This Rebel Heart

by Patricia Hagan

  Veston settled down beneath a sprawling oak tree, jerking his blanket about him. "Look, Luther," he started, "I'm sorry about what happened before. Ain't no need for me and you to be at each other's throats all the time over that woman. We got a war goin' on with the Rebs, not each other. If you're laying her, that's okay by me, even though I'd like to have a bit myself...."

  "Veston..." Luther snarled, warning him he was going too far again.

  "Okay, friend, okay!" came his quick, snappy reply. "I ain't gonna say nothin' else. But just try to keep your head on your shoulders till this war is over, and then you can do what you want with her, understand? 'Cause if you don't, then I ain't got no choice but to tell Fox, and he'll have you sent back into the field, and I don't think you want that."

  Luther knew it was no idle threat, and even though he was not afraid of being in actual battle, he did not like the idea of being forced to leave Julie in Veston's hands. He promised himself that before he let that happen, he would take her and run.

  "I'm not going to have her mistreated," he said, propping himself against a tree, prepared to keep a close vigil on the wagon. "The sooner you realize that, the better off we'll all be."

  Veston grunted as he curled up on the ground. "Ain't no need for me to tell you to keep an eye out. I know you're gonna be watchin' that wagon like a vulture flyin' over a battlefield. When she gets anything outta him, just let me know so's I can ride out of here and find Fox."

  Yes, he would be watching, Luther thought fiercely. He was not about to let Julie be harmed. He could see her in the dim glow of the lantern as the major helped her into the wagon. He had let her know he wanted her, and she was not being coy about being receptive to his intentions.

  Luther saw their outline as they embraced, and he squeezed his eyes shut, turning his face upward as a painful shudder went through his body. Long seconds passed before he could open his gaze to the sky, so like a giant black hand covering the entire world in a veil of infinity... and endless grief.

  Moments crept by with agonizing slowness. Luther tried to calculate exactly how long it would be before the drink took its effect on Major Anders. He prayed that Julie would work fast, coax him, tease him into confiding his future "plans" as though her very existence depended upon his. Luther ground his teeth together as he conjured an image of what she would be doing with her body all the while, driving the major insane with desire.

  And all because of her brother!

  He slammed his fist into the ground. Veston stirred in his sleep.

  Her brother might be dead by now. But Julie did not know that. She would not risk his life, not when she'd been through so much already to save him. If there was one chance in a million that her actions would keep him alive, Luther knew that she would take it. He only hoped the bastard was worth it, then chided himself for thinking such thoughts. He had to be a hell of a man to warrant such love and devotion from his sister. He wished he were as worthy.

  Suddenly his head jerked up. Something was wrong. He could sense it. The lantern was out in the wagon, and he could see nothing in the pitch dark. Silently, stealthily, he rose from the ground and began to move through the night in the direction where the wagon had been tied and the horses tethered.

  He tried to judge how many steps it would take to reach the wagon but realized, with a stab of worry, that he had no idea. Hell, he didn't want to bump into the damn thing, make a racket, rouse the whole camp, and have to answer questions as to why he was poking about in the dead of night, especially around the wagon.

  And then he heard them—Julie's voice, soft and tender, coaxing, pleading. "You know you want something to drink," she was cooing.'"It'll relax you...."

  "No, my darling, I don't need anything to make me relax," came the southern drawl of the Reb officer. "I want to remember every second of this night, this time with you. When I saw you, my heart turned over, and I knew I had to have you, if only for a little while."

  "But one drink won't hurt. Please, have one with me."

  No, Julie, no. Luther cursed silently, clenching his fists at his sides. Don't drink that shit! Yet he knew she would, if necessary, but then she would pass out also, and how could she get information and then pass it along to Veston? Oh, damn, he knew this was going to be a hell of a night.

  "...if you insist," the officer murmured. Then his laugh, deep, throaty. "Yours spilled on your breasts... those beautiful, luscious breasts. Here, we can't let the delicacy of either go to waste."

