“What devil art thou, that dost torment me thus?” Andrea said in a tone of morose rebellion, her defiant eyes still shadowed with gloom.
Hunter ignored the look and instead laughed at her Shakespearian quote. “Come now, Miss Evans. I’m not trying to torment you. I’m trying to help you.”
Andrea opened her mouth, and he quickly filled it with a spoonful of the broth. “I can feed myself,” she said, her eyelids obviously getting heavy.
“One more,” Hunter said. “Then I’ll let you rest. I’m leaving again in the morning, and I want to see make sure you’ve eaten.”
Andrea complied, but Hunter knew it was only because she was too weary to argue. She swallowed, and, half to his disappointment and half to his relief, fell asleep.
* * *
With a sense of impatience, Hunter finally returned to Hawthorne after three days. He probed Mattie with an inquisitive eye when she met him at the door.
“She gettin’ her sass back,” Mattie said, before he had time to ask a question. “That tongue got more sauce than a beehive got honey.”
The sound of shouting from the direction of Andrea’s bedchamber interrupted the conversation. Charging up the stairs, Hunter noticed from a glance over his shoulder that Mattie hurried away in the opposite direction.
He entered the room to find Andrea waving her cane in the air like a mighty sword. “Pray don’t feign more courage than you possess, Miss Hamilton. If you take another step, your shoulders will be lonesome for your head!”
When Victoria saw Hunter standing in the doorway she ran into his arms, sobbing. “Alex, she’s trying to kill me. I only came to see how she was feeling.”
“Miss Evans, cease this instant! What is the meaning of this?”
Andrea collapsed back against the pillows and closed her eyes in apparent acknowledgment that she had been baited and bested by Victoria.
During her silence, Hunter ushered Victoria from the room and then conversed in a low voice on the other side of the door. When he re-entered, he stared at Andrea before speaking.
“Do you mind explaining what was going on here?” Her pale and wane appearance worried him, yet the familiar go-to-hell look she shot in his direction encouraged him that health was returning.
“Ask your friend, the high priestess of pomposity,” Andrea said with a flip of her head toward the wall.
Ah, her vocabulary is back too. Another good sign.
“I’m asking you.” Hunter tried to suppress a grin. “But I’m profoundly pleased to see your pleasant disposition has returned.”
Andrea glared at him, then closed her eyes. “Why should I bother explaining anything to you, the one who sent your misery-making mistress of malice to torment me while I lie helpless?”
“You? Helpless?” Hunter laughed. “Hell will undoubtedly freeze to the core before that day comes.” He walked over to the bed. “I’m not a doctor, Miss Evans. But were I to guess, I’d say your only ailment now is a rampant infection of self-pity.”
Andrea snorted, looking at him with unfriendly eyes. “Say what you will, Major. It is of no consequence to me.”
Hunter’s gaze fell upon the crutches leaning idly by the door. He had hoped by now the fever of unrest would have overtaken her illness and she would be attempting to climb the walls. Instead, she appeared to have recovered in health, but not in spirit.
“Are your spurs so cold you can no longer dig me with them?” Hunter tried to make a joke. “I fear I’ve missed our little sparring matches.”
His attempt to provoke a response failed, but the sound of a carriage caused her to turn toward the balcony door. “That would be Victoria leaving for a few days to visit friends. Perhaps in her absence you’d like to come down and sit on the front porch.”
Acting on instinct, he did not give her time to refuse. He scooped her up in his arms, carried her down the stairs to the porch, and deposited her in a chair splashed with sunlight. “I thought you might like to see Storm Dancer, the filly you saved.”
He nodded toward the paddock where the foal grazed contentedly by its mother. Folding his body into the chair next to hers, he looked over at Andrea. “Comfortable?”
She did not speak, but the smile she flashed him had the same effect as an enthusiastic hug of gratitude.
At the sound of banging and shouts coming from the direction of the barn, both Hunter and Andrea looked up. Hunter stood and walked to the edge of the porch as one of the servants ran up.
