“You were supposed to be back two days ago,” J.J. said, shaking his head. “I can’t allow this to continue.”
“I believe I was close to finding his headquarters.” Andrea took a sip of coffee and did not bother to specify whose headquarters she referred to. “I could not just leave.”
“You see?” J.J.’s voice grew loud. “I sent you to deliver dispatches to General Nelson. There was no mention of finding any headquarters in those orders.”
Andrea let out her breath in rude exasperation. “We need to match his cleverness and cunning. We cannot just stop.”
“You disobeyed my orders. I can’t allow insubordination in my ranks.”
“J.J.—”
“Don’t J.J. me. I’m your commanding officer.”
“Colonel Jordan,” she began again. “You cannot expect me to ride into enemy territory with my eyes closed. Hunter’s men cause chaos in our ranks, and every unit sent after him is destroyed.”
“That has nothing to do with you,” he snapped.
“But I ride alone. I have been able to move around his command unnoticed. I have given you valuable information about his movements, haven’t I?”
J.J. stared at her unblinking, knowing she was right. “That is not the question.”
“But if we found his headquarters we could stop—”
“You are a courier, at best. Not a spy. Not a scout.” J.J.’s temper flared. “Do you understand? You are to deliver dispatches, not gather intelligence on the enemy’s strength and movements.”
Andrea nodded, but defiance remained in her eyes when she turned away, making it obvious the furtive headquarters of Captain Hunter had become an obsession.
“Andrea, the man is satanically clever,” J.J. said, trying to reason with her. “He knows what we are doing—and even what we intend to do—yet no one can tell where he’ll be or when he’ll be there—”
“I can play his game.” She swung around to face him. “He operates unmolested, robbing with impunity, picking up supplies from our troops as he desires, and greeting and accepting invitations from citizens with the popularity of a king. If you would authorize it, I could find his headquarters.”
“Yes, that would work splendidly,” J.J. said sarcastically. “That is if Hunter didn’t capture you, which he probably would, and then decided to spare your life, which he probably wouldn’t.”
“You worry too much.”
J.J. studied the uncompromising look on her face and decided to change the subject. The distinctive and familiar outward thrust of her jaw indicated that any attempt to sway her opinion on the matter would be futile. “How’s the ankle?”
“Much better.” Andrea sounded none too sincere as she limped over to the chair.
J.J. knelt down, took off the bandage, and checked the swelling. “It’s still swollen. You should try to stay off it. Why don’t you go visit Catherine and rest for a few days?”
Andrea nodded somewhat willingly in response to the suggestion, then sank deeper into the chair.
“Now, tell me about last night.” J.J. stood and crossed his arms.
After propping her foot on a chest, Andrea wrapped and re-wrapped the bandage in an obvious effort to stall for time. J.J. surmised she had planned to think her story through before being questioned. That plan, he concluded, had not been implemented and was now too late to enact.
When he began tapping his foot, she gazed up with a forced smile. “Oh, well…last night…”
“Yes, Andrea. Last night. What happened?”
He watched her swallow hard. “Well, on my way to deliver your dispatch, I noticed some Confederate cavalry hanging around on the outskirts of town.” She stared out over her toes with an indifferent expression, but he could tell she was searching frantically for a way to continue.
“Go on,” he prodded.
“So then, what happened is, I ran into one of our patrols…” She shot a quick glance up at him. “I reported what I had seen, and told them they might want to take a look.”
She paused again, but avoided meeting his gaze now. “They did so, and pretty much scattered the riders.” She put both palms up in the air and shrugged as if that was the end of the story.
“And you think it was Hunter’s men you saw?”
Andrea’s lips pursed and she focused her attention on a single button on J.J.’s coat rather than his eyes. “Pretty sure.”
“But that’s not everything. How did you sprain your ankle?”
Andrea gulped. “Oh yes, my ankle. I, uh, sprained my ankle when . . .”
