“Does that mean we’ll have to name the next babies Flora and Louis?”
“Good lord. I didn’t think about that.” He smiled and squeezed her hand. “We’ll worry about that later.”
He kept holding her hand and warmth flowed all the way to her chest. At least he didn’t run away when I mentioned more babies. Hope mingled with the soup of emotions sloshing inside her, and she reached in her pocket, fingering the gold piece.
That first night, they made a fire and fixed their bedrolls under the stars near a shallow pool in a rocky stream. The night was exceptionally clear, and they watched the flames lick toward the stars. The heat fell on their faces and Summer half-wondered if they might be the last two people on earth. He’d skewered pieces of steaks, onions and peppers on his sword, and now sat on a rock by the fire, roasting their dinner.
“The best use for it I’ve seen so far,” he said, then gestured toward their pack of food. “I know the army has an abundance of beef. George gave us bread, apple tarts, and a quart of cider.”
As they settled down for the night, the awkwardness seemed palpable. Daniel kept his back to her while she bathed and changed by the pool, and she did the same for him. Once settled near the fire, he tentatively ran a finger along the line of her jaw. The fire created soft shadows on the contours of his face. His voice came out low and shy.
“I’m so sorry I hurt you that night.”
She pressed a finger to his lips and studied the fire for a long moment. The words came out awkwardly. “You … you hurt me, but I was partly at fault. What must you have thought?” She brought her eyes around and focused on him. “Daniel, I deserved your anger. I’m sorry, too. You’re my life.” One side of her mouth pulled up. “I could no more stop loving you than I could pluck a star from the sky.”
Her head rested on his arm. She sighed sadly. “There’s one more thing we need to talk about.”
“What?”
“The baby. I don’t know what happened that night. I was drunk. I’m so ashamed.”
He pressed a finger to her lips. “Shush. The baby’s my child. I hope someday I can forget how he was conceived.” He touched the tip of her nose. “It doesn’t matter, Rosie, who fathered the child. More than likely we’ll never know. The baby’s mine because he’s yours, and you and I are the same.”
He slipped the rawhide from around his neck and held up the ring. “Remember, we’re married. The moment Ray told me about the baby, I decided I wanted both you and the child, even if, by some wild chance, he is Hal’s. What’s important is that we’re together. Will you forgive me for hurting you, for the anger, for the wasted days of being apart? Will you wear my ring again?”
Tears gathered in her eyes. “Oh, Daniel, I forgave you a long time ago.” She took the ring in the palm of her hand, then closed her fingers over it. “I thought I’d lost it,” she whispered. “I thought I’d lost you. Can you forgive me? I don’t know what happened with Hal. I know I didn’t want him. I have no memory of anything.”
He kissed her salty eyes. “I told you it doesn’t matter. You’re here, alive, carrying my child.” His big hand covered her abdomen. “I never quit loving you. What happened, happened. I know you were frightened, grief stricken. I’m sure Hal had more in mind, but he’s sorry, too. I haven’t yet figured out how to reconcile with him, but I love you, Rosie. I’ve been going crazy not touching you.” His voice broke and grew softer. “Ray told me I could.” His hand rested on her waist. “What we have is worth keeping. So many men I knew are dead. We’re alive, sweetheart. You’re a part of me as much as my hand is a part of me. I want you.”
He opened his arms, and she burrowed into them. As he ran his hands through her short hair and kissed her face and neck, he told her, “I didn’t feel I had the right. Not after what I did.” He rolled against her, holding her face between his big hands. “I’m so ashamed of what happened and so, so sorry.” He moved his hands down the sides of her body. “I’ve about gone crazy keeping my hands off you. I love your short hair, and the baby …” He showered kisses all over her face, her neck. His big hands shook, but he chuckled. “I was so dumb.” He held up her sock. “I even saw your purple-toed sock and didn’t realize it was you. You cut your hair.” He hugged her tightly. “Oh, Rosie. I was dead inside without you. I never want to feel like that again. I’m so sorry I hurt you.”
She brushed the tears out of her eyes. “Hush now.” She pressed her lips against his neck. His skin smelled good enough to lick. His shirt came off and her hands stroked the skin of his shoulders, his chest.
