage.
Although she was shooting from such a distance that her buckshot was probably not lethal, the gun and its effect nonetheless made an impression.
The Federals were obviously not sure how many soldiers were up on the ridge because they began slowing down and looking for cover. When Connelly heard the second bang and saw another saddle empty, he ordered his men to turn, and they soon routed the pursuing troopers with uncontrolled vigor.
Sarah rejoined the group a short time later with the same solemn silence she had left it, staring straight ahead with the empty shotgun resting negligently on her thigh. Connelly could not help but notice her pale cheek and weary countenance, but there was no sign of tears.
“We’ll take you back to headquarters.” Connelly reached out and put his hand on her arm as he gazed at her stony countenance. “Do not despair.”
“No, I will not despair,” she said quietly after a long silence, looking mournfully toward heaven.
Connelly kept a close eye on Sarah once they arrived, and thought she appeared disoriented and unsure of herself. He dismounted and helped her do the same. “Private Jenkins will take care of your horse.”
Sarah said nothing, but handed over the reins, her eyes as blank and unblinking as the dead.
“I can have someone take care of this for you.” Connelly reached for her gun.
Sarah stared at it a moment and then brought it close to her body. “I’d like to keep it if you don’t mind,” she said quietly. “It’s all I have.”
Connelly swallowed hard and nodded. “I’ll show you to your quarters. You’d better get some rest.”
* * *
Exhausted as she was, Sarah slept only fitfully. Tired of tossing and turning, she wandered restlessly to the window to gaze out at her surroundings and guess the time. A strip of pink clouds lay like a ribbon on the hills of the horizon, showing her that dawn was well on the way.
Sitting perfectly still and contemplating the widening swath of pink as it flamed to a deeper hue, she thought about all that had transpired in the last twenty-four hours. Her musings were interrupted by a hurried knock at the door, followed by a soldier stepping inside before she could even answer. “The colonel requests to see you ma’am.”
Sarah twisted around from the window. “The colonel?”
“Yes, ma’am. Right away.”
The soldier apparently meant business because he grabbed Sarah by the arm and led her gently, but insistently out the door.
It wasn’t until Sarah stepped into the hall that she realized what a hub of activity the headquarters had become. There was the shouting of orders, the tramping of feet, orderlies passing on the stairs, and much running to and fro. After taking just a few steps, she heard the unmistakable bark of a cannon. Surprised, she turned to the soldier beside her. “Did you hear that? Do you know what it means?”
The pressure on her arm increased as he led her even more swiftly down the stairs. “Yes ma’am,” he said. “There’s folks shooting at us.”
Before she could rephrase the question for more details, she heard the baritone voice of Colonel Benton giving orders from behind a closed door. In another moment, the door opened and she was shown inside. As if from an unheard order, the men in the room disappeared tactfully out the door.
Sarah walked toward the desk where the colonel remained bent over a missive, her heart picking up its pace as she thought how close he had come to perishing. Yet there he sat, wearing the authority of his position with the controlled deadliness of a soldier. She did not think there was a man living who could equal him in stature, character, or courage. He was Zeus, Mars, and Apollo all rolled into one.
Sarah listened to the crackle of the fire to her left and the sound of Benton’s pencil scratching across a piece of paper for a few long moments before he seemed to realize there was anyone else in the room. Then he slowly lifted his gaze and carefully rose to his feet—almost in one movement—though the action was done stiffly and with obvious pain. For another moment he did not speak, but there was a gleam of gladness and welcome in the velvety softness of his dark eyes that did not match the businesslike manner of his demeanor.
“Lieutenant, words cannot describe how terribly sorry I am about the loss of Waverly.” His voice sounded scratchy, as if talking in such a low tone was hard for him. Yet his eyes were calm, and even detached now, as if trying overly hard not to show any emotion or anything verging toward sentiment. “I hope I can show gratitude for your sacrifice by proving to you I am not unworthy of it.”
The crack in his voice was the only indication of emotions repressed, of devotion subdued in respectful obedience to the very letter of command. Sarah felt her cheeks grow warm and lowered her head. “I am not the first to suffer such a loss at the hands of the enemy.” When Sarah lifted her eyes again and saw how pale and weary his countenance appeared, she tried to change the subject. “Please sit down, Colonel. You need to rest.”
