Scarlet Leaves

by Sonya Birmingham

  An empty feeling crept through her as she stood and rubbed her aching temples. She tried to tell herself she hadn't told Delcie about Taggart's deceit because she didn't want to hurt the girl, but she secretly realized this might not be the case. And deep within her, she wondered if Delcie could be right about her making a mistake. Her heart whispered yes, but her wounded pride cried no, and she pressed her lips together, reminding herself of the many times Taggart had deceived her and made an outright fool of her.

  She bowed her head and, as she did so, the diamond earrings he'd given her brushed her cheeks, reminding her she was still wearing them. She fingered the jewelry, knowing that if she hadn't been so distraught, she would have left them on her dresser at the Spotswood. How she wished she had, she thought, her heart swelling with pain as she recalled Christmas Evea night she'd been so foolishly happy, believing Taggart loved her.

  She walked to the window, pushed back the dirty curtain, and watched a pair of skinny dogs roaming the street, sniffing in the gutters as they searched for scraps. Tears flooded her eyes, but she blinked them away, promising herself she'd cry no more. The first terrible shock of her discovery had lessened somewhat and a cool determination stole through her soul, chilling her with its intensity.

  It was as if something warm and vital had died within her, leaving her incapable of love. But at the same time, a blessed numbness was spreading within her, easing her pain. She realized there was a new hardness in her, tooa hardness that had been forged by humiliation and disappointment. A shiver passing through her, she told herself she didn't care, for she had her pride and that was enough.

  From this moment on, Silky Shanahan would lay her heart at no man's feet, she decided with steely resolve. And from now on Silky Shanahan would trust no man. Delcie was wrong, she decided, clenching the rough window easing to steady her trembling hand. She was as wrong as she could be.

  It was almost dusk when Taggart returned to the Spotswood after a futile day spent searching for Silky. Besides combing the hotels, he'd gone to Chimborazo to see Daniel, and, after questioning him indirectly, he decided he knew nothing about her disappearance. With time Taggart was stare he could find her, but at this particular moment, it seemed the earth had swallowed her up. Tired and despondent, he prod the carriage driver, then made his way toward the people clustered at the hotel entrance.

  His heart skipped a beat when he spied Delcie, dressed in a red calico blouse and skirt, talking to an elegant couple standing by the doors. When she saw him, she left the startled couple and darted across the street, dodging between wagons and carriages. He ran after her, and half a block later, clasped her slim arm. "Wait a minute, young lady. I need to talk to you!"

  Delcie tried to squirm away. "I's in a hurry," she gasped, her bosom heaving deeply.

  He looked into her frightened eyes. "Where's Silky? You're bound to know. Where is she?" he demanded tightly.

  She let out a tremulous breath. "Yes, sir, fact of bein', I does know"she looked at him apprehensively"but I sweared I wouldn't tell!"

  He pressed his fingers into her slim shoulders. "Can't you understand? I have to find her and explain things."

  "Looks like you should have done a little explainin' a lot earlier. You hurt her somethin' awful."

  "Come on, Delcie, you've got to help me," Taggart urged, searching her defiant face. "Won't you tell me if she's all right?"

  Her expression gradually softened. "She has a place to stay and somethin' to eat, You'll have to be satisfied with that."

  A splutter of exasperation burst from Taggart's lips. "Does she have any money?" he asked, frustration flashing within him.

  Delcie blinked her lashes. "S-She has a dab."

  He reached into his pocket and pushed some bills into her hand. "Here, give her this."

  "Oh, no sir," she replied frantically, shoving the money back at him. "She'd skin me alive for takin' that. I don't know what you all is fussin' about, but she done said she don't want none of your money!"

  "Someone is going to take advantage of her. Don't you see that?" he said roughly. He wanted to physically shake the information from her, but forced himself to remain calm.

  "Yes. I knows that. I done told her myself." She looked him straight in the eye. "Seems like folks is always takin' advantage of other folks, don't it?"

  "Dammit," he snapped. "I care what happens to her."

  The girl's dark eyes misted up. "I know you does, sir, but sometimes you don't show it very good."