“Dat black hoss, Massa. He kickin’ down the stall.”
“Did Zach try turning him out with the other horses?”
“Yes, Massa. He done attacked the other hosses.”
“Excuse me a moment,” Hunter said to Andrea, before he hopped off the porch and strode toward the barn. “Move those two horses,” he yelled to one of the servants. “I’ll turn him out up here where he has no one to pick on.”
As Hunter led the horse out of the barn toward the paddock by the house, it reared and whinnied at every step. The animal looked emaciated, yet its strength was not diminished. Covered with dust and dirt, it appeared more brown than black, and its mane was one large knot of hair.
After being dragged a few steps by the rearing horse, Hunter saw for the first time amid the flurry of hooves that Andrea leaned heavily on the porch rail, and was trying to make it down the steps. “Miss Evans, what are you doing?”
“Justus?” Her voice sounded weak and shaky.
The horse snorted and reared high in the air, lashing out with its front legs and pulling the rope out of Hunter’s hand. Trotting a few steps toward Andrea, it stopped, put its head down, and snorted again, like a bull getting ready to charge. Andrea took another step down, still holding onto the railing, her legs visibly shaking.
“Miss Evans, don’t,” Hunter warned in a low voice, afraid the stallion was going to charge her. He saw Zach and another servant coming up to encircle the animal, but he feared they would only add to its terror.
Andrea put out her hand. “Here, boy.” The horse took another step toward her, breathing heavily, its eyes wild with terror.
Hunter held his breath, afraid of what might happen next. The horse was only steps from her now. It looked unsure of itself, like it may bolt or charge.
“Miss Evans, get back!” Clearly it was hard for her to remain upright. Even though she still leaned on the railing, her entire body quivered from the effort.
The horse took another cautious step and Hunter froze when Andrea let go of the railing and fell into its shoulder, burying her head in his neck. “Justus. Oh, Justus.” The horse raised and lowered its head, nickering all the while as if holding a private conversation with his mistress.
Hunter let out his breath, both from relief and exasperation. Perspiration dampened his forehead, and his heart pounded as if he’d been in hand-to-hand combat. “This beast yours?”
Andrea nodded with her head still buried against the horse. “Thank you.”
Hunter realized she was under the impression he’d deliberately brought the horse to her. Seeing her standing once again, he took no pains to remove the notion.
“Ever think of teaching him some manners?” Hunter reached for the rope.
“He doesn’t like men,” Andrea responded in his defense.
“I can’t imagine where he inherited that trait,” Hunter said dryly, giving the animal a tentative pat on the shoulder. The beast had settled down now, seemed almost docile.
“I’m going to turn him out right here.” Hunter nodded toward the paddock. “You’ll be able to keep your eye on him.”
Andrea nodded, but could not let go of her pet’s neck. Hunter put one arm around her waist and gently sat her on the porch step. “Rest here a minute. I’ll be right back.”
The horse took another step forward and nuzzled Andrea, then he obediently followed Hunter to the paddock.
“Where? How?” Andrea asked when he returned.
“We’ll talk later.” Hunter scooped her up
again. “You need to rest first.”
Andrea was asleep in his arms before he even reached her bedchamber.
As far as Hunter was concerned, the horse was precisely what she needed to revive her shattered spirit. Although he could take no credit for his arrival, he was thankful for whatever circumstances had occurred to place her beloved mount at Hawthorne. It was the closest thing to Divine intervention he’d ever had occasion to witness.
Chapter 34
“In great contests, each party claims to act in accordance with
the will of God. Both may be, and one must be, wrong.
God cannot be for and against the same thing at the same time.”
– Abraham Lincoln
Dark clouds, their bellies swollen with rain, had devoured the last remnants of a beautiful sunset when Major Hunter galloped up the drive to Hawthorne.
“Look like you outrunned the storm, Massa.” Zach took the reins and led the prancing horse toward the barn.