“You are my heart,” she said, wiggling out of her nightgown. “I never stopped loving you.” Her voice grew husky. “Though I’m still a little miffed about that two dollar gold piece.”
He lowered his head. “That was just meanness. Dirty meanness. I’m so sorry.”
He buried his face against her breasts and didn’t see the imp in her eyes. “Daniel, meanness or not, I’m worth much more than two dollars.”
He growled and sucked in a deep breath, then rolled over on his back, holding her close to him. His eyes swept across the night sky. “Oh, sweetheart, how right you are. If every star were a two dollar gold piece, I’d trade them all for right now with you.” He kissed her hard and long and held her so tight she could barely breathe. His voice came out raspy and low. “I don’t ever want to live without you again.”
CHAPTER 49
ACROSS THE STONE BRIDGE
She danced through Maryland and Pennsylvania, grinning constantly at her ring, which she’d assumed had been lost on the battlefield when she was wounded. Having it back on her finger thrilled her; having Daniel back in her arms completed her.
They spent another night under the stars. The following afternoon they came to the stone bridge her brothers and father had built. Both basked in the happiness of being together and coming home. No evidence of war showed in their part of Pennsylvania. Peace permeated deep inside them, very much like the purple haze of Indian Summer that veiled the valley.
From a distance, they saw a note nailed to the boarded up door. Daniel took it out of the envelope and unfolded the paper. When he read the words, all warmth left him. He handed it to Summer Rose.
JUST WANTED YOU TO KNOW
THERE IS NO PLACE FOR YOU TO GO.
THERE IS NOWHERE YOU CAN HIDE.
I KNOW ALL THE PLACES YOU ABIDE.
SWEET, LOVELY SUMMER ROSE
DO NOT ALLOW THOSE HAUNTING EYES TO CLOSE.
WHAT I HAVE IN MIND FOR THEE
IS FAR WORSE THAN WHAT YOU DID TO ME.
- H.
She went to rip it to shreds, but Daniel stopped her and pocketed the note. “Remember, I’m the son of a lawyer. Evidence.”
They took down the boards that had been nailed over the door. Chaos and ruin greeted them. The piano had been axed, the mattresses, the quilts her mother had made, all were shredded. The chair and couch cushions smelled of urine. The books were ripped and thrown on the floor; some had been burned in the fireplace. Flour had been dumped all over the house. Dishes and glasses lay in shiny shards. Even her mother’s china, stored in an odd little chest, hadn’t escaped detection. Every piece had been deliberately destroyed. Becca must have canned quarts and quarts of tomatoes, for the jars were splattered all over the kitchen. They found three different sets of tracks around the house.
Daniel took her hand and led her to the bench by the lake. “We’ll hire someone to clean it. Your heart will break a thousand times if we do it. Let’s check the barn.”
No damage had been done to Hal and Fanny’s house or to the barn, but something still didn’t feel right. They both sensed that Hobbs and his gang had been in the barn. In her greenhouse, Daniel and Summer found the glass destroyed and another verse nailed to the wall. Summer Rose felt her heart tear as she read.
CHECKED EVERY CRANNY, EVERY NOOK
TWO DOGS WE FOUND, TWO DOGS WE TOOK.
SMART AND FIERCE, WE’LL TEACH ‘EM RIGHT
SWEET, LOVELY SUMMER ROSE
I WANT YOUR EYES, YOUR LIPS, YOUR NOSE.
I WANT THE PIECES OF YOUR GORGEOUS FACE
SCRAPED OFF THE BONE.
I WANT YOU NAKED AND ALONE.
- H
Summer gasped through sobs. She leaned her forehead against one of the support posts and pounded the wood with her fists. “I’m going to kill him, Daniel. If he hurts my dogs, I’ll kill him. I don’t care who his father is. They can hang me. I do not care. I’ll kill that son of a bitch.” She looked up at him, her faced streaked with tears. “How did he find our valley?”
He took her hands and pulled her into his arms. “Maybe he followed Hal when he came here.” He ran his fingers through her short hair and pressed her cheek to his chest. “I’m so sorry.”
