Memphis

by Sara Orwig

  “Someone saw the band of raiders and they have a description of three of the men. One of them is Cal. It’s just a matter of time until they get his name.”

  “Will this cause difficulty for you?”

  He blinked and then to her surprise, he laughed and she felt a clutch to her heart as his features softened. For the first time, she saw a family resemblance and she ached to have Caleb back in her life. “No, Miss Merrick. There are so many O’Briens in the Union army and the Confederacy, I don’t have to worry about anyone realizing it’s my brother. We don’t look alike either.” His smile disappeared. “I’m worried about him if he intends to stay near Memphis and make more raids. You haven’t seen him?”

  “No, I haven’t,” she said, wondering when she would.

  “At least he isn’t running needless risks coming back to town. If a good description of him is passed around, it’ll be dangerous every time he comes to Memphis. If he hit and left and has gone south, then it won’t matter.” As Captain O’Brien stood at the hearth with his elbow on the mantel, he ran his hand through his hair, again reminding her of Caleb.

  “If he does contact you,” Captain O’Brien said, “tell him that security is strongest to the south and southeast. They’ve placed more pickets to the south. There’s no way to watch all six miles of Memphis’s border, so that’s where pickets are concentrated.”

  She nodded as he moved away from the hearth. “Won’t you sit down, Captain?”

  “No. I need to get back. I’ll call again, Miss Merrick.”

  “I hope you do,” she said, following him to the door. “Thank you for all the wonderful things.”

  He stopped to face her. “I was so busy thinking about Cal, I almost forgot. Someone brought a Rebel paper to headquarters. All editors have had to take a loyalty oath, but someone in town is circulating a paper secretly, urging residents to resist and not cooperate with the Union. Copies of The Appeal have appeared, too, but we know who’s printing that paper and we know they’ve left Memphis and gone to Grenada, Mississippi. The other paper is The Loyal Memphian and a search is on for the publisher. If it’s one of your friends, pass along a warning. Whoever is printing the paper is breaking the law.”

  “I’ll remember,” she said, gazing into blue eyes that looked at her intently. At the door Captain O’Brien paused. “Do you need anything?”

  “No, thank you for your generosity.”

  “I think some of the shortages here will ease, because we’ll get supplies sent in from the North. Of course, if merchants here won’t cooperate or open their businesses, it may take a while before you’ll see the goods on the shelves. If you see Cal, tell him to be on his guard. I don’t want to lose him now that I’ve found him,” he said tensely.

  She nodded and watched him go down the front walk, his long legs covering the distance swiftly. He was taller, less thick through the shoulders than Caleb. Captain O’Brien seemed a lean, solemn man and she wondered if it was the war that made him that way. She closed the door, picking up the basket to take it to the kitchen. While she seldom drank coffee, Mazie and Henry thrived on it and they would be happy.

  “Miss Sophia,” Mazie said, stepping to the kitchen door, “was that Yankee officer back to call? Did he bother you?”

  “No, Mazie. This is a different Yankee officer.”

  “I don’t know why Yankees are coming to this house. Mister Merrick would send them packing. They have no business here.”

  “He brought us some food and supplies,” she said, placing the basket on the table.

  Mazie stood with her jaw thrust out and her hands on her hips as her gaze went to the basket. “Humph! We don’t need Yankee goods.”

  “Mazie, it’s Major O’Brien’s brother, and he brought us coffee.”

  Her dark eyes widened. “Major’s brother? Real coffee?” She moved to the basket. “I guess if he’s related to Major O’Brien, he’s a good man. Here’s vinegar and soda. Real soda!” she exclaimed, picking up a box. She laughed. “The Yankee O’Brien is as nice as his brother!”

  Sophia placed the coffee and vinegar on the counter and looked out the window. When would she see Caleb again? she wondered. Would he make another raid on Memphis?

  Moving in dark shadows, Caleb dismounted and waved his arm. Men mounted on horseback reined while Will caught up with Caleb. They moved forward with only the slight sound of footsteps as twigs snapped. They ran in a crouch to a wagon, ducking down to wait as a guard rounded the corner of the armory that had been the Memphis and Charleston foundry. He walked past only yards away and turned the corner out of sight.

