Caroline rose and walked behind her chair, the swish of her petticoats cutting through the strained silence. "I'm telling you this," she began, "because I feel that I must. Decency demands it." Morning sunlight splashed over her creamy complexion as she regarded Silky thoughtfully. "I'm placing my trust in you, believing you will not reveal me."
Silky's heart beat faster, for she'd come to confront Caroline about this very matter. She'd been prepared to pry the truth from her any way she could, match wits and words with her, but she'd never expected this disarming graciousness. In her heart she knew she would keep her silence, and she once again felt herself changing inside. It seemed it was very difficult to wound an enemy when, in her eyes, she saw nothing but friendship and concern for Silky's own welfare.
"I visited Captain Fouche," Silky said haltingly, deciding to plunge on and have everything on the table. "He showed me a document that Taggart had signed"she pressed her lips together"that said that his visits here had nothing to do with the war." Her head spun with nervousness, and she wondered if she could finish her statement. "It said you were ... ''
"Lovers?" Caroline asked, her face shining with compassion.
"Yes," Silky whispered throatily.
Caroline ran her hands over the back of the velvety chair. "I can assure you from the bottom of my heart that this is not true. No doubt Major Taggart is claiming this to explain his presence here, to protect me."
"To protect you?" Silky blurted out without thinking.
A hint of a smile grazed Caroline's pink lips. "Yes, all agents know they must he prepared to sacrifice their reputations as well as their lives. Now the question is whether he will be able to make the Confederates believe himespecially Captain Fouche."
Her expression sympathetic, she walked to Silky and sat down beside her. "I assure you, my dear, I have great respect for the major, and I do have some tender feelings for him," she confessed, glancing down at the admission, "but we were never lovers." She lifted glistening eyes and considered Silky with slow deliberation. "You're the one who loves him, aren't you?"
The lady's frank question was almost too much for Silky to bear. The words no, I don't love him! were on the tip of her tongue. How could she love a slick-tongued, blue-bellied Yankee who'd lied to her since the first day they'd met? Didn't the woman have any grasp of the situation at all; didn't she understand she'd been used in the worst sense of the word? She wanted to tell Caroline all these things, but instead she simply said, "I'm all mixed up inside right now. I don't know how I feel."
Caroline clasped her soft hands over Silky's. "You should be proud of Major Taggart," she offered enthusiastically. "He's a real hero. He's risked his life many times to bring the war to a close."
"He's risked his life, all right," Silky answered impulsively, her words sounding harsh even to herself. "He's risked it to bring down the South."
"But he has sympathy for both sides, my dear," Caroline responded. "He has respect for the South, just as I do. He loves all that is good and fine here. Surely you cannot blame him for fighting for what he believes is right." She caressed Silky's shoulder. "I'm sure he loves you," she gently ventured.
A laugh burst from Silky's lips. "He couldn't love me. We're as different as night and day. He's from the city; I'm from the country. He's had a fine education and been everywhere; I'm a nobody. Our meeting was just an accident. It shouldn't have happened." She waved her hand at the gorgeous room. "He's used to a place like this"she glanced down in embarrassment"and someone like you." Her lashes fluttered up and she scanned Caroline once more. "And he deserves someone like you."
The lady looked deeply into her eyes. "You don't understand him. I saw how anxious he was to get back to you the evening he brought the information about Fort Stedman."
Silky sat in silence trying to digest her startling words. Fort Stedman? So that was why Taggart had rushed off that horrible night.
"And besides that," Caroline continued, "he tried to have himself removed from his mission. I have known for some time that you were lovers, and it's for this very reason the major asked for another assignment. Unfortunately it was impossible for Washington to honor his request."
Hope rose in Silky as she considered the situation with a fresh perspective. There was so much she didn't know, so much she didn't understand about Taggart, she suddenly realized, thoughtfully smoothing back a wisp of hair.
