Her stomach rumbled with hunger. She thought of the root cellar out back, where Sara had stored vegetables so long ago. In the gathering dusk she hurried there, but just as she had feared, everything had long ago rotted and was unfit for eating.
No matter, she thought with determination, climbing back up the ladder. Myles would bring food when he returned. She could stand the gnawing hunger cramps. She felt she could face just about anything these days.
Smoothing the skirt of the baggy dress she wore, she recalled how guilty she had felt when Myles stole it off the fence behind some woman's house outside Richmond. But there had been no choice. The night Derek had carried her from the hotel, she was wearing only a dressing gown, and she certainly could not go traveling about in that. And Myles had no money with which to buy clothing for her.
She stared toward the silent, empty servants' cabins as she walked by them. Where had all those people gone? She hoped they had found some kind of happiness, that Virgil had not made life miserable for them while they were there.
Virgil. The thought of him made her feel sick. He had to have been the one to strip the house so completely. She only hoped he had returned to England and was gone from her life forever.
The night was warm and she walked about the grounds, feeling pain at seeing the unkempt gardens. It would be a relief to leave, and she was glad when darkness finally came so she would not have to witness the decay any longer.
She went upstairs to what had once been her room and lay down in a corner of the hardwood floor, trying not to hear the noises of the night, the way the wind howled through the pecan and magnolia trees to push her further into loneliness.
Finally she drifted away to sleep, only to be awakened by the sound of footsteps creaking up the stairway. Joyfully she jumped up, calling, "Myles, thank God, you're back..."
Hurrying from the room, she was washed over with relief. Now they could be on their way by morning, sooner than they had dared hope.
"How were you able to sell everything so quickly?" she called, laughing with joy. "And what time is it? I hope you brought food. I'm famished."
There was no answer.
An icy finger punctured her heart. She froze where she stood. The footsteps were coming down the hall. When it was too late to run and hide, she realized with terror that it was not Myles approaching. But who? A stranger? And what was she to do? She had nothing with which to defend herself. She was helpless!
"I thought I'd find you here, Julie."
She backed away, spinning about blindly in the darkness as her brain screamed in rejection. It couldn't be! Terror such as she had never known gripped every inch of her body. Her legs became wooden, immobile. It was like trying to run through a nightmare, fighting through a thick fog, with the wind in her lungs being sucked out by some unseen monster.
"I saw your dear brother in town. It was no accident. I knew one day you would return. I stripped the house. Sold everything. Even the slaves and the mules and the chickens and the hogs. I got everything I could from this miserable place, so it wouldn't be here for the Yankees. And they are coming, you know. Atlanta is in flames."
The voice was smugly confident. It was coming closer as Julie clawed blindly to free herself from the invisible web that held her prisoner.
"I admit I had almost given up hope. It has been a long time. But I had nothing except time on my hands, so I waited. You cut me badly that day, my lovely lady. I almost bled to death. But I lived, vowing to have my revenge. Now it's upon me, the moment I've been waiting for."
She reached the end of the hall, her back to the window. She fought to slide it open, knowing she would leap out, not caring that death awaited her. The grave would be a sweet release from the torment bearing down upon her.
"You're mine now," he chuckled. "And when Myles returns, I'll be waiting to kill him."
With an anguished scream, Julie tugged at the window once more. In desperation, she was about to smash the glass with her bare hands. But he was upon her, dragging her away, throwing her to the floor.
"I've lived for this moment," he cried.
She lashed out hysterically, striking him on the side of his face. Enraged, he struck back with his fist. The blow was hard, stunning. She felt herself slipping away, powerless and helpless beneath him.
"Damn you to hell, Virgil!"
Rainbow lights of hope flashed before Julie's eyes as she heard Myles' voice.
Virgil was caught off guard as Myles was upon him, his hands closing around the throat of the man who had been about to defile his beloved sister.
And then it was over. Myles towered over him, his breath coming in painful, rasping wheezes. He stared down, flexing his fingers together as he cried: "I just killed a man with my bare hands, but God forgive me, I'd do it again!"
Julie crawled toward him and wrapped her arms about his knees. He lifted her up and held her tightly against him "It's going to be all right," he said, trying to soothe her. "I ran into an old friend in a waterfront bar, someone I could trust. He told me he'd seen Virgil, that he was still about. I got worried he might show up here, so I hurried back. And thank God I did."
He kept talking, sensing that his voice was her only link for the moment with reality, for the look of stark terror in her eyes was frightening.
Slowly she came out of her stupor. "What... what do we do with his body?" she asked, a wave of nausea passing over her.
"We'll bury him in the woods. No one will know or care. I doubt he'll even be missed. Do you feel like helping me? Two of us can get it done quicker, and we can be on our way."
She didn't feel like helping, but knew time was important. Myles gave her some of the corn dodgers he'd brought, and she gulped them down quickly. Then together they went into the woods and Myles dug a grave with the pitchfork.
"It isn't deep, but it will do," he said finally. "No one will be coming here except Yankees, anyway."