  Taggart looked down for a moment, and, in a heartbeat, Delcie twisted away and bolted down the street, her broken shoes clattering against the paving stones. He watched her bright skirt disappear around a corner and knew it would do no good to follow her. Someone with as much intelligence as Delcie wouldn't lead him to Silky. Doubtless she'd hide away until dark in some abandoned building, then slip away to the shantytown.

  More frustrated than ever, he walked back to the Spotswood, a heaviness tightening his chest. Despair engulfed him as he considered Delcie's last comment before she ran away. Since he'd been gone so much lately, he could see how Silky would have felt that he'd abandoned her. If he could only relive the last months since they'd arrived in Richmond, perhaps things could be different. Then, with a painful shaft of insight, he realized their relationship had been star-crossed from the moment they'd met.

  After entering the hotel lobby, he asked the clerk at the registration desk if he'd had any mail.

  "Yes, sir, a servant brought a personal note for you," the man answered, offering him a white envelope addressed in a flourishing hand.

  All the way up the stairs Taggart studied the florid script, wondering who the letter was from. When he entered his room and opened the envelope he had no doubt, for gardenia scent touched his nostrils. As he slipped out the heavy vellum sheet, he remembered Caroline's warning about the Confederates' all-out search for spies, and it once again crossed his mind that Silky had enough information to hang him three times over.

  Questions and concerns clashing within him, he read the hastily written words: Come immediately.

  An hour later, Taggart scanned the message Caroline handed him from Washington, then looked at her sympathetic face, scarcely believing what he'd just read. He could only stare at her for a moment as the full impact of the words swept over him, shaking him deeply. A fall from a new stallion had broken his father's neck. The man had lingered for days, but had been dead for over two weeks now.

  "I'm sorry to be the bearer of such bad news," she offered, taking a seat behind her desk. "Evidently the Information Service had been trying to get word to you for days, but with no success." Her face tensed with concern. "When Moses delivered your information to City Point, he was given this message to bring back to Richmond."

  Taggart looked at the neatly printed words once more. His throat tightened as he experienced the shock one always feels at the death of a parent. Memories swirled through his mind, and he recalled his father taking him when he was only nine on a tour of the factory that would one day be his. He remembered the man's scowls and sour moods, and the scent of his cigarsthe same cigars Taggart now smoked himself.

  He wished he could have been there to comfort his father before he passed away, but more important, he wished he could have worked out some type of peace between them. In his mind's eye he could see the elaborate funeral that had no doubt been arranged by his father's butlerthe black hearse and black horses with black plumes atop their heads. Despite the grandeur of the service, he guessed only a handful of mourners had gone to the cemeteryout of social duty, for his father tended to make enemies rather than friends. At this moment he wished he could have been among that tiny knot of mourners.

  "We were always different," he found himself saying to Caroline woodenly. "He was determined that I would live my life his way while I was determined to follow my own pursuits."

  Tears gathered in her eyes. "I can empathize with you. My father and I were always at loggerheads, but I still f
elt a great loss when he died. I suppose it's only natural."

  Taggart folded the note and put it in his vest pocket, strangely feeling as if he were neatly tucking away the first half of his life. "Tell me what happened at Fort Stedman," he asked in a strained voice, needing to stand back from the shocking personal news for a moment.

  Caroline's expression brightened a bit. "At first the Confederates actually took the fort," she said, observing him thoughtfully. "For starving troops without shoes, it was an unbelievably gallant effort. They swung axes to smash their way through the wooden barricades, and their fury prevailed for a while; then the Ninth U.S. Army Corps counterattacked, capturing many prisoners." She sat silently for a moment, letting him absorb the important information. "The Rebels' last effort to drive the Union back and save Richmond has failed," she added pensively. "Surely Federal troops will occupy the city within a matter of days now, and the nation can be reunited." A gentle smile touched her lips. ''It's good news, is it not?"

  Taggart nodded, surprised to be agreeing that the death of so many men, despite the color of their uniforms, could be good news. At the same time relief rushed over him that his efforts had not been in vain. In the back of his mind, he kept recaling Silky's words that he was trying to strike back at the Confederacy for what had happened to his brother at Andersonville. But having spent so much time in the South getting to know the people, it was hard to think of them as enemies anymore. What a long, twisting path his emotions had traveled since Fort Sumter!

