Seeming to understand the situation, he looked around the ward; then his eyes returned to the pair, deepening with understanding. "Why don't you two catch up on things while I walk around and visit?" he proposed, excusing himself so they could share a private moment. Silky nodded, and as his large frame moved from the bed, other patients struggled up on their pillows, eager to talk with someone who might brighten their dull hours.
She took Daniel's hand, a lump of emotion swelling in her throat. "It's been a long breakfast spell, hasn't it?" she stated gently, remembering the day he'd left Sweet Gum Hollow, bursting with enthusiasm to whip the Yankees.
His eyes misted over. "Yepit sure has. Longer than a rainy Sunday afternoon ... longer than that view from Apple Hill." They smiled in understanding, and the smile bound them together, easing their pain a bit.
Daniel asked about all the folks in the hollow, and his eyes brightened as she described how, under Charlie's guidance, his hounds were treeing the biggest raccoons in the mountains and gaining quite a name for themselves. For a few moments they sat silently feasting their eyes on each other; then Daniel's gaze rippled over her in awe. "I declare. You look like a page out of a mail-order catalog, dressed up in those city clothes. Where in the world did you get them?"
The frank question made Silky realize she had a lot of explaining to do, so she began at the beginning, telling her brother how she and Charlie had captured Taggart at old man Johnson's pond. As the whole story poured out, only the lovemaking sessions left out in respect for her brother's sensibilities, his reactions went from amusement to concern.
"If he's a lieutenant in the Confederacy, how come he has the time to bring you to Richmond?" he asked, his voice rising with irritation. "That don't seem right to me."
Silky leaned close. "He's doing secret business for the Confederacy someplace nearby," she explained under her breath, "and although he can't talk about it, I get the impression he may be in the city a long time. That's why he could escort me here." She touched his face. "But you have to promise on your life you'll never tell a soul."
Daniel stole an inquiring glance at Taggart, who was now on the other side of the ward, talking to a patient. "You mean he's an agent?" he murmured in an incredulous tone.
"Yep, the finest ever," she answered with a smile, eager to see her brother's expression at the startling news she was about to relate. "And that isn't all. We're handfasted."
"Handfasted?"
"Yes," she replied excitedly, neglecting to mention she hadn't brought the subject up with Taggart yet. "When the war is over we'll be married."
Daniel stared at her wordlessly as the shock of her words hit him full force. Then, blinking in astonishment, he replied, "Are you sure? He looks a mite fancified for the likes of us."
She tightened her fingers about his. "Be happy for me, Daniel ... be happy."
"I am," he responded with a heavy sigh, "but there are a lot of things I'm tryin' to piece together and some of them don't want to fit."
"I know ... I know," she said in a rush, caressing his arm. "Sometimes I can hardly believe it myself, but our love is a natural fact. It's really truetrue as sunup." She clutched his hand. "We're staying at the Spotswood and telling folks we're cousins, so you just got a new cousin, too."
When Silky noticed Taggart approaching the bed, she squeezed her brother's hand affectionately, signaling him that they should change the subject. They talked a bit longer; then, noticing lines of fatigue on his thin face, she told him good-bye, silently vowing to bring him something nourishing the very next day, and all the days after that. After she'd given her brother a last affectionate hug and a lingering backward glance, she and Taggart walked from the ward, all eyes upon them.
Once they were in the corridor her real emotions rushed forth, causing her to press a handkerchief against the corner of her eye. Taggart put his arm about her shoulder. "Give him some time. I think he'll be all right," he commented, sending her an encouraging smile that wrapped itself around her heart.
Silky nodded in agreement, realizing the Yankees might have shattered Daniel's leg, but they hadn't touched his spirit or his will to recover.
Occasionally they passed doctors murmuring in consultation, women volunteers walking in the other direction, and tired-eyed orderlies. Farther down the corridor they met a bearded doctor, and apparently seeing her distress, he stopped and introduced himself as Dr. Cooke, one of the directors of Chimborazo.
