The McCoy Brothers Boxed Set

by Callie Hutton

  After gathering his filthy uniform, he bundled the pieces, strode off into the woods, and buried them under a log. Checking the pocket of the borrowed pants to assure himself the ring was there, Daniel headed back to the house, feeling and smelling a whole lot better than when he’d left.

  Daniel spent the next couple of days working on the chicken coop that had fallen into disrepair since Hans’ passing. Then he and the three children scoured the woods, rounding up the escaped chickens and returning them to their proper home. He fixed part of a fence that had blown down during a winter storm.

  He tried to avoid touching Rosemarie as much as possible. Amelia had been designated to fetch and carry for her, but Daniel still found himself drawn to her room, even for just conversation. And a few times a day, he gathered her warm body into his arms and carried her to the kitchen for meals, or to the parlor for a change of scenery.

  It was these times that he knew he had to rein in his feelings, and remember who he was, and where he was. Nothing could come of this attraction they both felt. He’d see it in her eyes when he glanced at her while her face flushed an enticing pink.

  Late one afternoon, after gathering onions, potatoes, and carrots from the storage cellar, he dumped them onto the kitchen table. The chicken he’d killed lay alongside the vegetables, everything ready for someone to fix the meal. Daniel stood, hands on his hips, studying the items. Cooking for a family had never been one of his better skills. He’d managed to put together beans and rice for supper, as well as a potato and onion soup. But this was beyond him.

  His head snapped up at the sound of a thud coming from the bedroom.

  “What was that?” Chandler frowned from where he worked on sums Rosemarie had assigned him.

  “I don’t know,” Daniel shot over his shoulder as he strode down the hallway to Rosemarie’s bedroom.

  She sat on the floor, leaning against the bed, her face stark white, eyes pinched closed in pain.

  “What are you doing?” Daniel hunkered down alongside her.

  “I have to get up and get some work done. I’m sick to death of lying in this bed.” She spoke through clenched teeth.

  He sat back on his heels. “So you were attempting to climb out of bed and stroll down the hallway to the kitchen? Or maybe to the mudroom to do some washing? Or perhaps−“

  “Stop.” She opened her eyes, dark with anger. “I’m not stupid. I merely tried to sit on the edge of the bed, and I slipped.” She blew out a puff of air, fluttering the curls resting on her forehead.

  He’d spent a good hour yesterday washing her hair in the kitchen sink, then combing it and re-braiding the silky locks. She’d thanked him, blushing furiously when she told him no one had ever done that for her before. She was such a sweet woman, and deserved so much more than she’d gotten in life. Had things been different, he would like to be the man who would give her what she’d missed.

  Daniel stood and crossed his arms over his chest. He looked down at her. “If you really want to get up and help, maybe I can carry you to the kitchen, and you can do something with that food sitting on the table.”

  She nodded and shifted. “I can do that.”

  He bent and swept her into his arms, noting the wince as he settled her. “Sorry.”

  “It’s fine.”

  Her body slid against his, warm and smooth. Daniel broke into a sweat as the soft pillows of her breasts pressed against his chest. The female scent of her drifted to his nostrils, causing his stomach muscles to clench. What the devil was wrong with him?

  A mother of three, on her deathbed only a few days ago, and I’m constantly riddled with lusty thoughts?

  Obviously, he’d been without a woman too long.

  He settled her on a chair in front of the mound of vegetables. Rosemarie’s teeth clamped down on her lips, and paled as she adjusted her leg.

  After taking a deep breath, she turned to Chandler. “Can you bring my dressing gown from the bottom of my bed?”

  “I’ll build up a fire in the stove. That will help to warm you.” Daniel headed to the back door.

  “There isn’t much wood left.”

  “There’s plenty,” he answered as the back door slammed.

  His gut twisted as he strode to the pile of wood he’d cut earlier. He didn’t like where his thoughts were going. In no time at all, the three Wilson children had crawled into his heart. Those feelings he could deal with, but his growing awareness of Rosemarie disturbed him. He had a duty to the Confederacy. He had a regiment to return to, a war to fight.

