Bridget had not been able to stomach the infirmary’s gory conditions and had not returned after the first day. But Sable stayed. She put in eighteen- and nineteen-hour days, aiding the doctors, staunching wounds, and maintaining a pleasant face for those men who were healing.
She had no idea her presence in the ward had been particularly noticed until a man on his way back to the front lines stopped beside her as he was leaving.
“Thank you, Miss Fontaine.”
“You’re welcome.”
She did not expect him to say more, so when she looked up from the ward rosters she was going over to see him still standing there, she gave him a tired smile and asked, “Is there something else, Sergeant?”
“Yes, ma’am, just this. You’ve been very kind to all of us here, and I just want to say that knowing you’d be there when I opened my eyes each morning gave me a reason to want to wake up.”
Sable inclined her head in thanks. “I am proud to assist such gallant men, Sergeant.”
He saluted her crisply, then headed out to the wagons that would take him back to the war.
Sable could do nothing to soothe the ache in her heart brought on by Rhine’s departure, but helping the soldiers allowed her to place the events of her own life in proper perspective. How could she mope about her situation when she met men who would live the rest of their days with missing limbs? Her self-pity took a backseat to patients who were so injured, there was nothing Dr. Gaddis or anyone else could do but give them whiskey to dull the pain and pray the good Lord took them home soon. Her own miseries seemed minuscule when she watched Araminta try to bring down a man’s fever with nothing to aid her but ice, herbs, and prayer because the Black units were ofttimes the last to receive medical supplies.
On the morning of Sable’s fifth day in the wards, she fell asleep in a chair, and Dr. Gaddis shook her awake.
“Go home to bed, Sable.”
Mumbling sleepily, she came awake slowly, rubbing her weary eyes. She was seated at the bedside of a man who’d been brought in the night before. The surgeons had taken his right arm and been worried he would not survive the night. She’d stayed on the off chance he would awaken and need aid, and to ward off the flies. Unless the nasty little insects were constantly fanned away, they swarmed over the bed-bound patients. She’d not realized she’d fallen asleep. “I’m fine, Dr. Gaddis. How’s our patient?”
“He’s sleeping easily, which is more than I can say for you. Go home, or do I have to find Mrs. Tubman?”
Even exhausted, Sable knew a serious threat when she heard one. “Okay, I’m going, but I’ll be back in a few hours.”
“No, Miss Fontaine. I don’t want to see your lovely face for at least twenty-four hours. And that’s an order.”
Tired but smiling, Sable gave him as crisp a salute as she could muster, and left the premises.
She was back six hours later. Her sleep had been neither restful nor sound. She’d tossed and turned on the borrowed cot in Araminta’s quarters, unable to shake the tension of the past few days. When Dr. Gaddis happened upon her spoon feeding one of the wounded soldiers whose hands were bandaged because of severe burns, he didn’t fuss or threaten her with Araminta’s wrath. He simply shook his head at her stubborn devotion and continued his rounds.
Sable learned much in those first few days, not only about the care of the injured but also about herself. She was forced to call upon a strength and fearlessness she’d never known she possessed. Now, after all she’d seen and done, she felt confident she could take on any challenge, even the challenge of living in a free world.
On her seventh day in the wards, she was making up one of the spare cots when she noticed Andre Renaud handing the doctor more of the paperwork the army required. The sight of him reminded her she’d not encountered the major in what seemed a long time.
Renaud explained the major’s absence. “He’s gone to accept delivery of a large number of contrabands. He’ll be back in four or five days.”
“I see.” Sable hoped he would be safe.
“He has instructed me to inform you that I am at your disposal should the need for assistance arise.”
Renaud’s formal speech and manner always made her smile. “Thank you, Lieutenant Renaud. I doubt I’ll need you, but I’ll keep the offer in mind. My regards to the major.”
He bowed. “Until later, Miss Fontaine.”