  Caroline rose and walked to a sideboard that supported a cluster of crystal glasses and a decanter of brandy. "I think if a drink was ever in order, it is now, Major," she stated, glancing over her shoulder and capturing his eyes with hers. "Please let me pour one for you."

  After he'd finished his drink, he said good-bye to Caroline and left Church Hill, his mind seething with the startling news she'd given him. On the way back to the Spotswood, he considered the practical impact of his father's death and suddenly realized he was now a rich man. But more important, he was a free manfree to live his life on his own terms. Then, a pulse throbbing in his temple, he saw Silky's face in his mind's eye. At this moment there was so much he wanted to tell her his heart was full to bursting. How he needed her. Lord, what he would give to find her.

  When the carriage rolled to a stop in front of the hotel, he got out and took care of his fare. He was just walking toward the hotel entrance when the noise of clashing iron gates resounded from the park at Capitol Square and drew his attention. He noticed a soldier and his sweetheart entering the park hand in hand; then he blinked, and his heart lurched in his chest.

  Standing under a gaslight, his face shadowed by a bowler hat. was the same gentleman he'd seen weeks earlier at the railroad station. The burly man's eyes briefly connected with Taggart's; then he turned his head and casually walked away as if he were only taking an evening constitutional.

  With a shaft of fear Taggart stared at the man, realizing he'd been trailed by a Confederate agent for weeks now.

  "What's on your mind?" Daniel inquired, fondly taking Silky's hand as she sat down beside him. "I know you've got somethin' to say. I could always tell by just lookin' at your eyes."

  Silky had made an evening trip to the hospital to give her brother the terrible news about Taggart, but as she met his eyes, her courage failed her and she just couldn't do it. She knew he'd come to like and trust Taggart and she wanted to save him the horrible shock she'd received herself. Perhaps she could just tell him part of the truththat she and Taggart had separated, and save him the hurt of knowing the rest. After all, the Yankee scoundrel would be leaving Richmond anyway.

  "Taggart and I aren't together anymore," she whispered brokenly, slipping her hand away to brush back a straying lock of hair. "I-I've left him. I'm living in a boarding house on Murphy Street."

  Daniel swept a shocked gaze over her. "Why, for God's sake?" he demanded, his stunned eyes full of unanswered questions.

  "He cares for someone else," Silky confessed, thinking it was the easiest answer and believing it was also the truth. At the same time, she wondered why she was still protecting the rascal's reputation after what he'd done to her. It didn't make any sensenot a bit.

  Her brother let out a soft whistle. "I figured there was trouble brewin'. He came by here this mornin' askin' me all kinds of strange questions, but not tellin' me why," he said, his face still blank with amazement. "I knew he was hidin' somethin', but I had no idea what."

  "Well, now you know," she whispered sadly.

  Daniel's eyes glinted with rage. "Lord, I wish he'd come here again," he snapped, his face suddenly becoming rock hard. He clenched his fist until the knuckles turned white. "Why, you two were supposed to be handfasted. What I'd give to be well enough to beat him into the ground," he declared hotly. "Officer or no officer, I'd give him a thrashin' he'd never forget!"

  Tears pricked Silky's eyes. Oh, if it was all that simple, she thought miserably, trying to hide her crushed spirit behind a faint smile. "If he does come here, promise me you won't tell him where I am," she begged, taking a deep breath to steady her nerves.

  Daniel patted her arm. "No, of course not," he promised, his voice raw with distress. He gazed at her with sad and compassionate eyes. "Are you all right? I might be able to borrow some money."

  "NoI don't need it," she lied brightly. "I'm fine."

  Then all the pain she felt suddenly rushed forth, and she angrily flicked away a tear. "NoI'm not all right," she confessed, an awful emptiness engulfing her. "That's why I want to go back home." She clutched his hand, her heart near to breaking. "Oh, Daniel, I'm so homesick. I want to go back to the Blue Ridge. As soon as you're well let's go back to Sweet Gum Hollow, back to the old home place." She laughed a little, trying to cheer up for his sake. ''No telling how Charlie has kept it up, but we can make things right again."

