by Sara Orwig
Caleb shifted, studying her, noticing the faint flush still in her cheeks. She was as skittish as a new colt. And a novelty. She was dressed as plain as a guinea hen, but every time the thought came of maiden lady or stiff-necked spinster, he would glance into her deep blue eyes, thickly fringed with brown lashes and his thoughts about a spinster vanished. Or when he looked at her mouth. It was full, curved and rosy, an invitation, except she was too prim for his liking. She would be as much fun to kiss as a board, and he had never kissed an unwilling partner and he wasn’t going to start with someone as straitlaced as Sophia Merrick. She wasn’t going to forgive him for yelling at her on the battlefield either.
As she moved around the bed, his gaze swept over her. The pale brown muslin did nothing for her, yet it was stretched tautly over full breasts and tucked into a tiny waist. She met his gaze, and looked away quickly. He had yet to see her smile. What would make her laugh? he thought. What kind of father and brothers would raise her to be so solemn and conscientious? Lord knows, his father had known how to have fun and never hesitated to enjoy his good times with his sons. He remembered the whiskey his father had brewed in the barn and shared with his sons, making them all promise they wouldn’t breathe a word about it to their mother. And the country dances—he had been only sixteen when they left Ireland, but he had known how to dance and kiss and he had been in love with Megan Pattison, even though it had been nothing more than the first crush of a young boy. He felt a rush of pity for Sophia Merrick. It passed swiftly as the longing came to get back to New Orleans, to the only family he knew.
“I sent a letter home yesterday by Henry.”
Her brows arched. “He didn’t tell me. I know your family will be relieved to hear from you. I haven’t heard from my brothers for weeks now. They’re fighting with General Lee and General Jackson.”
“I hope it’s not as bad as the battle we just fought.”
“My brothers couldn’t wait to get into battle. And they wanted to fight under Lee’s command, except Amos and his friends ended up with General Jackson. Papa was alive when they left. He got pneumonia after they were gone and it was the end of him.”
“I’m surprised one of your brothers didn’t come back to stay with you,” Caleb said, studying her again, realizing she wasn’t like any Southern women he had known, from the fallen women to the sheltered society belles like his sister-in-law. Chantal was feisty and unpredictable, but she flirted, and was aware of her beauty and ready for fun. Sophia Merrick just didn’t know the meaning of fun, he concluded. And it was a wonder she hadn’t fainted when she walked in on him when he was naked, he thought with relief.
“They were needed. Amos was coming back, but he was in a battle and later, when I received his letter, he said he would get here when he could. By that time, I wrote him to stay and fight, because I was managing just fine here. They know I have Henry and Mazie.”
“Two elderly slaves.”
“Oh, no. Papa didn’t believe in slavery. I pay them to work for us.”
“I’m surprised your friends approve of that,” he said.
She shrugged, moving closer to the bed to place the armload of rags in a basket. “The townspeople accept us. I know they talk and said Papa was eccentric—the ones who weren’t his friends and didn’t share his beliefs, but he’d helped a lot of people and so some folks are friendly. I don’t get invitations to parties and neither did my brothers, but Papa wouldn’t have let us go anyway, so it doesn’t matter. I have friends.”
The town eccentric. Only it was a whole family of them. He felt another rush of pity for her. She had missed a lot of fun in life.
“You look as if you feel sorry for me. My life is fine. I run the family paper for my brothers and when this war ends, they’ll come home and take over again.”
“Tell me again the name of the paper?”
“The River Weekly. Papa started it and it’s dedicated to building a strong Memphis, a city for families and law-abiding citizens.”
He felt exhaustion sweep over him, hating to be hurt and weak, impatient with his wounds. He sighed, feeling as if it were a major effort to keep his eyes open. “Thanks for what you’ve done. I don’t know how you got us back to Memphis.”
“I couldn’t have if you hadn’t loaded Will into the wagon.”
“You would have found a way, Miss Merrick.”
