She was silent, wishing she didn’t have to tell the end, what left her hollow inside. But it pressed on her to come out, after all this time.
“During one raid, things went wrong and we were pushed back. The Reb troops overran our lines, and in the mayhem I got taken prisoner.”
“You were in a prison camp?”
“No, I wasn’t held long enough to be moved anywhere. But I got locked up in a house with about a dozen men, all Union soldiers. We were held there in different rooms for maybe two days. I got thrown in the cellar with a couple other men, both badly wounded. There was a woman living in that house. Just an ordinary woman in a nice farmhouse. It was by no means a Southern mansion on a plantation.
“She brought bandages for the injured men and helped me tend them. While we worked, she talked. I got the feeling she’d been alone a long time and hadn’t talked to a living soul in ages. She asked how I could fight for tyranny. Fight against the real United States of America. She told me her husband had died in the war and her only brother and her pa. She had nothing left but this home, and we were going to burn it to the ground. Then she talked of terrible things that had happened to people she knew, especially the brutal treatment of women. I knew it was true because I’d seen it with my own eyes.
“By the time she’d said her piece, it made me sick at heart that I’d been a part of it. Then Union troops came and . . .” Bailey’s throat went dry, and she wasn’t sure the words could get past it. “The men came, and I knew what they’d do to her. I knew she’d endure a horror that might go on . . .” Inhaling and exhaling slowly, Bailey covered her eyes. “She had a gun, and she said, ‘I can’t bear what they’ll do to me.’
“She turned the gun on herself, aimed straight at her heart. Moments passed, and she didn’t pull the trigger. Finally she started crying and said, ‘I can’t do it. I can’t kill myself. I’m afraid I’ll go to hell.’
“She shoved the gun in my hands just as the door to the cellar slammed open. I recognized the man who was coming in, with a large group behind him. I’d heard this man boast of doing . . . doing exactly what this woman feared. They saw the woman . . .” Her voice faltered.
“Bailey, I’m so sorry,” Gage whispered. He pulled her close, rolled onto his back and clutched her tight to his chest.
“We both had a hold of that gun. She held my hand right on it and said, ‘Please, do it.’ I looked the woman in the eye, and with the door slamming open and that man’s brutal eyes on her, without a second to think, I . . .” Bailey slid her hands into her hair, wishing she could tear it from her mind. But the memory was as clear as if it had happened yesterday. “I did it. I killed her. I killed her, and her fear she’d go to hell if she did it herself was cut into my soul, because I think I’ll go to hell now because I did. I did a lot of ugly things in that war, in the midst of battle, fighting for my own life. But nothing so awful as when I killed that kind woman, with her love for the Lord, her passion for freedom, her healing hands.”
Bailey had never gone a day without thinking of it. “The worst of it is, maybe if I’d told those men I knew so well that I was a woman, maybe my fellow soldiers, there to save me, would have stopped. I know battle made some of them into near animals. But if I’d begged them, they might have come back to themselves. Or—”
Gage cut in, “Or maybe they’d have turned on you, too.”
“A thousand times it’s run through my head. Two different endings. One, the crowd of soldiers calms down and remembers they’re decent men—or had been before the war. The other way, they attacked us both.” Bailey looked up at Gage. “And I can’t help but wonder if I killed her, not to save her from attack but to save myself from one. Which makes me a terrible coward on top of a murderer. Now every time I’m near a crowd of men, I wait for them to go mad, to turn on any woman within reach.”
“Not all men are like that, Bailey.”
“I think they are. I think in the right circumstances they can all turn into something more deadly than a pack of wolves.”
Gage slid his hand deep into her short curls and lifted her head off his chest. “You know that’s not true. I would bet my own life that your brother-in-law, Aaron, never did such a thing. What’s more, I’ll bet he and many other men like him would have stepped in to protect a Southern woman from his own Northern troops.”
Bailey thought of how honorable Aaron was.
