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Summer Rose

Page 21

by Caroline Hartman


  He took a two dollar gold piece out of his pocket and tossed it to her. She picked it up and stared at him, confused.

  “I think that covers what a whore costs.”

  With a jarring thud, the canoe rammed the shore. He stood, took his boots and gear, and stepped out of the canoe, swinging it around so it rested on the grass. Hal was nowhere in sight. Daniel limped past the cooing baby, not even glancing at Hal’s son. He banged into the house then banged out a minute later with clean socks. He sat on the steps and pulled on his socks and boots.

  She flinched at the rawness of his feet.

  “I’m going to see to Chester.” He nodded toward her. “I need my shirt.”

  There was something in the way he said it—I need my shirt. His tone, the slope of his shoulders, something, and it infuriated her. She climbed out of the canoe and marched up the stairs, pounding her bare feet with every step. Still not understanding what had kindled her anger, she lit the stove and slammed the iron door closed. Out of habit, she filled the kettle with fresh water and thumped it down on the burner, then stomped into the bedroom, which told a tale she didn’t want to hear.

  Hal’s dirty socks and his belt hung on the footboard. Two whiskey flasks sat empty on the floor. The sheets, pillows, and quilt lay sprawled all over the place, as did her letters to Daniel. Through the fog of whiskey, she couldn’t remember what had happened. All she felt was a horrible void, a black pit that threatened to swallow her when she’d thought Daniel was dead.

  She walked past a mirror, noticing the tunic only covered her to mid-thigh. Her hair was wild. Good lord, I’m a wreck. She grabbed her hairbrush and turned her head upside down, brushing the tangles from her hair, and thought about Hal. She’d clobber him so hard his head would spin. She’d put a rock in her fist, just like Colin had taught her.

  Daniel’s face from last night flashed in her mind. I’ll bash him, too. The picture of her torn nightgown returned and she shuddered. She reached in the pocket of Daniel’s tunic and found the gold piece he’d thrown at her. How dare he throw money at me? How could he be so cruel? She wanted to shove the gold piece down his throat. He had to realize it was all a horrible mistake. She’d no memory of what had happened.

  I thought you were dead, Daniel. I would never want Hal. I don’t understand what happened. I love you, Daniel. You are my heart. She pictured his face as he’d flipped her the coin and tears streamed down her face. She slammed the gold piece on the dresser. “Damn you.”

  She heard loud voices and ran to the porch, her heart flooding with fear. Daniel, bare-chested and bloody-fisted, loomed over Hal. Hal tried to stand up but fell down. She rushed back inside to the kitchen, grabbed her rifle, and ran onto the porch. She raced down the steps and to the paddock yard, her hair flying wild. She fired two quick shots, which thudded into the fence behind the men.

  Daniel glared at her. “I’m going to kill him.”

  “Back up, Daniel. If anyone is going to be killed, I’ll do it.”

  He moved toward Hal and she let loose another shot. The lead whizzed inches from his bare chest and thudded into the fence behind them. He fell back and swore at her.

  She yelled, “Hal, get on Dulcey and get out of here.”

  Daniel started to move but the mouth of the rifle was aimed directly at him.

  “I’ll take off your ear, Daniel. You know I can do it. Let him go.” She motioned with the rifle for Hal to move then yelled at Daniel. Tears threatened again. “I don’t want you hanged. I just about died last night thinking you were dead. Go on. Get out of here, Hal.”

  Hal stood as if frozen, wobbling back and forth. They all turned at the sound of hooves pounding over the bridge, and stared in disbelief as Jack galloped into the yard on a sweat-soaked horse. He skidded to a stop and dropped to the ground, looking as winded as his horse. He held both hands up and slowly walked toward his sister.

  “I was told Mosby hanged Daniel. I see they were mistaken.”

  She motioned with the rifle. “Help Hal onto his horse. No questions, Jack. Just do it.”

  He did as she requested. It took time because Hal had difficulty standing, let alone getting on the horse and sitting straight. Then Jack insisted on refilling Hal’s canteen. While she waited, the sun beat down on her, and she wiped sweat off her face with the torn nightgown. She stuffed it in the tunic pocket and glared at Daniel. As each minute ticked by, her anger grew like a wildfire.