Four days later, a very weary Raimond finally made it back to his tent around midnight and fell upon the cot like a dead man. He was desperate for a way to be relieved of this duty as contraband liaison. Now that the war seemed to be moving toward a Union victory, he wanted to be in the thick of the fight, not stuck here enforcing silly regulations.
Raimond and a small contingent of soldiers had been sent South to escort to the camp a group of thirty-five former slaves whose plantation had been confiscated by the federal government. No one had told Raimond that the army command had promised the people they could bring along their livestock. During the three-day journey, he’d had to contend with chickens, hogs, and an old milk cow that died on the way. Both contrabands and animals were now being processed and given a place to bed down. He just hoped one of the hogs didn’t wind up on a soldier’s spit.
He admittedly took a certain pride in a job well done, but for a man of action, the inactivity he’d faced these past few months had begun to wear on him It outweighed all the stellar reviews handed down by his superiors in Washington. His was one of the few camps still operating, and despite the army’s attempts to settle the contrabands elsewhere, they were still arriving in droves. Their fate and that of all the other slaves still being held captive in the South had become a volatile national issue.
Lincoln’s pocket veto of the Wade-Davis bill that past July had put Congress and the President at odds on both emancipation and the reconstruction of the Southern states. Lincoln had vetoed the bill, saying the pending Thirteenth Amendment was the only way constitutionally to abolish slavery. To invoke the emancipation by statute as the Wade-Davis bill wanted would have been, in Lincoln’s opinion, a “fatal admission” that the states still at war with the Union had seceded legitimately. He also had doubts about the procedures mandated by the congressional bill to readmit the rebelling states back into the Union. He wanted flexibility if and when the war ended and refused to be held to one method of restoration.
The inability of those in Washington to come to agreement did nothing to clear the muddy waters surrounding the contrabands. The infighting in the Republican Party over the issues of reconstruction and emancipation had left many believing Lincoln would not be renominated. There hadn’t been a renomination of an incumbent president since 1840 and no incumbent had been reelected since 1832. Still, Northern Blacks had no doubt about whom to throw their weight behind. The Great Emancipator won hands down over the Democratic choice of the former commanding officer of the Union’s Army of the Potomac, General George B. McClellan, a man who had publicly doubted the value of adding Black soldiers to the fight and had returned fugitive slaves to their owners. Lincoln was not perfect. Black leaders found great fault with his fence-straddling ways on issues such as allowing Blacks to fight, and universal emancipation for all slaves, not just those held in the states at war. But under his leadership progress had been made, and the Black population continued to offer its full support.
Raimond’s musings were interrupted by the entrance of Andre Renaud, who saluted and said, “I don’t mean to disturb you. Just wanted to say welcome back.”
Raimond sat up. “I’d be lying if I said it’s good to be back, so I’ll just say thanks.”
Andre smiled.
“Anything happen I should know about?” Raimond asked.
“The new major arrived for those troops brought into the hospital last week. Name’s Major Claude Borden. He should be wearing gray, not blue.”
Raimond knew that meant the major harbored attitudes that were more in line with those of the secessionists.
“He’s done nothing but berate the men since he arrived. He doesn’t know any of them by name, yet called them a bunch of slackers and layabouts, accused them of getting their colonel killed.”
Raimond shook his head and pressed his hands against his burning eyes. “See what you can find out about him.”
“Already have. Here’s the file.”
Andre placed it atop the table as Raimond asked, “Anything else I need know?”
“Well, Miss Fontaine is still working with the surgeons over at the hospital.”
“How’s she doing?”
“Fine, but she appears to be very tired. The doctors say she works as hard as they do.”
“Have you been keeping an eye on her as I asked?”
“When I’ve been able to, yes. She’s moved in with Mrs. Tubman. All the men in the hospital think highly of her. She sends you her regards.”
“Oh, really?”
“I think she was just making pleasant conversation.”
“Don’t toy with me, Andre. What exactly did she say?”
