Immediately, he’d given the order to take cover as snipers began picking off the Rebels one by one. With no idea where the shots were coming from, Ty had ordered none of his men waste ammunition until they could pinpoint their targets.
He bore down on the memory of the hot metal penetrating his thigh. Pain, the likes of which he’d never experienced, ripped him open in a flash of light mixed with a horrible burning. Everything began to move in slow motion afterward. Quelling the panic, which ensued, proved futile. One after another, the explosions continued. His men calling for help, while gunfire surrounding them. The showers of fire debris raining down on them mixed with the blood proved too much.
Dropping to his knees, Ty banked a hand on either side of his head to block the sounds. The turmoil grew in intensity. Clutching at his head, he wished for peace.
The hand on his shoulder had him jerking around. Automatically he reached for his revolver, which wasn’t there.
“Where’d you come from?” He hated the pain in his voice.
“I followed you,” the old woman said. “You shouldn’t be out here, Lieutenant.” She held out her hand. “Here, let me take you back.”
Ty jerked back. “Who are you?”
“A Friend.”
His mind fought with the reality of her words. He’d been immersed in the horror of the battle, realization that the sights and sounds were nothing more than nightmares took a minute to process. Slowly he stood. With the appearance of a small child, he took her hand letting her take him back.
***
“Where did you find him?” Sonja’s words held frustrated impatience.
“At the battle site.” Hortence checked the crockery jar Sonja kept cookies in and helped herself to one. “Keep an eye on him, I said!” She wagged a finger at Sonja. “But did you listen?”
Sonja scowled at the old woman. “I can’t be everywhere at once. I left him on the porch when I went to the garden to gather something for dinner.” Unable to decide if her words had even registered, she scrutinized Hortence closely. Unperturbed, the old woman closed her eyes over the last bite of cookie murmuring to herself.
“Good.” Hortence smacked her lips together in satisfaction.
“I can take care of myself,” Ty called from the bed.
He’d been fuming since Hortence had escorted him home. Sonja couldn’t help herself as she stepped to the door. Wagging a spoon, she gave him her most serious glare. “Yes, we see how well you take care of yourself, Lieutenant.” The emphasis on the words proved she respected his words very little.
“I don’t need a woman worrying about me. I’ve been doing just fine for thirty years. I ‘spect I’ll be able to do the same for thirty more.” His tone held his temper. Sonja wheeled away from the portal before she said something she’d regret. Checking on the pot of stew she had cooking, she cut a glaring look at Hortence, who eyed the cookie crock again. “Are you staying for supper?” Sonja asked with impatience in her voice.
Hortence ideally glanced in her direction before giving her a shrug and venturing over to the door to peer at their patient more closely. “His color’s coming back. His pupils are the right size. He’ll be fine.”
Ty glared back at her and grimaced. “What are you looking at?” he growled.
She said nothing, merely stared speculatively.
“Go on, old woman, before I get up from here to send you on your way.”
“You may want to hear what I have to say, Rebel.”
Ty’s grumbled response wasn’t understandable to either of the women.
“There’s a man at my cabin who says he’s been held prisoner by Yankees at a prisoner of war camp nearby.”
Sonja turned to Hortence, her curiosity peeked. “There’s no prisoner of war camp nearby.”
Hortence glanced in her direction before nodding in agreement. “He said the place resembled hell on earth to be sure.” She glanced back at Ty. “He’s in pretty bad shape, this fellow. Says he escaped there two or three nights back.” Hortence stared at Ty, waiting. When the recollection came, he sat up in the bed.
“My unit was attacked several nights back. What’s his name?”
“Goes by Clemons,” Hortence said.
“Jebedia? Jebedia Clemons?”
Ty’s voice held hope, Sonja mused. He’d told her plain, he had an obligation to find out what happened to as many of his men as he could. She dried her hands, before walking over to the bedroom door. “What are you planning, Lieutenant?”
He glanced in her direction before throwing the covers back. “I don’t know yet until I talk to Jeb.”
“He don’t need to be walking on that leg yet,” Hortence observed as Sonja checked the stew once more.
“Keep your opinions to yourself, witch. I don’t need you buttin’ into my business.”