Returning to the house, the two struggled with Virgil's body. Myles fastened his hands under his arms, while Julie lifted his feet. They carried him out to the grave and dumped him into it unceremoniously.
"How I wish we had done that long ago," Myles said when the last clod of dirt was packed down. "We would all have been spared so much misery. Now the worms can have him." He took her hand to lead her away, and she did not look back.
* * *
They had no problem locating the spot where the wagon train was forming when they reached Brunswick. The town was teeming with people almost hysterical in their frenzy to escape the advancing Yankees. And it did not matter to anyone that their coastal town was well to the south of Sherman's eventual target of Savannah. They knew only that they'd had enough of war, the suffering and anguish. There was one common bond among all: head west, escape, make a new life.
In Brunswick, one day blended into the next, and Julie complained to Myles that she wanted to be on her way.
"We're waiting for other families to arrive," he explained. "We've a long way to go, and there is safety in numbers. When the time is right, we'll leave. Just don't you fret."
Don't fret, she reflected caustically. How could she just blot everything out of her mind? She still thought of Derek—for instance, when she stared at the smoldering black-red embers of a campfire, so like his eyes when he was angry. And then the fire's glow changed to deep warmth, the way he gazed at her with hunger and desire.
She could not escape him in her dreams, when his face would appear to haunt her, the harshly handsome lines that could soften her to fresh-churned butter when he smiled.
What was he doing now? she wondered. Did he ever think about her, dream of what might have been?
If only there had been time to explain, perhaps he would have understood. But he had been too angry, and it was over, forever.
She wondered, too, what would have happened had she accepted his offer so long ago to become his mistress. Perhaps in time he would have found he did love her. But that was foolish. Derek would never love any
woman.
She tried to busy herself around the camp, which was growing in number with more people arriving each day. It amused her when young Teresa Davis began to flirt with Myles. Then she realized he was flirting back and appeared to be quite taken with the lovely, fair-haired girl.
"I think romance might blossom on our trip west," she teased him one night when he said he was taking Teresa for a walk. "Who knows? By the time we reach our destination, I may have a sister-in-law."
"And I'll probably have a brother-in-law," he bantered right back. "I've seen the way all the eligible men look at you. If you'd warm to them, you'd have them swarming after you."
A cold wave swept over her instantly, and her reply was sharper than she intended. "I don't want them swarming. I don't want any man around me... ever again."
"Now you're being silly," he admonished her. "You're still hurt and angry by all that's happened, but you've got to make yourself forget, Julie, like I'm doing. Think about tomorrow and stop brooding about yesterday. Sometimes I think you're only feeling sorry for yourself."
"Sorry for myself?" she sputtered. "Myles, how can you say such a thing..." and her voice trailed off. She was ashamed as she saw the amused twinkle in his eyes. He was right. She was shrouding herself in self-pity, and it was wrong to do so. She had to open her heart, her eyes, to the new life, the new world.
"Just give me time, Myles," she murmured. "I need time."
He hugged her. "You'll have lots of that. It's a long journey ahead. All we're waiting for now is for our wagon master to arrive, and then we'll be heading out. And none too soon. We just heard that Sherman is on the move again, heading straight for Savannah and leaving a trail of destruction behind him."
It was but a few days later that Myles excitedly announced, "We're leaving at dawn. We've been told to get the wagons lined up and be ready to move out first thing in the morning. We're leaving tomorrow, Julie! We're going to our new home!"
There was much jubilation in the camp that night. The men played their fiddles and banjos and guitars. The women sang, and a few danced. The children played and screamed with delight, and everyone was overcome with the happy knowledge that for them, the war was truly over.
Julie looked about at the men. Some were amputees. There were others without eyes, or with part of their faces gone. She stared at the hollow-eyed women who tried to look happy over the new life they had been promised, their now-fatherless children gathered around them. These were the wives whose husbands would not be coming home, for they were buried in some far-off cemetery or left to decay on a distant battlefield.
They were not running from the war, Julie realized. Not any of them. They only thought they could leave it behind. It would be with each of them forever, a part of their lives they could never deny. And it would be handed down to their children, and their children's children, and on through the generations and for years and years to come. That was the way it should be, she surmised. No one should ever forget the tragedy of the bloody, cruel war between the states.
They were up before dawn, the skies still blue-black as people began moving about, hitching horses to their wagons, brewing one last pot of coffee, eating one last bowl of gruel before starting the journey. The air was alive with the same thunder-charged emotion of a lightning-streaked rainstorm. Only there was no rain, just smiling faces and shining eyes. Next the sky turned a pale pink, then a soft rose, and when the first golden sparkle of the sun touched the horizon, people screamed with jubilation. A new day. A new life. They would soon be on their way.
"He's here!" someone cried. "The wagon master! He's telling everyone to get ready to move out."
"Julie, can you believe it?" Myles yelled happily as he leaped up to the wood-plank seat beside her, taking the horses' reins in his gloved hands. "It's really happening! We're on our way!"
