No Greater Glory

by Cindy Nord

  And Emaline bolted for the door.

  Chapter Five

  Reece stalked toward his tent.

  What in God’s name just happened?

  One minute he was searching for Emaline to apologize, and the next he was wrapping her in his arms. And kissing her again.

  He almost choked on his anger.

  The ruts flew beneath his boots as he lengthened his stride. No matter how much ground he covered or what pace he set, the warmth of Emaline’s kiss swirled up from inside him, intoxicating him all over again. Goddamnit, he was an officer in charge.

  He knew better.

  A group of soldiers passed nearby and saluted. He acknowledged them with a scowling nod and kept walking. The interlude had been nothing more than a mishap of the moment. He was tired—and fatigue made one careless, his saner side reasoned. Besides, she needed comfort. These were unsettling times. It was as simple as that.

  Think again, you damn jackass. That one won’t work.

  Reece swept the white canvas aside and stepped inside his tent, then ground to a halt when he saw Jackson shove a waist-sash into his valise. White cotton dress gloves dropped on top of the yellow silk.

  “You mind telling me what you’re doing?” Reece snapped. Frustration banded his chest and his second-in-command received the full brunt of it. Too late, he realized the hard tone of his voice had hoisted another red flag.

  Jackson closed the leather satchel and quipped, “What does it look like I’m doing?” He lowered to the nearest chair and fished inside his frockcoat’s breast pocket for a cheroot.

  “Don’t play games with me, dammit. I’m in no mood.”

  “Then don’t be an ass. I was gatherin’ your dress gear. Don’t want you embarrassing the regiment by looking disheveled in front of royalty.” A trace of humor lightened his words.

  Reece surged inside the enclosure, his temper the polar opposite of amused. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  Jackson handed him a dispatch. “This arrived while you were…out. Of course, I took the liberty of reading it. To sum up the details, General Burnside wants his commanding officers assembled by noon tomorrow for a meeting with President Lincoln. For what reason, I have no idea, but our division commander wants you in attendance.” His laugh punctuated the tension building inside Reece. “So you’re riding to Belle Plain whether you want to or not.”

  “Sonofabitch.” Reece dropped the missive to the table, his slouch hat slamming down beside it. “I can’t go now.” His jaw clenched and he tunneled his fingers through his hair.

  “And why not?”

  Turning on his boot heel, Reece strode back and forth in front of the opening. Because I need to deal with these goddamned feelings for Emaline. That’s why not.

  Jackson rose from the chair, impaling him with a sharp glare. “You want command of the brigade one day, right? This is how you get it.” He issued a strident breath. “And this display right here is far more related to that widow up yonder than to any commander’s call in Belle Plain.”

  “You’ve no idea what you’re talking about,” Reece growled.

  “Like hell I don’t. This is exactly what I knew would happen.”

  Reece turned a hot stare on Jackson. “What?”

  A harsh laugh filled the tent. “All this. With her. Christ almighty, why are you allowing this to happen now?”

  “Nothing’s happened.”

  “Now that’s a damn lie.” The unlit cigar dangled between Jackson’s fingers as he pointed at Reece. “You’re forgetting I know you, pal. And your brain ain’t doing the thinking here. We both know what’s calling the shots right now.” He paused for a full heartbeat before dropping back into the chair. “Look. I know this type of woman. I grew up surrounded by a passel of them just like her. My mother. My sister. Surely you realize she’ll expect more than you’re willing to give. She’s all about babies and doilies and serving up little tea cakes. Letting you have your way with her and then watching you ride off into the sunset ain’t part of her plan.”

  Reece turned and gripped the center post at the entrance to the tent, pushing aside the canvas to stare out across the encampment. The poignant truth of Jackson’s words cascaded over him. “I know all this,” he ground out, his ragged tone and bunched shoulders unfortunate consequences of his frustrations. “But what I don’t need is your ass sitting there smugly reminding me.”

  “Well that’s too bad, because there’s a war going on out there that demands your full participation. Either bed the damn wench or move on.”