Sonja appeared in the door. “She’s my guest. Besides, you have no say in the matter. This isn’t your house.” With a curt nod for emphasis, she disappeared again.
“Oh, for the love of God!” The bed ropes sang out as Ty flopped back on the mattress. “I’m prisoner in a house of over rot women.”
“He has spirit. That’s good,” Hortence said as she continued to stare into the bedroom. With a splinter of wood she pulled from her pocket, the old woman picked at her teeth, giving each careful attention.
The sucking sound she made when she’d finished grated on Sonja’s nerves, but she had questions she needed answered before Hortence disappeared as she tended to do at any minute. “The stew has to simmer. Let’s go out on the porch to let the lieutenant rest.” She glanced at him as he lay staring at the ceiling with his jaw clinched in what Sonja could imagine meant temper about to boil over.
“I’ve been having a hard time sleeping lately,” she told Hortence. Shuffling the old woman out the door, she settled in one of the chairs and reached out to pet the goat when he came up wanting attention.
The old woman nodded. “This is all part of the change. You have a great capacity for caring, my child.”
Sonja frowned at the statement. “I guess so.”
Hortence glanced out at the sky with its dwindling light. The moon’s phase is less than a week away. Soon you’ll experience the awakening. Are you ready?”
Grounding down on her molars, Sonja closed her eyes to wish for patience. Talking to Hortence always resembled a test. Of that, she had no doubt. “If I knew what to plan for, I’d be ready, but since you haven’t shared any of that with me, how can I be?” Her voice rose as she glanced at the door. The lieutenant shouldn’t hear their conversation.
Hortence followed her gaze. “Don’t worry. He’s asleep. Didn’t want him becoming concerned over things he can’t change.” She waved a hand in the air and winked at Sonja.
Sonja cut a cool eye at Hortence. “You cast a spell over the lieutenant.”
Hortence merely shrugged.
Sonja searched the porch rafters for divine intervention. Her normalcy continued to spine out of control. Wanting to scold the old woman for interfering in Sonja’s house had the blood heating in her veins. “What will happen once I change?”
“That will be up to you, my child.” Hortence sat back and laced her fingers over her belly. “You will see as the wolf sees and understand apprehension, danger, friend, and foe. This much I can give you.” She wagged a boney finger at Sonja. “How you use that knowledge will tell the tale.”
Sonja pursed her lips in consideration. “You mean I will have free will? I’ll be able to decipher good from evil?”
Hortence let out a cackle that sent the night birds fluttering off in all directions. “Yes, my child. You’ll be able to choose good over evil. To recognize danger in time to react.” She slapped both gnarled hands on her thighs. “My work here is done.” She rose.
“Wait!” Sonja jumped up as well. “I still have questions. I still have things I need the answers to. Like…” She waved toward the door. “What will I do with him while I’m a werewolf?” She hated the anxiety in her voice.
“Ah, planning is good.” Hortence reached into the pocket of her skirt and brought out a small leather pouch. “On the night of the full moon, give this to him in his dinner. He’ll sleep like a baby.”
Sonja looked down at the pouch in her hand. Scanning Hortence’s face, she nodded. If she understood, she would incapacitate the man with a sleeping potion. Clutching the pouch tight to her chest, she took a deep breath before her nerves got the better of her. The very idea distressed her. She would drug the lieutenant so he wouldn’t follow. Sonja had to admit the plan sounded good. Before she could share the opinion, the old woman disappeared. So much for dinner guests.
***
The next day, Ty’d been able to get up, bath, dress, and trim the chin stubble he’d inherited from his father before Sonja could help. He’d sent her to the garden to gather some greens for the noon meal.
Suddenly, the door flew open and Sonja appeared. Wild eyed, breathless with fingers trembling, she quickly stepped toward him. Her whiskey colored eyes held alarm, but there was determination as well.
“Riders coming in fast. Stay here,” Sonja whispered. “Don’t move. Don’t say a word. Do you understand?” Motioning Ty back in the bed, she threw the covers over him as she spoke close to his ear. “If need be, you’ll pretend you’re my husband. You’re down with the Typhoid, all right?”
