Shades of Gray: A Novel of the Civil War in Virginia

by Jessica James

  Andrea shuddered—not so much at his words, but at the odious tone in which he said them. Numbness began to set in now, numbness and fear. And the glob in her stomach started to congeal in her veins. “It was not my intention. Nor was it my bullet that took his life.”

  “It was not your intention or your gun, yet still he is gone. A costly sacrifice of a man who would have served his country well had his life been spared.”

  Hunter’s voice seemed suddenly raw with emotion. Andrea thought she heard it crack, and the compassion in it panicked her. “Save in defense of my country and the Union I would never have had to take up arms.”

  “Speaking of arms,” Hunter said, his voice calm and cool again, “it’s high time you surrendered yours.”

  Andrea’s arm trembled from the strain of the weight of the gun, yet her mind battled with her stubborn pride. J.J. had given her this gun. She could not just toss it away. Then again it was of no use to her right now, not with the trouble she was having controlling the beast beneath her.

  “If you surrender, you’ll be treated kindly as a prisoner of war despite the blood you’ve cost me,” he said, riding toward her, his voice louder than it needed to be since she was so close.

  “And if I do not?” Andrea was proud that her voice did not shake like the rest of her. She already knew his edict—surrender or die—and neither alternative appealed to her at the moment.

  “There’ll be no quarter,” was the unemotional, merciless reply.

  From the tone of his voice and the challenge in his eyes, Andrea felt he would much prefer she put up a fight, that he would take great pleasure in extracting the worth of his dead lieutenant in her blood.

  The sound of pounding hoofbeats suddenly echoed from behind her, removing all thoughts and hopes of escape. The men at the barn had probably grown suspicious about the lending out of Hunter’s mount.

  “For your own safety, I must ask you again to drop your weapon,” Hunter said, his voice sounding almost jovial now. “The fellows coming behind you get quite offended when the enemy is pointing a gun in my direction.”

  Andrea wondered if his words were an attempt at humor. She yielded to the inevitable and allowed the gun to drop to the ground with a thud.

  “I’m glad to see you are a reasonable young man.” Hunter sat his horse with easy arrogance, watching her try to regain control of Stump. “That horse is accustomed to being ridden with a strong bit and a heavy hand—not a rope. I’m surprised you made it this far.”

  “He should be hooked to a blasted plow,” Andrea said miserably. Hunter sat only a few paces away now. He would soon be close enough to grab the horse’s halter, and her fate would be sealed. “What do you use him for anyway? Pulling artillery?”

  “No.” Hunter displayed a lazy, confident smile, apparently finding her comment amusing. “He’s certainly not a blooded horse, or the easiest to ride, but he’ll jump a house if asked.”

  The hoofbeats behind Andrea grew steadily louder as Hunter drew steadily closer. “That’s how he got his name. He’d actually rather jump a stump than go around it.”

  Andrea supposed Hunter made the remark thinking she had surrendered or had no means of escape. But in a flash she assessed the wall and appraised the possibilities. Nerved with the courage that God gives the desperate, she buried her spurs deep into the most sensitive part of her unruly mount’s flanks, causing him to bolt forward in confusion and irritable protest. The resulting collision between the two horses made Hunter briefly lose his balance and his aim.

  Before he had time to recover, Andrea turned the horse at a right angle toward the wall, clutched handfuls of mane in tight fists, and closed her eyes. Airborne for what seemed like minutes, she landed so hard on the other side that her teeth rattled in her jaw and she had to gasp for the breath knocked from her lungs. But through it all she clung to the beast with leg and hand, somewhat stunned at the horse’s ability, and completely astonished she was still alive.

  From behind her, Andrea heard the sound of Hunter emptying his revolver into the wall. But the action did him no good—and her no harm.

  “You’ve made your choice,” he yelled loud enough for her to hear. “There’ll be no quarter next time!”

  “There’ll be no next time,” Andrea said to herself as she rode away in an uncontrolled gallop, recalling the words Daedalus said to his son Icarus on their escape from the labyrinth.

  “Escape may be checked by water or land, but the air and the sky are free-ee!”