  And then he heard them—the sounds that tore into the depths of his soul—moans and sighs of satisfaction, and he could see in his mind's eye what that bastard was doing to Julie's breasts with his hungry, eager lips.

  "Now drink from the bottle," Julie giggled, and Luther knew it was forced, just as the slur in her voice was faked.

  "I live such a hectic life," Julie was saying. "You can't imagine what it's like, traveling from camp to camp, dodging those dreadful Yankees."

  "But it's an admirable, honorable thing you do, my sweet. And you do have a lovely voice. My men enjoyed you, but not nearly as much as I intend to before this night ends."

  "Oh, I pray it never ends," came Julie's voice once more, sounding quite sincere. "I—I do like you. We move from here to Richmond, I suppose. The fighting is getting so intense. Perhaps I will see you then."

  "I doubt it." His voice sounded strained, and the wagon shook a bit. Luther knew the officer was taking off his boots, his trousers, getting comfortable.

  God, he prayed the opium would work quickly.

  He could almost see Julie's petulant expression as he heard her say, "Then when will I see you again? If you don't mind my saying so, sir, a lady does not like to feel that she is only to have one night of pleasuring a man that takes her fancy as you have taken mine."

  "Ah, put your hand there, that's right...." The major sighed, then said, "I can understand your lament, Julie, and I truly feel the same way. But the war is picking up, what with the spring thaw. We aren't planning to move anywhere for the moment. Our defenses spread from northwestern Georgia all along the eastern edge of the mountains into Winchester, Virginia. Then we have armies along the southeast across Virginia and on through Fredricksburg and Richmond. We hear Grant and Sherman could head for Richmond anytime, and my men stand ready to move there if we are needed."

  Luther's ears perked up at hearing the approximate location of the Confederate defenses, but he doubted that this was something Fox did not already know. Still, he could not take a chance on his not receiving the information. He would have to awaken Veston and send him on the way with the news. Luther would take Julie to another camp to see what they could learn there.

  It was silent inside the wagon, but he could hear movements, knew that the officer was fondling Julie's body. Then he heard her coaxing him to drink again, and when he spoke once more, slurring words of desire and intent, Luther knew the opium was doing its job.

  Hang on, Julie, he thought fiercely. Hang on. It shouldn't take much longer.

  "Oh, I know you're going to be so good, but don't rush things."

  Julie sounded nervous. He knew that she was worried that her lover would not pass out before he actually ravished her. Luther wished he could leap inside and drag that son of a bitch away from her and beat him to a pulp.

  But he could do nothing but wait, his heart pounding so loudly he feared the whole camp could hear the thundering sound.

  And then there was the longest silence of all. This was it, he knew. Either the drink was taking effect or Julie had been forced to give in to the major.

  Finally, when he felt he could endure the torturous waiting no longer, he heard Julie's feeble cry, hardly more than a whisper, as she called out his name.

  He scrambled quickly into the wagon, trying to remember in his haste that he must be quiet at all costs, lest she have summoned him too soon.

  "Yes, Julie, I'm here," he answered her softly. "Is he out?"

  "I think so." She sounded near te
ars. "He hasn't moved in quite awhile."

  And then, though he hated to do so, he knew he had to ask the question that was burning through his body. "Julie, did he—"

  Her answer was quick, sharp. "No. Thank God, he passed out just in time. Were you outside? Did you hear what he said? That's all I could get out of him. They're just waiting for word from Richmond before moving—"

  "I heard. Now I've got to wake Veston and get him on his way." He started to leave the wagon, then hesitated. "Julie, will you be all right? I know when dawn comes, it must be even harder for you."

  "To lie here naked in the arms of a man, feeling like a whore—yes, it's agony, Luther, but I've done it before. I suppose I will do it many times over before this hellish war ends. But don't you fret about me. Just do your job, and please, please, be here as early as possible to make noise as you hitch the wagon so he'll awaken and we can be on our way."