"If there was anything I could do to free Major Taggart, I would," Caroline explained, "but General Grant is on the move from City Point. Everything is in a state of confusion and flux. At the moment I'm afraid my hands are tied. I cannot get help from outside, and my active interference in his arrest would doom us both. If you can do anything to save him, you must."
She took Silky's hand once more, pressing it with hers. "And if you need a place of refuge, come here." She hesitated for a moment, then continued, her voice faltering a bit. "You must believe we were never lovers," she vowed earnestly, "for we were not. He loves you."
Silky's mind tumbled with questions and doubtsso many doubts. The memory of Taggart's signature on the document came swimming back, and she reminded herself that he'd never committed himself to her in any waynever told her he loved her. She'd yearned desperately to hear those words, but they'd not passed his lips even once, only a string of lies he'd used to manipulate her.
"If I only knew what to believe," she murmured, closing her eyes for a moment in concentration. "If I could only grab on to some fact, some certainty." She let out a tremulous breath and gazed at the older woman through misty eyes. "You say you and Taggart weren't lovers, while Fouche swears that you were. What would you believe if you were in my place?"
Compassion flickered over Caroline's features. "I'm not sure. The decision is yours alone," she answered, letting her hand fall away. "No one can tell you what to do. And, in the end, I think your decision must be based on faith and lovenot facts."
In the midst of her turmoil, Silky regarded the woman's lovely face, knowing she was right. Surely the only place she would find the answer for her troublesome decision was in her own heart.
Taggart restlessly paced about the security cell as, for the fiftieth time, he searched for a way to escape. His stomach rambled with hunger, for he hadn't been fed since moving here, having only received a cup of brackish water each day. In one corner, a thin, tom mattress served as a bed, and in the other, a chamber pot sent its nauseating reek over the filthy cubicle. I have to get out, he told himself, his mind reeling with concern about Silky and what might be happening to her. He paused at the window facing the exercise yard, clenched the bars, and tried to get a breath of fresh air. A dank breeze from the river touched his face as he watched hundreds of prisoners mill about, taking their exercise while Confederate guards, rifles in hand, monitored their steps.
He studied the slow-moving prisoners, who seemed to him as if they were moving in a dream. Last night he'd had a dream himselfbut a new dream, not the old one that had plagued his mind since his brother had been executed. During the small, wee hours Ned had smiled and told him everything was all right, then asked him to let go of the striving that had held him captive for so long.
His heart full of love, Taggart had agreed, and almost immediately felt a new sense of peace. It seemed this new dream had enabled him to rid himself of the driving need to achieve justice for his brother's death. That need had been replaced with a thankfulness for the years they'd had together, and he'd suddenly understood that in his memories he would have his brother with him forever, as long as he himself drew breath.
He wondered why he should have such a dream, and realized it was because of the people he'd met all over the Confederacydecent people whose goodness had wiped out the evil of a few men at Andersonville. But most important, it was because Silky had opened his eyes to the healing power of love. His dream had changed because he himself had been transformed inside, he saw, understanding that forgiveness had finally released him from the dark fantasy.
&n
bsp; His thoughts drifted back to the day they'd first met, and he smiled at the picture of her waving the long-barreled rifle at him. Then he recalled their glorious days in the woods: the brilliant foliage, the sound of breaking twigs underfoot, the mellow scent of dried vegetation. With a twinge of awe, he recalled a perfect autumn day, Silky's exquisite form outlined against the bowers of scarlet leaves that surrounded them on all sides, effectively shutting out a world that had gone mad with war. Would he ever see that perfect face again?
Still deep in thought, he heard the sound of footsteps and jangling keys and, turning about, spied Fouche and two armed guards approaching the cell. The Creole, a muscle flicking angrily in his jaw, ordered the cell door unlocked, then walked toward Taggart while the guards stood at the ready, their weapons pointed at his chest.
"Perhaps you would like to recant your statement about Caroline Willmott," Fouche proposed, his simple comment loaded with threatening overtones.