  * * *

  Neither J.J. nor Daniel was at Colonel Dayton’s headquarters when Andrea wearily reined Stump past the pickets. She endured an interrogation by Dayton, but welcomed the unexpected—and temporary—reprieve from the other two colonels.

  And then she slept, slept so deeply she didn’t hear the commotion caused by Daniel’s arrival when he received word of her return. But when her eyes finally fluttered open, she saw him pacing.

  He stopped and knelt beside her. “Holy Jupiter, Andrea. You gave me a scare. You’ve been unconscious for hours.”

  “Really?” Andrea forced a smile as she sat up stiffly. “I just needed some sleep. A little food now and I’ll be fine.”

  “You’ll be fine?” His voice grew distinctly more hostile. “You were more dead than alive a few hours ago.”

  Andrea barely heard him. Despite the fact that both hands were wrapped in gauze for the rope burns caused by her makeshift reins, she fell upon a table of leftover food like a ravenous wolf.

  “Andrea.” Daniel stopped and swallowed hard. “Andrea, I’m afraid I must agree with Colonel Jordan. This is getting far too dangerous. You—”

  “For me? And it’s not too dangerous for you?”

  “That’s different. I know this means much to you, but—”

  “Have I not succeeded so far?”

  “Of course you have.”

  “But you can replace me without a second thought?”

  “Of course I can’t.” He began to pace again, then stopped and faced her. “If they catch you, they’ll show no mercy.”

  Andrea shrugged, but said nothing. Something in Daniel’s eyes told her he did not expect an answer anyway.

  “I admire your courage, but darn your judgment, Andrea.” His voice grew stern again. “You came within an inch of losing your life yesterday!”

  “No, not an inch,” Andrea replied, her face serious. “More like four feet.” She burst out laughing at the thought of jumping the wall and slapped the table repeatedly with the palm of her bandaged hand.

  “You have an answer for everything, don’t you?” Daniel threw up his hands. “How dare you ride into an enemy camp, Stuart’s no less, with no orders to do so!”

  You gave me permission to reconnoiter,” Andrea said, defending herself.

  “I did not give you permission to fall in with the ranks!”

  “You did not explicitly tell me not to,” she replied, deeming her argument was no weaker than his.

  “Why do you have no fear of death?” He stopped in front of her and leaned down with his palms on the table, his face even with hers. “Perhaps I should rephrase. Why are you so foolish with your life?”

  “Why do you believe I’m foolish with my life?” She batted her eyelashes. “Why do you and Colonel Jordan always think capture and death are not far away?”

  “Perhaps it’s because you go more than halfway to meet them,” he thundered. “Life is sufficiently short without shaking the sand that measures it!”

  Andrea stood and tried to sound serious. “Colonel Delaney, I promise you I won’t die until my times comes.”

  “I don’t find you the least bit amusing,” Daniel answered dejectedly, turning his back.

  “I’m sorry,” Andrea said, walking around to face him. “I know you’re in earnest, but I—” When he looked down at her with his brilliant blue eyes, Andrea lost her train of thought.

  “You’ve nothing to gain by giving your life.” He gazed into her eyes almost
wistfully. “Andrea, I couldn’t bear it if you—”

  She grabbed his hands with her bandaged ones. “Nothing will happen to me. I promise.”

  “You can’t promise that,” he said sullenly.

  “Nor can you.”

  “You worry about me?” He put his hands on her shoulders and searched her eyes as she searched his.

  “Of course I do, Daniel! I—”

  A knock on the door interrupted them, quickly followed by Daniel’s adjutant walking in without waiting for an invitation. His eyes shifted from one to the other as they each took a hurried step back. “S-sorry, sir, an urgent dispatch for you.”

  Andrea felt the heat rising in her cheeks as the adjutant shot one more questioning glance in her direction before turning toward the door. “I’ll wait for your orders outside.”

  Chapter 13

  “Wilt thou set eyes upon that which is not?”

  – Proverbs, 23:5

  Captain Hunter pulled on a clean shirt and sighed with exasperation. “A ball for bloody sakes,” he said out loud.

