With her crudely cropped hair, Jennifer could be taken for a very pretty boy.
Ian almost cried out loud. Dead or alive, he couldn’t allow Jennifer to be taken by anyone other than himself. He thought briefly that he would rather die on the spot than have to let his uncle know that his daughter had been hanged by Union forces as a spy. And that she was dead….
With a furious strength he wrenched the rope free from around her neck and stood, hiking her over his shoulder. “Bury those two!” he commanded harshly. “And Sergeant! Don’t think that this will go unreported, by God. I’ll take it straight to Lincoln myself!”
“They killed good Union soldiers!” the sergeant protested in return. “They killed our boys! Damn, sir, but you are one of those Johnny Rebs yourself at heart. Why, everyone in hell knows your kin are killing us all over, Major.”
Ian spun around, staring at the man. He fell silent. He turned blood red.
“Someone ought to shoot him and put him out of his misery!” Sam said audibly, staring at the sergeant. “Yeah, someone should,” Reggie said smoothly.
“Burial detail!” the sergeant ordered hoarsely.
Ian turned. Carrying Jennifer, he strode quickly down the trail.
Away from the others, he shifted her into his arms, seeking a pulse, some sign of life, as he moved.
Her eyes opened. Liquid and dazzling against the handsome contours of her face, beautiful despite her ragged hair and muddied complexion.
“Ian!” she mouthed. She had no voice.
She almost smiled. She tried to touch him.
But then…
Her eyes closed.
Chapter 27
Alaina continually expected Ian to arrive. He didn’t.
As the weeks passed, she found herself growing more and more nervous. He had come when the city was Confederate; now it was Union, and he hadn’t made an appearance, nor had he written to her.
The spring of 1862 had brought several bitter defeats to the Confederate troops, one of the worst being the loss of New Orleans. Alaina discovered through Captain Willoughby, a kindly old Union gentleman—liked by even the most bitter Rebels of St. Augustine—that her husband had most probably been involved. The Union had made use of a cover plan in which it appeared that the main attack would be against Pensacola or Mobile. Joint army and navy forces had taken the strategic Southern city, and Captain Willoughby told Alaina that she should be very proud; her husband’s intelligence frequently kept the Union well abreast of Confederate troop movements.
Alaina returned from surgery one day to find that she had a guest. Walking exhaustedly toward her little guest house, she was startled to hear voices—Lilly’s and another soft, feminine voice. And Sean, shrieking with laughter.
Frowning, she hurried to her door and threw it open.
“Risa!” she exclaimed.
Risa, who had been down on the ground wrestling with Sean, stood, smiling.
“Hello.”
Alaina stared back at her blankly. Sean cried out a happy little “Mum” and came running forward on his short but sturdy legs, throwing himself at her. She picked him up and he kissed her cheek, then shimmied back down and flung himself against Risa’s skirt again.
“Alaina—is everything all right?” Risa asked, since Alaina continued to stare at her blankly.
“I—I—”
A dozen thoughts sped through her head. She liked Risa, really liked her, respected her for her frankness, honesty, courage, and loyalty to her own beliefs. She was also grateful to Risa, and certain that Risa’s intentions had really been the best when she had helped Alaina flee Washington.
But if Risa had come to St. Augustine…
She would have to be more careful than ever. It wasn’t good. She was already a nervous wreck, worried that she would be gone from the city when Ian did decide to make an appearance. But now, every time she made a move, she would have to worry about Risa as well.
Yet Risa’s smile as she faced Alaina was genuine, just as her affection for Sean was sincere. She stood with her beautiful aquamarine eyes alight, her dark hair wild after her play with Sean.
“I’m fine! Just so … so surprised!” Alaina said at last, and she smiled and hurried forward then, hugging Risa with warmth.
When she drew away, however, she thought a strange light touched Risa’s eyes—if just briefly. And it nagged at her a moment as she wondered if Ian had sent her.