When Silky mentioned she had come all the way from the Blue Ridge to visit Daniel, she could see the doctor thinking, placing her brother in his mind. "A big lad with reddish hairmassive grapeshot injury to his right leg?" he asked, raising his bushy gray brows with a questioning expression.
"Why, yes," she replied, amazed that he could recall Daniel from all the other patients. Despite his position, the man reminded her of a grandfatherly country doctor, and she liked him immediately.
Taggart introduced himself and shook hands with the man, and the trio strolled down the corridor, chatting amiably.
"Shanahan is a fine soldier," the doctor stated, patting Silky's shoulder in consolation. "No complaint out of him." He bent his shaggy head and shoved his hands into the pockets of his long white surgeon's coat. "The Lord knows there are thousands of complaints these poor devils could make," he added, looking at her with eyes that glittered with angry frustration. Deep lines streaked across his brow. "We have almost no quinine, opium, or chloroform left, and damn little food to feed them."
They paused near the hospital's entrance and Silky put her hand on his arm. "Perhaps there is something I can do," she offered, noticing several ladies entering a ward carrying armfuls of newspapers to distribute. "I'll be here often visiting my brother."
The doctor surveyed her thoughtfully. "Yes, indeed," he said, adjusting his wire-rimmed spectacles. "I don't know where we'd be without our female volunteers." He turned, his gaze sliding over Taggart. "Where are you staying?"
"The Spotswood," Taggart informed him, also giving him their room numbers as he shook hands once more in farewell.
Dr. Cooke regarded Silky with compassionate eyes. "You did the right thing in coming, my dear. Your presence will be the best medicine your brother could ever receive."
"But I have four pairs of pantalets already," Silky told Taggart, sweeping her eyes about the dining room to make sure no one had heard her impulsive statement. She leaned across the table, and in a lower voice said, "No woman in her right mind needs more than four pairs of pantalets!"
Three days had passed since the two had first visited Chimborazo Hospital, and they now sat at a table in the American Hotel, one of the few places in the city that still served meals on a regular basis. They'd visited the hospital after breakfast as usual, this morning lingering as Silky discussed her new volunteer duties with Dr. Cooke; then they'd headed into downtown Richmond for another shopping expedition.
Silky found that many of the stores were closed, and those that were open were so empty of customers as to be almost abandoned, but it seemed that if a person had cash, new garments could still be purchasedalbeit at a breathtakingly inflated price. Taggart had bought her several new gowns at what she considered ridiculous sums, and she was presently trying to convince him to return to the Spotswood where he'd ordered the merchandise sent. "I can never wear out all the things you've bought me," she explained earnestly. "Why, I've never had so many fancy-fine clothes in all my life."
He drew on his cheroot, passing a lazy gaze over her. "Don't you think it's about time you had them? All the pretty clothes, and hats, and shoes, and jewelry your heart could desire."
She glanced about the almost empty dining room, noticing two widows, veiled in black, leaving together. "Hush," she said softly. "Everywhere I look I see women in black. How can I think of buying pretty-colored gowns when half the women in Richmond are in widow's weeds?"
Taggart nodded, a faint smile on his lips as he considered her statement. "Well said, Fancy Pants," he acquiesce
d, placing his warm hand over hers. "If you're going to be conscience-stricken, I'll buy you no more gowns and we'll keep your pantalets down to four pairs evenwith as few ribbons as possible." Amusement lighting his face, he signaled for the waiter, paid the bill, and they left the hotel and emerged onto the sidewalk.
Silky watched him hail a hackney, knowing that next week he would probably try to buy her another gown despite her protest. Frustrated, she smoothed her lace mitts and heaved a deep sigh. How did he come by all his money? she wondered yet again, thinking she wouldn't be surprised if he started lighting his cheroots with twenty-dollar bills. In the Blue Ridge there had been nothing to buy, but now that they were in a city, he was always purchasing something for her or Danielnever himself. If she even glanced at a gown, or hinted that her brother might need something, it was theirs. Yes, his family was wealthy, but it troubled her deeply that he was always able to produce crisp new bills that looked as if they'd never been touched.