“I am aware of the need,” he said grimly, “but it cannot be helped.” He sat back down and began writing briskly again, calling loudly for an orderly as he did so. “It appears Colonel Lawson is emboldened to show us more than his back.”
“Colonel Lawson? An attack on you?” Sarah’s voice betrayed her surprise. The officer was well known to her, and though full of verbal bravado, he was not one to take a fight directly to the enemy. “What would induce him to do such a thing?”
Benton stopped writing and gazed at her a moment as if trying to decide whether or not to answer her question. “We have something he wants,” he said before sealing the document and handing it to the aide. “See that Major Streeter gets this posthaste.”
The aide nodded and scurried out of the room.
“What might you have that Colonel Lawson wants so badly as to risk an attack? He is not the type to attempt so bold a move.” Sarah heard the sound of gunfire again, but was frankly too exhausted to find it very alarming.
Benton cocked his head and stared at her again, but this time, he did not avoid the question. “That would be you, Lieutenant Duvall. We need to get you away from here as quickly as possible.”
Sarah blinked in surprise and sat down slowly in the chair in front of his desk. Somehow, without her knowledge or permission, she had become a pawn of value in this inscrutable game of war.
“They apparently found my officer’s coat in your bedchamber,” Colonel Benton said calmly, “and figured out the rest.” He clenched his teeth and closed his eyes a moment as if to control a spasm of pain, then gazed at her as if they were making light conversation over afternoon tea. “They say Snipes is livid, and is coordinating the attack with Lawson. Where would you like to go?”
Sarah heard Benton’s words along with the distant throb of cannons, which seemed to be coming in waves from a thousand miles away. She tried to concentrate on his voice rather than the roaring in her ears. “I have no place to go but here.”
Benton removed an unlit cigar from his mouth only long enough to speak. “What do you mean? Here?”
“With your men. I will follow where you go.”
Benton stood, grabbing his side painfully this time and almost bending over in agony. “That is impossible,” he said after slowing standing erect.
“I fail to see why.” Sarah stared into his soldierly face without flinching. “It’s plain and simple really.”
Benton walked around the desk and stood directly in front of her, his tall, broad form dominating the room. “Yes, plain perhaps.” He swallowed hard
and dragged his gaze away with obvious difficulty, concentrating instead on the fire. “But not so simple.”
“Why not?”
He continued to study on the flames as he spoke in a low tone. “That I should like to have your company is certain.” His jaw tightened noticeably. “Whether it would be judicious or wise for either one of us is another question entirely.”
Sarah took a deep breath as she stared at his warlike form. The light pouring over him through the window and the low glow of the fire gave him an alluring aura that was both alarming and unnerving. Despite the obvious danger, his very presence felt comforting.
“The road of Providence is never certain,” she finally said in a calm, even voice that masked her turmoil. “It is uneven and unpredictable, yet we must not veer from it.”
“Neither must we tempt fate by placing you in harm’s way,” he responded, walking back to his desk. He moved slowly and stiffly, the pain from his wound noticeable. “Your horse should be saddled and waiting outside, along with an escort. I’m sending you out of harm’s way.” As if on cue more gunfire erupted, this time closer and sounding more ominous than before. “I regret there is not more time to discuss this, but my decision has been made.”
“Have I no say?” Sarah put her hands on his desk and leaned forward. “I know I ask a favor sought by many and granted to few, but have I not earned a place here?”
Benton did not look surprised at her reaction, but sat down and tapped his pencil on the desk impatiently. Despite his weakened condition, he still exhibited immense physical strength.
“Remember what I have suffered.” Sarah spoke calmly but firmly, pleading with him to reconsider.
“I am not likely to forget.” Benton’s eyes softened, but the furrows on his brow appeared plowed with pain. He cleared his throat. “Lieutenant Duvall, once things quiet down, I’ll send for you. We can discuss your future then—but I make no promises.” He put finishing touches on the missive and leaned forward. “Is that agreeable to you?”
Above and Beyond Page 13