“She asked why she hadn’t seen you and I told her you’d gone to pick up a group of contraband.”
“And what did she say?”
“She said, ‘I see.’”
“Just, ‘I see’?”
“And ‘Send him my regards.’”
“That was it?”
“I’m afraid so. Don’t look so disappointed. She might not have asked after you at all.”
“Go away and let me sleep.”
Grinning, Andre saluted and departed.
Raimond lay on his cot in the dark, an image of Sable floating in his mind. He’d missed their verbal jousting during his absence, and he thought about her more often than he cared to admit. How had she taken her brother’s departure? According to what she’d revealed, Rhine represented the last of her family. His departure left her alone in the world. To be without family was a loss Raimond could not conceive. He and his five brothers had all gone to war, and the fight for freedom had cost one of them his life. They would all feel Gerrold’s loss for the rest of their days. Each night he prayed for the safety of his other four brothers.
But Sable had no one to pray for her. He realized he wanted to see for himself how she was faring, and he wanted to see her now. His weariness seemed to vanish as he got up, dressed, and headed over to the hospital.
It was a warm, moonlit night, and he found her sitting on the porch with Araminta, rolling bandages. “Evening, ladies.”
Both women looked up, and Sable felt a warmth spread over her as his gaze met hers. She’d missed him, she realized.
“Welcome back, Major,” Araminta said. “What brings you out on this beautiful night?”
“I thought I’d come and visit the two prettiest women in camp.”
“Your lies are almost as handsome as you are,” Araminta cracked. “Everybody knows who you’ve really come to see—so, Sable, set those bandages back in the basket and go take a walk in the moonlight. I can handle things here.”
“Araminta, there are patients to see—”
“Quit fooling around, girl. Life is too short. Go.”
Mrs. Tubman’s tone and the commanding look on her face made it plain she was not offering Sable a choice. And because Sable had been raised by Mahti and Opal never to question her elders, she did as she was told.
Her walk with the major began in silence. Ignoring the way he made her feel was impossible. Her heart had begun pounding from the moment he’d stepped onto the porch, and it hadn’t slowed. She paid no attention to the little voice inside her that kept saying he would leave her in pieces. She preferred to listen to Araminta—life was indeed too short.
“That’s a beautiful moon,” she said. It hung fat and low in the sky. The light it cast was so bright they had no trouble seeing the path. The stars were out too, and she imagined the Old Queens were looking down on her from their heavenly perch.
“Indeed it is.”
“Where are we going?”
“To a place where we can enjoy the moon and I can enjoy your company.”
That someplace turned out to be up a tall tree.
Sable stared in amazement at a treehouse nestled in the high branches. “Up there?”
“Yes. Do you know how to climb?”
“As well as I can breathe.”
“Well, lead us up, Your Majesty. The rope ladder’s right here.”
It took them only a few minutes in the bright darkness to execute the climb up the trunk to a wooden platform, and immediately, Sable understood why he’d wanted to come. She could see for miles, and the glowing moon seemed close enough to touch. “Did you build this?”
“No,” he replied. “Sherman’s engineers built it as a lookout tower.”
It was just a wooden platform—no walls, no roof. There were branches below the platform but nothing above except the black, star-studded sky.
Sable glanced over at him and found him watching her. Though the night prevented her from seeing the true message in his eyes, she sensed his restlessness, his desire.
He said, “I suppose I should have waited until morning to see you, Sable, but I couldn’t force myself. How have you been faring in my absence?”
She didn’t know what to say to his first statement, but she had no problem responding to his question. “I’m spending most of my time at the hospital, as you probably know.” Her voice became distant as she looked out over the night. “It’s grueling, wrenching work. I’ve had to force myself to bury my feelings in order to aid the surgeons and the men. I’ve become so adept at it, I can assist in the removal of a young man’s leg without a flinch.”
She looked back at him over her shoulder. “Can a person be dead inside and remain alive?” she asked bleakly.