  “It’ll be three minutes before he’s back,” Caleb said. “C’mon.” They rushed to the building where Caleb hoisted Will to his shoulders. Will yanked tight the leather gauntlet and then wrapped his hand and arm with a scrap of woolen blanket. He slammed his fist through a high window.

  Glass shattered and tinkled inside as he hit the window again. Unwrapping his hand, he tossed the blanket over the window ledge and scooted inside.

  Caleb drew a deep breath, his thumb on the trigger of his Colt revolver. Had anyone heard the glass break? It was almost time for the guard. C’mon, Will.

  Caleb ran to the back door, waiting, hearing Will strike the lock inside. Another blow. Three minutes should be up. Caleb squeezed into the slight indention of the doorway and waited, holding his breath, his hand held high, revolver ready. Another clank came from inside the building.

  He heard the footsteps. Stop, Will. The footsteps were louder and Caleb held his breath, pressing his back against the door. The guard strode in front of him, only a few feet separating them. He turned, and they looked into each other’s eyes.

  As the guard swung his rifle, Caleb lunged and they went down. Caleb swung the revolver, bringing the butt against the man’s head. With a grunt the guard fell back, resistance going out of him. Caleb yanked off his belt, rolled the guard over and trussed him, dragging him out of the way of the door. He picked up the rifle as the door swung open.

  “Lord, Will, that took forever,” he said as he pulled out a match and struck it, waving it in the air. Men rode forward and Caleb turned to light a lantern. He waved his arm as the men neared.

  “Get rifles and get out of here! Thad, John, Charles—stand guard.” The men fanned out, riding around the corner of the armory while Caleb ran inside, picking up a crate, looking at a nest of rifles on a shelf.

  “Get ammunition,” he called as he picked up the crate and heaved up to the wagon bed.

  “The guard’s stirring, sir,” a man said to Caleb.

  “Place a gun against his head, but don’t shoot. That’ll keep him quiet until we go.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Men ran through the armory, gathering what they could. In minutes Caleb placed another load of ammunition in the wagon as the driver looked down at him.

  “Get this wagon the hell and gone!”

  “Yes, sir!” Lawrence flicked the reins and the team moved forward, the wagon lurching over the rough ground.

  “Grab what you can carry!” Men scurried through the armory.

  A man ran around the corner of the building. “Yankees! Yankees!” he yelled.

  “Get out!” Caleb called, waving his arm. “Get out. Ride!”

  Men scrambled on horses and wheeled away. Caleb and Will ran, men offering them a hand as Caleb threw himself up behind Charles Thibodeaux and clung to the eighteen-year-old’s slim waist. A shot rang out and Caleb heard shouts. More shots came and he felt a sharp bite in his arm. He glanced down and saw a stain on his shirt. Yanking off a neckerchief, he wrapped his arm, and then tied a knot with his teeth.

  Glancing over his shoulder, he fired his revolver. Federals came on horseback, pounding after them. They neared Caleb’s horse and he jumped into the saddle, yanking the reins, spurring his horse, and firing behind him.

  Will rode beside him and Caleb waved his hand. The men divided, some riding with Will to the south, others turning north wi
th Caleb. More shots rang out and John Roland slumped in the saddle and then straightened. Caleb spurred his sorrel, feeling it stretch out as they galloped away. He held a bag of gunpowder. He struck a match, jammed it into the neck of the bag and tossed it behind him. It swung in a high arc, the bag catching fire in a tiny, bright glow that reached the gunpowder.

  It exploded as it fell in front of the Yankees. Horses reared, giving Caleb and his men a bigger lead. They splashed through a creek and hit level ground, letting the mounts stretch out. Caleb was thankful he had insisted every man have a good steed, because now it was a race to the swiftest. With the horses they rode, he felt they could outrace the Yankees.

  In another quarter of an hour, their horses were lathered. He glanced back and felt a leap of satisfaction. They were losing the Yankees. The distance was great and he spurred his horse, knowing he was running a risk with a good animal, yet a few more minutes at a gallop might lose the Federals completely.

  For another hour they rode north and when he was satisfied they had lost the Yankees, they stopped to water their horses and then turned south.