  Disgust undulated through Reece and his mouth tightened. “Shut the hell up, and go tell Lieutenant Glave he’s riding over with me.”

  “He’ll be delighted.” He rose, knocking over the chair in his assent. Jackson muttered under his breath and brushed past.

  “And you’re also in charge while I’m gone,” Reece reminded.

  Jackson moved into the spill of sunlight, a sarcastic smile curving his lips. “Perfect. You know just how much I enjoy that too.”

  “Wait a minute.” Reece grabbed his friend’s arm to stop him. “I’ll go find Lucas. I need you to do something else for me before I leave.”

  The unlit cheroot returned to the man’s mouth and dangled near the corner.

  “What?” He ground the word out around his cigar as he shrugged off Reece’s hand.

  “She’s storing her vouchers in the top desk drawer in the upstairs library. Get them and bring them to me.”

  Jackson’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “You taking them back now?”

  “Something like that. Just tell her I gave you permission to go upstairs.”

  He sighed. “Anything else?”

  “Yes.” Reece paused, searching for the right words. “I want you to… Will you just keep an eye on her while I’m gone?”

  Silence lengthened between them. Somewhere beyond the encampment, bellowing sergeants issued drill commands. Discharging pistols echoed in response. Jackson tightened his mouth and then finally, he pushed a lopsided smile across his face. “You know I will, you damn jackass. But I’m telling you, you’re messing with fire here.”

  He turned on his heel and headed toward the mansion.

  Throughout the remainder of the day and well into night, Emaline remained dedicated to her patients. Keeping busy kept her mind away from Reece. When Doc finally headed for the front door that evening, Emaline panicked. For a ridiculous moment, she even considered asking for a sleeping powder to ease the torment she knew would arrive when she was finally alone with her thoughts.

  Just as quickly, she dismissed the idea.

  “I’ve heard the colonel’s gone,” Doc said, shrugging his arms into his greatcoat.

  “Gone?” Emaline swept his fingers aside and secured the brass buttons across the front of the light-blue garment for him. “Gone where?”

  “He received orders this afternoon to meet up with President Lincoln. Major Neale’s in command during his absence.”

  Swift and strong, the ache of Reece’s absence slammed at her heart’s door. “H-how long will the colonel be gone?”

  “Don’t know. Could be a few days. Maybe longer. They don’t tell me much about their military moves. Well, my dear, thank you again for helping. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Emaline bade him goodnight and leaned against the closed door. Tears gathered in her eyes, dampening her lashes. She rested her head against the doorframe and dragged in a sustaining breath. Blinking fast, she stifled the tears as well as the quiver quelling inside her heart.

  No other options existed. Deny as she might, the truth held firm. Her late husband had been a staunch supporter of slavery. Her brother fought gallantly for General Stonewall Jackson.

  And Colonel Reece Cutteridge wore blue.

  Chapter Six

  December 8, 1862

  Belle Plain, Virginia

  Two Weeks Later

  “I’ll be right back.” Reece didn’t wait for his aide-de-camp’s resp
onse. Instead, he shifted the saddlebag across his shoulder, entered the quartermaster’s office, and headed straight for the man seated near the back of the room. The soldier looked up when the heavy leather bag thumped onto the desk before him.

  “What can I do for you, Colonel?” the clerk inquired.

  Reece pulled out the bundle of vouchers and handed them to the bespectacled man. “I need these redeemed.”

  The quartermaster flipped through the coupons and a soft whistle followed. “This is quite a large sum, sir. I’m sorry, but I can’t issue redemptions of this value without my superior’s authorization.”

  Nodding, Reece pulled a letter from his breast pocket and tossed it to the desk. “This is all you’ll need, Captain.” At the bottom of the dispatch rode General Edwin V. Sumner’s jagged signature.

  The clerk scanned the document, a smirk lifting his lips. “Yep, I reckon that’ll do just fine.” He gathered the vouchers into a neat stack and shuffled them like playing cards before placing them on the desk again. “Who’s getting the money?” He reached for a nearby ledger. “I’ll need the information for my records.”

