Honor Before Heart

by Heather McCorkle

  The rifle barrel lowered. Just as Ashlinn was drawing in a relieved breath, Marylou pulled a pistol from her dress pocket and aimed at Sean. With one hand, Ashlinn snatched a vase off the coffee table and flung it at Marylou, striking the barrel of the gun a moment before another boom assaulted her eardrums. Sean fell back. Big arms caught him and eased him to the ground.

  “Sean!” she screamed.

  Every muscle in her body commanded her to go to him, but she couldn’t. If she let go of the wound on her brother’s chest, it would become a fountain. Even after all he had done, she couldn’t just let him die. The pressure of the blood building beneath her hands assured that was exactly what would happen if she let go. Sean didn’t answer, and Ezekiel’s hulking form blocked her view of him, but she saw his legs move. The snarls of hounds erupted and suddenly Marylou was born to the ground by gray fur. Horrible, pain-filled screams pierced the air, echoing through the room. Light flashed off the steel of the bayonet on the end of the rifle as the woman raised it. Growling turned into a sharp yelp of pain and one of the gray hounds went still, but so did Marylou.

  “Sean?” Ashlinn called again, nearly ready to let go of Michael and run to Sean.

  “Ashlinn? Are you hurt? Is she hurt?” His voice faded with each word, growing softer.

  Relief tore a sob from her. He was alive, at least for now. Fingers brushed against Ashlinn’s arm, pulling her attention back to Michael. Blood covered him as well as her hands, and his face had grown terribly pale. Despite it, he smiled as he held out a piece of paper to her.

  “Take it, go to California. You deserve a fresh start. I am so sorry, for all that I have done…” His words halted, turning into a cough.

  The hand holding the paper dropped as if it were too heavy for him to hold up any longer. The paper fell to the floor. “I will, Mikey, I will,” she lied.

  His smile grew and he relaxed back onto the couch. Blood began to run down onto the fabric, making the flowers look as though they floated in a macabre sea. No matter how hard she pushed, she couldn’t stop the flow. Tears dripped down, splashing atop her crimson hands. Nothing in her medical bag could fix what was wrong with him. From the amount and color of the blood, it was clear the bullet had nicked his heart.

  His eyes fluttered. “They aren’t all like Marylou. I met several who were kind…made it hard to kill them after that.”

  Keeping one hand on his chest, she brushed his hair back with the other. “I know, brother, I know.”

  Tension eased from him and he nodded slowly. His eyes slid closed, as did hers. The breath eased from him and his chest did not rise beneath her hand again. Not long after a rough tongue began to lick the side of Ashlinn’s face. She opened her eyes. Ears down, brown eyes wide, Cliste regarded her with concern. Tears spilled over with relief that Cliste hadn’t been the one to catch the end of the bayonet. Guilt immediately followed the relief, but it was a guilt she could live with. Ashlinn sniffled and the hound launched into action, trotting to where Ezekiel crouched over Sean. Lifting her bloodied hands from her dead brother, Ashlinn forced her legs beneath her, rose, and followed her hound.

  One of Ezekiel’s big, dark hands covered the left side of Sean’s face. Panic rose in her, making her grab the big man’s shoulder and pull back as if it wouldn’t take a mountain to move him. She could not lose them both. Her heart could not handle it. His head turned toward her. The look of anguish on his face pierced through her panic and made her realize he wasn’t hurting Sean—he was covering a wound.

  “I’s tryin’ to hold back de blood,” he said in a choked voice.

  She knelt on Sean’s other side and nodded to Ezekiel. Sean’s chest rose and his eyes moved behind his eyelids. Even devastated as she was, seeing him breathe allowed her to breathe. Her medical training kicked in, helping her put aside her grief for now. Were it anyone else other than Sean, she wasn’t sure she would have been able to.

  “Thank you. But I need you to remove your hand so I can see how bad it ’tis.”

  Without a word, Ezekiel pulled his hand away. Blood drained steadily from a long gash along the side of his Sean’s face. Laughter mingled with a sob.

  “I’s sorry, ma’am, I’s so sorry. I didn’t want de Sarge to get hurt,” Ezekiel said.