Taggart studied his arrogant face, noticing his clenched jaw and narrowed eyes. "Why should I do that?" he remarked in a relaxed tone, realizing the man was reaching the end of his tether.
Fouche's mouth thinned with displeasure. "I've questioned some of her neighbors," he commented, his footsteps taking him the length of the cell and back again as he clasped his gloved hands behind his back. He paused to fix a sharp gaze on Taggart. "Even loyal neighbors occasionally leak a family scandal," he remarked, beginning his pacing once more. A cynical smile played over his lips. "It seems the lady lost her heart to a professor at some Boston college years ago. The neighbors assure me that while Miss Willmott may be a trifle strange, she isn't one to indulge her carnal desires."
Taggart stared at him, outraged that Caroline should have been discussed by Fouche and her neighbors like some scarlet woman. "I can only tell you what happened in my case," he replied, watching the officer's face harden with cold fury. "I stand by my story." With a sense of relief he knew that Fouche didn't have enough evidence to arrest Caroline or he would have already done so. Undoubtedly that was why he was here.
His face marked with contempt, the Creole stripped off his fine gloves, shoved them under his belt and began yet another half hour of questions about Caroline, all of which Taggart refused to answer. At last Fouche strode away from him, then turned, his mouth set in a stony line. "Do not be so proud, monsieur. The Union has not broken through Lee's line yet. And it is doubtful if that event will ever take place."
The officer swaggered about, a spiteful smile pursing his lips. "You might like to know that Miss Shanahan did visit me recently, just as I knew she would. She was quite interested in your statement about Caroline Willmott." He stared at Taggart, his eyes chips of stone. "I'm sure I'm correct in my assessment, for she went quite pale upon reading it."
A curse falling from his mouth, Taggart gazed at him, rage pouring through him at what Fouche had done. He knew that although the Creole might have started seeing Silky to gather information, he now wanted her with an almost insane lust and would do anything to have her.
Fouche paused to let his next barb penetrate Taggart's brain. "Don't worry about the lovely lady, for I plan on seeing that all of her physical needs are met. I'm sure you understand my meaning," he growled contemptuously.
Something snapped within Taggart and he lunged at Fouche, managing to shove him against the cell wall. Filled with scalding fury, he was clenching his hands about Fouche's neck when the guards lit into him, slamming their rifle butts into his ribs and forcing him away.
Taggart clutched his stomach and gasped for breath as Fouche and the guards hurried from the cell, their eyes wide with surprise. "Lock the door!" the officer cried, slamming it shut as Taggart rushed toward it. Only a moment too late he yanked against the bars just as one of the frightened guards scraped a key from the lock and backed away, his face pale with shock.
Fouche glared at Taggart through the bars, his gaze blazing with anger. "Do not think you will be freed if Grant is lucky enough to reach Richmond," he promised, vindictiveness cutting fresh lines over his stony features. He rubbed his neck, which bore the marks of Taggart's fingers. "Before that happens you will receive my personal attention. In the confusion, no one will take me to task for an unfortunate event that might have taken place while you were trying to escape!" he threatened, jerking on his gloves. He threw Taggatt a look of festering hatred before striding away.
Taggart, still trying to get his breath, watched Fouche and the guards pace down the corridor and disappear out of sight. For a moment a terrible emptiness spread through him, but he pushed it back, determined to keep a part of himself untouchable from the Creole's reach.
Pain streaked through his side as he walked to the exercise yard window and braced his arm against its rough facing. Grant would be taking Richmond soon, he told himself, shoring up his faith. Soon this nightmare would be over, and he'd be released from this hellhole called Libby Prison. Afterward he would find Silky and discover why she'd given Fouche the secret that had put him here in the first place.
Breathing easier now, he held on to this thought with all his might.
Shocked at what he'd told her, Silky stared at Daniel as they moved down one of Chimborazo's corridors side by side. "You're leaving the hospital? But where will you go?"