Once they were both seated in the carriage, Taggart surveyed Silky's soft face, thinking she was the lovliest woman he'd ever seen. As she twirled a pink parasol and rattled on about how much better her brother was looking, his thoughts drifted, and he recalled the day he'd spoken to the patients in Daniel's ward.
"When will it all end, Lieutenant?" one gaunt, holloweyed soldier had asked. "Do you think we can still whip the Yanks?" inquired another, the white bandage about his head contrasting sharply with his tanned skin. "I'd be willin' to give it another shot if they'd let me out of this hospital," vowed a man who looked no more than skin and bones. Taggart's conversations with the wounded Confederates had impressed him with the soldiers' bravery and lingered in his mind like a fever as he began to see the Southerners as likable individuals and not the collective enemy. Then the loss of Ned knifed through him for the thousandth time and he reminded himself that unfortunately they were still the enemy.
Silky laughed about something Daniel had said, stirring Taggart from his deep thoughts. With her fashionable garments, she was a stunning beauty and had charmed all the doctors at the hospital. It seemed everyone had believed their story, for most Southern women would be accompanied by a kinsman on a long journey, and Richmond's hotels and boardinghouses were bulging with families visiting wounded men in Chimborazo. Still, Taggart was relieved that his rose of being a Confederate lieutenant on extended leave had been accepted unchallenged so far.
He regarded Silky's exquisite face, so young in the winter lighther smoky, long-lashed eyes, her full, pouting lips. With a twinge of concern, he tried to ignore the problems swirling inside his head: When would he be able to send her back to the Blue Ridge where she could be happy; how long could he keep her believing his story; and what would happen if she ever found out the truth about him?
He'd managed to get her settled and established a regular routine for her of visiting her brothernow it was time for him to make his first visit to Petersburg. But she was beginning to ask questions, troubling questions that he was hardpressed to answer, questions that would interfere with his work: What were the details of his new assignment; how long would he be able to stay in Richmond; where did he go when he left her? Yes, since they'd arrived in the city she'd posed scores of questions, questions that kept him busy trying to come up with suitable answers.
Silky eyed Taggart as the slowing hackney rolled to a stop in front of the Spotswood. As he alighted and swung her to the ground she was well aware of his tremendous physical power and the feminine glances his dashing long hair and graceful strength attracted.
With the clatter of wheels and slamming carriage doors other guests arrived; then, from the corner of her eye, she spied a young girl approaching them, a shawl thrown over her head. The slender girl, who on closer inspection looked to be about sixteen, had a lovely face, her complexion a creamy café au lait, and when she smiled, as she did now, her dark eyes sparkled like diamonds. At first she thought the girl held out her thin hand to beg; then she could see her cheap calico dress was clean and freshly pressed and there was a sense of pride and assurance in her walk.
"Do you be needin' a maid for your lady, sir?" the girl inquired politely, touching Taggart's sleeve. "My name be Delcie, and I's worked for lots of fine ladies here at the hotel." She spoke in a soft, slurring voice, her liquid vowels as slow and sweet as molasses. The girl pulled a folded paper from her bodice and placed in it Taggart's hand. "I's a free person of color," she announced proudly. "You don't need to be worryin' about me none. I ain't no run-off slave. This here paper says I's free as a bird."
With a warm expression, Taggart scanned the paper and handed it back to her.
"If you hires me," she added, putting the document away, "I'll come in the mornin' to help the lady dress and do her hair real pretty like; then I'll come again in the evenin' and dress her 'fore supper. I does washin', too, real gentle like so's it won't hurt the lace. And I's fast, too. Why, I's so fast, when I stop it takes my shadow a whole minute just to catch up." She flashed him a big smile. "All I needs is three dollars a week."
Silky noticed how fragile the girl appeared and was touched that she wasn't too proud to ask for work when so many in Richmond, both black and white, were now begging. She knew she would be in Richmond many months while Daniel recovered, and the possibility of having a maid while she was here filled her with surprised delight. Even though she'd always done for herself, she secretly hoped Taggart would agree to the proposal just so the girl's courage would be rewarded.