  His voice was gruff as he tried to hide the pain inside him. "Don't worry, Julie. I promised you I'd look out for you, and I will. If he wakes up, I'll be close by if you need me."

  He knew she was crying. "Thank you, Luther. Sweet God, I don't know what I'd do without you."

  Nor I without you, precious Julie, his heart cried in anguish. And as he ran through the night, stumbling, groping, he realized he was blinking back tears of his own.

  Finally reaching Veston, he roused him and hurriedly whispered what Julie had learned from Major Anders. He could not see the other's face, but he knew by the deep silence that Veston was thinking, pondering whether the information was of any value. Finally he made movements to get up, grumbling, "Okay, I'll just have to go find the major and let him decide whether it's valuable stuff or not. It's not up to me to make the decision."

  They moved quietly to the far edge of the camp, where their horses were tethered. Once Veston had saddled his mount, he instructed Luther to do as they had planned earlier. "Move north. Toward Richmond. I'll find you along the way."

  Annoyed, Luther replied, "How in the hell am I supposed to know when to stop again? Am I to just keep on riding—"

  Veston snarled, "Just do as you're told. I've thought it over. I'm going to have a talk with Fox about you. So just keep on riding, and don't stop."

  His horse moved forward slowly, and Luther knew Veston would be a long distance from the camp before he spurred his mount to a faster gait, lest he be heard by the sentries. He was taking a chance on being shot, but he was good at being covert. That was why he'd been picked for this job.

  Luther returned to the wagon to make sure Julie was all right. She had snuggled down next to the sleeping officer and whispered to Luther that there was nothing to be concerned about. "I just want us to leave here at the first break of dawn," she added with an anxious note in her voice.

  "Don't worry. When you hear me outside, messing with the horses and hitching them to the wagon, you wake him up and tell him we've got to hit the road and he'd better get back to his tent before he's missed."

  "Yes," she said tightly. "And I should tell him what a wonderful lover he was."

  He could only agree with her, though it grieved him to do so. "You've come this far. Finish your performance. Now try to get some sleep, and remember, I'll be close by."

  He took his place nearby but did not sleep. Instead he cradled his beloved guitar, wishing it were Julie in his arms instead. His eyes burned from staring toward the east, waiting for the first pink rays of dawn to caress the sky.

  At last it was time. Springing to his feet, Luther ran to untether the horses and lead them to the front of the wagon, making just enough noise to wake Julie, though he doubted she had even slept.

  He felt a wave of relief when he heard the stirrings inside the wagon. He could hear the soft murmur of voices, knew she would be telling the major how wonderful it had been, how she hated to move on but had no choice and perhaps one day they would meet again.

  Then he could make out the figure of a man climbing out of the wagon. He stumbled a bit, and he was rubbing his head as though it hurt. "...hate to say it, pretty lady, but I don't remember much about last night..." Luther heard him tell her.

  "I have memories to last a lifetime," she said, leaning out to kiss him lightly. "Do take care of yourself. I'll be dreaming of the time when we meet again."

  Then the officer was lurching off down the hill toward his own tent, no doubt to fall into his blankets and finish sleeping off the effects of the opium-laced whiskey.

  By the time Luther was ready, Julie had hastily dressed, wrapping a blanket about her shoulders to fend off the chill of the early morning air. She climbed up to sit beside him on the wooden driver's bench. "Do you want anything to eat?" he asked, suddenly remembering that in their haste to be on their way, he had not considered that she might be hungry.

  She shook her head. "I don't feel very well. I didn't sleep at all. Where are we heading, anyway?"

  He told her Veston had said they were to ride north, that he would meet them somewhere along the way. "It'll probably be sometime tomorrow before we run into him. I don't plan to just keep on moving, though. We're both tired. I'm going to find someplace I figure is safe, and then we'll just camp out and wait for him to find us."

  "What if we run into Yankees?" she asked fearfully.