  And in case you forgot, the Union army is looking for you, too. You’d better ignore that sassy woman who smells so good, and whose body is so soft and warm. Do what you can to help her, and then leave.

  5

  Rosemarie blew out the breath she held. Why in heaven’s name had her heart fluttered when the Reb carried her to the kitchen? A man’s touch had never affected her that way before. Hans had taken her in the dark, pushing her nightgown up, groping for a bit, then shoving himself inside her. Never tender in his dealings with her or anyone else, she’d assumed his behavior to be true of all men.

  Gruffness had been her experience with her father, too. Franz Bergmann had barely tolerated his ten children. He’d sent Rosemarie off to work in the house of Oliver P. Morton when she was barely thirteen. Now Governor of Indiana, Morton was then a well-known lawyer and former circuit judge. She’d spent two years there, doing laundry and cleaning, until her father arrived one day to announce she was to be married. Within days, he’d handed her to Hans. In payment of a debt. Papa got two horses, and Hans got a wife less than half his age.

  But the Reb’s touch had shaken her. The way he ran the cool cloth over her skin, with gentle strokes, to reduce her fever, how he ruffled Chandler’s hair, and looked Amelia in the eye when he dealt with her. He used his large hands to sooth, and comfort.

  And yesterday he’d washed her hair, massaging her scalp in a way that had goose bumps breaking out all over her body. Then, as if he was not the huge, strong man that he was, he proceeded to comb out her hair and re-braid it. The tenderness he showed her almost brought her to tears.

  She stopped her thoughts. No point in getting attached to the Reb. He’d only be with them for a couple more days at the most.

  The door slammed and Daniel carried in a stack of wood. She smiled. He’d been busy with more than scrambling eggs for Amelia and teaching Chandler how to hunt.

  What would it be like to belong to a man such as Lt. Daniel McCoy? To know he would always care for her and her children. Show them tenderness, love and caring. Something her little family had been short of with her husband.

  After stirring the embers of the stove, he shoved smaller pieces of wood in, then added two large logs. “This will warm things up for you.”

  “If you will wash these vegetables, and then hand me the small knife from the top drawer, I’ll start fixing the stew.” She shrugged into her dressing gown, wrapping it around her chilled body, and tied the belt securely.

  Daniel quickly ran the food under the water pump, and set it before her. “Do you want me to remove the feathers from the chicken?”

  Rosemarie looked at him in surprise. “I know how to pluck a bird.”

  He pulled out a chair, and sat next to her. “I’m sure you do. But I figure if we work together, it will go faster.” He shot her a bright smile, and her blood heated up.

  They worked side by side in silence for several minutes. His strong hands, dusted with brown hairs, drew her gaze as his fingers tugged on the feathers. What would those fingers feel like, cupping her chin, skimming over her breasts, touching her woman’s parts? She shivered.

  He frowned as he regarded her. “Are you still cold?”

  “No. I’m fine.” She lowered her head and concentrated on her work.

  What in heaven’s name was wrong with her, anyway? She laughed to herself at these wayward thoughts. Hadn’t she had enough of men?

  The front door slamm
ed shut, and Chandler stood before her, his eyes wide. “Ma, there’s a bunch of soldiers riding up.”

  “Rebs?” she asked, her heart speeding up.

  “No, ma’am. Yankees.”

  Her gaze slid to Daniel, whose lips had tightened into a thin, white line.

  They had obviously come to search for Daniel. He was an escaped prisoner. But, she reminded herself, a prisoner of war. Not her war. She continued to study him as she chewed her lip.

  What must he be thinking? One shout from her and he would be caught, dragged back to prison to face who knew what. His piercing eyes never left her face as thoughts raced around her mind like the small circular wind storms they sometime had in the spring.

  Before she could change her mind, she took a deep breath. “You must hide.”

  With those three words she sealed her fate. She would not turn the Reb−Daniel−in.

