by Jerri Hines
Maneuvering out of arm’s length, Cullen retreated a few steps, trying to regain his footing. He couldn’t form a clear thought, his mind muddled from exhaustion and pain. The glitter from the sun blinded him for a moment. Harry Lee stabbed, sinking into Cullen’s left arm.
Cullen groaned in pain, reacted spontaneously. He gripped Harry Lee’s lower arm blocking another thrust. Pulling back on his grip, Harry Lee scrapped across Cullen’s bare palm.
Blood oozed down his wrist dropping unheeded on the ground. Frantically, Cullen pushed back. Harry Lee stumbled backward; his eyes widened with crazed madness. He slashed the knife violently in the air, possess with the intent to kill.
Cullen attacked and caught Harry Lee’s arm in a cross hold. Using his remaining strength, Cullen pushed Harry Lee back. Stumbling, Cullen maneuvered himself in position. Taking hold of Harry Lee’s grip on his knife, Cullen forced the knife down, back into Harry Lee stomach, thrusting harder and harder until Harry Lee collapsed.
The wounded man’s eyes glazed over. Peering up at Cullen, his lips moved but no sound came. He gripped his side as blood oozed between his fingers. Silent, he fell forward.
Harry Lee lay motionless on the ground when the militia rode up to the burnt out house. Cullen sank down to his knees, holding his injured arm. He stared up at Wade as he rode up beside him. A spasm of sickness assaulted him. He comprehended clearly the only reason the militia had come to his rescue.
* * * *
The full moon reflected off low-hanging clouds, giving off a silvery halo in the night’s sky. Eerie shadows lengthened over the laborious flow of the Ashley River. Cullen heaved a long sigh as he waited.
They had retreated back to the Bogart Farm, an old family friend. Old man Bogart had lived on his small plot of land for the last sixty years, much to the generosity of Clayton Montgomery. Cullen’s grandfather had helped the man more than once save his farm. Now, Bogart was called on to return a favor.
The farm was situated down below Magnolia Bluff, along the river. The small group sought sanctuary in his barn. Moreover, the farm had its own dock which made it easier to travel by river down to Charleston. It had been deemed the best course of action to have Heyward, Gillie and Cullen leave at the soonest possible time.
Sheriff McCoy had not been wrong in his assumption that the good people of the low country wouldn’t take too kindly to Cullen’s actions—saving a black woman with the use of Negros…armed Negros.
Clayton Montgomery had ridden out to tell Cullen himself that his grandson needed to depart for Philadelphia hastily…and to say good-bye.
It was too hard to take…this ending. A bitter gall to swallow.
“The boat should return within the hour.”
Turning, it was Andrew.
“Let me at your arm,” Andrew said. “Blood has seeped through your bandage. Come back up to the barn. I’ll dress it again.”
Cullen shook his head. “You can see to it when we get to Charleston.”
“You look like hell.”
“It’s how I feel,” Cullen acknowledged. “Is Gillie well enough to move?”
“Don’t have much choice,” Andrew’s face contorted in disgust. “We don’t want to be anywhere near here if Harry Lee dies. The story will be twisted so that we’ll have half the low country after us. Won’t matter, he’s crazy as they come.
“If anyone could see what he did to that sweet little thing, they probably run him through themselves. Time will tell if I can save her life, but what he, they did to her, will be hard to ever get over. She won’t look at me or Heyward. Her gaze is unfocused. I’m not sure if she knows she is in the world. She shrieks at anyone’s touch and recoils back into a ball. He mutilated her face, her body. The pain she endured, what she is in now, is unbearable.
“But that’s not what they will hear.”
“I know what will be said,” Cullen said abruptly. He had no desire to hear it again. “Have we heard anything from Buchanan?”
“Wade should be back before we depart. He will know more.”
Cullen buried his head in his hands and paused for a moment of deep reflection. His eyes closed; he saw her face. Those eyes…Oh, damnit…those eyes. How was he ever going to walk away? But honor dictated he would do exactly that—walk away. Hell, he had a pounding headache.
