Hunter growled, grabbed the tray from her hands, and sprinted up the steps two at a time. Having departed before the doctor’s procedure, he had hoped her anger would be gone upon his return. Yet it appeared the hopeless discord in the house had not abated, or even lessened, in his absence.
“Careful, Massa,” Mattie yelled when Hunter reached the landing. “She so mad, if you put water on huh, she’ll sizz.”
Hunter frowned at that announcement, but did not pause. “Miss Evans,” he said, striding through the door without knocking. “You are vexing my patience sorely. Must you constantly dig everyone with your spurs?”
Hunter could see with one sweeping glance he was in for another unpleasant brawl, and that going head-to-head with the girl’s irascible spirit was going to be even more demanding than the skirmish he had just fought with her Northern compatriots.
“I will not eat your poison again.” Andrea turned her head and talked to the wall. “I shall become food for worms before I am twice deceived by your tricks.”
Hunter sat the tray down roughly on the table beside her bed and turned her face to look at him. “Look you here. Were I the evil Rebel you portray me as, Miss Evans, I would have ringed your neck with my bare hands long ago!”
“My injuries are considerable, sir, but I am not deaf!” Andrea shouted as though she were.
“I’m sorry.” Hunter lowered his voice a little. “But I am weary of enduring, and having my household endure, your volatile and vicious disposition. You are free to denounce me and my allegiance in any terms you wish, but I forbid you to take out your wrath upon my servants.”
“How dare you insult me after what you did,” Andrea spat. “Pray excuse me if I refrain from expressing gratitude that the ailment has worsened with the treatment.”
Hunter could see she was hurting. Her fingers lay buried to the knuckle in her thigh as if to cut off a throbbing nerve, and her other foot was in constant motion, as if the movement helped keep the raging pain at bay. Even with her lids closed, he could see her eyes quivering beneath the thin skin. “I’m sorry if it pains you,” he said in a softer voice.
“Pains me?” Andrea opened her eyes wide.
“Hurts you,” Hunter said, trying to explain.
“I’m not altogether unfamiliar with the word! Yes, it pains me! Had you the decency to seek my opinion on the matter beforehand, I would have informed you that having my leg broken once by vicious Rebels was quite enough for a lifetime!”
“Miss, what I did was for your own good,” Hunter said. “It appears imperative that I use my good judgment since you seem to have none of your own.”
Andrea did not respond, other than to stare again at the wall. But the look she allowed to flash across her face before she turned away made words quite unnecessary. In fact, Hunter decided there was nothing quite so eloquently unnerving as Andrea Evans’ eyes when she was angry—save perhaps a masked battery of cannon discovered at close range.
Hunter paced back and forth beside her bed in frustration. I thought perhaps your injuries were to blame for your surly temper, but I’m beginning to believe it’s merely a part of your Yankee character.”
“Do not waste your time fretting about my character. I assure you any disagreeableness is only brought out in the presence of traitors to our flag.”
Hunter stopped and whirled around to face the bed. “Young lady, I did not come in here expecting to be eaten up with fondness, but neither did I intend to have my loyalty assaulted and my country insulted. If you would spend as much time trying to recover as you do feeling sorry for yourself, you would likely be up and running by now.”
Andrea drew a deep breath like she had been slapped. “Tell me, sir,” she said, narrowing her eyes to mere slits, “are you as adept at reading your own shortcomings as you are mine?”
Hunter lowered himself into a chair beside the bed and tried to cool his temper. His houseguest was, he decided, a natural born devil, possessing a temper as volatile and unpredictable as if spurred by some demon from the very depths of hell—and by the look on her face, she was consigning him to that very place at that very moment.
“It’s imperative that you eat if you wish to gain your strength.” Hunter stood and paced again. “It is for your own well-being.”
Andrea snorted and hurled words back in open defiance. “Are you speaking to dispel your own worries or are you under the illusion you are relieving me of mine?”
“Do you never throw down your weapon? Let down your guard?”
“In the home of the enemy?” Andrea snorted with profound indignation. “What do you expect?”
“Come now.” Hunter stopped and faced her. “We’ve lived together far too long to be considered enemies. Surely you can agree to a flag of truce.”
“You forget, sir, it is misfortune, certainly not desire, that places me here.”
“I assure you I do not forget. Likewise, it was necessity, not desire, which compelled me to bring you here.”
“Then let us be clear. I am determined to endure my prison term. Pray do not think that I am going to enjoy it.”
“Come now, Miss Evans, is it so bad?”
“Major,” Andrea replied without a pause. “If I make up my mind to go to hell, allow me to cut my own throat so that I may go direct, instead of lingering in this miserable manifestation of a wholehearted hell on earth called the Confederacy.”
Hunter had hoped he could silence the batteries, that they could call a truce. He frowned at the prospect. Trying to reach a compromise with her would be like trying to stop a typhoon with his bare hands.
“Miss Evans, you are simply going to have to accept the fact that you are here under my care. And you could, despite our differences, extend me some gratitude, allowing you to stay here as I do while I am out defending my native soil.”
