Hearts Under Fire

by Kathryn Kelly

  “I reckon it was a Yankee horse.”

  “It was my horse. A Yankee gave it to me. But it was mine, nonetheless.”

  He stared blankly at her.

  “Hazel stole my horse.”

  “She said you stole it from the Yankees, so it was ours to take.”

  “Hazel is bending the truth.”

  “You’re trying to confuse me. She said I shouldn’t talk to you because you’d do that.”

  Claire turned her head to hide a smile. Stared into the darkness of night. I’m not going anywhere tonight.

  “I don’t mean to confuse you,” she said, standing up. Though that had exactly been her intent. “I’ll get some sleep now. And leave you alone. If you want to sleep in your bed, don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.”

  “It’s alright,” he said. “I sleep in the barn. This isn’t much different. Besides, if Hazel wakes up and finds me gone, she’ll tan my hide.”

  Claire kept her face blank, trying not to imagine the beatings Daniel must have taken over the years.

  She tiptoed back inside and climbed back into the bed. She pulled the blanket up to her chin and closed her eyes. I should sleep while I can.

  Who knew what Hazel would have her doing come the morning.

  Unfortunately, the morning came before the first light of sun was little more than a pale glow.

  And apparently the marshal had some free time after all.

  Claire rolled over and buried her head under the pillow. She was in the midst of a nightmare.

  “Claire.”

  Her name being screamed into her ear was definitely not part of a dream or even a nightmare.

  The events of yesterday came back to her in one fell swoop.

  She groaned. And rolled over and opened her eyes. Hazel stood at the foot of her bed, her arms akimbo. “Get up. The marshal’s here.”

  The marshal.

  Here to accuse her of being a horse thief.

  She dragged herself from the bed.

  “What? You slept in your shoes? Were you raised in a barn?”

  Claire put her feet on the floor. Thought about Grandpa. About how she had been raised to treat people with respect and dignity.

  She stood up, tightened the sash around her waist that had come loose in her sleep and put her hands on her hips. “You have no idea how I was raised and obviously you don’t care. I can assure you that I never, never, kept anyone against their will or made anyone do my wash for me.”

  “Get on out here and explain yourself to the marshal.”

  “You can’t speak to me that way.”

  “I can speak to you however I want when you’re under my roof.”

  “If you hadn’t taken my horse, I would not be under your roof.”

  Hazel closed the distance between them and grabbed her by the elbow. Claire jerked back. “Keep your hands off me,” she said.

  “Let her be,” Daniel said, coming to stand between them.

  “What are you doing, boy?” Hazel asked.

  “She didn’t do anything wrong. Don’t hurt her.”

  “It’s alright, Daniel,” Claire said. “I’m just going to talk to the marshal.”

  “What’s going on in here?” A deep voice interrupted at the door to the bedroom.

  All three turned to face a bearded, burly man dwarfing the doorway.

  “I think you’re looking for me,” Claire said, stepping around Hazel and Daniel.

  “You’re the girl who stole the horse?” he asked. Despite his rough look, he wore a badge pinned to his shirt and his eyes had a kindness to them.

  “I didn’t steal the horse,” she said, again.

  “At any rate, I think you’d best come with me,” he said.

  “Gladly,” Claire muttered under her breath. Anyplace is better than here.

  Chapter Fifteen

  After a conversation with the auctioneer that started out going nowhere and ended up with Jeffrey’s blood boiling, he helped Grandpa onto the back of the horse, and they headed west.

  The auctioneer didn’t know where the horse came from originally; however, he did know who sent it for him to sell. The auctioneer, it seemed, did not have a very rigorous vetting process. He cared not how the goods he sold were come by. He only wanted his hefty cut.

  He refused to let the horse go without full payment; however, Jeffrey left with something much more important—the name of the woman who brought the horse in to sell. Hazel Ketchins.

  His impulse was to jump on the back of the horse and race to Hazel’s house, hopefully to find Claire, but he didn’t have the heart to ask Grandpa to wait for him. Claire was, after all, his granddaughter.