  When Hal rode off, Jack asked, “Anyone want to tell me what’s going on?”

  In unison they yelled, “No.”

  Summer Rose motioned with the gun. “Take Daniel up on the porch and take off his boots. His feet are raw. He could lose his feet if you don’t clean him up. There’s a bottle of Da’s salve in the kitchen. Use it.”

  “I need my shirt,” Daniel yelled.

  She threw the rifle to Jack. “Cover him.”

  Never in her entire life had such rage consumed her. She glared at Daniel, looking as if he might be crazy. “You want your shirt?” She whipped off the shirt, holding it by a sleeve, then whirled it around her head like a lariat, and flung it with all her might at Daniel.

  Both men stared, their faces set as if in stone. Daniel didn’t even lift his hands to catch the shirt. It thudded against his chest and slid to the ground.

  “Take your goddamn shirt.”

  Tears ran down her face and she threw back her head, her hands on her hips and her hair whipping about. She marched toward the house, gorgeous as a Greek goddess and just as naked. Neither Jack nor Daniel moved, not even when they heard the door bang shut.

  CHAPTER 39

  A PLAN

  Muttering and swearing under her breath, she took a pitcher of hot water into the bedroom and gave herself a wash. She dressed in an old blue shirt of Daniel’s, and pulled on Kip’s ragged pants. She managed to stop crying, but her hands wouldn’t quit shaking as she braided her hair. They continued to shake as she changed the sheets and straightened the bedroom. When she’d finished, she crumpled onto the bed, exhausted, sick, and miserable. Lying there, she could hear their voices through the open window, but couldn’t make out what they were saying. Eventually she heard Jack banging around in the kitchen, getting water and rags. He knocked on her door and asked for clean socks for Daniel, acting as if nothing were wrong. She pointed to the top drawer of the bureau.

  She wanted Daniel to come to her, to tell her he was sorry for hurting her, for his mean words, but he didn’t. Around noon she heard him leave. When Chester’s hooves pounded over the bridge, she raced through the kitchen to the porch, getting there just in time to see him galloping away. Her legs gave way and she collapsed as if she’d been punched in the stomach. Only the porch railing kept her upright.

  Jack supported her to the kitchen and sat her down at the table. He pressed his hands against her shoulders and massaged her neck. After a few minutes, he puttered about, making coffee, toast, and scrambled eggs. She ate slowly, chewing each bite with deliberation. Her hands shook so the silverware clattered against the plate. When she finished, she leaned back in her chair, her hands still shaking.

  “He’s still angry with me, isn’t he?”

  Jack nodded. His voice came out shy. “He said he found you in bed with Hal. Where in the hell is your head, Summer? Did you—”

  The tears came again. “I don’t know, Jack! I was drunk. I was out of mind with grief. Hal had a flask, two, and I drank. A lot. I honestly don’t know what happened. Did he tell you what he did?”

  Jack shook his head. “It’s a wonder he didn’t kill you.”

  She breathed a sigh of relief. She didn’t want anyone to know what he’d done. She was strangely ashamed of him and of herself for what had happened on the island.

  “Jack, I’m not going to just let him go.” Her eyes, big and wet, closed, and she felt an unutterable sense of comfort when his hand grabbed hers. “I have to do something,” she said, her voice cracking. “Will you help me?”

  He lea
ned his chair back on its rear legs. “What do you have in mind?”

  As she told him, he drummed his fingers on the table, then sat up with a jerk, all four legs of the chair slammed down. He narrowed his eyes and nodded slowly. “It’s doable. And it might just be the thing to teach you not to get so emotional.” He continued tapping the table. “You could get yourself in a lot of trouble, even killed. I do know Phil Sheridan, though. I might be able to use my influence. He all but worshiped our father. He met Da that year he was on probation from West Point. But I’m not sure. I don’t want you to go off halfcocked. Tell me again.”

  He took mental notes as she talked, and made several suggestions. They needed to stop while she fed Hank and changed his diaper.

  “By the way,” he said when she was finished, “I do have good news. Fanny wired Amelia, who is on her way here to take the baby. They should be here by dark. Harvey sent a telegram.”

