Triumph

by Heather Graham

  “On both sides, it’s the same,” Tia murmured.

  Cecilia smiled. “Well, I have been in the war all these years, and I am truly afraid that I may end up an old maid! So I have decided what I will do when the war is over.”

  “What is that?”

  “I’m going to medical school. I’m going to be a doctor myself. Father says it’s a fine idea. There’s a woman named Elizabeth Blackwell who is the first of our sex, they say, to have earned a medical degree, and she was one of the very first to realize that we would need medical supplies and all manner of things for our troops—including things as simple as socks! There are other women doctors now, not many, but I intend to be one.”

  “You should do it. If you have the desire, yes, you should!” Tia applauded.

  Cecilia stood. “Thank you for your encouragement. But now I must get back to my father. Don’t get up—you look relaxed there at last by the water. Thank you also for what you have done for our men, be they your enemies.”

  Tia smiled at her. “Thank you—for trusting me.”

  “I think you are a friend, a dear friend,” Cecilia told her, and turning, she walked away, back through the pines.

  Tia sat awhile longer, staring at the cool water, feeling the soft breeze that wafted through the pines. She closed her eyes, realizing how tired she was.

  Then her eyes flew open. She had to go back now. She had become so involved with the men, she had forgotten that Ian would be leaving.

  She leapt to her feet, spun around—and froze. Taylor was there, had been there, she realized. Leaning against a pine, watching her.

  “I wasn’t trying to escape anything,” she murmured defensively.

  “I wasn’t accusing you of trying to escape anything. If you were trying to escape, I assume it would be an anyone. Me.”

  “But I wasn’t—”

  “I didn’t say you were.”

  He continued to watch her, still leaning casually against the pine.

  “I am really well aware that, as you said, you have done me a tremendous service.”

  “Nothing so deep and grave that I cannot endure,” he said lightly. “I apologize if I caused you a tremendous amount of guilt.”

  “Well ... I ... you made it quite plain how you feel about marriage.”

  She backed away awkwardly as he left the pine and came toward her.

  “Actually,” he said, a slight smile on his features, “you have somewhat managed to change my mind.”

  “I’m glad it’s not the torment you expected.”

  “And what is it to you?” he inquired. He’d reached her. She couldn’t go anywhere else or she’d be backing into the water.

  She hesitated, meeting his eyes. “Not torment.”

  “That’s right. You don’t dislike me.”

  “And I honestly wasn’t running.”

  “I’m glad. I grow wearing of dragging you about.”

  Her eyes fell. “I need to see my brother. If he’s still here, if I haven’t missed him. I can’t believe I became so involved I forgot that I might not have much time with him before—”

  “He isn’t leaving anytime soon.”

  “No?” she inquired, uneasy. He gazed at her in a strange way, not angry, not mocking.

  She was surprised when he looked away for a moment, then his eyes were back on hers. “No, he will be with the camp several days here, I believe, then he’ll be going in to St. Augustine.”

  “Oh!” she said, pleased. If she was going to live with the enemy, at least her brother would be among their number.

  “Yes,” he said, and his voice had a husky and slightly harsh quality to it. “Yes, you’ll be with your brother. For a while, at least. So there is no need to hurry to him now.”

  She felt the breeze again, touching her cheeks. They felt very warm. This was so strange. The night before had been a tempest of emotions, tangled lies, a swiftness of events. But now, seconds stretched out as he stared at her. Dusk turned darker. Though the sky still remained somewhat blue, the moon began to appear as a half-crown about the treetops.

  “You managed quite well today.”

  “Did you think I would falter?”

  “You didn’t turn away from your enemy.”

  “We treated Union injured at Olustee Station.”

  “Of course ... as we treated Rebs.”

  She lowered her head. “An old friend of mine was here.”

  “An old Yankee friend?”

  She nodded. “He died.”

  “You comforted him?”

  She nodded. “His ... lung was blown away. And half his face.” She was feeling very uncertain, afraid she was going to cry.

  “He talked about my father ... Cimarron. Times that are now long gone by ...”

  She suddenly covered her face with her hands. And she was glad to feel him pull her into his arms as tears began sliding down her cheeks.

  “It’s all right, Tia.”

  “It wasn’t all right. He had a wife and a child to live for, and he was so terribly hurt—you could see what remained of his lung. It was amazing he lived so long.”

  “Sh ...” he said softly, easing back down to the pine embankment with her. He held her against him, rocking slowly. “Tia, you have done this so long! It’s the bitter truth of the war—men die, and they do not do so prettily.”

  “But his wife, his poor young wife—”

  “There are thousands of poor young wives out there. Thousands of young widows who may live another fifty years or so, and who will live those years full of bitterness and regret.”

  “Widows and ...” She broke off suddenly, remembering the picture her mother had given him at Christmas. The picture of Abby.

  “Oh!” she murmured suddenly. “I’m so sorry, really, I forgot ...”

  Instantly, she felt him stiffen. His arms did not seem to hold her so closely. He hadn’t wanted to marry. She wasn’t his real wife; his real wife lay dead. She was the Rebel liar who had cast a shadow upon his honor, and forced his hand.