He closed his eyes and Sophia stared at him, feeling a mixture of emotions. He annoyed her, and she felt certain there were times when he pitied her. He teased and stared and looked at her at moments as if he were imagining her stark naked. Yet he was brave and kindhearted or he wouldn’t have risked his own life to save Will’s. There were moments she felt his disapproval for going to the Union army camp, yet his last words left her wondering what he did think of her. Leaving the room, she paused to look back at the sleeping soldier, knowing she would never again glance at John’s high rosewood bed without remembering Major O’Brien in it.
The next day she stopped first at the Stanton house on Adams and then she went to the newspaper office. She tied bundles of papers together for delivery by Henry and the young boys who had worked for her father. Some customers stopped at the store to purchase a paper or exchange a chicken or corn for a copy.
At the end of the day she wrote a story about her moments at the battlefield, and the courage of Will Stanton and Major O’Brien. It was late and dark by the time she went home with the latest edition of The River Weekly beneath her arm.
She paused in the doorway to look at Major O’Brien. He was sitting up, propped against the pillows, his chest bare except for the bandage around his shoulder. “They said you were getting out the paper.”
“Yes,” she said, waving a copy. “If you’d like, you may read it. If you’ll tell me about the battle, I think Memphians would be interested in a firsthand account.”
She handed him a paper and moved the lamp on the table closer to the bed, going around the bed to light another lamp.
“Are there any other papers in Memphis?”
“Heavens, yes! This is one of the smallest. Mister McClanahan joined Henry Van Pelt who founded The Appeal before I was born. Then Benjamin Dill became part owner and publisher. The Appeal is the advocate of the Democratic party. The Know-Nothing’s have their Eagle and Enquirer. The German immigrants have had several papers. We have the Argus, the Bulletin, and the Avalanche.”
“What do you charge for advertising?” he asked.
“Thirty cents per line for inside advertisements and forty cents per line for advertisements on outside pages.”
“It’s only a matter of time until the Federals try to take Memphis. This is the main city on the river between Vicksburg and St. Louis. Do you have an active militia?”
“Most of the men who want to be involved in the war have gone to fight.”
As she moved around the room, he rattled the paper. He glanced at her over the top of it. “You wrote this about the River Queen Saloon selling their own brew? You don’t approve of whiskey and saloons?”
“No, I don’t.” No doubt he heartily approved of them. “Papa’s life was dedicated to cleaning up the city and ridding Memphis of the scourges of evil. Other newspaper editors agree with him on temperance.”
One corner of Major O’Brien’s mouth lifted in a lopsided grin. “The scourges of evil. Miss Merrick, have you ever seen the inside of a saloon or tasted whiskey?”
“Certainly not! You know nice women aren’t allowed in saloons,” she admonished.
“Some of my best moments have been spent in saloons.”
“That doesn’t come as a surprise. Papa was dedicated to fighting gambling and drinking and sin, and he instilled that in all of us in childhood. Drink caused my grandfather’s death.”
“Sorry, but enjoying a drink of good whiskey doesn’t mean you’re going to drink yourself to death.”
“Oh, no. Grandpa Merrick left a saloon and passed out on the railroad tracks. A train hit him,” she said, shaking her head.
> Caleb studied her. He might have guessed. A prudish maiden lady would save him. Too bad she hadn’t been a camp follower—as soon as he mended a bit more, he would have to have some fun.
“A lot of townspeople take your paper?”
“Enough. Not a great number.”
“I can imagine.” She was getting sparks in her eyes, and he could see a lecture coming, so he raised the paper in front of his face. She had probably been raised all her life to live by her father’s beliefs, just as he had been raised to enjoy a drink and a game of chance. He lowered the paper a fraction and watched her fold a blanket. Today she wore a simple blue muslin dress and he doubted if she had ever owned anything silk or satin.
“You’re fighting an impossible tide.”
She faced him. “Perhaps and perhaps not. Papa said there was a time in the summer of eighteen thirty-five when Vicksburg hanged its gamblers.”
“That was before you and I were born. Gamblers flourish there today. And in every river city I’ve visited. I have firsthand proof.”
“Well, it happened, and during that year the people of Memphis threatened to do the same here. The gamblers all left town or abandoned the pastime. Papa always said that day would come again.”