  "Not likely. We're smack dab in the middle of the Rebel forces. They won't ask any questions. All we've got to do is tell them we travel about to entertain the soldiers. You may have to sing a song or two, but I think you can handle that." It was light enough that she could see the comforting smile he flashed in her direction.

  They had not gone far when her head began to nod. Luther noticed and told her to climb into the wagon and try to sleep. "Don't worry. I've got my gun handy, and if there are any problems, I'll let you know."

  She protested. "But you didn't sleep either. I wanted to try to help you stay awake."

  He laughed, pleased at her concern. "That's nice of you, but you aren't much company with your head flopping all around your neck like a chicken that's just been axed. Now you get on back there. Then if we do have to sing for our supper, you'll feel more obliging."

  With a sleepy smile of gratitude, she climbed back into the wagon. He could hear her stirring about, then all was still. He knew she was resting at last.

  A few times during the morning, Confederate sentries along the way flagged him down. He knew how to handle the situation, explaining that they were a traveling troupe bound to entertain the brave and valiant men of the South.

  But one burly sergeant he encountered scowled and asked suspiciously, "Yeah? How come you ain't in uniform if you're so damned concerned about the southern cause?"

  Luther was ready for that too. Tapping his right leg, he said, "Got a ball at Gettysburg. Can't hardly stand on it at times. The doctors say there's nothing they can do. I'd only be in the way if I took up a gun, so I took up my guitar instead. I figured that's doing my part better than sittin' on the porch back home in Alabama." He tried to make his voice drawl with a southern accent.

  The sergeant was satisfied. Apologizing, he waved him on after commending him for his true and honorable spirit. Luther gave him a snappy salute, laughing inside all the while.

  Chapter 27

  About midday Julie came out to sit beside him once again. They were near a rushing stream, so Luther reined in the horses, saying they both needed to stretch their legs a bit. He wandered away into the woods, staying close enough for her to call should she need him, but giving her adequate privacy to bathe and tend to her personal needs.

  Later he found fixings for gruel and hoe cakes, and he built a small fire. After they had eaten, he said they were just going to stay put. "Veston will find us. This is the main road to Richmond, and that's the way he told me to travel."

  Julie allowed as to how that suited her fine, especially since she would not have to perform for the night. "It gives me a bit of reprieve, doesn't it?"

  He looked into her eyes, wondering if their lovely g
reen depths had ever sparkled with happiness or whether they had always been shadowed by pain. How he wished he could make them shine. But now wasn't the time, he thought, gritting his teeth and turning to the task of rubbing the horses down and making sure they were tethered near grass and water. Later, he promised himself, later... when this was all behind them... then he could tell her what was in his heart.

  They sat at the edge of the stream, enjoying the warmth of the late March sunshine. They talked of the war, how they both prayed it would soon end. Then they turned to nonsensical things, like how they wished it were warm enough to go wading.

  "Back in Savannah, I loved to play in the water," Julie lamented. "Myles taught me to swim, and our cousin, Thomas Carrigan, would go with us. He's in the army now.

  "In fact," she rambled on, "he was at Libby Prison the last I heard. I wonder if he was there when you all rescued Myles...." Her voice trailed off, as she was shocked to see the strange expression on Luther's face.

  "Did I say something wrong?" she wanted to know at once. "I was just talking about my childhood days—"

  "Carrigan." He spoke sharply, something ringing a warning bell deep within him. "Did you say your cousin's name was Carrigan?"

  She nodded, watching him, puzzled. "Yes. Thomas Carrigan. He was at Libby Prison. At least that's what his mother told me when she went to my mother's funeral. But why are you looking at me like that? I don't understand—"

  "No reason." He reached over quickly to pat her hand. She was frightened, and he didn't want that. "It's nothing. I guess I'm just tired."

  She stared at him for a moment longer, then began talking of other things.

  But Luther was not listening. He was remembering the night they went to Libby to break out Myles Marshal. They had encountered the Confederate soldier who said he'd been waiting for just such a chance so he could desert his post and get out of the war's misery. He wanted only to hide out till the fighting was over, he assured them.