  “It’s all right,” he said.

  “How can it be?” she whispered, lifting her damp cheeks to seek out his eyes. “I heard that she was shot, that she died in your arms—”

  “It’s all right,” he said again. “If you don’t mind, it’s a painful memory, one I don’t care to relive.”

  “But—”

  He suddenly set her from him, rising. “I believe that Ian is in his tent. One has been set up for him not far from mine. He is probably anxious to see you as well.”

  She was embarrassed to realize that she had been dismissed. Cleanly, clearly dismissed.

  “Oh, course,” she murmured coolly. “Thank you. I’ll find my brother.”

  He didn’t say anything. She rose, but he didn’t even seem to notice. He was watching the water.

  She walked back through the pines.

  The camp was busy with dinner preparations. Sergeant Henson waved at her. She waved back, then seeing the large, newly erected tent near Taylor’s, she walked toward it with a purpose. “Ian?” she called.

  “Tia!” he replied from within, then appeared at the flap. “Come in!”

  She did so. His home away from home already bore marks of Ian. A locket with Alaina’s likeness and a tendril of hair, a common piece of jewelry, especially for a soldier, lay on his camp desk. Letters lay strewn next to it, along with the manual he was reading, a text on gunshot wounds. His frockcoat hung on his folding chair, and his shaving paraphernalia had been set up at a standing mirror.

  “Sit!”

  He indicated the foot of the cot. She sat there, and he took the folding chair himself.

  “I was so afraid I’d missed you,” Tia told him. “The day was strange, passing by so quickly. I’m glad you’re still here.”

  “I never would have left without saying goodbye,” he assured her. “And making certain that you were happy, well cared for. And that you understand what you’ve done.”

  “What I�
��ve done?” she echoed.

  Ian was quiet for moment, then he rose and went to the camp desk and fingered the locket carrying the likeness of his wife. “Tia, you’ve married a very well known Union cavalry officer, renowned for his abilities to find anyone, anywhere, anytime. And for his ability to shoot the wings off a fly at a hundred feet.”

  “Well,” she breathed. “Thank God I did not marry an inept cavalry officer!”

  Her brother turned toward her, apparently seeing the attempted humor in her words. “You have gone from working in a Rebel camp—to working in a Yankee camp.”

  She lifted a hand in a weak gesture. “The men bleed the same.”

  “And do you treat them the same?”

  “Of course! Why would I be any different from Julian or Brent? I worked well today with your Yankees, Ian. Very well. You may ask Miss Bryer—or the men, for that matter.”

  He came to the bed, sitting down beside her, searching out her eyes and staring at her very sternly. “Tia, I’m sorry, I can’t help but find this very suspicious.”

  Her throat tightened. “Why?”

  “You didn’t come here to get into Taylor’s papers, did you?”

  “No!” she denied heatedly, jumping to her feet.

  “You’re certain?”

  “Ian,” she said, frowning at him, “it never occurred to me that Taylor would carry papers that meant anything to me. I was tending to wounded Rebel soldiers throughout the war—not attending high-level strategy meetings!”

  “The point I’m making is this: You have changed your life. Your own side will mistrust you for the Yank you have married; the Yanks will mistrust you for what you have been in the past.”

  “I’ve no interest in the opinions of others.”

  “You should. Opinions make people dangerous.”

  “I did not marry Taylor to pry into Yankee secrets,” she said, agitated. “Oh, Ian, I don’t want to argue with you.”

  “I don’t want to argue either, Tia. I just want you to understand that there is no turning back.”

  “I don’t want to run anywhere. I served well here today. I didn’t even rifle through the pockets of the dead or dying!” she said bitterly. “Though some of your men are butchers who would kill helpless Rebels.”

  “What?”

  She paused, horrified at what she had said. How could she explain to Ian that she had heard the men in the woods and that was why she had wound up running here to Taylor?

  “Nothing.”

  “What did you say, Tia? That wasn’t nothing!”

  “All right. I think that some of your men would just as soon kill an injured Reb as touch him!” she said.

  “And why do you think that?”

  “I-I heard them talking today.” She wished fervently that she wasn’t going to have to fall into another length of lies.

  Last time she had lied to him, her world had made a total inversion.

  “Whom did you hear talking?”

  “Just—just a group of the men. By the hospital tent.”

  “If you see these men again,” he said sharply, “show me who they are, and we’ll find out the truth of the matter.”

  “You’ll find out the truth? How can you? You’re leaving.”

  “No, the despatches gave different orders.”

  “But ... I’m not sure that Taylor will believe this either, and—”

  “I will take care of it.”

  She frowned. “But if Taylor is in full command—”

  “Taylor will be—” Ian broke off. “He didn’t tell you?”

  “No—he didn’t tell me! Tell me what?”

  “He’s been ordered out on special assignment. I’ll take his place until these troops return to St. Augustine.”

  “He’s been ordered—out?”

  “I’m very sorry. I wish they had given me the assignment. As it is ... well, you’ll have to stay in St. Augustine. Risa is there. She’ll be glad to have you with her.”

  She was surprised at the way her stomach wretched. He was leaving; Taylor was leaving.