“Come on, Andrea, the truth.” J.J. continued to stare at her, focusing on every word and concentrating on any possible slip-ups.
“Yes, I forgot…that’s not quite the end of the story. Justus needed a drink and so did I, so we stopped along Swift Run. Strangely enough, Captain Hunter had the same idea.”
“You were that close when the Union patrol attacked?” His eyes grilled her, letting her know he had deduced the part of the story she had neglected to tell—that she had acted as a decoy to divert Hunter’s attention from the alerted patrol. “What did you do then?”
“Well, the good thing is, he was on one side of the stream and I was on the other. You know how Swift Run is…it’s kind of…well…swift—”
“Yes, I know how it is,” J.J. snapped, agitated at her ramblings. “What happened next?”
Andrea sighed. “Unluckily for him, but fortunately for me, his horse went down and he fell off, and I was able to get away.” Finishing the sentence, Andrea clapped her hands and stood, as if she was glad to be done with the conversation.
J.J. stared at her back, knowing he could probably find a slice of truth in her story. Yet he knew Andrea well enough to recognize she had a way of taking an acorn of fact and turning it into a great oak of fable. “You still have not told me how you sprained your ankle, Andrea. What are you hiding?”
“Blazes, why do you have to know me so well?” Andrea hobbled to the far side of the tent while biting one of her fingernails.
“You said the good news is he was on the other side of the creek and he fell off his horse,” J.J. started for her. “What, pray tell, is the bad news?”
“The bad news…” Andrea bit her lip. “The bad news is, I… Well, he struck his head when he fell.”
“And?”
“And I thought he might drown.”
A long pause ensued before J.J. prompted her again. “And?”
“So I jumped into the water and dragged him out.”
Andrea mumbled the last part of the sentence, but J.J. heard her just the same. He threw back his head and laughed—until he saw the look on her face. Then his expression lost all hint of humor. “You are joking, right?”
“No, I’m not joking.” Andrea threw her hands up in exasperation. “He hit his head, and I thought I could at least get him out of the water. But by the time I did, his men were swarming around. They heard the gunshot I suppose—”
“Gunshot?” J.J.’s voice grew thunderous.
Andrea took an exasperated breath. “Well, yes. He fired a shot—”
“At you?”
She winced at the volume of his voice. “Yes, but no need for alarm. His aim was amiss.”
“It’s your logic that is amiss!” J.J. yelled. “There’s a war going on everywhere except between your ears! Do you think Captain Hunter would pull you out of the water?”
When she did not answer, J.J. took her by the arms and shook her. “War is not a game! How many times do I have to tell you that? War means fighting and fighting means killing.”
“There are better ways for a man to die than drowning in a blasted stream,” Andrea responded defiantly. “If he’d been bleeding to death on a battlefield, that would be different.”
“No, Andrea, it’s not different.” J.J. ran his hand through his hair in agitation. “This war doesn’t’ care how men die, or where they die, but what they died for. Brave men are taken every day by disease, by infect
ion, by malnutrition. Is that fair?”
“But I don’t want to be an instrument of death,” she responded, her chin starting to quiver.
“Then you may as well stop putting yourself and others in danger!”
When Andrea turned away, he could not resist placing a hand on her shoulder. “I’m only telling you this because you’re like a sister to me,” he said tenderly, unable to stay angry. “You know that, don’t you?”
“Excuse me, sir.” An aide stuck his head inside. “Courier just rode in.”
Chapter 6
No trumpets sound when the important decisions of our life are made. Destiny is made known silently.
– Agnes de Mille
J.J. muttered a quick apology and hurried outside to accept the dispatch. After listening to the rider’s summation of what the communication contained, he sent a verbal message back to the other officer and re-entered the tent.
“I’m afraid I may need a favor.” He scanned the message again as he talked.
Andrea tested her ankle gingerly. “Of course. Anything.”