“Defending your native soil?” Andrea gave an enraged laugh. “Is that what you call the midnight mischief created by your mob of marauding miscreants?” Andrea squinted at Hunter with one eye in such a way, he was beginning to learn, meant things did not sit well with her.
“May I inform you, Miss Evans, that I practice a completely legitimate method of warfare. In fact, my men live by the Golden Rule at all times: Do unto others as they would do unto you—but do it first.”
“Your nomadic tribe of trigger-happy horse thieves knows nothing but pilfering and pillaging and plunder,” Andrea said with a toss of her head. “The only thing your bloodthirsty gang of guerillas would not steal from Union troops is their valiant dead!”
“I can hardly be blamed if the fear of a hundred of my men in the Yankee’s rear is equal to the fire power of ten thousand in their front.”
“Union troops cannot be blamed for fearing the ferocity of those who know no laws! You are nothing but an engineer of evil!”
“Engineer of evil? You wound me,” he said, placing his hand on his heart. “I had no idea my reputation was so misconstrued in the North, no doubt by those who have been painfully, and, dare I say, frequently, defeated by my avengers of evil.”
Andrea stared at him for a few long moments, her cheeks turning an unusual shade of red at his quick-witted comeback. Hunter noticed her foot had begun to move even faster beneath the covers, a sure sign she was not at peace.
“Can we call a truce in the war of words?” Hunter pleaded. “I regret that we had to resort to the measures we did to reset your leg, but it was for your own well-being.”
Andrea’s mouth dropped open in a most unladylike fashion, then snapped shut like a nutcracker.
“Surely my hospitality deserves some degree of respect,” Hunter said.
“You fight against the flag of your nation.” Andrea’s tone indicated that such an action demanded no respect.
Hunter blinked at her impudence. “I fight for my state. In case you did not know, Virginia followed her Southern sisters in secession after an invasion by your government.”
This made Andrea’s jaw drop again. “You have t
he audacity to place the blame on the North for this cruel and needless rebellion? You fault the Union, when it was the South that commenced hostilities with her traitorous uprising?”
“We have the right—and the duty—to guard our homeland from incursion, our property from desecration, and our institutions from destruction.”
Hunter grew decidedly uneasy at the direction of the conversation, having never experienced a discussion about the war with a woman. Still, she had started it. And though he had learned that few could trade insults with her and come out ahead, he was determined to give it a soldier’s try.
“You invaded our country and kill us for defending it.”
Andrea groaned as if he had assaulted her. “The North’s so-called invasion is due to armed aggression by a traitorous regime of Southern fanatics. Our government is obligated to defend and maintain itself against acts of rebellion.”
“Miss Evans, the compact of the constitution was broken by the North when they invaded the South, making Virginia no longer bound by it. Therefore our actions are not an act of treason or rebellion.”
“You are deceived. Disunion by armed force is treason,” Andrea responded. “And a government using force in compelling obedience to its own authority is not war or invasion..”
“It is my, and Virginia’s ardent belief, that the Union was a partnership voluntarily entered into by the states to secure liberty and self-government,” Hunter argued. “The right to withdrawal was never surrendered, and the power to coerce a state to remain was never delegated—nor does it exist.”
Andrea half-choked, half-laughed. “I believe it is safe to assert that no government ever had a provision in its law for its own termination!”
Hunter stared at her for a moment, weighing the benefit of continuing the argument. Even if he was right, he did not seem destined to win. Her opinions were fervent and fanatical, and she felt no reserve about expressing them.
“I believe you are failing to see the line of distinction between the Constitution, which it is the duty of citizens to obey, and the unconstitutional edicts of a military despotism we are, in fact, obligated to resist,” he said as if explaining something to a child. “We severed our relationship with the Union peacefully through ordinances of secession, with no contemplation of war.”
“The ordinance of secession is but a cloak behind which you try to conceal rebellion and treason.”
He shook his head sadly. “We did not agree to the severance of ties without just appreciation of the significance of the deed, I assure you.”
“Yes, and now you show the solemn convictions of your deed through boundless expenditures of blood,” Andrea said, staring at the ceiling again. “You have successfully opened a vein that is bleeding a nation to death.”
Hunter let out his breath in exasperation. “Every drop of blood shed is a price freely paid by a soldier for his inherited beliefs and cherished convictions in the Constitution.” He made no pretense at calmness now. “It was the only option left open to us.”
“You are deceived if you believe that. The Union torn asunder is not a remedy for any evil in government—real or imagined.”
“My dear, we, as Virginians, will not have terms dictated to us by tyrants. Surely you do not believe the Old Dominion is made of a race of cowards who will easily surrender the most sacred rights of self-government.”
Andrea pretended to reflect a moment upon his question and then gave him a wintry smile. “As to the qualities of the race that is spawned upon the soil of Virginia—I prefer not to comment.”
The words were spoken with such an air of disdain that Hunter clenched his fists. The sneer had awakened his combativeness, and her insolence and dogged invincibility of opinion destroyed his capability for restraint. He had no intention of being driven back from ground he had already captured.
“Allow me to enlighten you,” he said. “No it is not, and no we will not—especially not to those who have chosen to override the Constitution and demand terms revolting to our sense of justice! Perhaps you do not understand the culture of Virginia. We are a separate society. We honor valor and we value honor.”