“When did you come? How did you get here? Er— why did you come?”
Risa shrugged, trying to smooth down her hair. “My father has been away with the Army of the Potomac so much that my being at home became ludicrous. I would walk around, wait, worry—and join sewing circles,” she added, making a strange little face that caused Alaina to laugh.
“You don’t like sewing?”
Risa shrugged. “I felt… impotent. A friend of my father’s is a flag officer, and his ship was coming this way—and here I am.”
“Ah!”
“I’ve taken a little house just a block down on the water.”
“That’s… wonderful,” Alaina breathed. Thank God!
At first she had thought Risa had come to stay with her. Live with her, see and hear far more than she should…. “It will be so much fun to have company,” she lied. She smiled, watching Risa. “But it is quite strange to see you here.”
“Isn’t it, though.”
“Have you seen Ian?” Alaina asked.
“On his last trip to Washington. Have you seen him?”
“Once,” Alaina admitted. “But he hasn’t been here in quite a while.”
“I believe he was involved in the operations around New Orleans.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“And you?” Risa asked her pointedly.
“I—I work with Dr. Percy,” she said. “Let me just see to some supper and we’ll talk. You can tell me all about Washington. I’m afraid that St. Augustine will be slow and mundane in comparison.”
“Ah, but it is a change of scenery!” Risa assured her. “And I have done some nursing. Perhaps I’d be of some help to you and Dr. Percy.”
“Well, it will be wonderful to have you with us,” Alaina said smoothly.
Under different circumstances, it would have been wonderful.
The soldiers and the people were in love with Risa. She moved with quiet grace, the rustle of her skirts and the soft subtle scent of her perfume reaching the men when she arrived. She was an angel of mercy, more adept at administering chloroform than Dr. Percy was himself, and so charming and clever that she had the men laughing right up to the point that they passed out. Risa didn’t blanch at blood, nor turn in horror when Dr. Percy needed assistance with an instrument. Alaina was surprised to realize that she gained strength from Risa— even if it was just a bit of an irritation that Risa should prove to be quite so perfect. Risa never turned away from any medical task, no matter how menial or displeasing it might be.
Risa had been there one week when Dr. Percy came to the guest house late one night. He had a ciphered letter for Alaina to bring to the company of men camped on the far side of the river, near the Englewood planta- tion. There would be no difficulty in her actually leaving the city; she and Dr. Percy were often visited by the Yankees in command, and the help they had given the Union soldiers was appreciated. They were granted passes to cross the Union lines whenever necessary.
Dr. Percy wouldn’t be leaving with her, since she was ostensibly going to stay with Mrs. Englewood, who was expecting a child any day. Dr. Percy’s services might still be required in the city, and Alaina had now assisted in childbirth many times. Women were best to deal with women’s matters, especially when physicians couldn’t be spared.
“This is simple courier duty, Alaina. But next week, the Moccasin must strike again.”
“When? How? Union ships guard the harbor.”
“I’ll bring you south. We’ve men ready to bring you to a ship hidden in an inlet. It’s another trip to the Ba
hamas and back. You’ll be brought to Biscayne Bay and set ashore close to your own home; you’ll be carrying some financial assistance from British friends, and supplies of chloroform and ether.”
“Dr. Percy, what if my husband comes to St. Augustine and I am gone?”
“That’s easy enough. I intend to say that you had an opportunity to go home to see your husband’s family. This is the same story I will tell your friend Risa. Beautiful woman, isn’t she? Proud, strong, competent, kind— beautiful!”
Alaina smiled. “Just lovely.”
“Thank God for her! She just proves so darned useful when you’re away!”
Alaina nodded wryly again, staring at Dr. Percy—and wondering if Ian didn’t feel exactly the same way about Risa.