They rode first to Morgan’s Corner where Daniel composed three telegrams: one to General Sheridan, concisely giving him an idea of what had happened and requesting Boy Criel be sent to their valley. Boy Criel, part Iroquois, part French-Canadian, was the best tracker in the Army of the Shenandoah. The next telegram went to Hal, asking him to give Boy Criel directions and search the army camps for the dogs. If Hobbs used them for sport, the most money would be made around the Yankee camps. The last telegram was to Jack McAllister. They received three responses within an hour. Boy Criel and Jack would leave immediately: Jack from Washington, Boy Criel from Harper’s Ferry. Jack asked that they not clean up the house until after he arrived. Hal would scour the camps.
They stopped at Ezra and Margie’s farm and told them. No one had seen a thing. They had been to the lake two days previously and no note had been nailed to the door at that time. Margie promised to clean the house with her older boys, and Ezra said he’d repair the greenhouse, but they said they would wait for Jack. Everyone was sick about the dogs and thrilled about the baby. Margie packed them a basket of food, and Ezra returned with them, taking their horses back to his farm.
“I’ll send one of the boys with them first thing,” he promised.
They packed firewood, Margie’s basket, bedding, and the tent into the canoe and headed for the island.
The owls still hooted and flapped their soft wings. The moon inched over the mountains, tossing a silken sheet of silver across the water. The rocks and pines still whispered. But nothing seemed the same. Was that bastard on the mountain spying on them with a rifle scope? Was he waiting for first light so he could pick them off like ducks in a row? Their wonderful, secluded valley had been violated.
On the side of the island facing the meadow, Daniel built a small fire. They made coffee and halfheartedly picked at the chicken Margie had sent. They sat amid the rocks and made sure their silhouettes didn’t show. Later, when the fire died to embers, they swam and bathed on the side of the island that faced away from the mountains. Being clean was the best part of the day. .Later still, they lay in each others’ arms. Neither of them slept very much.
Jack arrived before ten o’clock the next morning. He touched the destroyed piano and shook his head with disgust. “I remember hauling this monster from Lancaster, and your mother playing it, teaching you.” He walked through the house, touching, remembering. He picked up the pieces of a small porcelain dog. “We brought this from Scotland. It came from my mother’s family.”
Boy Criel arrived around eleven. Boy, white-haired, skin like supple, well-cured doeskin, was tall for an Indian, and very lean. He claimed to have scouted for President Zachary Taylor. Boy showed them how poorly the nails that tacked the notes up had been nailed.
“He’s using his right hand, and he’s left-handed. The handwriting on the notes isn’t good either.”
Boy showed them where the intruders had tied their horses in the barn. Outside, he pointed out how one man’s right foot turned in, another wore two inch heels. “The third man is probably big. His footprints are deep.” He found the remains of several cigarettes. “English brand. Expensive. The sulters don’t sell these. They were purchased in Baltimore or Washington.”
He pointed out the droppings and tracks of their three horses and followed them upstream from the bridge to where they had crossed the stream, headed for the Gettysburg Road. A little south of where the lane met the road, he found more droppings. He knelt beside the dung and dissected it with a stick.
“This is clean. No grass, nothing except hay, winter oats, and a few pecan shells. I can track their horseshit all the way to Virginia.”
Jack shook his head and said to Daniel. “You were wise to send for him.”
Boy said he wanted to continue tracking while the trail was fresh. They agreed to keep in touch by telegraph.
Margie and Ezra, along with the four older boys, arrived with a picnic lunch. Everyone pitched in to clean the house. It was a huge undertaking. They heaped the living room furniture and mattresses into a pile and burned everything they could. The parts of the destroyed piano that couldn’t be burned were lifted into Ezra’s wagon to be taken to the dump. They scrubbed the remaining furniture, spread the rugs out in the sunlight. The boys took every pot, every towel outside, then swept and mopped the entire house.
Margie put a final coat of lemon oil on the floors and shook her head. “Come February I’ll think of those smashed tomatoes and cry. Becca showed me how to can. That girl sure is a cook.”