  When they passed Memphis, Caleb waved and left them. Glancing at the moon that was high overhead now, hanging like a sliver of steel against inky darkness, he became aware of his arm for the first time. It throbbed and burned and he wondered how badly he was hit. Judging from his injuries at Shiloh, this wound was superficial. His thoughts shifted to Sophia. He wanted to see her and to hold her. He knew he shouldn’t jeopardize her by going to her house, but he felt an overwhelming need to be with her.

  He slowed, riding with caution. He couldn’t call on his horse for another pounding run tonight; he was wounded, carrying a rifle and revolver. If a Union soldier spotted him, he would be arrested. He shouldn’t ride into Memphis, he told himself. I have to see her. His pulse raced as images of Sophia in her bed danced in his mind. He felt his body respond, and jerked his thoughts back to the raid. He prayed that Will lost them and that the wagon had enough lead, and Lawrence had gotten safely away.

  Caleb turned on Pigeon Roost Road, the horse’s hooves loud in the night’s silence. His nerves became raw as he constantly scanned the road for soldiers. Finally he rode into the yard behind her house. His pulse pounded. He wanted her so badly. It seemed like an eternity instead of only fifteen days since he had last seen her. He had never felt this way about a woman before and he didn’t want to feel this way about Sophia, but he couldn’t ride away without seeing her. At the back door he paused. She’s young, innocent, not my kind of woman. Leave her alone.

  He stopped arguing with himself and turned the knob; nothing yielded. Thankful she was locking the doors, he pulled out his knife and thrust the tip into the lock. In seconds, the door swung open and he stepped inside, closing the door behind him. He struck a match and as soon as a lamp was lighted, he carried it with him. Sophia knew how to shoot and she was in the house alone. He stepped into the hallway.

  “Sophia?” he called. There was no answer. With his pulse drumming, he walked toward her darkened bedroom.

  Chapter 11

  Sophia stirred, opening her eyes, staring into the darkness. The boards in the hall creaked and she sat up, the sheet falling over her lap. Light shone in the hallway. Footsteps came and she felt cold with fear. She reached for the revolver on the bedside table.

  “Sophia?”

  “Caleb?” The sound of his voice washed over her, sending waves of heat in its wake. She threw aside the covers and the revolver and climbed out of bed, running across the cold floor.

  He stepped through the doorway. Looking lean, disheveled, dusty, so marvelous, he had a second to set down the lamp before she was in his arms. Her heart thudded as his strong arms crushed her to his broad chest. He kissed her, and she returned his kisses, pushing his hat away, winding her fingers in his hair, clinging to him, joyous he was with her.

  He raised his head and frowned. “Tears?” he asked in a husky voice, wiping her cheek with his thumb. She brushed at her eyes, her gaze sweeping over him. She couldn’t get enough of him, wanting to kiss him and hold him and look at him all at the same time. She ran her hands over his shoulders and arms and gasped.

  “Caleb, you’re wounded!” Terrified for him, she burst into more tears.

  “Lord, Sophia, stop crying. I’m all right. It’s not bad. Not like before.”

  “I’ve been so scared for you.” Smelling of leather and gunpowder, he had a faint stubble of a beard and now he had a mustache. His curls were a thick tangle, and he had a smudge of black on his cheek. She felt as if she wanted to devour him; she stood on tiptoe, pulling his head down to her.

  He groaned, his arms tightening around her as he shifted and moved, leaning against the wall and spreading his legs, pulling her between them. She felt his throbbing arousal press against her as he kissed her and unfastened the buttons of her gown. Feeling on fire, she raised her head to look at him while she tugged his shirt free of his trousers. He pulled it over his head and tossed it away.

  “Your arm—” She looked up and forgot his wound.

  His green eyes darkened, filled with a blatant desire that made her tremble as he pushed away her gown. Even though the air was cold against her skin, the room felt as if it heated to summer steam. He placed his hands on her bare hips and pushed her back to look at her.

  She felt weak in the knees, shy, yet she wanted him to love her. She loved him, and he was risking his life daily. This moment she had him in her arms and she wanted him to kiss her. “Caleb—” she whispered.