“Alaina, this is one of the most important things the Confederacy will ever ask you to do. The Brits who are donating their gold and medications are basically doing so because you were so passionate and convincing when you met them last. If I were to send anyone else, the supplies might not be forthcoming. And even with the Union here in St. Augustine, you see how short the city is, not just in medical supplies, but in food! We desperately need what foreign help we can get—and we desper- ately need donations of gold. You’ve seen amputations now! Can you imagine that horror for our men with no anesthesia?”
“No, Dr. Percy, I can’t,” she assured him. She would be his courier this one last time, she determined. She’d sail to the Bahamas. Then she’d have to give the business of being the Moccasin some serious thought.
Alaina left very early the next morning so that she wouldn’t have to explain her departure to Risa. She was afraid that Risa might determine to come with her. She still didn’t know if Ian had perhaps been to Washington and asked Risa to come down and watch his wife’s activities.
She rode out alone and was met by Mr. Englewood just across the river, who saluted to the Union guard on their side of the river. The Englewoods played their own brand of dangerous game, Alaina thought, pretending to be Unionists because of their proximity to St. Augustine, while offering their plantation as a meeting place for many of the Union officers and troops within the interior of the state.
Maggie Englewood and her new baby girl appeared to be in excellent health when Alaina arrived at their household. Englewood himself seemed completely unconcerned with the birth of his child—other than that it afforded a good opportunity to bring information across the river. Alaina remained at the house for about an hour before Englewood suddenly rose, went to the door, opened it, and allowed her contact to come in.
Alaina rose, uneasy to see that Peter O’Neill stood in the Englewoods’ foyer.
He smiled with deep amusement and pleasure. It appeared he had been expecting her. Englewood left them alone together, and Peter approached her, taking her hands in his. “Alaina! How sad is war—except for this chance to see you!”
She tried to draw her hands away. “Peter—”
“You have something for me?” he asked gravely.
She undid her hair, finding the cipher she had meticulously folded into her coiffure, a trick learned from Rose and her courier Betty. She nearly jumped when Peter stepped forward. “Just helping!” he assured her, and he did use deft fingers to free the paper from the length of her hair.
“Thank you,” he told her. “A job well done.”
She nodded, feeling queasy. She was, in fact, feeling ill quite frequently lately. The war was taking its toll.
“Alaina, you don’t realize. Your contribution to the Confederacy is inestimable.”
“I have to get back.”
“You don’t really, do you?”
“Peter, please—”
“Alaina,” he said passionately, “one day you will realize, you and I are on the same side in this war.”
“Peter, one day you will understand that I’m married.”
“I promise you,” he said, the liquid blue of his eyes chilling, “when this war is over, you will be a widow.”
“Peter, God knows, when this war is over, we could all be dead. But if you think that you will gain sympathy from me by threatening to kill my husband, you are sadly mistaken.”
Peter stared at her, clenching and unclenching his fists at his sides. “If you don’t see that the man is a vicious traitor, it is you who are horribly mistaken! I love you, Alaina, I always have—”
“Peter, you chose to marry elsewhere!” she reminded him.
“—and one day, you will see it. And if you must grieve for that damnable traitor McKenzie, then you must grieve, but our intelligence has it that the man keeps a camp in the swamp, and if I do nothing else this war, I will find that camp and I will kill him!” Peter finished violently. He stared at her for a moment as if he would like to strangle her himself, then he suddenly smiled. “You’re meant for me, Alaina, and it will happen one day,” he said simply. And, still smiling, he spun around and exited the house.
Englewood appeared the moment he was gone, and Alaina wondered just what the man had heard. “There’s something for you to eat in the parlor,” he told her. “Then we’d best be getting back.”
There were biscuits, ham, and gravy awaiting her. She couldn’t eat, but she pretended to—old habits died hard, and though a lady never consumed too much food too voraciously, it was equally bad manners not to enjoy a host’s hospitality. Peter had upset her more than she wanted to admit. She picked at the food, then was grateful when Mr. Englewood said it was time to go.
As they rode, Alaina heard a woman’s scream, then the crying of children. She looked at Englewood, who shrugged.