CHAPTER 50
ASHES
Jack nailed the last board over the door and the three of them rode to Morgan’s Corner, where Jack sent a telegram. When they arrived at the railhead, a private locomotive and car waited for them. It whisked them and their horses through the night to General Sheridan’s headquarters.
“How do we rate our own private train, Jack?” asked Summer.
He chuckled. The car was a simple, empty boxcar with horse stalls at one end and cushioned wooden benches at the other. It certainly wasn’t luxurious, like some of the private cars of the affluent. Daniel surveyed the interior, then pulled up a bag of oats and set in front of her seat.
He patted the makeshift footstool. “Put your feet up.”
Jack didn’t like how tired she looked, either. He took off his jacket and tucked it around her shoulders. “I have friends in high places. A cabinet member’s daughter has been threatened. Kate Chase received a poem last week. We believe the blood sports, the rapes, the threats are all related. Did I tell you Pearl Mason was released?”
They both whipped their heads around. “What?”
“The Darlings dropped the charges.”
“They what?”
He shrugged. “Someone paid off someone. Mrs. Mason was out of prison and long gone before we knew anything about it.”
Summer leaned forward. She put her feet back on the floor, her elbows on her knees, and her head in her hands. “What’s going on? That horrible woman sold their daughter to Hal.”
“The President’s reaction was about the same as yours.”
Daniel asked, “Who was the judge?”
“Judge Turner.”
“Ephraim Turner?”
Jack nodded.
“He has a good record. What has he to say?”
Jack’s dark eyes were hooded. “He shot himself before we could ask.”
Daniel and Summer stared at him.
“The Darlings?” Summer finally asked.
Jack shook his head. “I think threats on the girl’s life may have been made. Neither parent will say a word, except that he requested transfer to the Indian Territories, which the President approved.”
Daniel arched an eyebrow.
“He and Sam Grant both said to let them go.” He dusted dirt off his boot. “I’ve found both Lincoln and Grant to be honorable men. Hard, but honorable men.”
The train pulled into Harper’s Ferry and Jack stood. “Let’s find ourselves some dog thieves.” He pointed to his sister. “You, however, will get off your feet. Otherwise I’ll ask General Sheridan to confine you to quarters.”
While Summ
er Rose rested in Daniel’s tent, night searches were made. Jack set up a central desk in one corner of Daniel’s headquarters so he could watch all communications. Jack was good at that. He stayed near her, keeping a close watch on her. At the same time she didn’t feel left out. Word came from Daniel that Devin’s command had found the remains of what appeared to be dog pits near Staunton. Boy Criel reported finding more of the expensive cigarette butts at Rockfish Gap.
General Sheridan demanded a powwow with Jack, Daniel, Hal, and Summer Rose. For the first time, Hal and Summer Rose stood near enough to see the whites of each others’ eyes. When they entered Sheridan’s headquarters and saw the red glint in the general’s black eyes, all thoughts of their own problems evaporated. In the flickering lantern light, Sheridan sat behind his field desk, his back West Point-straight, his face set in stone. The men who served under him knew that face. That was the face which rallied his troops and pushed men uphill to take Missionary Ridge.
When they were all settled, he said, “I’m in the middle of a goddamn war. I have 60,000 men under my command. Sam Grant is counting on me. We almost have Lee boxed in a corner. What the hell is going on?” He pointed to Jack. “Major McAllister. Start.”
Jack summarized the blood sports, old and new, the numerous rapes and murders, the gutted girl, Liza, the attack on Summer after the Christmas Ball in Washington, how she’d slashed Hobbs, suspicion that he was a spy, and how he’d fled to Virginia. He told of Pearl Mason’s high class brothel, and the rescue of Liza by Hal and Daniel. He relayed what he’d uncovered regarding Mrs. Mason’s operation, the money involved, the notebooks. He explained Summer and Ray’s involvement, Mrs. Mason’s release, then moved on to Judge Turner’s suicide, missing evidence, Sergeant Darling’s request for transfer, and the threatening poem received by Kate Chase, the daughter of Lincoln’s Secretary of the Treasury. Jack finished by handing the general his orders, signed by the President. He nodded to Daniel, who reached in his shirt pocket and gave General Sheridan the two poems they’d found in their valley.
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