“Did your Papa tell you how long the gamblers were gone?”
“No, I don’t recall.”
“If you think you’ll run gamblers out of Memphis now—I’ll make you a small wager on it.”
Sophia knew he was teasing, because he had a faint smile, but her annoyance increased. “You know I won’t wager on anything.”
“What do you do for fun?” he asked playfully.
She blinked and stared at him and his brows arched. “I’ll be damned. You really don’t know how to have fun at all.”
“Yes, I do. Right now with my brothers gone, I’m busy. I have fun. And I don’t have to gamble! Gamblers heap misery on their families,” she insisted.
“I’ll grant you on occasion they do—that’s what happened to the O’Briens. Pa gambled away our home, our land, and our livelihood.”
“How dreadful!” she exclaimed, staring at him and wondering what kind of man he was. His father had lost everything gambling, yet obviously the major still enjoyed games of chance.
His chest rose and fell as he took a deep breath. His lean, dark body looked incongruous propped in the white bed with frilly covers. “My brother and I have acquired a fair amount of capital through gambling—so maybe we’ve evened it out for the O’Briens. Another reason to disapprove of me.”
“I can forgive you a great deal because of what you did for Will.”
“That’s magnanimous of you, Miss Merrick,” he said solemnly and again she felt he was teasing and noted the tension crackling between them as they argued.
“I’ll be back shortly with your supper.”
She heard a deep chuckle as she left the room. No doubt Major O’Brien was a whiskey-drinking, card-playing man who would delight in saloons and fast women.
Three days later as Sophia sat in the front parlor at the wide desk, she gazed out the window and watched a carriage slow and stop. A boy jumped out and a woman emerged behind him. She held his arm as they looked at the house, and then opened the gate to come up the walk.
Curious, Sophia stood up and went to the door. She glanced out the window and saw a pretty woman with large, black eyes and black hair. The boy had black hair and deep blue eyes. They knocked and Sophia opened the door wide.
“Good afternoon, ma’am,” the woman said in a soft voice. “I’m Amity Therrie from New Orleans and this is Darcy O’Brien, Caleb’s younger brother. We hear you’re caring for the major.”
Chapter 4
“I’m Sophia Merrick and please come in,” she said, feeling awed by Amity Therrie’s beauty. Her cheeks were pink; her satin bonnet was tied with a silk bow beneath her chin, and her mauve silk dress was cut in a fashionable style with full bishop sleeves. A black Chantilly lace shawl was thrown around her shoulders. One look at Amity Therrie and it was difficult to remember there was a war and goods were becoming scarce. “The major is down the hall.”
“We aren’t disturbing you?”
“No, not at all,” Sophia said, motioning them inside the house and closing the door. With his black hair and blue eyes, Darcy O’Brien didn’t bear much resemblance to his older brother.
“How is he?” Amity asked.
“He gets better every day.” Sophia glanced down at the boy who was peering down the hall. “You can see him.” Leading the way to his room, Sophia rapped lightly on the door frame and Caleb opened his eyes, turning his head.
“You have company,” she said, ushering them into the room.
“Caleb!” Amity exclaimed and hurried across the room, her silk skirt and petticoats rustling, Darcy trailing behind her. She bent over the bed and Major O’Brien wrapped his arm around her to hug her as casually as if he were receiving guests at a party instead of lying naked as an egg beneath a few covers.
“Amity! Darcy!” he said, his deep voice changing to a tender note. He smiled, and Sophia felt a tingle of reaction to the warmth of it. Creases framed his mouth and his white teeth showed, making him more handsome than ever with a smile that was as affectionate as a hug. She felt a wave of longing as she watched him welcome them. Darcy received the next hug, and then they shifted and Major O’Brien pulled Amity Therrie close to the bed again. She stood beside him as he scooted up, tucking the covers around his hips while he squeezed Darcy’s hand. He looked as if he couldn’t let go of either one of them.
Feeling an intruder, Sophia slipped out of the room to leave them alone. She sent Mazie in with tea, brewed from the last they owned or could get now because of the blockade. Then Sophia went about her household tasks, aware of time passing, hearing Amity’s silken laughter mix with Major O’Brien’s deep chortles and she realized she hadn’t ever heard a hearty laugh from him.