He stepped closer and held her tight.
“It has been so awful,” she whispered against his chest as she clung to him. The memories of all the death and gore she’d experienced welled up, making her remember horrors she’d rather forget.
Raimond squeezed tighter and kissed her brow. This part of her life would remain with her until the grave, just as it would for everyone else touched by the war. He had his own demons to exorcise, demons brought on by the battles he’d particpated in, the men he’d killed for freedom, and the deaths of friends and family members now buried. But he held on to her, letting her draw from his strength and seek solace against his heart.
Sable didn’t want him ever to let her go. No place seemed safer. She felt protected, sheltered, impervious to further hurt. “Can we live up here and never go down?” she asked, leaning back so she could see his shadowy face.
“Whatever you wish.”
She gave him a bittersweet smile, then tenderly touched her hand to his bearded cheek. “Thank you for holding me. You probably think I’m a weak and silly female, but I’m not. Life seems to be careening around me, and I—”
He took her hand and kissed her palm. “No explanations are necessary,” he assured her quietly. “Even queens need to be held now and again.”
She dropped her eyes for a moment and then smiled. “You’ve earned a reward tonight, Major.”
“Have I now?” he asked, grinning.
“Yes.”
Crooking a finger, she beckoned him down. When he complied, she raised herself on her toes, kissed him softly, then slowly drew away.
“That’s not nearly a large enough boon, Your Majesty.”
Feigning offense, she put a hand on her hip. “You dare ask your queen for more?”
He slid a finger slowly over her lips and replied huskily, “I dare.” Then, using the same slow finger, traced the satiny edge of her jaw and the soft skin beneath her chin. “I dare, because my queen needs solace, gentleness, and only I can make her come alive again,” he whispered in a tone ripe with heat and promise. “Let me banish your dragons for at least this one night.” He gently lifted her chin to search her shadowed eyes. “May I?”
Heart beating fas
t, she nodded, and her eyes closed as he brushed his lips across her own. The searingly sweet contact made her melt and lose touch with everything but him.
“You’re so lovely,” he whispered in a voice as soft as the wind rustling the trees.
Her lips parted and he nibbled her bottom lip. Sensations began to rise, as faint as the light from a distant star at first, but with each passionate draw upon her lips they grew stronger. He slid a hand to the nape of her neck and deepened both the kiss and their embrace—inviting her, bewitching her with his lulling power. She had no defense against him. Only being held by him in this thrilling way mattered. Her emotions had been drained by events at the hospital, but his fiery kisses were making her feel again, just as he’d promised.
When his hand began to roam ever so gently over the back of her dress, the heat in his palms seeped through to her skin, warming the new woman blossoming within. He lowered his kisses to her jaw and throat, and her soft gasp of pleasure mingled with the whispers of the trees. Hands as gentle as the night mapped her waist and shoulders, then slid over the buds of her breasts, making them tighten with flaring arousal.
She was indeed feeling. His kisses and caresses were opening the window on a previously unknown world, a world ruled by sensation. No man had ever cupped her breasts or filled his strong hands with her hips. Her hands had never journeyed over a man’s powerful back or up his arms as they held her close. Standing with him under the black velvet sky filled her with a recklessness and daring she thought she’d left behind in her youth. She wanted to touch him and be touched in return; she wanted to be shown what passion was really all about. Employing some of the tricks she’d heard about from Bridget, Sable slid the tip of her tongue over the warm corner of his mouth and shuddered pleasurably as his tongue mimicked the move. She kissed him fully, sensually, wanting him to be as affected as she was by this interlude under the stars.
Sensations flared as he lowered his head and tenderly nipped her breast through the thin gingham dress. Her head fell back, and she arched against the strong arm bracing her as he treated the other nipple to the same thrilling caress. Moans slid from her lips and heat welled inside her as the play intensified. The silent suckling set off sharp shards of response so vivid and lush, she thought her whole body would melt.
Through the Storm Page 12