“Andrew, can leave us alone for a time. Cullen and I need to talk.”
Looking over his shoulder, Cullen watched Wade stroll up to his side. Andrew hesitated and then complied. Silence ensued for an endless moment.
Finally, Wade spoke, “Harry Lee is clinging to life. It is best for you not to be here whatever the outcome. The matter will be handled. Trust me.”
“He deserves to die,” Cullen snapped. His tone reflected his testy mood. “If he lives, Jo…”
“I told you I already have the situation in control. I will protect Jo. This vendetta will end…today. I now have the law behind me. A plan has already been put in motion to have the feud cease, or the consequences will be dire for the Haynes men. It is not plain to know whether Henry Buchanan had his hands in the plot against Jo, but Vernon Haynes and his boys greatly underestimated Brantley Wright and the Montgomerys.”
A helpless feeling stabbed at the core of his being worse than the knife Harry Lee used on his arm. He eyed Wade, confident and assured, and found himself envious. Wade had the one thing he loved more than anything else on this earth, the one who had married Wade to save him. It cut him to the quick.
“I won’t let them target you, Cullen.”
He scoffed, “I don’t give a damn what you do. I can take care of myself. You go back and play master of your desire—Magnolia Bluff.”
“It has come to this,” Wade said it not as a question, but a statement.
“It seems it has,” Cullen stood, glowering. “Leave me alone, Wade. I have no patience for anything that has transpired. You stand before me so damn smug. I thought we were family. Instead, I was tricked into bringing Josephine down here. You…you placed her endanger. So do not come to me and pretend to be my brother.”
“I have already denied those allegations. I doubt you will believe me if I repeat them. Know though, I harbor you no ill will.”
“Because you have Josephine!” Cullen cried in outrage. “Am I now nothing more than an outsider? Do you believe you can dictate to me? I think not!”
“It is best now for you to leave before we both say things we will regret,” Wade said stiffly. “I owe you a debt of gratitude, but make no mistake, I realize that things have changed between us. Josephine is my wife. I will see to her welfare and happiness.”
“I need to see her before I go. I can’t leave as it stood.”
“No,” Wade said flatly. “She has had too much to deal with and accept. She doesn’t need you to pull at her heart strings. She needs time to bury the past and begin a future. If you care for her, give her peace.”
Wade said nothing else, pivoted and walked back toward the farm leaving Cullen alone in his thoughts. How Wade dealt with his actions against Harry Lee mattered little to Cullen. He would be long gone.
The atmosphere here in South Carolina was already riddled with tension against any Yankee. For so long, he had straddled the fence; he wasn’t anymore. He discovered he was his father’s son.
Anger and fury consumed him. He had failed her. She had held out waiting for him and believed they could become what he had promised. Briefly, he thought back to the day Wade had asked him for help with Josephine. He should have known they had been doomed from the start.
He had been ill used by the family that had raised him. Now, they were safe from the wolves at their door. The legacy of the Montgomerys of Charleston intact, but at what price?
Josephine would always be a ghost within his heart. Feelings that would never fade. He never understood how strong his love ruled him until this moment.
Given little choice, he would take Heyward and Gillie back to Philadelphia. He would not abandon them. Josephi
ne would want that. In the end, Cullen realized he would leave with his frustration and ire, not caring if he ever returned.
PART THREE
BORN TO BE BROTHERS
“Why do men fight who were born to be brothers?” ~ General James Longstreet, Battle of Gettysburg
Chapter One
Magnolia Bluff, Charleston
Winter, 1860
A light mist had settled over the dreary rain-swept landscape. Josephine leaned against the windowsill of the room that Wade had locked her into…so long ago. She had lost track of time. It seemed an eternity while the hours slowly ticked away and still no word had come.
Her eyes skimmed over the panorama of the plantation, but she was keenly aware of each rider who came up the long winding lane. She watched as one mesmerized, lost in her thoughts.
Lifting her head up to God, she prayed. Oh, Lord, in your mercy, don’t let them die! Nothing mattered except that Cullen and Gillie lived. There would be no peace until she knew they were safe.