Another knock sounded and when Sophia opened the door, Hannah Lou stood at the threshold. Beside her was Will who was bundled onto a chaise longue. Four servants stood beside the longue, and she realized they had carried him to her house.
“Will Stanton!” She grasped his hand.
“Sophia,” he said, taking her hand, “how can I ever thank you?”
“Just get well,” she said, giving his hand a squeeze.
“I will, thanks to you and Caleb. And I know he was on the verge of losing consciousness when we left Pittsburg Landing. How is he?”
“He’s going to be all right,” she said, thinking Major O’Brien looked far better than Will whose skin was pale as snow and who looked as if he had lost too much weight, his skin pulled tautly over his broad cheekbones.
“I get word from Doctor Perkins about Caleb every day. I know you’ve been to the house, Sophia, but they won’t wake me for guests. We brought a tiny token of our gratitude.”
“Oh, my goodness!” she exclaimed, looking at two servants who stood with platters of ham and turkey and candied yams. Hannah Lou extended a jar to Sophia.
“This is for you and the men, and Will wants to see Major O’Brien.”
“Come inside. I can’t take all this food,” she exclaimed, knowing how scarce food was becoming.
“Of course, you’ll take it or you’ll have to answer to Mama,” Will said good-naturedly.
“Thank y’all so much,” she said. “Major O’Brien has visitors—his family from New Orleans is here. His sister-in-law’s sister and his younger brother Darcy.”
The servants picked up the chaise longue with care. Holding Hannah Lou’s hand, Sophia hurried ahead. She knocked at the open bedroom door and stepped inside.
“Major, I’m sorry to interrupt, but Will is here.” She and Hannah Lou stepped aside as the servants carried Will into the room.
As Amity stood up and pulled the rocker back to make room and Darcy moved to the foot of the bed, Sophia turned to Caleb. “Major, this is Hannah Lou Stanton, Will’s sister. Hannah Lou, meet Major O
’Brien.”
“Miss Stanton.” His attention shifted to Will who motioned to his servants.
“Hold me up,” Will said, his voice cracking. The servants lifted the longue even with the bed and Will leaned forward as both men embraced clumsily. Sophia looked away, noticing Amity studying the floor and Hannah Lou wiping her eyes.
When Sophia looked at Major O’Brien, she felt a tug on her heart because his eyes were filled with tears. Remembering the dreadful moments in the barn, she marveled that both men survived.
“I had to come see you,” Will said. “I don’t want to interrupt you and your family.”
“Amity, this is Miss Stanton, Will’s sister, and Captain Will Stanton. Miss Stanton and Will, this is Miss Therrie from New Orleans, and Darcy O’Brien, my younger brother.”
“Glad to meet you both,” Amity said while Darcy smiled and the women sat down, Amity on the right side of the bed, Hannah Lou on the left near Will.
“I’m so happy to meet you,” Hannah Lou said in return, her attention returning to Major O’Brien as she gave him a smile. “Major, we can’t ever thank you enough for taking such good care of my brother and bringing him home to us. You saved his life.”
“Caleb, you didn’t write me about that!” Amity exclaimed while Sophia looked at him. She was startled to see the sparkle in his eyes as he gazed at Amity, and Sophia felt a peculiar twist. She shouldn’t care if he were engaged to Amity Therrie. His gaze shifted to Darcy and the sparkle remained, so the sparkle wasn’t just for Amity Therrie.
“You saved my leg,” Will said. “Doctor Perkins said I’m not going to lose it if he can help it.”
“I didn’t lose mine either. Darcy,” he said, his voice changing again, and she wondered if a woman had ever brought that tone to his voice. Probably Amity and Desirée and a dozen others caused him to speak in such a mellow manner. “Come sit down here,” he said, patting a place beside him on the bed. The boy climbed up and as Major O’Brien and Will talked, the major kept his hand on Darcy’s shoulder.
“I don’t remember much of that night,” Will said. “Don’t want to remember much either. We took a beating at the battle.”