  Ashlinn shook her head and looked up at the huge man. “He will be all right. The bullet only grazed him, knocked him out.” The deep gash oozed blood, a lot of it, but she could close it. He would be fine with the proper care.

  Moans that struggled to become words made her look down. Copper flashed as Sean’s eyes fluttered open. Ashlinn held his head still and gripped one of his hands in hers. “’Tis all right. You lie still. The bullet only grazed you, but I will need to stitch you up.”

  Silent as a shadow, Ezekiel leapt to his feet. “I go get your pack, ma’am. I saw it had medicine in it.”

  “Thank you, Ezekiel. I could also use some boiling water,” she called after him.

  He dashed from the room, calling out a woman’s name. Ashlinn hoped he didn’t have a change of heart and betray her. It wasn’t likely anyone besides Marylou remained of the Collinsworth family. Taking up with a woman who had complications such as children wasn’t Michael’s way. The thought caused a lump to rise in her throat the size of which she feared may choke the life right from her. She couldn’t afford to let herself get emotional right now, not when Sean needed her help. The way his eyelids kept fluttering suggested he may have a concussion and be fighting to stay conscious.

  “I’m sorry…” came Sean’s weak voice, the words thick and forced.

  She cradled his head in her lap, not caring about the blood. “For what, my love?”

  His brow furrowed and he winced as if the small movement caused him great pain. “That I didn’t save your brother.”

  Shaking her head, she stroked his dark hair back on the side without the wound. “Do not be. I should have learned long ago that my brother could not be saved from himself.” She wanted to say more, but emotion choked the words off.

  Two figures rushed into the room, one hulking, and the other dainty. Ashlinn knew she should reach for a weapon in case she had to protect herself and Sean, but she couldn’t bring herself to. As if sensing her tension, Cliste began to growl. The hair on the hound’s spine stood on end as she faced down Ezekiel and the dark-skinned woman that entered the room with him. In his big hands, Ezekiel held a large pot of water that he slowly lowered to the ground. The woman with him looked to the ground as she held out Ashlinn’s bag.

  “Thank you. Do you have any clean rags?” Ashlinn asked.

  The woman nodded, turned, and dashed from the room without ever looking up. Part of Ashlinn wanted to tell the woman it was all right, that she would be free now. But she knew if she spoke too much she would break down. Allowing instinct to take over, she opened her medical bag and set to work saving the man she loved.

  * * * *

  The weight of even half of Sean’s body was enough to make her arms shake, but Ashlinn insisted on helping Ezekiel load him into the hay cart. The house servants had laid enough blankets atop the straw that Sean would hopefully feel very little of the jostling. When she, Ezekiel, and Sampson laid him down upon the blankets, his eyes fluttered open. Within their cloudy, copper depths she could still see the hazy effects of the laudanum she had given him, but just barely. The cart moved as Cliste leapt into it and lay down beside Sean, placing her head across his stomach.

  He petted her head as his eyes went from Ashlinn to the cloudy sky overhead. “How long have I been out?”

  “A few hours,” she said, not quite wanting to admit that it had really been half the day.

  It had taken shaving his hair and putting in fifteen stitches along the side of his head to close the wound up properly. But that hadn’t been the worst part. Cleaning it had made him black out twice. The second time she had dipped her finger in laudanum and stuck it in his mouth, unable to take his pain any longer and
desperately needing him to hold still.

  “You’re a terrible liar, angel,” he said as he lay his head back onto the rolled-up blanket.

  She almost smiled as she pulled another blanket up to his chest. After tucking it around him and Cliste, she leaned down and gently kissed his forehead. When she rose he took hold of her hand, his fingers playing with the boxwood branch ring on her ring finger.

  “Me proposal to you is still open, if you’ll still have me,” he said in a soft voice that was heavy with the need for sleep.

  Careful not to move him, she bent down and touched her lips to his, taking comfort in the way they moved against hers. “O’ course I will. You had best not think you can get rid of a guardian angel after one little head wound.”

  He laughed, but the sound cut short as his features pinched into a wince of pain.

  “Easy now, you rest. We’ll be back at camp by sundown,” she said.