  She nodded. Her mind started a list. “I’ll get Amelia settled. I can’t just leave her with the baby the minute she walks in the house. There are some old uniforms in the trunk in the loft. I’ll have to take one in and shorten the sleeves and trousers.”

  She stood suddenly, the tears all gone and replaced with determination. “I’m going to cut my hair.”

  “Aw, honey, do you have to do that? Daniel loves your hair.”

  She shot him a glance. “Understand something right now, Jack McAllister. I want him back, but he’d better like a lot more than my long hair. I gave him my heart. I’d die for him. He knows that if anything happened with Hal, it was a mistake, a stupid mistake. If he had an ounce of sense, he’d know that.”

  Jack swallowed.

  She stood and retrieved the scissors, then moved toward the door to the porch. “Once it’s cut, I’ve crossed the Rubicon.”

  He swallowed hard again. “I’ll help you. Fetch a sheet.”

  The rescue team found Summer Rose wrapped in a sheet, her long braid lying on the floor of the porch. Amelia put her hand over her mouth and her amber eyes widened to the size of small apples.

  Becca jumped out of the carriage before it stopped, then ran up the steps to take the scissors from Jack. “I’m good at this, Major McAllister. Let me take over.”

  “Happily.” He moved gingerly down the steps and helped Amelia from the carriage. “Thank you for your telegram this morning and for coming.”

  “I couldn’t stay away. When Harvey told me Mosby … then the telegram from Fanny … and then … we heard Danny was okay. But I can’t believe she left the baby.”

  Amelia ran up the steps to the porch and pulled a chair beside the cradle. She reached for the baby and nested him in her arms. He started to fuss, then snuggled back to sleep. Amelia’s face held the smuggest of smiles. “Oh, he is gorgeous.”

  Becca repaired Summer Rose’s hair, producing a ragged boy cut, with spikes shooting out in all directions. She held a hand mirror up. “Maybe when you wash it?”

  Summer shrugged. “I’ll jam it under a cap. I’m going up to the loft to find that old uniform now.”

  When she left, Amelia asked. “What happened? Something happened.”

  Jack gave them an edited rendition. “She and Daniel had a tiff, a serious one. You know newlyweds. She’s off to make amends.”

  In Jack’s mind, both men had behaved less than honorable, as had his sister, and the fewer people who knew, the better. He knew loss, how it ripped you apart, crushed you, and he’d do anything to help Summer. On the other hand, while he wanted to rattle both Daniel and Hal, he’d do what he could to help them, too.

  Amelia cooed at the baby, and Jack shook his head with confusion. How could such a sweet woman produce such an arrogant bastard as Hal? Yet he knew the good side of Hal, too. Hal, without any reservation, had put up the gold to free Liza. He’d also been the first anonymous donor to the nurses’ cab fare fund. His father had contributed too, along with many grateful soldiers. But Jack had noticed long before this happened, how Hal would brush against Summer, of his covert peeks at her. And Summer? He didn’t even try to understand women. Daniel, well, he had a suspicion of what Daniel had done.

  Most people loved Daniel, and he was just as guilty as the next person. Daniel oozed charm. Just about everyone, from the rawest recruit to Grant, even Lincoln, gravitated to him. And yet he’d seen the torn nightgown when she’d wiped her face, and he’d heard rumors of Daniel’s temper. He put two and two together, but he knew better than to interfere. Not yet, anyway.

  Summer returned, waving the uniform. Jack took it from her and handed it to Becca. “We’ll fix this later.” He led Summer by the elbow across the porch. “Someone better watch out for you. Those dark circles under your eyes would make a raccoon jealous. I want you to rest.”

  As they moved into the house, tears welled in her eyes. “Jack, don’t be kind. I’ll cry again. Tell me how stupid I was. Do you think he’ll ever want me back?”

  He chuckled. “He must have had some reason to nearly kill Hal.” He fluffed the pillow, and she sat on the edge of the bed. “Lie down, Summer. I want you to rest. We have a whole team here to help now.” He covered her with a blanket, bent, and kissed her forehead. “We’ll work through this. Rest now.