He paused, resting his weight on his crutches. "Abby's family has asked me to come and stay with them," he announced proudly, a grin sweeping over his features. "They have a spare bedroom and are willin' to put me up till I can go back and sell our place in the Blue Ridge. Then as soon as I build up a little nest egg from workin' in the lumberyard, me and Abby can get married."
Silky considered what he'd said, somewhat surprised things were moving along this fast with him and Abby, but happy nonetheless. She knew the situation was not unusual, for many of Richmond's citizens had opened their homes to the wounded soldiers who were now billeted all over the city. Being with Abby would make Daniel recover faster, and in her heart she knew he would receive better care and food than in Chimborazo. Of course, the Drumond home was located on the edge of the city, making visits difficult, but knowing the change was for the best, she quickly adjusted her emotions.
Having rested a bit, Daniel limped ahead. "Are you doin' any better?" he asked.
"A little," she answered, striving for a casual tone as they turned into his ward. "But I'm still confused." She looked at his sympathetic face. "My feelings are so tangled up I hardly know what to think anymore."
Her brother hobbled to his bed, eased upon it, and cast his crutches aside. "Are you sure Taggart was seeing another woman?" he suddenly asked, startling her with his blunt words.
With a prickle of humiliation, she glanced away. "I-I was wrong about that," she admitted. "He was seeing one, but not for the reason I thought."
"Why didn't you tell me Taggart was a Yankee when you first split with him?" he continued, his inquiring eyes weighing and assessing her reaction.
Momentarily abashed, she realized he'd asked her the same thing once before. "I-I don't know," she answered, trembling inwardly at the question.
A frown wrinkled Daniel's brow. "I do. I think you're still in love with him."
"That's impossible!"
"Maybe not," he replied thoughtfully. "I've been layin' here thinkin' it all over, wonderin' why you didn't tell me he was Yankee the moment you knew it." A satisfied smile moved over his lips. "I think it's because you still love him and were tryin' to protect him."
"That's crazy," she declared in an exasperated voice. "I knew Fouche was onto him, but I didn't take the trouble to warn him, did I?"
"No, but I think you wanted to. Besides that, you thought he'd already left Richmond." His face softened with understanding. "You had plenty of chances but you never turned him in to the authorities, did you?"
Silky realized she'd once considered doing just that but, in the end, she simply couldn't. She bit her tongue, refusing to admit this embarrassing fact to her brother.
His gaz
e fastened on her, forcing her to face a truth she wanted to ignore. "You didn't let on a peep to me about him bein' a Yankee till he'd been arrested and you had to tell me."
"Lordamercy, I can't believe what you're saying," she stated. "Have you lost your mind? When you found out he was a Yankee it hurt you as much as me!"
Daniel raised his brows. "Yeah, what you told me gave me a turn, all right, and for a while I wanted to kill him." His voice became soft and intimate. "But people are people.
Scratch them, and they ain't Yankees or Rebs, they're just people."
"W-What do you mean?" she muttered, her voice hoarse with surprise. She recalled Taggart had once said something very similar back in the mountains.
"When I signed up," her brother continued, putting his hand over hers, "I thought the Yankees were devils just like everybody else in the hollow did; then my company took some prisoners. While I was takin' care of them, I found out they were pretty much like us. They just talked different and lived in another part of the country."
"But Taggart lied to me!" she cried, pulling her hand away. "What kind of life could we have together, with all his lies standing between us?"
Daniel sat forward, demanding her complete attention. "Whatever kind you wanted to make it."
Dumbstruck, she stared at him, detecting a certain wisdom in the depths of his clear green eyes. He'd always had a firm grasp of what was really important in life.
"Don't you understand why he stayed here in Richmond instead of hightailin' it to the north like he should have done?" he asked, his gaze drifting over her. "He stayed here to find you. If he can do that much, it seems you might at least consider talkin' to him."
Silky sat quietly, too stunned to utter a word.
"You were hurt because he lied to you," Daniel explained, "but you were hurt worse because he was workin' against the Causeagainst your dream."
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