  He sighed. It was going to take hours just to get there.

  “It doesn’t make sense for you to be walking,” Grandpa said.

  “I’ve walked so many miles. I’m used to it,” Jeffrey said.

  “It doesn’t make sense,” he said again. “You could be there and back by the time we get down the road good.”

  Jeffrey stopped. Studied the man who had become his friend. Was he a mind reader now?

  “You know I’m right,” Grandpa said.

  Jeffrey looked around. They were still in town. It wouldn’t be far for him to walk back. Go to the tavern. Have a cigar. Maybe even a drink. Relax.

  Jeffrey ran his hand through his hair. “This is a good horse,” he said.

  “Here. Help me down. My old bones need to rest.”

  Jeffrey helped the older man down. “You’ll be alright?”

  Grandpa took a step back. “Go get her.”

  Jeffrey jumped onto the horse, hit the reins, and galloped away. It felt good to feel the wind in his face again and speed of the horse beneath him. His horse had been shot out from under him long before the steamboat explosion. He’d consequently been forced to walk. Everywhere.

  The horse traversed the distance in no time. Jeffrey followed the instructions given to him, turning left at the fork, and continuing until he came to the big oak tree with the swing hanging by thick ropes.

  Second house on the left. It was a cottage. Like most houses in the south, in bad need of a paint job and other repairs.

  He slowed to a walk, watching for movement.

  His heart lodged in his throat when he saw her. She was being escorted out the front door and down the front porch by a rough-looking, burly man.

  He’d not been warned about a man.

  He instinctively felt for his gun, but remembered it had been taken away.

  Claire smiled at the man, took his arm when he offered it to help her down the steps.

  As they reached the bottom of the stairs, Claire glanced up, then focused on Jeffrey. She stood still. Watching him approach. Her expression confused.

  A couple of yards away, he stopped and dismounted. Took a step forward.

  Her face split into a wide smile and she ran to him, throwing herself into his arms.

  Her scent, her softness enveloped him. He picked up her, her arms around his neck, and twirled her around.

  Her face buried against his neck. Holding her close, he couldn’t get enough.

  “I thought I’d lost you,” she murmured against his skin.

  “Never. I’d go to the ends of the earth to find you.” He pulled back, his hands in her hair, on her face.

  Though she was smiling, her eyes were moist. He kissed her eyelids. Drew her close again.

  The marshal cleared his throat. Jeffrey, keeping his arms around Claire, turned to the man.

  “Is this the horse in question?” he asked.

  “You found my horse,” Claire said.

  “More like bought it,” Jeffrey said, wryly.

  “If you hang around for a few days, I’ll get your money back,” the marshal said.

  “No thanks,” Jeffrey said. “We’ve been here long enough. Getting Claire back is worth any money spent.”

  “I more than understand,” the marshal said. “If you don’t mind, I’ll escort you into tow
n.”

  “Do you need to say goodbye to Miss Ketchins?” Jeffrey asked.

  Claire’s eyes widened. She glanced at the marshal. Shook her head. “The sooner we get away, the better.”

  Jeffrey gazed at her questioningly.

  “I’ll explain later.”

  Jeffrey noticed a young boy standing near the porch, shuffling his feet, watching them.

  Claire followed his gaze. Disentangling herself, she went to the boy.

  “Daniel,” she began. “Do you want to come with us?”

  The boy lowered his gaze. “Nah. I’ll stay here a little longer. Miss Hazel treats me alright.” He looked up at the horse and Jeffrey. “I’m gonna be leaving soon to join the fighting. I hear tell that once I’m fourteen, I’ll be old enough.”

  “I hope the war is over by then,” Claire said. “Are you sure? You can come with us.”

  The boy shook his head. “I don’t know anything but here.”

  “Very well,” Claire said. “Take care of yourself.”

  She rejoined Jeffrey and shrugged. “It’s complicated,” she said.