A frenzy of contained motivation whirled around her. The nerves showed in the clinching of her jaw as well as the thinning of her lips. When she inched back to see if he comprehended her little ruse, her eyes gleamed with a feral glint. A golden huge lit their irises. He could’ve sworn she growled, there was something primal about the sound that called to him. The quicksilver reaction to danger reminded him of his men when faced with the enemy. Ty found concentration difficult as he considered the fierce set of her face. He had the strangest need to pull her in close and protect her from herself. They were looking for him. Being the reason for concern had him caught between the need to fight and the need to relinquish control to her. Annoyed with his own reactions to her directives, Ty shoved them back in order to help her any way possible.
With a smooth move of her hand in and out of the drawer of the nightstand beside the bed, Sonja produced a small Derringer, a ladies’ pistol. Handing the gun to him, she paid attention to his eyes as he examined the tiny weapon. “This isn’t for killing, the Derringer’s for protection,” she said.
Ty raised one brow. “If you say so.”
The call to halt came from outside the window. Sonja peeked out the drape at the small window before turning to Ty and mouthing the word “quiet.” She turned before disappearing through the door, locking it behind her. Ty slipped to the window to gain a view. The sight of the Yankee commander surged through him before he got his temper under control. With the instinct to survive, he flattened himself against the wall and listened.
“Ma’am.” Major Perkins, the leader of the detachment, tipped his hat to Sonja in a courtly gesture.
The small cottage was l-shaped as if the addition of the bedroom had been a later add-on. From the small window, Ty had a perfect view of Sonja as she confronted the Yankee officer from the porch. She stood with her feet planted and her arms wrapped over her chest. Ty noted her board, straight back. Her lovely face remained unreadable, but her mouth formed a firm line in her delicate chin.
“Major Perkins.”
“We’ll need to search the premises for those Confederate deserters.”
As the adrenalin surged through him, Ty’s ingrained response wanted to launch an attack. Tamping down the urge to bolt through the door behind Sonja with guns blazing, Ty looked down at the small lady’s pistol Sonja had given him. He wouldn’t be launching any attack with the gun he held in the palm of his hand. If he couldn’t start the fight, at least he could defend the fort. Ty focused all his attention on the major and the details of the detachment. Knowing one’s enemy was an advantage. He understood the Major. They were a band of renegade blue-bellies scouring the countryside for anything they could take in the name of the United States Army.
“A Confederate ammunitions transport was captured and exploded several nights prior about a half a mile from here. Ten Yankee soldiers along with most of the Confederates died. Their commander and several rebels are missing. We’re here to track them down,” the Major said.
So, Ty mused, they’d managed to eliminate several of the damn Yankees. Satisfaction settled his nerves a bit. Some of his men were missing. They might be alive! Ty’s relief grew acute, but not complete. Questions about their whereabouts and condition ran through his brain. The major’s clipped Yankee voice broke his concentration.
“I’m sorry, but I’ll have to ask you to step aside, ma’am. These premises must be searched,” the major said.
Ty tensed as he waited for what would be his last act as a lieutenant in the Confederacy. He couldn’t expect to take on many of the Yankees successfully, but he’d try for any who walked through the bedroom door. Figuring he’d buy Sonja some time to escape proved all he could hope for. Ty checked the rounds in the small pistol. A short oath left his mouth. Only five shots remained in the tiny gun.
“I would advise against searching the house, Major.” Sonja’s voice came to him on the breeze. She sounded cool and calm.
The major dismounted without waiting. He arranged his face in a scowl as he took in her words. “What do you mean?” he asked before taking a step forward before tipped his hat to her. “Ma’am, our orders are direct from the Major General of the 23rd United States Cavalry. We are to search the premises.” He bent slightly at the waist in another courtly bow. “We’ll be out of your way in due time.”
“That’s not a good idea, Major.” Sonja stood her ground.
This woman had spine. She wouldn’t be so easily placated, Ty mused. Glancing back at the riders, he counted four others with the major. Each one carried several weapons. Apparently, he was the only one ill prepared for a gunfight as he looked down at the pitiful excuse for a gun in his hand. Glancing back at the enemy, Ty gauged if he were accurate, he’d get one maybe two before they drew and filled him full of lead.