  He gave one brief nod and let his eyes slide closed. For a moment longer she watched just to ensure herself that his chest rose and fell. The injury wasn’t anything that would cost him his life, so long as it didn’t get infected, but she still couldn’t bring herself to stop checking on him. Paper crinkled inside her jacket pocket as she rose, reminding her of what she was leaving behind, and what she was taking with her. She wouldn’t go to California. Her home was in New York. But she was determined to ensure Michael’s widow got the deed to the land there.

  At the back of the cart Ezekiel waited to help her down.

  “Thank you.”

  He nodded and stepped back but didn’t turn to leave. “I wish I could pay you for the cart and horse,” she said.

  The big man shook his head. “No, ma’am. Wouldn’t be right if ya did. Dey aren’t ours.”

  Ashlinn swallowed hard, gaze traveling across the overgrown grounds. Several of the servants, both men and women, stood upon the back porch, watching them with a mixture of curiosity and caution. Among them stood three children, all barefoot and wearing little more than rags. The sight of the people tugged at Ashlinn’s grief-stricken heart. Ezekiel had told her that Marylou hadn’t had the decency to free them even after the Union army had come through months ago and taken all their livestock and most of their food. Many had run off, but most of them had stayed, fearing the hangmen in the woods far more than Marylou.

  “You are free now, all of you. You understand that, do you not?” She had already told him and the house servant girl this when they were helping her with Sean, but they hadn’t said anything in response.

  Ezekiel’s big, dark hands with their pink palms wrung one another like sheets on washing day. He stared down at them as if they captivated him. “Yes, ma’am, we do. I’s hopin’ to talk to de Sarge ’bout dat.”

  “You can ask me anything. I will be honest with you,” she said.

  Slowly, his bald head rose and he met her gaze. “Me and some of de boys would like to join de army, fight with those who’s fightin’ for us.”

  The light of pride shown upon the shadows of grief that choked her soul, pride for this man who could show so much courage after all he had been through. She reached out and touched his arm. His eyes widened as if startled, but he didn’t pull away.

  “Sean will welcome you, and the Union army will welcome you and any who want to join. And if the women want to help, we can always use more nurses,” she told him.

  Dimples formed in his cheeks as his grin grew. “We’d like that, ma’am.”

  Motioning for him to follow, she walked to the front of the cart. “In that case, would you mind driving? The horse knows you and I think she will respond better to you.”

  “I’d be honored, ma’am.”

  He offered her a hand up, which she gladly accepted. After today, her legs barely held her up and she wasn’t about to let her pride get in the way. Before climbing up after her, Ezekiel motioned to the group of freed men and women standing on the porch. One of the women and two of the men approached, while the others set off in the direction of the shacks that had been their homes. The tang of smoke stung Ashlinn’s nose. In the distance, great tongue of orange and yellow flames worked at devouring the slaves’ shacks. Wherever they were going, it was toward something new.

  One arm across the wooden backrest, Ashlinn turned to look upon the freshly turned dirt of her brother’s grave. Ezekiel and Sampson had been kind enough to bury him in the garden out back. She couldn’t very well take his body back with them; it would leave far too much to explain. No, it was best to allow him to remain missing according to the army. At least that way it would save his honor and his widow’s. Part of Ashlinn had gone into that ground with him, but it was a part she thought might have died a long time ago.

  Chapter 31

  Ignoring his protests, Fergusson gave Sean a hand up into the wagon, steadying him with another on his back. The world swayed so much that his friend’s hands and his own iron grip on the wagon seat were all that kept Sean upright. From the ground, Ashlinn gave him an encouraging smile and placed a hand upon his hip to steady him. With her and Fergusson’s help, he made it into the wagon with hardly any effort at all. The world swayed a bit, not stopping until a few moments after he sat down. A tail thumped against wood. Cliste gazed up at him from where she lay taking up over half of the bench seat.

  “The disorientation will pass. ’Tis only a side effect of the concussion,” Ashlinn assured him.

  Had his concern shown that badly on his face? The sight of her smile banished his unease and warmed him all the way to his core. She moved away from the steps to embrace Abigail, and he turned his attention to Fergusson, whose great height caused Sean to barely have to look down from the wagon seat.