By the time Hunter dashed up the steps, the first great drops began to fall, followed closely by a deafening assault as the full tempest hit. Rain lashed the windows, and the wind caused bushes and tree limbs to writhe and shake. He entered the house, grateful to have missed a soaking, and headed toward his library. Hearing the rapid footfalls of Victoria, he pressed himself against the wall in the shadowy hallway and held his breath.
“Mattie! Mattie! You impertinent slave,” Victoria muttered. “Hello? Anyone? Is Alex home? Did I hear his horse coming up the lane?”
Not stopping to light a lamp, Hunter continued through the darkened corridors and escaped out the back. Just as he stepped out on the porch, a brilliant flash of lightning created a silhouette of a lone figure already there. Andrea glanced at him and nodded when he took a seat in the darkness beside her, but seemed too lost in her own thoughts to pay much attention to his presence.
Hunter sat back in his chair with a sigh and lit his pipe, delighted to have found a place of refuge to escape Victoria and her wagging tongue. The storm convulsed in the sky with brilliant displays of lightning, causing Hunter to assume that Victoria had retreated to the safety of her chamber.
The one beside him, on the other hand, appeared to take immense pleasure in the celestial display. With each dazzling bolt that lit the darkness, her smiled broadened.
Glad for the opportunity to sit and relax after two days almost constantly in the saddle, Hunter sank deeper into his chair. When the wind diminished its ferocity and the thunder retreated, he finally spoke. “Quite a hellish brew that was. Looks to be another one coming.”
Andrea’s gaze remained locked on the sky. “Yes. Let’s hope so.”
Hunter looked over at her in surprise just as the sky burst with a brilliant flash that lit her face in perfect relief against the darkness. She stared straight ahead with a serene look upon her countenance, and he found her peaceful appearance in the midst of a raging storm perfectly beguiling.
Relighting his pipe, he stretched out his legs. “Did you see the gray Johnny brought in?” Hunter was well aware she saw every horse that came and went on the estate since the arrival of Justus.
Andrea nodded, continuing to stare straight ahead. “It’s sad the horses must give so much. Suffer so.”
Hunter leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and peered at her through the darkness. “Everyone and everything has suffered during this war. Nothing has escaped it. Including you.”
Andrea tilted her head to the side, and even in the dim light he knew she stared at him intently with those big green eyes. “You are wrong, Major. Perhaps pain is inevitable.” She took a deep breath. “But I believe now that suffering is optional.”
Hunter studied her profile, amazed at the resolve and strength of one so young. “Your wisdom is beyond your years.”
“Again you are wrong,” Andrea replied. “Were I wise, Major, I would not be here.”
A flash of lightning lit her features for an instant, and Hunter could see that the good-natured Andrea had mysteriously returned. She smiled at him then as if together they shared a secret joke.
Hunter smiled too while drawing contentedly on his pipe, and made the decision to take advantage of her light mood. “I want you to know you can stay here as long as necessary. I know it’s difficult with our … differences. But you’re most welcome.”
“And you won’t try to convert me to the Southern Cause?”
Hunter answered without thinking. “I’d as soon ride a stubborn Yankee mule into battle.”
“Are you comparing my temperament to that of a mule, Major?”
Hunter’s smile faded, and he remained silent as he tried to think of a response that would not rouse her volatile temper. Prone as she was to spontaneous fits of anger, he wanted to choose his words carefully.
“I believe I was thinking of willful—not stubborn.” He suppressed a grimace, waiting for the remorseless wrath to come.
“How very diplomatic of you,” she said just as the moon made a brief appearance, sending shafts of light over the garden.
Hunter stared at her spellbound, unable to suppress the sense of accomplishment he felt—like he had finally ridden a horse that heretofore had tried to buck him off.
Nothing remained of the storm now except a few clouds sailing across the moon, but thunder growled in the distance, indicating another tempest approached. Hunter wished to take full advantage of the short respite. “Too bad your loyalties are misplaced,” he said, taking a short toke on his pipe. “But I respect them.”