“This,” he said holding up an envelope, “needs to be in Harmony as soon as possible. Since you’re heading in that direction to visit Catherine, you may as well take it.”
Andrea nodded. “Of course.”
Walking over to his desk, J.J. began to write his orders. “I wouldn’t ask you, but there’s been some…complications.” He continued writing until he heard Andrea clear her throat. He paused and raised his eyes. “Yes?”
“I’m curious as to what the qualifications are for the position in Richmond.” She stared vacantly at the floor while stroking brambles out of her hair with her fingertips.
J.J. started to answer, then stopped when he realized she was not curious at all. She only wanted to confirm what she thought she had heard take place outside the tent a few moments earlier. He leaned forward over the desk. “You were eavesdropping?”
“I could not help but overhear.” Andrea shrugged.
J.J. stared at her intently, rubbing his bearded chin. “No. Impossible.” He waved his hand in the air. “Forget you heard it.” He bent back down over his paperwork.
“But the courier said you’ve been asked to find someone for Richmond.” Andrea gazed up at him with bright, curious eyes. “What does that mean?”
J.J. put down his pen and sat back in his chair. “They need someone in the city…someone who can keep their eyes open. A contact, nothing more.”
“I am perfect for the job.”
“No.” He stood and began pacing, his mind evaluating the possibilities—and the pitfalls.
“But I was schooled in Richmond. I know every inch of it.” Andrea put her hand on his arm to stop him. “I’m so grateful you and Catherine sent me there for a year. What better way to pay you back?”
J.J. frowned at her attempt to persuade him. “But you are reckless. And you would be by yourself behind enemy lines.”
“I can take care of myself. I always have.”
“Frankly, we had not thought of the possibility of using a woman.” He rubbed his chin again while looking her up and down. “To be successful, a woman would have to act and look the part of a Southern lady…be discreet.” He shook his head dismissively. “And frankly, I believe you are about as capable of either one as I would be at getting a camel through the eye of a needle.”
“Oh, I can act like a lady.” Andrea spoke confidently before glancing down at her clothes. When she raised her eyes again, they were sparkling with humor. “Although, I’ll admit it would be hard to trade in this nice outfit for an impractical gown.”
J.J. laughed along with her at the sight of her dirty, ripped attire. “No matter, you would undoubtedly sweep every Confederate soldier who sees you off his feet.”
He watched her smile fade as she considered the thought of being in such close proximity to rebels, but then her eyes began to glow again.
“You can trust me with such an enterprise,” she said with conviction.
J.J. stared at the disheveled being before him with a frown. Somewhere, perhaps, amid the tousled hair, muddy face, and messy clothes was a refined young lady, one with the upbringing to fit in among the Southern aristocrats. She had, after all, been raised as one of them, and possessed all the inherent poise and deportment that noble breeding grants.
He shook his head as more thoughts bombarded his brain. At first glance it seemed a foolish idea to consider sending her into the very heart of the Confederacy, away from all Union defenses. At the tender age of seventeen, she was fearless—and at times, reckless.
On the other hand, she would be under another officer’s eyes, not gallivanting through the countryside like she did now. And Richmond had one other promising feature—no Hunter.
Andrea limped over and put her hands on J.J.’s arms. “Don’t hold yesterday against me.”
“Yes, well, all this instability does bear bringing up one more thing.”
Andrea looked up sharply. “What do you mean?”
“It’s time to let someone else in on our little secret.”
J.J. waited a moment for his words to sink in, and it was not long before the green eyes turned turbulent again. “No! You can’t tell someone else who I am…what I am!”
“Listen, Andrea. The colonel I wish to tell is a great friend of mine. We went to West Point together. I’ve been wanting to confide in him about you for a long time anyway—in case something should happen to me. And now I know it’s the right thing to do.”
When Andrea opened her mouth to argue, J.J. stopped her. “Listen, you can do it my way or you can go stay with Catherine for the rest of the war. I’ve had enough of this.”