Obviously amused, Taggart pushed back his hat, and with a smile, scooped into his pocket, then placed several Confederate bills in the girl's hand. "Come back to the Spotswood tomorrow morning, and if you can do all you say, you're hired at ten dollars a week." He studied Silky, an indulgent gleam in his eyes. "The lady you'll be taking care of is my cousin, Miss Shanahan."
Delcie widened her eyes in disbelief. "Ten dollars a week? Oh, sir, I'll sure enough be here!" Her face broke into an ecstatic smile, and she nervously curtsied not once but twice before turning and disappearing into the crowd.
Silky looped her arm in Taggart's as they entered the hotel, pleased with his generosity. " 'You'll be taking care of my cousin, Miss Shanahan'?" she echoed with a giggle, sending him a sideways glance.
He regarded her with twinkling eyes. "Not another word, young lady. Not another word."
They strolled toward the sweeping staircase until the man at the registration desk called Taggart's name and held up a piece of mail. She watched him go to the desk, then walked over when she noticed him opening the creamy white envelope. "What is it?" she asked, seeing how his eyes raced over a large card with interest.
He handed it to her and grinned. "It seems you've swept Dr. Cooke completely off his feet. He's invited us to a dinner party at his home ten days from now. Evening clothes are required."
With a rush of excitement, she read the invitation as they walked up the stairs. "I've never been to a dinner party. What will it be like? Do you think the doctor lives in a mansion like the ones we pass on the way to the hospital?"
Taggart laughed richly. "Judging from his position, he probably does, and I'd venture to say half the aristocracy of Richmond will be at the dinner."
"Why do you think he invited us?" she continued, pleased and honored the doctor had thought of them. "You're an officer, but I'm no one special."
They entered her room, where all the dress-shop boxes had been brought and neatly stacked by a tall wardrobe, and he took her in his arms. "There you misjudge yourself, Fancy Pants. You're very special indeedyour face, your heart, but most of all your spirit. It seems the doctor is an excellent judge of character." He eyed her with amusement. "Why, as a mere lieutenant, I'll be riding on your coattails the evening through."
Suddenly realizing what the evening would entail, Silky pulled from his arms, worry assailing her. "But I won't know what to do," she wailed, putting a hand to her brow. She paced back and forth, her mind conjuring up all kinds of embarrassing situations s
he wouldn't know how to handle. "They'll probably have a jillion forks and spoons on the table and I won't know which one to use," she blurted, watching a smile break over his face. "And what if there's dancing after dinner? I don't know any more about waltzing than a pig knows about singing."
She hurried to him and, clutching his arms, scanned his relaxed face, wondering how he could be so calm when the world was tumbling down about her ears. ''I need some lady lessons, and you're the only one who can help me. You will help me, won't you?"
Taggart gave a crack of laughter. "Yes, of course," he answered, holding her lightly about her waist. He sent her a beaming smile of approval. "Don't worry. Before Dr. Cooke's party I can teach you everything you need to know. Why, I'll tum you into a real Southern belle, dripping y'alls and why, thank you, sirs, and fluttering your fan with the best of them."
"Lordamercy." She sighed, overcome with trembling emotion. "Just thinking about it makes me dizzy headed. I'm gonna be one of those ladies I've read about in the dime novelsthe ones with the white skin who are always dropping their handkerchiefs and fainting."
A smile gathered in Taggart's eyes. "We may gloss over handkerchief-dropping and fainting. Personally I've always found fainting women dead bores."
Silky nodded. "Good. I put a bullet in a charging bear once, and if I didn't faint then, I doubt I ever will."
"Me too." He chuckled, tweaking the tip of her nose.
Her spirits high at the thought of being changed to a lady of fashion, she playfully slipped from his arms, then tossed her shawl and bonnet on a chair.
His gaze never leaving hers, he closed the room's shutters, so that only thin strips of light streaked through the louvers to play across the carpet. Knowing that he'd darkened the room so they could make love, she gazed at him with her heart pounding, unable to resist his dark charms. "Is this part of my lady lessons?" she asked, putting a soft purr into her voice.
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