From the corner of his eye he saw Andrea’s head turn toward him and could feel the green eyes flashing like the lightning that still flickered in the darkness. Perhaps he had gone too far now.
“Had you witnessed the brutal atrocities I have, you’d not say my loyalties are misplaced.”
“Had you been reared in Virginia, you’d agree that they are.”
Andrea amazed him again by expressing neither anger nor resentment at his reply, but sat back as if to analyze it. Finally, she leaned forward. “Virginia means much to you.”
Hunter eyed her intently and saw she was prepared to weigh and compare what he told her, and then draw her own conclusions. “It is the land of my birth. Every obligation binds me to my state and my home.”
“Then you are fighting for what you may never keep.”
“No,” he responded in a determined voice. “We are defending what we will never part with.”
Andrea remained quiet as dark clouds swallowed the moon again. Hunter’s gaze drifted toward the west, where the wild skirmish line of another storm approached. Large drops of rain, already falling, foretold another downpour was imminent.
“I hope Zach took Lightning and that filly into the barn,” he said. “It’s too bad that mare is so afraid of storms.”
“He did. I made Izzie help him.”
“Izzie helped him?”
“Yes, it takes two. I’ve never seen a more headstrong, stubborn, obstinate foal in my life.” Andrea closed her eyes and rested her head back against the chair.
“Perhaps you’ve spent too much time with her.”
Hunter’s heart twitched at the sound that followed, for it was the richest, most mirthful laugh he had ever heard. Unlike the flirtatious, restrained giggles that emanated from the throats of most women, this was a deep, gurgling, infectious laugh one hears only between friends.
“Yes, I’m afraid you’ve uncovered my plot.” She gazed over at him, her eyes sparking with amusement. “I’ve been planning to turn your stock, one by one, into headstrong Yankee mules.”
“I do not doubt your success with such an enterprise.” Hunter kicked his legs out in front of him again. “But I’m afraid you won’t have any luck with your scheme on Dixie. She has the soul of a true Virginian.”
“Oh, I see.” Andrea nodded. “So she is already headstrong and obstinate.”
Hunter raised his eyebrows. “That is what you think of Virginians?”
“I’v
e known only one. I suppose it would be unfair to judge an entire breed of humanity on but a single man.” She looked over at him and smiled shyly.
Hunter shook his head and leaned toward her. “But you did know another.”
“Yes.” A shadow crossed her face and she sighed deeply at the thought of Daniel. “I did know another. But it seems like forever ago and barely at all.”
The sound of rustling skirts brought a hasty end to their discussion.
“Alex, there you are. Whatever are you doing out in this beastly weather?”
“Alex,” Victoria said again. “I’ve been searching all over for you! Why don’t you come—”
The sudden change in the atmosphere when she saw Andrea was unmistakable. The temperature dropped so swiftly Hunter half-expected to see his breath. Yet at the same time, the air crackled around the three as if heat lightning sent spasms of jolting energy through the surroundings.
Andrea stood. “Good night, Major.” She nodded in his direction but deigned to meet his eyes. “I hope you enjoy the next storm.”
Hunter wondered if she meant the one in the sky or the one that sat down with a great heave in the chair beside him. In any event, he knew that Victoria would make amends for the peaceful minutes of silence and good conversation he had just shared.
“Oh, I’m so glad you’re home,” Victoria began before Andrea had even made her way through the door. “Why I hardly know how to occupy myself. Did you know I just received a letter today from Peg, and she said that Dottie Lane and Ben Collins are—”
At once, the contrast forcibly struck Hunter. They are so different, he thought, looking wearily at the flashing sky. As different as the lightning bug from lightning.
Chapter 35
“Ah! Soldiers to your honored rest,
Your truth and valor bearing,
The bravest are the tenderest,
The loving are the daring.”
– Bayard Taylor’s “Song of the Camp”
Shades of Gray: A Novel of the Civil War in Virginia Page 27