Where…where had everything gone so wrong? She had been so anxious to return to Charleston after Andrew Montgomery had jilted her at the altar. On the journey back home from Philadelphia, she should have felt desolate. She hadn’t—no, far from it. She had never been happier because of Cullen Smythe and the love they shared.
She had returned to Charleston with the bright hope and dream of the life before her. She had only herself to blame for the dilemma she found herself in now. Cullen wanted to marry before they had departed Philadelphia. It was she who had delayed the wedding ceremony because of that telegram!
How was she to have known that Clayton Montgomery would have been so devious and cruel? The imposter had pretended to be her sick papa and tricked her into returning before she married Cullen.
Upon her arrival, she had been devastated to discover that her papa had passed away. Clayton Montgomery had manipulated the situation to his advantage and his desire to keep Magnolia Bluff in his Southern family.
Jo rose and walked over to the door. When she turned the handle, the door rattled, but did not budge. Locked.
“Miss Jo, do ya need something?” a voice asked through the barrier.
Smothering a frustrated gasp, she pleaded, “Amos, it has been long enough. Master Wade will understand if you let me out. I need to find out what is happening.”
“Ah can’t, Miss Jo,” Amos answered. “Master Wade don gave me orders.”
She grimaced; she wanted nothing more than to scream. Instead, she pounded on the door until her hands hurt. It got her nowhere. She had only succeeded in scaring the servants. Moments later, Jo heard a timid knock from one of the kitchen girls, who asked whether she had need of anything.
Jo wanted nothing more than to retort she wanted out! She had to see whether Cullen and Gillie were safe, but she realized she would only exude wasted energy. She was trapped in her room. Wade had seen to that.
Her desperation worsened; she found it hard to breathe. How had it come to this?
Only hours before, she had placed her faith in Wade’s word and married him. She hadn’t time to contemplate her actions. She had reacted in the only way possible to save Cullen and Gillie.
Now Wade had his precious Magnolia Bluff. And…well, she would deal with her loss. Knowing that somewhere in the world, Cullen was...alive.
With a heavy sigh, she remembered a time when marrying Wade Montgomery would have made her the happiest woman in Charleston. So handsome and debonair, he had completely disarmed her with his engaging smile and charm.
She had fallen under his spell and thought herself in love with him. But that was before he deceived her…before he had married Clarissa…before she had met Cullen.
Cullen! Her heart fluttered at the thought of the dark and brooding man who she loved…who had saved her more than once from certain scandal. He had been so certain that they would be together forever. It had not been meant to be.
No one had foreseen the inconceivable actions of her cousin, Harry Lee—kidnapping Heyward and Gillie to force Jo’s hand. Why, in God’s good graces, would Harry Lee attempt such a thing?
The answer came readily enough—revenge! Harry Lee wanted to inflict as much damage and hurt to Jo as he could. In the past, Harry Lee had tried schemes to get her inheritance. He wanted her dowry. He realized she would never agree to marry him on her own accord and wanted to force her into a marriage she would never survive…of that fact, she had no doubt.
Harry Lee scared her. He held little regard for human life and thought only of his selfish needs, no matter what he had to do to obtain them. She had known that the first time she had met him when she first arrived in Charleston. Harry Lee had almost killed Gillie.
Her cousin had taunted the tiny slave girl before he dropped her over the railing at the Battery. It nauseated her even now to remember.
Aghast at the scene, Jo had tried to save the helpless young girl. Her efforts had almost cost her her own life, but Cullen had saved her. Brave, courageous Cullen…oh, how her heart wept at the thought of the danger he now faced.
Outside, she heard a commotion and raced to the window. The lateness of the hour had cast shadows over the old oaks draped in gray moss. Caught in the time between dusk and dawn, the plantation stilled, like the quiet before a storm.
A group of men had gathered around a rider in an intense discussion. Within minutes, Clayton Montgomery had mounted his horse and led a group of riders down the road. Something had happened!
Jo shivered uncontrollably with the deadly worry that Cullen had been killed—or Gillie. Her stomach churned; her head throbbed.