  Daniel squeezed her hand. "No, honey," he said gently. "There's somethin' I've been needin' to talk to you about, and I might as well do it now. I ain't going back to the mountains to live. That's a part of my life that's passed."

  Silky's heart started beating faster. "What do you mean?" she murmured, her body stiffening. "What kind of foolishness are you talking about?"

  A thoughtful look flickered over her brother's face. "I've asked Abby to marry me, and her father has offered me a job in his lumberyard. She says she reckons I'll be runnin' it someday. I've been wantin' to talk to you about it for weeks and just couldn't find the words." He floated a soft gaze over her. "Sweet Gum Hollow is the prettiest place in the world, but if we both stayed there all our lives, we'd just eke out a bare livin', and it ain't no place for a city-raised girl like Abby."

  Speechless with surprise, Silky listened to him go on, knowing she couldn't spoil his joy. She'd often wondered how the pair could find their happiness, but had never considered Daniel leaving the mountains. Never that. Why, the mountains were in his blood, just as they were in her blood. Never in a million years had she dreamed this might happen!

  "You know old man Johnson has been after us to buy the place ever since Pa died," he continued, his voice now full of hope. "We could sell it and put the money on a place here where there are more opportunities." He paused, looking deep into her eyes. "I reckon if it's all right with you, when I'm well enough, I'll go back and talk to him. We'll sell out and halve everythin' up."

  Silky tried to hide her shock. Why, their piece of the Blue Ridge had been in the family for over a hundred years, and their parents and grandparents were buried there, making the land sacred. But if she didn't agree to the proposition, Daniel couldn't marry Abby and work in her father's lumberyard. And he loved her so, and she loved him. She could see it in their faces.

  "I'll see that you always have a place to live," Daniel promised, searching her face with his kind eyes.

  Too hurt to speak, she swallowed back her tears and only nodded. She glanced downward so he couldn't see her eyes, silently rejecting his well-meant char
ity. "Sure," she finally answered. Mastering her emotions a bit, she looked up, trying to put just the right amount of lightness in her voice. "If that's what you think is best, sell it to old man Johnson."

  Silky sat in stunned silence, holding back her tears as Daniel related his plans for the future. She'd counted on going back home with all her heart and soul, and now the welcoming refuge that had nurtured her all her life would be gone. Lord above, she thought, desperately trying to mask her true feelings from her brother. What in God's name would she do now?

  The next evening Taggart entered his room and, after locking the door behind him, lit a lamp, then took off his jacket and hung it on the back of the desk chair. The room was chill and the hour was late, the clatter of a few carriages leaving the Spotswood the only sound to be heard. He'd just returned from searching a group of modest hotels for Silky and decided that tomorrow he'd begin the mammoth task of visiting the boardinghouses.

  Walking to the window facing Capitol Square, he pushed back the lace curtain and noticed gaslights wavering in the night mist. He'd already sent a message to Caroline that he was being followed, advising her to be extremely careful. Everything in him told him he should get out of Richmond as soon as possible, but he just couldn't force himself to go as long as a chance remained that he might find Silky. Lord, where had the little spitfire gone? he wondered, dropping the lacy panel and moving to the console to pour himself a drink.

  He'd just taken a sip of the fiery liquid and placed the glass aside when he heard creaking footsteps on the stairs. The murmurs of low, masculine tones caught his attention, and, as he recognized the desk clerk's voice, shock flew through him. He immediately understood what was happening, and raced for the pistol in his discarded coat.

  Before he reached the desk, a key turned in a lock and, led by Fouche, a score of Confederate soldiers burst into the room. Three of the soldiers leaped upon him as one man as he grappled for the pistol and knocked him to the floor. Calling upon all his strength, he managed to rise and shake them off, but when he'd loosed himself of one man, two more rushed in to take his place. Shouts and curses rent the air as he fought them fiercely, but the struggling soldiers finally overcame him by sheer force of numbers and pinned his arms behind him.