  Inwardly, he cursed the events that had brought him to Richmond. “You need to relax, Captain Hunter,” General Stuart had told him, “and spend an evening off horseback.” Then with a twinkle in his eyes and a knowing nudge Stuart had said, “Reap the rewards from a social engagement rather than a military one for a change.”

  Stuart’s remarks would have been well received by any of Hunter’s men, but to Hunter, they were aggravating. He rarely allowed himself time to rest, let alone actually relax.

  That is why Stuart had made it an official mission. “It’s business, Captain. I need your eyes. We have reason to believe that spies have infiltrated the city.”

  A sense of duty overtook Hunter’s reluctance at attending, but he still envisioned the evening with disdain. Spending time with the social elite of Richmond, who knew little of the war and even less about fighting it, seemed a miserable and constrained affair at best.

  But by the time his carriage rolled to a stop in front of the estate, Hunter had talked himself into making the best of it. After making his entrance, he slowly surveyed the crowd. From across the room he saw a familiar face frantically waving at him in a striking, and quite revealing, red gown. Nodding his acknowledgment to his old friend Victoria Hamilton, Hunter began to relax. Perhaps this will not be such a bad evening after all.

  Turning to accept a drink from a servant, he caught a glimpse of another striking face he thought he recognized reflected in one of the tall mirrors in the ballroom. But when he turned to locate the original visage, it was not to be found.

  * * *

  Andrea fiddled with the ornate brocading on the side of her gown, then forced her hands to her side. She knew how perilous this night could be, yet the amount of information she could glean made it well worth the risk.

  She mused about how quickly things had moved since her ill-received trip into Stuart’s camp. Daniel and J.J. had each chastised her, then closeted themselves away in one of their secret meetings for hours. The next day she had ridden with Daniel to Fredericksburg, where he had explained how she would get into Richmond and what was expected of her. She had been rehearsing ever since with her new “aunt,” who escorted her here tonight.

  It seemed unreal to Andrea that just over a week ago she had been dressed as a young boy and riding Justus through the gauntlet at Thoroughfare Gap. The only reminder of that life now was a still-sore ankle. Tonight, dressed in a pale green gown draped in layers of shimmering silk, she felt like a princess. And when she stood in the entrance to the ballroom, the thought of war seemed like a far-off dream.

  A touch on her arm by her aunt brought Andrea from her reverie. This was not a dream—she had a duty to perform. Smiling brilliantly during introductions to a few of Richmond’s most distinguished residents, she found herself abandoned while her aunt sought refreshments. Passing a large mirror, Andrea paused and stared at the unfamiliar image reflected back at her, then jumped slightly when a man behind her placed a hand on her shoulder.

  “Pardon me, miss,” came a low, polite voice. “Might I offer you some refreshment?” A young officer handed her a glass without waiting for a reply. Andrea smiled, and the butterflies in her stomach disappeared in an instant as she began to play her role with ease.

  When the musicians took a break, Andrea took a deep breath of satisfaction. The South Carolina accent she usually tried so hard to disguise had come back to her with little effort. The slow, measured, ladylike walk she had been forced to practice endlessly as a child almost felt natural. This was so much easier than riding through muck and mud. Why had Daniel and J.J. been so reluctant to allow her come?

  But her feeling of contentment became one of terror at the sight of a tall, dark-haired man surveying the crowd. Almost spilling her drink, she ducked behind an officer who appeared pleased to find himself the sudden focus of her attention. Peeking out discreetly from behind him, she watched Captain Hunter stride boldly in her direction. She stood in awe and dread as he moved through the crowd, the onlookers parting before him with obvious reverence and admiration.

  Much to Andrea’s relief the music started again, and she became caught in the flow moving to the dance floor. Losing sight of her nemesis, she continued to look over her shoulder, even as someone grabbed her hand and led her onto the dance floor. She scanned the room behind her one last time, and exhaled deeply when the dark-haired officer did not reappear. She was safe.

  “Are you looking for someone?” Her partner pulled her to face him.