He watched Andrea bite the side of her cheek and nod as she accepted his ultimatum.
“Good.” J.J. gave her shoulder a brotherly squeeze in an effort to relieve the tension. “It just so happens, you’ll be delivering this dispatch to the officer I’m talking about—Colonel Daniel Delaney. I’ll include a letter of introduction with this message.”
He sat back down and began writing again.
“What will I do with Justus?” Andrea stared into space as if already making plans for her trip South.
“If you go, you can leave him with Catherine. He’ll be safe there. Heaven knows no one in their right mind would try to ride him.”
She nodded in agreement.
“It’s better you leave him behind, anyway,” J.J. said, thinking of how the enemy must be on the lookout for such an animal now. “That horse stands out like soot on a snowdrift.”
“It sounds like you’ve got it all figured out.” Andrea tested her ankle again while holding onto the back of a chair.
“I’ve not made any decision yet.” J.J.’s voice grew stern. “I said I’ll consider it. I also need to discuss it with Colonel Delaney. He oversees any information coming out of Richmond.”
Andrea slipped on her jacket and appeared to ignore his last comment, as he put the finishing touches on the letter.
“I’ve explained everything here to Colonel Delaney.” He handed her the communication. “Give him my regards.”
“I will.” Andrea frowned, making it clear the thought of another officer knowing her identity was distasteful to her.
“And here,” he said, handing her another envelope. “This is for Catherine. Give her my regards as well.” J.J. was grateful Andrea ignored the way his voice cracked at the mere mention of his wife’s name.
“I won’t let you down, Colonel.”
“Good. Now give me a hug.” J.J. became all business again. “The boys will give you something to eat before you leave. I’ve got to ride out to the pickets, so I can’t see you off. Are you sure your ankle is all right and you got enough sleep?”
Andrea nodded. “Another cup of coffee and I’ll be wide awake. And thank you…for everything.”
J.J. nodded, uncomfortable with saying goodbye. “We’ll talk about the Richmond proposal when you return. That is, if you’r
e sure you want to go through with it.”
Andrea did not bother to respond with anything more than a look of resolute determination.
“Be careful, Andrea.” J.J. felt suddenly apprehensive about letting her go. “The courier mentioned a sighting of rebel cavalry roaming around nearby. If you see it, avoid it. Do you understand?”
Andrea nodded carelessly, but otherwise did not answer.
He reached out for her arm and stopped her when they stepped outside the tent. “Sinclair—”
“Yes?” She looked up questioningly with a slight smile at the use of her camp name.
“War is no game. Don’t test the depth of the river with both feet. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Colonel.” Andrea winked at him before turning and limping toward a group of his men standing around a fire. J.J. watched them greet each other with sound pats on the back.
“Sinclair, you crazy cuss,” he heard one of them say. “I dreamt I heard that beast of yours come thundering into camp, and land sakes, here you are. Just like a doggone bad omen!”
J.J. shook his head at the none-to-delicate camp language she endured. The men all adored her, protected her like she was their little brother—especially Private Boone. Yet they had no way of knowing anything about her. She kept her thoughts—or her past, at least — to herself.
Heaven knows she didn’t even share her pain with him. Yet, from what he knew about the atrocities she had witnessed as the daughter of a plantation owner, she carried enough of it around for all of them.
Watching her limp away with the group of raucous men, J.J. wondered what would happen if they knew her true identity. What would they think if they discovered the spirited, affable Sinclair was really a fragile young lady carrying so much hurt inside she could barely feel anymore? What would they do if they found out the brave courier who rode in and out of camp at will was really so afraid of feeling emotion that she pretended to feel nothing at all?
If only she could find someone to sweep her off her feet, penetrate that icy fortress she had built to shield her soul from everything and everyone.
Duty Bound (Shades of Gray Civil War Serial Trilogy Book 1) Page 3