“The war seemed endless. God seemed so far away.” Suddenly the strength and comfort Gage offered struck her as terribly wrong. She pushed away from him.
“No, Bailey, let me hold you, please.”
She shoved harder, and reluctantly he let her go. She swung her legs out of bed and sat, facing away from him. “How can I accept comfort from you when she is dead?”
“She’s in paradise and has been for long years. She escaped this hard life.”
He sat up behind her and put both arms around her shoulders from behind, but rather than urge her to lean back, he shifted around until he was supporting her without her having to allow it. She knew what he was doing, but she couldn’t resist his warmth.
“Maybe I saved her from a fate worse than death at the hands of those men, or maybe I killed her because I was a coward.”
Gage leaned forward and pressed his left cheek against her right. “They called me a coward. I left my whole life behind to get away from it.” He shifted again until he was beside her. Taking her face in his hands, he kissed her briefly. “It doesn’t matter what the right thing was to do in that terrible moment.”
“Of course it does.”
“Why? What good does it do to torture yourself by wondering what you should have done? It’s over. All that’s left now is forgiveness. Have you asked God to forgive you?”
“Yes, a thousand times. But the weight is as bad as it ever was.” She rested her face on his chest.
“That’s not God refusing to forgive you, honey.” His arms tightened around her. “It’s you refusing to forgive yourself. God’s done His part; now you have to do yours.”
Bailey looked up. With the moonlight behind him, she could barely make out his features, but those eyes sparkled even in the darkness. A light in the darkness, that’s what Gage was offering her. And wasn’t that what God promised, too?
“How many believers did Paul kill before the road to Damascus?” Gage asked. “Have you done something worse than that?”
“N-no.”
“And do you believe God forgave Paul?”
“Yes, of course He did.” Bailey’s eyes brimmed with tears. She never cried, yet her eyes did burn with unshed tears sometimes. “He does forgive me, doesn’t He?”
“He does, Bailey.” Gage pressed his lips to her forehead. “And maybe He forgives me, too.”
Bailey tilted her head back. “You really are the one and only perfect husband for me.” She touched Gage’s lips with her own.
“Don’t say that.”
Surprised, Bailey straightened in his arms. “Why not?”
“Because I think if I let you say that, I have to admit that God sent my ma here.”
A laugh startled Bailey. Only moments ago she’d thought she might never laugh again.
Gage grinned down at her.
She threw her arms around him. “If God wants us to be married, then let’s be married.”
“You are the perfect wife, for sure.” Gage rolled onto the bed and tucked her beneath him. He swooped his lips down and captured her mouth just like he’d captured her whole life.
23
It was hopeless to wait until she could escape Ma, and Gage could escape his men. Those moments were hard to come by.
And besides, she wasn’t sure she needed to escape anymore. She felt as though a massive weight had been lifted off her shoulders. Maybe from talking through her darkest fears with Gage, and maybe from finding one of the sweetest joys of marriage.
Today she was a new woman, or at least almost. The new woman still wanted to check her cows. She was
almost fully recovered from her injuries, but Ma was determined to run the house, so there was little Bailey could do inside. So she’d decided to go outside.
Ma had done most of the talking at the breakfast table. When the woman stood to get coffee off the stove, Bailey seized the chance. Oh, she’d had her chance last night, of course. But that ended up very differently than she’d expected. She blushed as she thought of it, and that drove her on to speak. Very carefully, because although Ma was a few steps away, and occupied, she could hear every word.
“I want to get a few things from the cabin,” she said.
Gage smiled at her, the warmest smile she’d ever seen on his face. A smile that spoke of intimacies in the night that would bring on another blush if she didn’t keep talking.
“And check my cattle,” she went on. “If we could ride over there right now, early. I’d appreciate—”
“You just leave that sort of thing to the menfolk, Bailey dear. You’re still much too fragile to go riding about the countryside. Would you risk your health in a foolish need to see an old run-down cabin?” Ma came back to the table and began pouring coffee as if the matter were settled.