  Not giving herself time to over-think her decision, she turned to Chandler. “Go to the porch and tell the soldiers your mama is ill. Perhaps they’ll leave.” Then she eyed Daniel. “In the mudroom is a small rug. Underneath is a trap door leading to a tunnel my husband dug years ago when Indian problems plagued the area. Hide in there.” Her words tumbled out one on top of another.

  Daniel stood and cupped her cheek, his eyes questioning.

  “Go!”

  He headed to the back of the house, and Chandler raced for the front door.

  “Wait,” Rosemarie shouted at Chandler. “Come back here for a minute.”

  Her son returned to her side.

  “Go cover the trapdoor with the rug once Mr. McCoy is down there. If the soldiers insist on coming into the house, go to the back bedroom, and stay there with Jace and Amelia. If they awake, keep them quiet, so as not to attract attention. Should they search the house, don’t let your brother and sister say anything about Mr. McCoy.”

  “We’re not gonna let them take him, are we?”

  “No.”

  Chandler nodded and hurried to the door.

  Rosemarie placed her hand on her chest, attempting to still her thumping heart. She tried to tell herself the soldiers could be scouring the land for provisions for the army. She couldn’t afford to lose any more food.

  Although she tried to continue with her vegetables, the knife in her shaky hands nicked one of her fingers, causing blood to drip on the table. Quickly, she wrapped the wound in her apron just as a loud male voice drifted from the porch.

  “Tell your ma to come to the door.”

  Her flesh broke into goose bumps. The deep raspy voice sounded close enough to be in the next room. Had they already entered the house?

  “Ma’s sick. She can’t walk real good.”

  “It’s okay, Chandler. Let the men in.” No point in hiding in the kitchen. The soldiers would do whatever they wanted anyway.

  A large man, dressed in a dusty Yankee uniform, removed his cap as he ducked his head and stepped into the kitchen. His full red beard and mustache made it appear as if his face was on fire. Icy blue eyes without a drop of softness stared at her. He slowly ran his gaze from her face to her leg, wrapped in pieces of petticoat and resting on a small stool.

  “Sorry to disturb you, ma’am.” He moved closer, causing Rosemarie’s breathing to accelerate. Behind him the clatter of booted heels preceded the arrival of several soldiers who crowded in behind their leader. “I’d like to speak with your husband.”

  She raised her chin and glared at him. “My husband is dead.”

  “Sorry.” He gave her a curt nod.

  “What can I do for you, Sergeant?” She didn’t know his rank, but had to address him in some manner.

  “It’s Captain, ma’am. Captain Nelson.” He stretched his lips−it could hardly be called a smile−and rested his hands on his hips.

  She dipped her head in acknowledgement. “What can I do for you, Captain Nelson?”

  Without receiving an invitation, he pulled out a chair and lowered his bulk into it. One soldier wandered around the kitchen, opening drawers, then pushed the curtain aside on the small window above the sink. Another stood behind the Captain, leering at her.

  Rosemarie tensed, and gulped at the bile that rose to the back of her throat. Her sweaty palm smoothed the loose hair from her face.

  Dear God. Please keep Amelia and Jace asleep in their beds. If they awake, the sight of the soldiers will terrify them, and keeping them quiet will be difficult for Chandler.

  “We’re looking for an escaped Rebel. Left Camp Morton a few weeks ago. We have reason to believe he’s in the area, and dangerous.”

  She stiffened her spine and sniffed. “Indeed? And why are you troubling my family with this?”

  “Well, ma’am, we’re thinkin’ for him to stay so well hidden, someone must be helpin’ him.”

  “Someone could be helping him, if he was indeed in this area. Maybe you’re wrong and he’s long gone.”

  Captain Nelson removed his hat, ran dirty fingers through his wiry hair, and replaced the cap. “We traced him this far, but it doesn’t appear he left the region.”

  “Maybe he’s dead.”

  “Maybe. And maybe not. Either way, nobody escapes when I’m in charge. I take it as a personal affront.” He stared in her eyes, not flinching, until she broke contact and picked up a vegetable. Noticing her shaking hands, she dropped it back onto the table.

  “What happened to your leg?”