  The scalding look in his eyes took her breath as he met her gaze. He bent his head to kiss her breasts, cupping their fullness, taking a rosy nipple in his mouth, turning his head to kiss the other, his tongue flicking over her nipple.

  Feeling hot fires of desire start low inside her being, she ran her hands over him. She ached, wanting him, sliding her hands over his hips, shyly touching the bulge in his trousers.

  He inhaled deeply and groaned, tugging free his belt.

  Without taking his eyes from hers, he swung her up in his arms and carried her to the bed. With a soft rustle as his weight came down on the horsehair mattress, he lowered her to the bed and leaned over her. “I want you, Sophia. I want to make you tremble and cry my name.” He framed her face with his hands, holding her still while he studied her. “I want to love you until all your reserves are gone, until you give everything to me, until you’re mine completely.…”

  “Caleb,” she whispered, shaken by his words.

  He stepped back to unbutton his black trousers and shed his boots and the rest of his clothes.

  She couldn’t breathe as she looked at him, remembering when she had seen him nude before, never seeing him aroused, ready for her. He came down beside her, his lean body against her. She closed her eyes, her hands roaming over him as he kissed her breast, his tongue trailing over her stomach. He picked up her foot, caressing her leg, moving between her legs to kiss her knee. “You’re so soft …” he whispered. “I’ve dreamt about you, Sophia. You can’t imagine how I’ve missed you,” he said, his voice a rasp. He kissed her inner thigh, his hands moving in feather touches.

  She was aflame as his tongue flicked over her moist warmth. She gasped and moved her hips, her hands winding in his hair. “Caleb, please. You mustn’t … oh, please,” she whispered, pulling him closer, raising her hips to meet him, feeling his tongue washing over her.

  Caleb’s heart pounded against his ribs. He felt he would burst with need for her, yet their joining would be painful and lovemaking would be the first time for her.

  Her skin was softer than anything. He wanted to know every inch of her, to love her and to drive her to frenzy. Finally he couldn’t wait as her hands caressed him. He was on his knees between her thighs. She gazed up at him, her golden hair spread on the pillow, her eyes dark with passion. “Sophia,” he whispered, unable to say more as she raised her slender arms to him.

  He was hot, hard, ready for love. He came down
and Sophia closed her eyes, her hands sliding over his strong shoulders. This man was all she wanted ever. He made her faint with passion, made her tremble for his touch. All their differences were nothing, vanishing in her need for him.

  He thrust into her, his voice a whisper in her ear. “Sophia, love, you’re mine now.”

  She clung to him, sliding her hands over his body, relishing the flat planes and smooth contours, the silky feel of his bare back and firm buttocks as she tugged at him and raised her hips to meet him. “Caleb, I want you,” she whispered and then thought spun away as he plunged deeper. He felt big and hard, as he thrust slowly.

  She felt caught, impaled. A surging need made her move her hips and added need to need, building while her pulse roared in her ears and she heard his raspy breathing. And beneath it all, while sensation rocked her and she clung to him and rose to meet him, she was aware of his deep voice.

  “Sophia, Sophia, Sophia,” he murmured.

  Then all sound was gone, pain vanished, replaced by consuming desire until he shuddered, his heat spilling inside her. She held him tightly, wracked with spasms. Ecstasy came. Caleb is mine. This moment is forever mine. He wants me as I want him. The roaring in her ears faded and the blinding light behind her closed eyes vanished as she relaxed.

  His body was heavy on her and he raised his head to kiss her damp forehead. He shifted, brushing tendrils of hair away from her face.

  He was solemn, his brown hair curling over his forehead as he studied her. “I have ached with need for you.”

  She touched his lips with her fingertips, smiling up at him, looking into his eyes and seeing the same love mirrored in his expression that she felt. Her smile vanished as he groaned and wrapped her in his arms to crush her to his chest. She clung to him, her ear pressed to his heated flesh, hearing the steady thud of his heartbeat, wishing she could hold him this way forever and never have to let him go back to danger. Her fingers drifted down over his back and hip to his thigh where rough curls tickled her palm. His body was a marvel and she blushed as she caressed him, wanting to touch him all over, still aching to have him as close to her, as much a part of her being as possible.