“But my cabin isn’t run down. It’s small but built with a lot of skill.” Bailey forced herself to let go of the need to defend herself. Explaining to Ma that she was a fine carpenter would only earn her a scolding for her unladylike ways. “And I want to see for myself how things are over there—”
“Bailey,” Gage said, interrupting her when she had some serious nagging to do, “I’ve had my men checking the trail. I told them not to go in until the snow cleared, and until yesterday they’d come back without getting through. But Manny made it in yesterday. He said the trail is muddy, but the drifts have melted finally. The herd looks good, and he fed the chickens. You’ve got a bunch of baby chicks. We’ll bring them home as soon as we can get a wagon up the trail to your place. A group is riding that way today to take a closer look at the new calves and figure out how soon we need to move the cattle out of the canyon to new grass.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this last night?”
Gage’s eyes smiled. “I meant to, but I got . . . distracted.”
Instantly, Bailey remembered their distraction, yet she couldn’t recall a single thing she intended to say. Finally she managed, “Well, good. We can go instead and save them some time.” Bailey laid down her fork, eager to be on the way.
“They headed out at first light so they’re already hours down the trail.” In good weather Gage could get to town in an hour, and from town to Bailey’s in another two. In poor weather it took much longer.
Gage reached for her hand and held it, there on the table. Right in front of his mother!
“Well, that’s fine. We can go . . .” Gage’s thumb moved, caressing her palm. Bailey caught her breath and had to fight to finish her sentence. “We c-can go on”—she swallowed hard—“on our own.”
Gage grinned. “Today is busy. But we can ride over there real soon. When the men get back, they’ll report to me. You can ask them about the herd. After we get your chickens, we can bring any of your furniture home you want. I’m not sure where we’d put it, but—”
She forced herself to say, “I trust you to take care of things. I’d just like to see my place is all.”
His thumb kept caressing. Her thoughts scattered, or maybe better to say her thoughts left horse rides and cattle worries to remember their intimacy last night.
“. . . bring your . . .”
Bailey saw his lips moving and remembered how tenderly they’d moved when he’d kissed her.
“. . . we get what we need . . .”
Was he talking about their time together? With his mother right here? She shook her head to clear it and deny that he’d do such a thing.
“. . . including all the babies.”
“What babies?” Bailey’s hand went to the collar of her dress. How many babies did he want? Could there be one on the way even now?
Bailey took a quick glance at Ma, who turned away with the coffeepot and busied herself at the dry sink. Gage smiled, and for a moment it was there in his eyes. He knew exactly what she was thinking of. Then his eyes followed hers to Ma, her back to the room. He shook his head as if realizing now was not the time, squeezed her hand tightly, and let go.
“Your hens and chicks and the herd is crowded with the spring calves. Those babies.” His eyes gleamed with humor. He stood from the table. “We’ll ride over there soon. In the meantime, do you want to come out and see the foal? The little guy is doing well.”
“Babies at my place, babies here. There are babies everywhere.” Her voice was a bit hoarse, and she cleared her throat. “I’d love to see the foal.”
Gage took her hand for no reason as she rose. She wasn’t about to topple over or anything, but that strong hand felt wonderful.
So wonderful, in fact, that just because she so badly did not want to give up this moment with Gage, she recognized her own selfishness. “Ma, you should come out. This foal is a beautiful critter.”
Gage clutched her hand and gave her a dismayed look, which wiped off his face the instant he realized his mother was turning around.
She picked up a towel and faced them, drying her hands. “I want to get something on for a noon meal first. You two go on without me.” Her gaze dropped to where Gage held on to Bailey, and Ma hesitated before she went on in a motherly voice, scolding, “But, Bailey, for heaven’s sake, if a horse is giving birth again, leave it to the men!”
Ma didn’t like Gage being close to her, and Bailey wasn’t sure why. Gage had said his ma needed to run things. Did she resent Bailey being the woman of the house?