  And he hadn’t even thought to tell her.

  She shook her head, feeling her fingers clench into fists at her side. “I’ll go back to Julian then. It’s insane for me to live among the enemy if Taylor isn’t with me. I’ll—”

  She was interrupted by the sound of a deep voice at the entrance to the tent. “You’ll go to St. Augustine, as Ian said!”

  She leapt up, startled to see that Taylor had come quietly into the tent. And had issued his command.

  “I’m sorry, Taylor,” Ian said. “I didn’t realize you hadn’t told her, that she didn’t know.”

  “It doesn’t matter. She knows now,” Taylor said. “What does matter, Tia, is that you will not return to your old ways!”

  “I will not return to my old ways!” Tia repeated angrily. And suddenly it all irritated her, not just the war, but the world itself seemed unfair. “And Alaina must watch her step as well, and Cecilia shouldn’t work in a hospital because she isn’t homely enough! This is all so absurd and bizarre! Oh, the hell with you both!” With angry force, she slipped beneath the tent flap, exiting in a sudden passion.

  “She’s really upset,” she heard her brother say. “I understand, of course. She didn’t realize that you were leaving. I honestly thought you’d had time to tell her.”

  “It’s all right,” Taylor replied. “Let her go. There is no way out of it.”

  Let her go! he’d said.

  So she went.

  With long, angry strides, she walked away from her brother’s quarters. She headed straight back for the pines, glad of the welcoming darkness that was beginning to fall around her. She stood before the cool pond beneath the pines.

  My horse! she thought. Where is my horse? If only I had her—

  She nearly screamed with surprise when a hand landed on her shoulder. Instinctively, she jerked free, backing away in a circle.

  Taylor. Damn him. Damn him for his ability to move like a panther in the pines. Too quick, too swift, too silent. Too ...

  She hadn’t thought that he would come.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  “I am walking through the pines. What does it look like I’m doing?”

  “Trying to find a way out of the pines,” he said flatly.

  “Oh, really? Who will chase me once you’re gone? What difference does it really make? You said—let her go. I heard you.”

  He folded his arms over his chest. “So just where was it you thought you were going?”

  She crossed her arms over her chest and stared back at him. “Just where was it that you meant I should go?”

  “Back to our tent.”

  “Our tent? How generous you’ve suddenly become. Our tent. A Yankee tent. Thank you—I don’t want part ownership in a Union tent.”

  “Tia, I don’t have much time. I’m not going to spend it arguing with you.”

  “Good. Save yourself any aggravation. Don’t spend the time with me at all.”

  “Tia, walk back, or I’ll take you myself.”

  She stood tall and stiffly, staring at him. And then she was absolutely amazed at her own language when she told him what he should do with himself, and she didn’t even understand herself, didn’t know why she felt so angry and so much like crying, all at the same time.

  “All right. That’s it. I’ve had it.”

  “You’ve had it?” she repeated. “I’ve had it!”

  “Run, then. Go on, run.”

  “What the hell is this game you’re playing now? Quit that, or I swear I shall slug you right back, and I have a very good right hook, I grew up with two brothers. I didn’t come here to run, you fool. I never intended to run—”

  “Oh, yes, you did. You very much so wanted to run. So go on. Do it. Go. Let me give you a little help ...”

  He shoved her shoulder. Outraged and feeling a strange trickle of real fear down her spine, she backed away slowly.

  “D
o it!”

  His fingers were knotted into fists, and she was suddenly certain he intended her real violence.

  She turned and ran. She was right on the edge of the pond and she stepped into the shallows. The water flew at the impetus of her flight, it turned to a shower, and she felt it as it catapulted up around her and fell back in huge splatters.

  Stupid! she charged herself. He had goaded her into this. She was encumbered by her skirts, growing heavier in the water.

  But she couldn’t stop now. He was behind her.

  Oh, this was insane. Madness.

  And yet she ran. She was swift and fleet, and she knew it, but she had chosen the wrong path, and she was quickly bogged down.

  She heard him behind her and sped forward then suddenly spun back on him. He was there, just feet away, but he stopped as well, calculating the distance—planning his pounce.

  She wondered if she could outswim him.

  Not with a heavy, soaking skirt ...

  But she was wearing her pantalettes.

  She slipped out of her shoes then reached behind her, keeping her eyes on him. She found the buttons on the skirt—and shed it. His brow shot up with amazement.

  “Ah, my love. When in danger—strip?”

  “When cornered, use whatever means are available to elude the enemy!”

  The skirt gone, she plunged into the water.

  And she was very, very good. She’d spent a lifetime in the water, in the rivers, in the bay, in fresh springs, in salt water.

  But so had he.

  The far side of the pond stretched before her. She realized, far too late, that he probably let her reach the shoreline first.

  When she rose, she saw that he had stripped off his frockcoat, shirt, and boots, and was coming behind her. He didn’t even seem hurried. Bronzed shoulders were knotted and tight fingers remained clenched into fists at his side. He didn’t run; he walked with steady purpose and menace.

  She swore and turned to run again. Then she felt him. A touch of energy and heat in the air at her back, a sound like the wind ...