Noting the major’s arrogant attitude, Ty took an immediate dislike to the man. He waxed too full of his own importance for Ty. Physically, Perkins was a tall man, perhaps six foot four inches, muscular of build, while keen of eye. He wore the chops men favored. They were dark with a liberal peppering of gray, giving his face an ashen appearance. He sat tall in the saddle and his mount appeared well tended. Those keen eyes took in everything around him in brief, calculating glances. Slapping his finely oiled gloves on his palm, Perkins finished with another of those lusty perusals of Sonja.
That did it! Perkins would be Ty’s first shot. The man was no gentleman even in front of a woman from his own side. He hated the men who called themselves Yankees. The fact he could be so brazen proved abhorrent to his thinking. How could the man be so bold with a lady? Perkins was the kind of Union soldier he despised. If not today, Ty vowed to see him again, perhaps in hell.
Sonja hadn’t said a word. Her only response to Perkins directive had been to close the front door at her back. Ty could hear the hinges squeak as she shut the door before turning back to face the major blocking his forward progress. “Major Perkins.” her voice remained surprisingly calm.
From his position, Ty could hear her strength in her address of the major. That a girl, Sonja. Keep talking.
“I won’t presume to tell you what you can or cannot do, but my husband is down with the Typhoid.” Sonja paused. “You do know what Typhoid means don’t you?”
The Major’s expression slipped into uneasiness as he cleared his throat. “Typhoid? Yes, ma’am, I’m familiar with Typhoid.”
“He contracted the dreaded mess while logging in the swamp,” she said before raising her hand. She pointed in the direction of the swamp. “He’s been down with the fever three days now.”
Perkin’s boots scrapped the boards of the porch as
he turned to speak to his men. Once again, his voice rose in volume as he faced Sonja. “I am sorry your husband is ill, ma’am. Of course, we won’t come in. But we will search the barn and fields.”
“Thank you, Major.” Clipped and cool came her response. Sonja leveled her chin nodding briefly at the Yankee.
Ty breathed a sigh of relief. The mention of the Typhoid had stalled their advance. Otherwise, the Yankees would’ve barged in, making themselves at home. When they discovered who the man in the bedroom was, they’d have left nothing but the well hole filled with debris and the bodies of Ty, the Confederate soldier, and Sonja, the Rebel sympathizer, swinging from the old oak tree out front. There wouldn’t have been any trial or even an inquisition. No, he’d already seen enough of their kind, pillaging, murdering, renegade Yankee cavalry, scouring the countryside in search of whatever they could take, all in the name of the United States Government. His hands fisted at his sides. Damn the Yankees!
***
The last of the cavalry horses disappeared into the dense growth surrounding the road, which passed near her cabin. Not wanting to think about what could’ve happened, she wrapped her arms about herself, laying her head against the cool pane of the leaded glass window. Robert would’ve said, “Now, now, don’t worry, Sonja. We’ll get another chicken. They left us one. The hen will be enough.” If she closed her eyes she could hear his voice. She could still hear the voice of the man she’d lost over three years before. Was she going mad?
The merciless demons had taken the goat. The goat for heaven’s sake! The Union Army expected people to survive on little more than nothing. She forced the thoughts out of her mind. She and the lieutenant had missed a bullet and they were both safe.
Grateful the Yankees were gone, she turned to get about the noon meal and came face to face with the lieutenant. Her hand came up, clutching at her throat. The fingers trembled for an instant before she remembered to tighten them around her arms once more. “You startled me.”
Stepping away from the window, Sonja made a pretense of gathering up her skillet she kept near the stove on a peg in the wall. “I’ll have lunch started in a few minutes.” She glanced over her shoulder. His somber eyes watched her. His stare bore into her with the intensity of a knife. If he’d sliced open her heart he wouldn’t have seen into her soul any more clearly. “You shouldn’t be out of the bed.” The shake of her head she intended to scold him with made her feel lightheaded. “If you open your wound again, you won’t like the way I have to close a tear. I promise you.” The vision of how she’d had to lay a hot poker across his flesh to cauterize the wound came back to her. With such primitive measures, she’d managed to stop the flow of blood. Somehow the Rebel had actually lived. He should’ve died.
The Lady in the Mist (The Western Werewolf Legend #1) Page 5