All Ma’s cutting insults made Bailey hesitate over everything. Working inside had always just been for simple survival. Bailey could get a meal on, but she had none of the gift for doing it nicely like Ma. And though it was cloaked in kindness, Ma chided Bailey all the time.
Bailey was used to being scolded by Pa, but he was critical to everyone. Ma’s criticism was much kinder, yet for some reason it cut all the deeper. And Ma didn’t like it when Gage was too attentive to Bailey.
“I won’t be gone long,” she told Ma. “I’ll come and help with dinner after I’ve seen the colt.”
Ma nodded, glanced at their hands again, and turned back to the dishes.
Gage dragged Bailey out the door. They were halfway to the barn when Gage took a quick look back at the cabin and whispered, “Why did you invite her?”
“I invited her because I didn’t want to,” Bailey said and had to smile about saying such a foolish thing.
Gage stopped so suddenly he almost skidded. “What in tarnation does that mean?” Bailey laughed at his look of confusion. She hadn’t done much laughing in a long time.
“What it means is . . .” Leaning close, she undeniably fluttered her lashes, just like Kylie used to. “I wanted to be alone with you so bad.” Bailey stole a quick kiss. “It would’ve been rude not to ask her along.”
Gage quirked up one corner of his mouth. “Oh, all right. In that case, I was being rude, too.” He kissed her hard and fast. “But I’m still glad she didn’t come.”
“Gage, she’s really been good to me, but . . . well, I’ve noticed a couple of strange things about her.”
Irritation glittered in Gage’s eyes. “My ma is fine.”
“Yes, she’s fine. She doesn’t really approve of me, though, and that’s with me being as ladylike as I can be. It’s not who I am, and it bothers me that she would disapprove of me if she saw me wearing britches.”
“Everyone would disapprove if they saw you in britches.”
“Including you?” The snap in Bailey’s tone drew Gage’s attention.
Shrugging, Gage said, “I sort of liked you in them, but you must know it’s not a proper way for a woman to dress.”
She did know. She should leave off the topic of Ma Coulter; she didn’t want to argue with her husband. But they got so lit
tle time alone, and after last night, Bailey suspected they weren’t going to do much talking at bedtime, either. At least she hoped not.
“It makes every word we say to each other feel like a lie. Our whole relationship is based on me putting on an act. Your ma would hate the real me.”
Frowning, Gage ran his eyes up and down her form. She was wearing another dress made over from Ma’s clothes. Bailey was up to four dresses now, counting the one made from the fabric Gage had bought for her. Ma really knew her way around stain removal.
“This is the real you, Bailey. Wearing the britches was the lie.”
“No, it wasn’t. I liked wearing britches.”
“Are you saying you’d have dressed like that if your pa hadn’t made you? You’d have gone off to war without him badgering you? You’d have homesteaded as a man without him pressuring you?”
That stopped her. Yes, Pa had badgered and pressured and nagged. Yes, Pa had chosen her form of dress since a young age. But there’d never been a mother in her household to put a stop to such a thing. Would she have chosen it on her own?
For some reason, she wanted to fight with Gage, and it was just possible it was because she’d so enjoyed being held close in the night that she felt too raw, too exposed. Too close to falling in love with a man who’d married her for the ridiculous reason that his mother was coming for a visit.
That chafed. That she might be setting her heart up to be crushed, just as Pa had done so many times.
She’d long ago stopped caring what Pa said and did.
Or had she? She’d let Pa hurt her the day he came to Gage’s cabin. Deep inside, hadn’t she gone along with Pa’s plans, not without protest, but in her heart had she always hoped Pa would someday love her as much as he’d loved Jimmy?
It horrified Bailey to think of it, because she knew it wasn’t ever going to happen. She knew her pa too well.
Leaving that behind, Bailey said, “Did you notice she got riled up when you held my hand? And do you really think it was a coincidence that she came out to get me yesterday just as you kissed me? Your ma is . . . well, I think she’s jealous.”
Fire and Ice Page 18