  They got onto the horse, Jeffrey behind her, and with the marshal as their escort, made their way back to Natchitoches as the sun began to drop below the trees.

  Jeffrey wanted to pick up Grandpa and just go home.

  Claire snuggled against Jeffrey, her back against his chest, the horse swaying gently. He had assured her that Grandpa was safely waiting for them in town.

  Claire was flooded with relief at being away from Hazel’s house and joy at being with Jeffrey again. She truly thought she would never see him again.

  If not for Hazel selling her horse out from under her, Jeffrey never would have found her.

  “How did you find me anyway?” she asked. “I was supposed to be at Aunt Becky’s house, but Aunt Becky…” her voice trailed off, the lump in her throat as she remembered her kind aunt. Grandpa’s sister had visited them many times. She always brought joy to them, especially Grandpa.

  “Aunt Becky’s worried about you,” he said.

  Claire twisted around to look at him.

  “Whoa,” he said, grabbing her close around the waist. “Let’s not fall off of this horse.”

  She turned back. “They didn’t tell you,” she said.

  “Tell me what?”

  “Aunt Becky died.”

  “What? When?”

  “I don’t know. She didn’t say. But it’s been a little while.” Her chin trembled.

  “I met her yesterday. She seemed healthy to me.”

  She twisted again.

  Jeffrey chuckled as he held onto her. “You’re gonna knock us to the ground yet.”

  “You met Aunt Becky!”

  “Yeah. She’s a nice lady. We stayed at her boarding house.”

  Relief and disbelief flooded through Claire. She’d been grieving for Aunt Becky and now… she was well.

  “Why would she lie?”

  “Hazel lied to you?”

  “About that. Hazel not only lied, but she wouldn’t let me leave. I was a prisoner in her house.”

  Jeffrey stopped the horse. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I just wanted to be away from there. There was nothing you could do.”

  “I could have made her pay for mistreating you.”

  “You couldn’t hurt a woman.”

  “Claire,” he said. “I will hurt anyone who dares to harm you.”

  A warmth spread through her. She linked her hands with Jeffrey’s. Tilting her head back against his chest, she turned her head enough that he placed his cheek against hers. Then they each shifted slightly until his lips pressed against hers. Her head back, her eyes closed, she absorbed the feel of him.

  Her heart swelled. She loved everything about him. The way he smelled of outdoors. The way his cheek was rough against hers. The way her hands fit safely inside his.

  The way he vowed to protect her. And she had no doubt that he would if need be.

  The way he sent shivers through her body. Shivers that had never been there before.

  Shivers that she didn’t completely understand. But she wanted to.

  She never wanted to be apart from him.

  She never wanted him to take his lips from hers.

  This feeling. This love.

  Claire was in love with Jeffrey.

  The thought sent a shockwave through her.

  She was in love with him in every possible way.

  Perhaps they needed to get off the horse.

  He ended their kiss with a series of little kisses, promising of more. “We’re here,” he said.

  Her eyes were still dazed from his kiss and the realization that she was in love with him. She righted herself and focused on the town opening up in front of them.

  She should be happy to see the town.

  She would have preferred for the trip to last a little longer.

  Heading toward Main Street, they found Aunt Becky’s house. The Yankees, it seemed, had spared Natchitoches.

  Jeffrey dismounted first, then took Claire by the waist and, pulling her close, slid her from the horse. As she slid down into his arms, her feet not yet touching the ground, she was caught in a haze. She wrapped her arms around him and felt her body respond to being pressed against his.

  He groaned and kissed her full on the mouth.

  “Now, now,” Grandpa said, coming down the front porch. “We don’t need to have a shotgun wedding.”

  Jeffrey set her on her feet and keeping a hand on her elbow to steady her, took a step back.

  “Grandpa!” Claire said, running to hug her grandfather. Her arms around him, she was overcome with emotions and tears ran down her cheeks. “I was so worried about you.”