  Two days later, high above Harper’s Ferry with the Potomac and Shenandoah Rivers roaring below them, Jack mounted his horse. His heart did a little sputter every time he glanced at his half-sister. Even dressed in Colin’s leftover uniform, which Becca had altered, Summer still looked too much like a girl. She fiddled over the small fire, roasting coffee beans and boiling water. Her hair stuck out every which way.

  A couple of days before, while they were still at Camelann, Becca had baked a cake to celebrate Summer’s twentieth birthday. Jack, from his lofty age of thirty, watched and ached for her. She was too young for such problems, but the war had torn all their lives asunder. Later, with just the two of them at the table, she made a little ritual of cutting a long string of rawhide and removing her wedding ring. She slipped her ring on the rawhide and knotted it tightly on the string, then hung it around her neck. Her voice threatened to crack.

  “I’ll wear this next to my heart until Daniel puts it back on my finger.”

  Now, she gazed down at the confluence of the Shenandoah and Potomac Rivers, and the village of Harper’s Ferry, which was situated at the bottom of a narrow gorge, bordered by sheer granite walls. The enormous Union Army arsenal and its immense stores sat below her. Opposite her, and uphill at Bolivar, stood another military compound. Sheridan’s Army of the Shenandoah appeared vast. Not all of it was there, but a great mass of the North’s power was spread over the hillside opposite her. She could see thousands of tents, wagons, sheds and storehouses, as well as horses, mules, caissons, pontoon bridges, and enormous stacks of supplies.

  Not quite autumn, the air blew brisk and carried a bite. She poured herself a cup of coffee, then panned the valley with her father’s binoculars. She’d read somewhere that Jefferson said this expanse of water and rock was worth crossing the Atlantic to see, and she agreed. The view of the rivers as they broke through the Blue Ridge Mountains took her breath away. She imagined that in some prehistoric age, rocks larger than houses must have spewed about, as if left in a war of titans. Trees were sparse.

  After only five minutes, she spotted Daniel’s flag. Her heart did a little flip when she saw big old Chester about halfway up the hill, standing across the river and opposite her. She loved that horse almost as much as Daniel did. Someone, not Daniel, stood by the horse, grooming him.

  Then she saw Daniel duck out of his tent. Tears burned and her heart raced, but she wiped her face with her hand and didn’t make a sound. He stopped and talked to Chester, then walked toward the long rows of tents, melting into thousands of men and horses. She lay still for a long time, watching Chester, hoping to get another glimpse of Daniel. Finally, she put the glasses down and reached in her pocket for the gold piece. She tossed it over and over, watching it spin and catch the light.
Up and down, spinning and flipping, like the thoughts racing through her mind.

  The spirit of her oldest brother sat beside her, though Will didn’t speak for a long time. He just let his presence fill her. The memory of his face formed in her mind: his elaborate moustache, the one dimple, the sweet smile. He, of all her brothers, had been her hero. He had been her ideal for a good man. He’d kissed away her tears and bruises, fixed her scrapes, told her stories.

  When she was little, to keep her away from the road or the lake, he’d spun elaborate tales of evil trolls lurking under the bridge, of an army of tiny, wart-crusted dragons living beneath the lake that would pop up, breathing fire and snapping their long teeth if she ventured too close. She remembered the day he’d left for war. He’d sat beside her on the piano bench and played the bugle calls, then told her how beautiful and brave she was, and how she’d need to be strong for all of them. He’d left a sweetheart, who he’d planned to marry. She still exchanged letters with Molly Mehard.

  She wasn’t surprised to hear his voice.

  I want you to know, he said inside her head, I’ll be here with you every step of the way. I’ll be the voice in your ear, telling you how to fit out your gear, how to maneuver your mount. And Summer, when I tell you to duck, for heaven’s sake, duck. I’ll cover your back. You shoot that Spencer better than anyone down there, and no one is as good as you are with a knife. Listen to me, Sweetpea. We—Da, Colin, and I—have been watching over you, and your Daniel, too. I’m madder than hell at him, but I like him. He’ll come round.

  He shook his head and anger spoke in the lines of his face. His voice was just as strong as if he sat beside her. Sweetpea, that gold piece was a cheap shot, like kicking a man when he’s down. If I were you, I’d frame it and hang it where he’ll see it every day, to remind him for the rest of his life of what a bastard he can be.”

 

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