Anger swelled within her to be locked up in this room. She should be there. What if Gillie had need of her? What if Cullen was injured? What if? Oh, she was sick with worry!
When she was a child, she hadn’t an inkling she was an heiress. No, while she lived under Grandpa Henry’s roof, she believed herself a poor relation and forced to live on the edge of the society her momma so desperately wanted her daughter to be a part of.
She had known it had been her momma’s dearest wish for her to grow up to be a lady. But she had been quite unaware that Grandpa Henry had been forced into caring for her.
Moreover, Grandpa Henry greatly resented Jo’s presence, having disowned her momma, Lucinda, for marrying her papa, Brantley Wright, a notorious gambler. In all that time, Jo had never figured out what Harry Lee had known all along—her papa had made a deal with Grandpa Henry.
Darkness descended with a silent somberness that shrouded the house. The rains dissipated, allowing a full moon to shine down on the quiet grounds. Jo stood longingly at the window. Closing her eyes, she could see his face so clearly.
His dark eyes stared into hers as if he could see into her soul. One look…one touch was all it took for her to melt into him…for his lips to claim hers. She still felt his kisses and the hope that lingered long after his lips broke from hers.
It seemed like another lifetime. Now, Cullen was lost to her forever. Wade had to get there in time.
Wariness and exhaustion overcame her. Jo lay down upon the bed. Her eyelids drifted closed, but it was a fretful sleep.
Miss Jo…I hurt so…help me!
“Gillie!” Jo bolted up. “Gillie, I’m coming!”
Abruptly, two strong hands grasped hold of her shoulders and gave her a slight shake. Consciousness returned as a face emerged from the haze. Wade.
“Jo, Jo.”
“Let go of me. I have to go. Gillie…she needs me. Don’t you hear her?”
As she pushed back against Wade, she rose and stumbled. He immediately caught her and whirled her around in his arms.
“She isn’t here, Jo.”
Her limbs felt leaden. Not able to lift her gaze, she asked urgently, “Dear God, don’t tell me…”
“We got there in time. Cullen and Gillie live.”
Jo knew a moment of immense relief and collapsed against his chest. She wept. A minute…two—she had lost conscious
ness of time.
“Cullen.” Her lip quivered at the mention of his name. “Oh, thank the good Lord! I have to see him! Where is he? Downstairs?”
For a moment, Wade said nothing. She lifted her eyes to find his blue eyes reflected his concern for her. Slowly, the realization dawned upon her there was something wrong. She wrenched herself out of his arms. She moved toward the door, but he would have none of it. In one quick movement, he blocked her exit.
Confused, she studied him. From the corner of her eye, Jo caught her reflection in the dressing mirror. What a sight she looked! Disheveled, her hair had fallen down around her face. Her eyes were reddened and puffy; her dress wrinkled. She’d scare the saints.
“Give me a moment and I’ll ready myself.”
Wade’s brow was harshly furrowed. “Jo, stop.”
“Wade, I swear if you don’t let me leave this room, I will scream. I have waited all day. I need to see them…to make sure they are—”
“Listen!”
She froze. Her tears ceased as a semblance of rational sense returned. Oh, Lord, Wade was her husband!
Everything had changed. Suddenly, her hands shook; her legs trembled. In the crackling silence, she felt that urge once more to weep.
He moved to her side and led her to the edge of the bed where they sat. He cleared his throat apologetically. “For all intents and purposes, it is over. As I promised, they are both safe, Cullen and Gillie.”
To Jo, his voice resonated a calm, stabling force in a tone much like one talked to a young child. Sudden apprehension swept through her that there was more to his tale than he wanted to admit. “Tell me everything, Wade. I have a right to know.”
In a slow, methodical manner, Wade began. “Gillie was rescued but not before she was gravely injured. I’m sorry, truly I am. Andrew has seen to her injuries. He is with her now. I sent her to Charleston.”
“Wade, I have to go to her…I have to tell Miss Hazel. What of Heyward? Oh, this is all so confusing!”