  “I’m the one who was worried,” he said. “When you didn’t show up here, I thought something must have happened to you.”

  Pulling back, she swiped at the tears. Nodded. “I sort of got lost.”

  “Well, you’ll have time to rest now. Aunt Becky knows you’ll be staying here.”

  “Me?”

  “I’m leaving in the morning to go back to the house. I have to pick something up.”

  Claire glanced at Jeffrey, a feeling of dread hitting her in the gut. “You’re going back for the money.”

  Grandpa glanced at the deserted street. “I have to. It’s all I have left.”

  “But Grandpa, it burned.”

  “I don’t think so. The bricks would protect it.”

  “How much money are you talking?” Jeffrey asked.

  “Three hundred.”

  “Confederate,” Claire added.

  “The area is crawling with Yankees,” Jeffrey said.

  “They won’t bother an old man.”

  “Please, Grandpa. Don’t go. The money isn’t worth it.”

  Aunt Becky opened the front door, stepped out onto the porch. “What are you all doing standing out here? Get in here and eat this supper I just cooked. Come on.”

  Putting their conversation aside, the three of them went inside. Aunt Becky enveloped Claire into a big hug before she hustled them all to the dinner table.

  Claire was reminded of the time she had spent here. Before the war. When Uncle John was alive. They managed to take Claire with them to a ball or a BBQ every time she visited. Claire enjoyed her simple life living with her grandparents, but time spent here in town had fed her fanciful ideas of a more exciting life. A place with boys that would come courting.

  Her face flushed, she turned and smiled at Jeffrey. He hadn’t come courting, but instead, had broken into their house. And managed to break into her heart in the process.

  After supper, after Aunt Becky, had gone to her sitting room to quietly read and rest before bed, and the three of them went out and sat on the porch.

  Claire and Jeffrey sat on the porch swing and Grandpa sat on the rocker.

  “I could use a good cigar right about now,” Grandpa said.

  How could he be so calm, Clair
e wondered, when she was sick with worry about him traipsing across the country that had become a battlefield. Just weeks ago, he was so weak, he could barely get out of bed. And now he wanted to go off by himself and travel miles to retrieve Confederate money that was essentially worthless.

  “I’d even take a bad cigar at the moment,” Jeffrey said.

  Men.

  “Grandpa,” Claire said, “It’s Confederate money. It’s not… it’s not worth what it used to be.”

  “I know that, Kitten, but I need to see the home place one more time.”

  Claire sighed. She had to admit to herself that she understood that.

  “Very well,” she said, sitting up straight, ready for an argument. “I’m going with you.”

  “And don’t you two even begin to think that you’re going to take a trip without me,” Jeffrey said, taking Claire’s hand.

  Grandpa merely shrugged. “Alright,” he said. “The sooner we leave, the better.” He stood up. “I’ll see you two at daybreak.”

  Aunt Becky had already given them each a bedroom. The large house had five bedrooms and she only had one boarder at the time, so there was plenty of space for all them.

  “Thank you,” Claire said, squeezing Jeffrey’s hand.

  “I should get some sleep, too. I have to get up early tomorrow and go into town.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t plan on walking this time. After we go by Grandpa’s house, I’m ready to start home.”

  The familiar pang in the pit of her stomach. He couldn’t stay here with them forever. He had to return to his own home. Up north.

  “Come on,” he said. “I’ll walk you to your room.”

  Her hand in his, her mood glum, she went with him upstairs to the bedroom Aunt Becky had given her.

  “Wait,” he said, “I need to give you something.” He pulled her with him into his room across the hall.

  Feeling a bit risqué, she went with him. He reached into a saddlebag lying across a chair and pulled out a book.

  She took the book, and a little thrill shot through her. It was Jane Eyre. “I thought I’d lost it,” she said, throwing her arms around him.

  “It found it on the horse.”

  She pulled back, looked into his eyes, reflecting the candlelight. “The whole thing is unbelievably fortuitous.”