  “I cut it while chopping wood.” She raised her chin. “The Rebs came through here and took everything we had, and shot my husband. He died of his injury a few days later.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that ma’am.” The captain tugged on the brim of his hat. “How you gettin’ around, and takin’ care of things with a cut leg?”

  “We manage.”

  “Where’s the boy what answered the door? He don’t seem big enough to do much for ya.”

  Rosemarie ran her sweaty palm down the front of her apron. “He’s in the back bedroom. My two little ones are asleep in there. Please don’t disturb them.”

  Captain Nelson turned to the soldier leaning against the sink, and gestured with his chin toward the back of the house. “Go check.”

  Rosemarie held her breath as the soldier opened her bedroom door first, then the children’s door. Since no sound came from the bedroom, Jace and Amelia must have remained asleep. She let out the breath she held when the soldier closed the door and returned to the kitchen.

  “Just as she said, Captain, three kids in there. Two asleep and the bigger one sitting on the bed with them.”

  “Get the kid out here.”

  “No.” Rosemarie’s sharp reply caused all the soldiers to look in her direction.

  The Captain regarded her with raised eyebrows. “Why not?”

  “My little girl is sickly. If she awakes and her brother isn’t there, and she sees all these soldiers, she’ll be frightened.”

  “There ain’t nothin’ to be scared of, ma’am.” He narrowed his eyes. “Unless you got something to hide.”

  Unable to form words in her dry mouth, she merely shook her head.

  “Go get the kid.”

  Rosemarie’s heart beat so loudly, surely the men could hear it. She dropped her gaze to her lap as Chandler came into the room, the soldier behind him.

  “Come here, boy.” Captain Nelson extended his arm.

  Chandler slowly walked to him, but stood next to Rosemarie. “What?”

  “You seen any Rebel soldiers around here lately?”

  He gave Rosemarie a quick glance, then shook his head.

  “If ya did, ya’d tell me, wouldn’t ya?” The Captain leaned forward and rested his elbows on his thighs, stabbing the boy with his eyes.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You know the Rebels are your enemy, ain’t that right, boy? They would slit your throat while you sleep.”

  The boy’s eyes grew wide, but he remained silent.

  “And you ain’t seen no strange men around?”

&n
bsp; Chandler shook his head again.

  The Captain stared at Chandler for a minute, then leaned back in the chair and nodded to Rosemarie . “How you get that leg taken care of?”

  “My son helped.”

  “That right, boy?” The Captain again turned his attention to Chandler.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You cleaned that up for your ma, and wrapped it?”

  Chandler looked at his feet, his face pale.

  “Well?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The Captain glared at Rosemarie . “The soldier we’re lookin’ for, who escaped from prison, was a medic.” He tilted the legs of his chair back.

  Rosemarie shrugged, and pulled Chandler closer to her side.

  “You know if you’re hidin’ an escaped prisoner of war, you’d be in a heap of trouble.”

  “Captain, if you and your men are through with me and my family, I would appreciate you being on your way.” She winced when she shifted in her seat. “I don’t want my younger children to wake up and find you here.”

  A soldier she hadn’t seen before entered the kitchen and walked up to the Captain. He didn’t seem to be much older than Chandler. Peach fuzz on his face and adolescent pimples marked him as not much more than a boy. “Nothing, sir.”

  Captain Nelson addressed the young soldier, but kept his eyes on Rosemarie. “You check the barn and root cellar?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The Captain stood and shoved the chair under the table. “We’ll be on our way, ma’am.” He slung his rifle over his shoulder and leaned toward her. “I sure hope we don’t have no reason to come back here.”

  He nodded and turned to leave, when a shout came from outside the house. Rosemarie’s heart sped up once more. Had they found Daniel?

  “Captain.” Another young soldier dashed into the kitchen, his eyes wild. “Someone just took off with my horse.”

  “What the hell…” Captain Nelson pushed the soldier aside and strode to the door, the rest of the men following.

  Rosemarie cursed her sore leg and her inability to see the activity outside the house. “Chandler, go to the porch and see what’s going on.”