“Then it is a pity honor did not keep you out of the Confederate army,” she quipped.
Hunter blinked in surprise at her audacity and spoke in a strained, emotional voice. “I will grant you full liberty of your personal opinions, but that does not give you the license to thrust them upon me, nor am I obligated to listen.”
“Then why did you introduce the subject?” Andrea inquired, her eyes full of innocence.
“Miss Evans, I have tried to excuse and overlook your irritable temper, but these intellectual gladiatorial encounters, truly, are pushing my patience to the limit. I understand your burning impatience to take yourself from my humble abode, but I hope, most fervently, that we can have some semblance of peace until that day comes.”
“You are at liberty to hope, I suppose,” Andrea replied indifferently, “since it is the concept upon which the entire Confederacy rests.”
“If there is any cause imperiled it would have to be the Federal’s. Why else would they ultimately, and by no means infrequently, retreat with more haste than dignity?”
“You dare come in here to torment and enrage me,” Andrea yelled. “To discredit the character of our brave men—men who peril their lives to defend, restore and perpetuate a constitutional government that you are laboring to destroy!”
“I believe I came in here to see that you get some nourishment, and how I strayed from that endeavor I don’t well see. However, I am beginning to see, more clearly every minute, the rationale and the necessity of the methods of discipline at Libby Prison.”
Andrea’s eyes opened wide, seeming to double in size. She made a deep guttural noise and possessed a wild, animal-like look that gave him the inclination to put his hand on her shoulder to quiet her. “Miss Evans, please do calm down,” he said with a touch of contrition in his voice. “I regret the remark.”
His words appeared to provide little comfort. When Andrea turned her full gaze upon him, Hunter actually took a step back, as if to evade a punch. Her eyes, he believed, spoke better battle English than even her mouth could convey. He held up his hands. “I apologize. Truly I do. In fact, I feel I must make amends. Pray stay where you are.”
Hunter flashed a smile, realizing Andrea had no choice in the matter, and then retreated from the room. When he returned a few minutes later, her head was again turned to the wall.
“As you seem to manifest a great impatience toward confinement, and since I understand that crutches are rather cumbersome, I … retrieved this from the attic.”
Andrea turned her head and Hunter watched her eyes light up when she saw the cane he held out to her. “It was my grandmother’s. Made for her by my grandfather.”
Hunter stood by the bed awaiting her pleasure, secretly hoping she would not decide to use the instrument as a weapon. He watched her scrutinize the elaborate walking stick, taking in the ornately carved horse’s head and flying mane of the handle, and the smooth and polished cherry of the shaft.
“It is magnificent,” she said, still staring at the intricate carving of the handle.
Hunter worked hard to suppress a smile. Ah, perhaps I will be able to tame the lion after all.
But her eyes turned distrustful again, and then grew vacant, an apparent habit of hers when she feared her feelings were becoming visible. “You think to bribe me now?”
“I wish only to ease your transition.” Hunter’s voice grew businesslike. “Though I hope you won’t rush your recovery by putting it to use before the recommended time of recuperation.”
Andrea did not answer.
“You have no reason to distrust me.”
“Trust you?” She flung her gaze toward him. “Why, I’d as soon trust a dog with my dinner. But pray don’t take it personally, Major. Trust is not in my nature. I do not trust anyone.”
“Really? No one? Not even your family?”
“They’re all dead?” Hunter continued to probe.
“My mother is dead. My so-called father would be if I had any say in the matter.”
Stunned, Hunter looked at her, thinking he misunderstood. “You wish your father dead?”
“I believe I could survive anything if only I knew I could live long enough to see that act of God.”
She said the words matter-of-factly, but the conviction in her voice and the cold fury in her eyes sent a shiver down Hunter’s spine. Yet in just another instant, her tone changed and her countenance softened. “I’ll eat,” she said, as if it were a part of some ultimate plan. “But I don’t need your blasted help.”
Andrea took the proffered cane and laid it beside her on the bed, placing a protective hand on it in case he should change his mind.
Hunter looked at her questioningly, suspecting some devious scheme. He had not expected the coon to come down from the tree quite so easily. “Very well. But there is one more thing.”
Andrea stared at him with a mixture of curiosity and distrust.
“I must urge you not to be reckless with your strength and health. The doctor says you must not put weight on that leg for—” Hunter paused and swallowed hard. “For four weeks at the very least, six being desirable.”
“Surely you jest,” Andrea said, unblinking.
“No. I do not. You will do irreparable damage if you walk before it is mended.”
Andrea closed her eyes and turned her head away from him, her chest heaving. “You ask too much of me.”
“It is for your own good,” Hunter offered.
“It is for the good of your Command that you can lay me up for four more weeks! You are trying to prolong my agony by hindering my recovery!”
“You cannot believe that is why the procedure was done,” Hunter said, annoyed at the outburst. “Surely you must know, putting up with your obdurate personality for four more weeks shall not be an agreeable proposition for anyone in this household.”
Shades of Gray: A Novel of the Civil War in Virginia Page 22