  “Just write Mrs. McDaniels—Shapinsay Plantation.”

  The clerk chuckled as he tapped the cover of the ledger with his pencil. “You know, for you to get ol’ Bull Sumner’s mark, your lady friend here must be quite extraordinary, eh, Colonel?” His eyebrows rose in a suggestive manner and he leaned back in his chair. “Yep, I’ve seen a lot of this going on with these local gals down here, but this woman must really be good at keeping your bed warm. I mean for her to earn such a high payout and all. Care to share the details?”

  A wave of heat washed up Reece’s spine. He dipped forward, placing his hands flat upon the desk. “Now I don’t believe that’s any of your damned business is it, boy?”

  The clerk laughed, winking behind the metal rim of his spectacles. “Well, it’s kind of a tradition around here, Colonel. You see, I get to hear all the juicy whore details since I’m the one dispensing the money to these lusty wenches.”

  Reece’s jaws tightened and his teeth scraped together. A series of churns roiled deep in his gut as his mouth formed a thin, hard line. He’d tossed on his cot more nights than he cared to admit wrestling against the desire to bed Emaline, but the sheer thought that anyone would dare put her in the same category as a prostitute drove a spike of rage straight through him. He struggled to breathe, to remain calm and to tamp down the truth of his escalating emotions. “So, that’s the way you like to run things here, is it?” He smiled, but the muscles knotted in his jaw.

  “Yes, sir, that’s the way.”

  “I see.” Reece ground his teeth through a long moment, biting back charged words that crawled from their billet inside him.

  The clerk’s words continued to tangle around Reece’s building rage. “…and if you ask me, it’s a fine arrangement. I mean, your little whore gives us information about the Johnnies and the U.S. Government pays her for her services. Hell, it’s a win for both of you.”

  In one heartbeat, Reece leaned across the desk, grabbed the front of the clerk’s jacket, and hauled the wide-eyed quartermaster across the saddlebag. He glared down into the boy’s face. “Just fill the goddamned order. Then I won’t have to bore you with a lecture on good manners.” Too stunned to protest, the clerk stared at him, his mouth agape. “And for your information, you moronic bastard, Mrs. McDaniels is far from being a whore. She’s the strongest woman I’ve ever met, and I will not allow you or anyone else to besmirch her good name. You got that?” He shook the clerk, the force bobbing the young man’s head back and forth. “She’s earned every damn dollar without once spreading her legs, and if I hear another word about her from that grimy hole you call a mouth, I promise it’ll be the last thing you say. Do we understand each other?”

  Panic radiated from the clerk’s eyes and he nodded frantically. His glasses shifted upward to rest upon his wrinkled forehead, and Reece reached over with his free hand and shoved the spectacles back into place. “Now redeem my vouchers quietly, and I’ll think twice on whether to tell my commander how you like to run things over here.”

  Reece shoved the boy into the chair, the force nearly toppling the rickety spindle-back. Without another word, the captain leaned sideways and opened a black-lacquered Diebold-Bahmann safe.

  With surprising efficiency, he counted out the cash, entered the dollar amount into the ledger beside Emaline’s name, then pushed the stack of bills across the desk toward Reece along with a leather binder.

  “I-If you’ll just sign here, sir, that’ll complete the transaction.”

  Reece knew he’d lost control, but by God no one would sully Emaline’s good name. Especially, not some wet-behind-the-ears jackass who’d no idea of the courage the woman possessed. His heart thundered so hard in his chest, he expected a broken rib would follow. A hasty scrawl across the line where the clerk’s shaky finger pointed completed the deal.

  Reece jammed the pencil to the desk, then gathered up the greenbacks and shoved them into the saddlebag. His behavior more than validated the truth he knew now lived inside his heart. These weeks away from Emaline had only deepened his feelings for her.

  Sonofabitch.

  He tossed the leather pack over his shoulder and headed for the door. With knob in hand, Reece paused and glanced back. The clerk had yet to straighten the rumpled front of his sack coat. Had he been too rough on the boy? Probably. The glass in the weathered frame rattled as he slammed the door on his way out.