She felt happy for him, for everyone else, but could not help wondering if for her, the future would bring any joy.
Then came the sound of thundering hoofbeats, drowning out all other sounds. Someone shouted: "It's him... the wagon master... he's coming this way... we'll be leaving soon...."
Julie folded her hands in her lap and stared down, wishing she could share the happiness that seemed to be igniting all about her. She hoped she would not dim the pleasure for Myles. Bless him, he had suffered terribly also, but he did seem to be coming out of it all, much better than she. But then, he had Teresa, and it was obvious romance was blossoming for them. And she was thankful, for both of them.
Beside her Myles sucked in his breath, gasping, but she was too absorbed in her own reverie of the moment to take notice... till she heard him gasp: "My God! I can't believe it!"
Only then did she lift her eyes. Then she was gripping the edge of the plank seat, squeezing it and pressing down, as though to do so was to hold on tightly to her sanity.
Derek sat upon a golden Palomino, black eyes shining in the first mists of dawn as he gazed down at her. He held the leather reins loosely as he cocked his head to one side, a slight, mocking smile on his handsome face as he murmured quietly, "So we meet again, misty eyes."
She could not speak. She could not believe it was real.
"Derek, you old son of a gun!" Myles was standing up, reaching across Julie to shake his hand. "What in hell is going on? How can you be here? I don't understand—"
Derek continued to smile as he raised his right arm in a signal. Another horse came pounding forward from beyond the wagon in front of them. It was Thomas, laughing as he told them he was their "assistant" wagon master, and he and Myles embraced.
But Julie could only stare into Derek's smoldering black eyes, a hundred questions bubbling in her heart. She could not speak. Her body began to tremble.
"I told you once," Derek murmured softly, "that when I had mastered the winds and the tides, I would come for you and conquer your love. That time is now."
He reached out to lift her in his arms and placed her on the saddle in front of him. Holding her tightly, he spurred his horse forward.
The sun made its final lunge from the horizon to kiss the watermelon sky of a new day and a new life, for all of them.
The End
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Want more from Patricia Hagan?
Here's an excerpt from
THIS SAVAGE HEART
The Souls Aflame Series
Book Two
~
Julie coughed and gasped, her body convulsed by a deep chill. Derek knelt beside her, running his hands over her to feel for broken bones. "Are you all right? Do you hurt anywhere?"
She shook her head. "I'm just out of breath. I must have swallowed a lot of water when I went under as the wagon turned over."
Faintly, from far away, Myles's voice reached them. Cupping his hands around his mouth, Derek hollered that they were both safe but would have to wait until daylight to return to the others. He turned back to Julie. "Stay here. I'll try to find some kind of shelter for the night."
Trembling with fear and cold, Julie lay there as he moved away, deep into the darkness. A little later he returned and carried her to the shelter of an overhanging ledge. She watched his huge shadow as he moved about, gathering wood building a fire, the ledge sheltering them from the howling wind. She waited for him to unleash his anger at her, but instead, once he had the fire going, he said casually, "Take off your clothes, Julie."
She drew her knees up to her chest. "I'll do no such thing."
As though addressing a child in the throes of a tantrum, he said pati
ently, "You can't sit there all night in wet clothes. I'll put your things by the fire, and they should be dry before long."
He stepped into the shadows and soon reappeared. In the firelight, he was naked.
"Why are you embarrassed?" he grinned. "We were marooned on an island once, and we frolicked naked for quite some time. You didn't mind then."
"That was then," she snapped, not really knowing what to say. "Things have changed. Or maybe they never were the way we thought they were. Maybe everything just seemed the way we wanted it to be."
He shook his head wearily. "Don't you think you've caused enough problems for one night? Thanks to you, we're stuck here, wet and cold, and a big storm is about to break. We've got to try to get back across in the morning, come snow or rain or hell frozen over. Now take off your clothes so we can get them dry."
"There wouldn't be this trouble if you hadn't tried to keep me from taking my wagon across," she said bitterly. "You hated my having my own wagon, and you didn't think I could handle it."
"You couldn't," he pointed out brusquely "and now it's gone. I just hope the horses made it across all right. We can't look for them in the dark. I tried to tell you all along that a woman isn't capable of handling a wagon and a team on such a rough journey. Now you've destroyed a good wagon, held everyone up, and damned near gotten yourself drowned. Now take off your clothes!"
Julie began to work the buttons on her dress, but the cloth was soaking wet, and her fingers were numb and stiff. Finally, she had peeled everything off. She handed him her clothes, covering her breasts with her arms. Then she shrank farther into the shelter of the overhang.
Derek stretched her clothes out near the fire. She hated herself for the rush she felt at the sight of his naked magnificence. She had always thought his body a sculpture of proud, masculine flesh, and the sight of it again flooded her with memories of the glory she had known in those strong arms.
His back to her, he murmured, "You're going to have to come close to the fire, Julie, close to me, and get warm."
This Rebel Heart Page 43