“What’s going on?” she asked him.
He spat off the side of his horse. “Traitors!” he told her.
Alaina stared at him.
“Traitors!” he repeated. “Ain’t no business of ours.”
Ignoring him, she kneed her horse and cantered along the trail to the sound of the cries.
She came upon a handsome plantation house on a rolling lawn. A company of soldiers stood around the house, lighting fires at the four corners of it. A young woman had been dragged out on the lawn; soldiers teased and tormented her, throwing her between them, even though she held a small child, and three other children—perhaps ages seven, five, and three—looked on, huddled together and whimpering.
Furious and appalled—Rebel soldiers should never behave so despicably!—Alaina slammed her heels heedlessly against her mount and thundered upon the men. Hearing the horse come, they quickly parted; the young woman was left to herself as Alaina entered the circle, staring down at the men with her eyes flashing.
“What in God’s name are you doing?”
“These folks are traitors,” one of the soldiers declared, “and the place is to be burned, and that’s that!”
“You’ve proof that they’re traitors?”
“Captain O’Neill says they’re traitors, and that makes them traitors!” the young man said.
“We’re not traitors—we’re Unionists, and we’ve stated it all along. And it doesn’t even matter anymore— my husband was killed in action at New Orleans!” the woman cried.
Alaina dismounted, striding between the soldiers. “You are supposedly soldiers of the Rebellion, the last cavaliers—and this is how you behave?”
The group of them—four very young men—looked at her shamefaced. But then she felt a pair of hands set down forcefully upon her shoulders. She turned her head to meet Peter’s eyes.
“This is the fate traitors meet, Alaina,” he told her. “Turn, look!”
She had little choice, for he spun her around. As he did so, the beautiful house started to burn. The woman began to sob, sinking to her knees with her baby held to her breast, her other three children running around to her side.
Alaina slammed an elbow against Peter’s ribs. When he grunted in pain, she escaped him, rushing forward, wrenching her riding cloak from her shoulders and beating out the flames that were beginning to eat at the house. She kicked the kindlin
g into disarray. A minute later, Peter was at her back again.
“Her husband’s dead!” Alaina informed him furiously. “She has four little children! How are they enemies to you? How are they dangerous?”
Staring at her, he let her go. He turned to his troops. “Douse the flames!” he ordered.
Relieved, Alaina felt her knees buckle. She knelt down in the grass. Peter hunkered down in front of her. “Happy, Alaina? Because I promise you, something else shall burn. Get up. I’ll arrange another escort back to the river for you.”
She stood, shrugging away from him. “There is no enemy I fear facing if you are my friend, Peter,” she said angrily. She stormed away from him and mounted her horse. The woman came running to her, reaching for her arm, stopping her. “Thank you, thank you—”
“Please!” Alaina said, close to tears. “Don’t thank me that they’ve had the sense to remember decency! Go, go in quickly, take care of those babies.” She escaped the woman’s hold and kneed her horse forward on the trail. She wanted to reach the river, and for once in her life, she wanted to be in Yankee territory.
She was in such torment that she rode recklessly and was in no way prepared when her horse suddenly reared with a vengeance. She plummeted to the earth, unhurt, swearing. “Why in the world did you do that, you idiot?” she cried to her mount, a skinny bay, The mare merely reared again and went tearing down the trail.
Alaina struggled up, testing herself for broken bones.
She heard a horse coming along the trail behind her, and she tensed, jumping quickly to her feet.
To her amazement, it was Risa riding a handsome roan. Risa reined in, and arched a brow.
“You—Miss Southern horsewoman—were thrown.”
Alaina set her hands on her hips. “Yes, I was thrown. What are you doing here?”
“Following you,” Risa said. Grinning, she dismounted.
“You just passed through Union lines into enemy territory—that easily?”
“I have a medical pass,” Risa assured Alaina sweetly. “Want a ride?”
Rebel Page 39