  Andrea’s heart stopped beating. She forced herself to look from the impeccably polished knee boots, past the gray trousers and snug gray coat and finally up to the steel-gray eyes. Her heart came to new life now, fluttering in her throat as if seeking the nearest way out.

  “Uh-h, no. Well, yes.” Andrea stumbled over the words, shocked by his sudden appearance and shaken by the light touch of his iron hand. “Just trying to locate my . . . uh, aunt. And my dance card.” She looked down at the piece of paper, pretending to seek the name written there.

  “Ah, yes, your Aunt Adkins,” Hunter drawled the name. “As for your dance card, I see no one here to contest my claim.”

  The sound of his voice sent a shiver down Andrea’s spine, and the feel of his hand encircling her waist almost caused her to pant. Never had she felt such enormous physical strength. And when she rested her hand upon his arm, she stared at it, trying to convince herself she was not grasping a piece of steel.

  Andrea raised her head slowly to meet Hunter’s gaze. She remembered well his penetrating eyes, and tonight, this close, their depth and intensity disturbed her even more. They were of a shade so piercing, she became convinced of the truth of Union gossip—that a single intimidating look from Hunter in the heat of battle could persuade his six-shooter to yield a seventh shot.

  “I don’t believe I’ve had the honor,” Andrea said, surprising herself at how confident she sounded. “I am—” She faltered. His stare overwhelmed her. She could not remember the name she had repeated at least a hundred times this night.

  “Miss Maryann Marlow if my information is correct,” Hunter finished for her in a rich, deep voice. His tone was laced with confident sophistication, most unlike a guerrilla leader of his reputation, throwing Andrea even more off guard. “The honor is all mine, Miss Marlow. Captain Alexander Hunter, at your service.”

  Andrea tried to look surprised and recover her composure. “Truly? The Captain Hunter?”

  “I see my reputation precedes me,” he said coolly.

  “’Surely everyone in this room knows your reputation and the gallant exploits of your command.” She managed to stifle the shiver that swept through her, but just saying the words was enough to make her skin crawl with revulsion. She swallowed hard and took a deep breath, half of her afraid to look at him again, the other half knowing she had to.

  “You are acquainted with my aunt?” she finally asked with the best smile she could mu
ster.

  “No, I’ve never had the pleasure.”

  “But you knew her name.”

  “Miss, every man in this room with eyes in his head knows that you are Miss Maryann Marlow, lately of Maryland, and that you are in Richmond visiting your Aunt Abigail Adkins.”

  “Indeed? I had no idea I was so popular.” Andrea tried hard to relax.

  “Indeed,” was his simple response as he led her expertly around the dance floor. His eyes, though focused over her head, revealed that his mind was alert and observant. He was aware of her every move.

  Andrea’s heart began racing again like an out of control racehorse. If he discovers my identity, will he kill me on the spot? Her gaze wandered down to his holster where he carried but one revolver tonight. Or will he wait until sunrise and hang me?

  Clearing her throat, Andrea tried to sound more composed than she felt. “So, Captain, what brings you here? I was under the impression that a dance in which gunfire furnishes the music is more to your liking than a ball.”

  “Were I a gentleman, I’d say I’m present to see all of the patriotic Virginians here assembled.” He looked disdainfully at the women along the edges of the room chattering like magpies.

  Andrea smiled. “And since we can presume you are no gentleman—”

  “Ah, you do know my reputation.” Hunter’s gaze remained moodily upon the crowd. “I suppose you could say I’m here scouting for enemy forces.”

  “Here?” The words creaked out like a seldom-used door. “Tonight?”

  “Spies.” He looked straight into her eyes. “There are those among us who are not as they appear.”

  Andrea inhaled sharply. She assumed she had awakened no memory of their earlier encounters, but now she was not so sure. “I-I-I cannot imagine such a thing.” Deigning to look at his face again, and trying to keep her eyes from landing on the bulging biceps that lay beneath her hand, she tried instead to focus on imaginary objects in the air. But she could feel the heat of his eyes burning into her, could sense he was staring. Would the music never end? It seemed they had been dancing forever. The brightly colored ball gowns and glowing candles reflected in the mirrors around her began to make her dizzy.