  “Be safe, my friend. I expect to see you in New York soon,” Sean told him.

  Fergusson’s close-cropped beard moved up into a huge grin and white teeth flashed. “Oh, you will. And I expect to see a few wee ones tuggin’ at that one’s skirts by then.” He shot a wink at Ashlinn.

  To her credit, she recovered swiftly and shot him a devious look. “Oh, there will be wee ones all right, they’ll just be gray and fluffy,” she said over her shoulder.

  Eyes going wide, Fergusson cocked his head at her. “Cliste’s goin’ to have pups?”

  “Aye, that she is.”

  “I would love to talk you out of one of those,” he said.

  “You come visit us as soon as you can and one of them is yours.”

  He inclined his head. “You have yourself a deal, Miss O’Brian. But by that time I at least expect to see you sportin’ a swollen belly.”

  Through the wisps of blond bangs that had come free of her bun, Sean caught sight of the beautiful blush that turned her cheeks pink. “Well, we’ll get to work on that right after the weddin’,” Sean said through a huge grin.

  Laughter sounded from Fergusson as he slapped Sean on the shoulder. “Yeah, after the weddin’. Now get on up there and recruit me some new men. I trust you to do a better job at it than the brass they’re sendin’ up to do the job.” With that he stepped away from the wagon.

  The head wound, along with his concussion, had made Sean’s lieutenant recommend he be sent along to New York with the rest of the brass to recruit more troops. It hadn’t taken much to convince him to add Ashlinn as one of the few medical personnel going along to care for the returning wounded. An honorable discharge for a soldier who had served his country well, they called it. His country. Those words still resonated through him. As much as it pained Sean to leave the men of the 69th, he had to keep Ashlinn safe, and his men would be in good hands. Besides, the freed men from Marylou’s plantation had helped swell the Union’s numbers a bit.

  The white stripes on his friend’s shoulders drew Sean’s eye. He knew the promotion wouldn’t keep Fergusson any safer, but he was glad for it nevertheless. Fergusson was as good a soldier as Sean had ever known. He deserved to be a Sergeant. More than that, he deserved to survive this war, and
Sean would do all in his power to send him exactly what he needed to do just that.

  Ashlinn and Abigail were clutching hands and sniffling, each clearly reluctant to let go of the other. “De other nurses and I shall carry on ya work, Miss Ashlinn. Have no fear,” Abigail promised her.

  With a deep sigh that shook her chest, Ashlinn pulled her friend in for another brief hug. She pulled away and turned to hug Fergusson. Her lack of propriety made Sean smile. Their friends were more important than what others thought, and he would not fault her for acting on that.

  “Take care of this one for us, will you, Abigail? He tends to land right in the middle of trouble,” Ashlinn said.

  “I surely will,” she promised.

  Taking her arm, Fergusson assisted Ashlinn into the wagon. The warmth of her thigh against Sean’s burned away the lingering cold of the morning. He hid a smile as she snuggled closer to him. From the ground, Fergusson and Abigail waved and called out farewells.

  The reins flicked and the horses hitched to the wagon began to plod forward. Sean and Ashlinn waved back at their friends until the wagon turned a bend in the road and they disappeared from sight. Though his chest tightened with worry, Sean’s heart swelled with the promise of seeing New York’s shores once again. This time they held even more promise than they had the first time he’d laid eyes on them from the deck of the ship. This time they meant not only a new home, but a family. The thought made him look to Ashlinn. Early morning light softened her lovely features and highlighted her blond hair, reminding him of the first time he had seen her.

  “I love you, Ashlinn O’Brian,” he told her. Part of him suspected he had since that day.

  Her eyes widened and filled with moisture even as a smile turned her radiant. “I love you, too, Sean MacBranain.”

  They leaned toward each other at the same time, as if of one mind. Her pliant lips moved beneath his, gentle yet insistent. Though his stitches pulled on the left side of his face, causing little stabs of pain, the pleasure of her lips was more than worth it. In them he found a love so pure it made him feel like a man born again, one with an honor none could take from him.