  He had far bigger things to worry about now.

  Like falling in love again.

  Flickering flames in the fireplace draped shadows on the oak-paneled wall of the upstairs library. The comforting smells of leather and slow-burning pine blended around a trace of lingering cinnamon. Emaline inhaled, calming the thrum of her heart as she waited for Major Neale to settle into a chair. Tall and lean, the man commanded attention even in his relaxed state.

  Her pacing resumed.

  She wrung her hands in front of her corseted waist. A knuckle softly cracked. She didn’t want to feel anxious about Reece’s whereabouts. In fact, she tried hard not to, but to no avail. When she’d exhausted all other avenues to uncover information about his location or time of return, Emaline surrendered to her heart’s demand. By way of Doctor Evans, she sent an elegantly scripted invitation to the major, asking him to meet with her after dinner.

  “Thank you for responding to my request,” she said, stopping in front of him.

  “Certainly, ma’am. What can I do for you?”

  She swallowed, frustration over her upcoming actions pitting her stomach. In place of her usual work dress, she’d donned an expensive dinner gown. A Charles Worth. Her favorite designer. The reassuring perpetuation of proper attire, demure gentility even during such troublesome times lent Emaline strength and control tonight. She straightened her shoulders, knowing that the sweeping bertha neckline and cap sleeves solidified the clear message she hadn’t always worked in the fields. A large caged crinoline beneath the folds of emerald silk allowed the garment to swell into an enormous bell. She hoped her presentation proved intimidating. She’d even swept her tresses into a chignon at the base of her neck. Oh yes, she would get the answers from Major Neale tonight even if she had to wring the man’s neck to achieve her goal.

  “Yes, Major,” she replied, clasping and unclasping her hands. “Unfortunately, there is something I’m forced to discuss with you.”

  His forehead crinkled as his brow lifted. “What might that be?”

  She nodded. “Though slight, it is nonetheless disheartening.”

  “Well, if it’s in my power to amend things, I certainly shall.”

  “Thank you.” She lifted her chin and plunged onward. “Well. I’m quite concerned about…my vouchers.” She cleared her throat. “The colonel promised me I would get vouchers as payment, but then you took them away from me.” A blush heated her cheeks and she compressed her lips to hide their
slight tremble. At the moment she cared far more about Reece’s whereabouts than her blasted voucher collection, but she couldn’t broach the subject of one without questioning the other.

  Major Neale inhaled then released the air in a long, nerve-grinding sigh. “As I explained at the time, Colonel Cutteridge sent me to retrieve your vouchers. I gave them to him per his request. I know nothing more than that. I’m sorry.” He began to rise from the chair, but her next words eased him back into the leather.

  “While I appreciate your candor, unfortunately that isn’t good enough.”

  His eyebrow again rose. “What more do you require other than what I’ve already explained?”

  “I need to know when Colonel Cutteridge will return to camp so I might discuss this in greater detail with him.” There, dear God. I’ve said it. “Though you have temporary command, surely you know his return date.”

  The major sighed again, and Emaline’s pulse kicked up a notch. He leaned back and folded his hands in his lap. “You’re correct. I am in temporary command of the regiment.”

  Is the man dimwitted? She willed herself to relax, though her thoughts raced with a will of their own. Perhaps Reece had been injured or killed and no one thought to tell her? Panic swelled inside Emaline but she quickly squelched the tingling rush of fear. Doc seemed quite fond of her. Surely he would have shared news of such magnitude. Her pacing resumed and the rustle of silk overrode the crackle from the fire. She came to a stop in front of him once more. Each tick from the Bailey Banks Biddle mantel clock further frayed her patience.

  “Allow me to rephrase my words then, Major,” she said. “How long do you expect to retain temporary command?”

  This time, he had the audacity to laugh. She stared at him, her tension escalating faster than the beat of her heart. A shaky breath escaped.

  Laughter surely meant Reece hadn’t perished after all.

  “Well now, ma’am,” he said between chuckles. “That’s difficult to say.”