Glory Bound (Shades of Gray Serial Civil War Trilogy Book 3)

by Jessica James

  Before he could finish the sentence, she had disappeared.

  “I hope you have a pass to get through our men,” he said to nothing but the night.

  Chapter 24

  Honor has caused more deaths than the plague.

  – Julian Pitt Rivers

  “At ease, men.” Andrea spoke in the lowest voice she could muster as three heavily armed soldiers stepped out of the darkness and in front of her horse. “I’m here to see Colonel Hunter.”

  The click of another half dozen guns being cocked at close range was the reply that greeted her.

  “Dismount or we’ll shoot,” a threatening voice right beside her, drawled.

  “I’m here to see the Colonel,” Andrea said again.

  “We heer’d what you said.” The man nearest her horse grabbed the reins. “And if you don’t soon hear what I said, you ain’t gonna live long enough to tell about it.”

  Andrea dismounted at gunpoint, while another man helped himself to her horse. Since none of the men surrounding her appeared to be in particularly amiable frames of mind, she did not dispute their authority. “I have a pass.” She suddenly remembered the one Alex had given her. “I’m here to see the Colonel.”

  “Sure you is. Too bad the Kulnel ain’t heah.”

  “I know he’s here, and he will see me if you’ll just tell him I’ve arrived.”

  “Zat so?” The soldier sounded skeptical. “Little young to be out after dark, ain’t ya?”

  The soldier nearest her then yelled to someone in the darkness. Andrea felt the cold metal of a rifle pushing into her back, which she suspected meant that someone wanted her to move forward.

  “Now walk real slow, boy soldier. Don’t do nothing stupid.” The man pushed her in the opposite direction of the house where she had hoped to find Hunter, instead moving her toward a barn.

  “No.” Andrea stopped. “You don’t understand. I need to see the Colonel.”

  “It’s you that don’t understand. You ain’t getting nowhere near the Kulnel—if he was heah—which I ain’t sayin’ he is. You can show your pass to the officer in charge.”

  “But I must see him.” Andrea stopped again and turned so abruptly that the gun caught her in the ribs and almost knocked the wind out of her.

  At the same time, another man came up from behind her and grabbed her arm. His iron grip held her with one hand, while he continued pointing his gun at her head with the other. Andrea kicked and struggled but to no avail. The man did not even flinch as he continued dragging her toward the barn.

  “At ease men,” a deep voice came from out of the darkness.

  “You know this kid?” One of the men holding her addressed the solitary soldier on horseback who rode out of the shadows by the barn. “Says he’s here to see the Kulnel.”

  Captain Pierce leaned forward in his saddle and squinted, either deciding if he did or not—or deciding if he wanted to say or not. “Yeah. Let him go,” he said gruffly. “He’s the one from earlier today.”

  Nursing an injury of his own, he dismounted slowly, then grabbed Andrea none too gently by the arm and turned her face toward a lantern. He wore a perplexed look on his countenance as he regarded her carefully. She held her breath as he searched her face, his dark brown eyes alight with, what she feared was, suspicion.

  “How’d you get here? An owl couldn’t find that road in the dark.”

  “I have a duty to perform,” was all she said in response.

  “Follow me.” Pierce began walking, or rather limping, toward a small outbuilding around which a number of men were standing. “Who sent for you?” he asked over his shoulder. “Why didn’t they send an escort with you? These men were ordered—by me—to shoot anything that moves.”

  “Major Carter told me where to find the Colonel.” Andrea thought it best not to lie to him. He seemed to be highly agitated.

  “What for?” he barked. “No one can see him.”

  Andrea noticed that Pierce’s limp grew steadily worse, and that a shirtsleeve, dripping scarlet, had been tied around a serious wound to his thigh. From the amount of blood flowing forth, it appeared a bullet had plowed clean to the bone, causing her to wonder why he was still walking on it. His perseverance spoke of vitality and boundless strength.

  With her thoughts and eyes focused on the trail of blood spilling in her path, she ran straight into him when his massive form stopped and whirled around. “It’s you!”

  Andrea’s breath caught in her throat. She did not respond. If he had figured out who she was, he needed no further information from her. If he had not, she was not going to help him.

  Anyway, what had he figured out? That she was Andrea Evans? Or that Andrea Evans was a long-sought enemy? It did not take her long to find out.

  It was both.

  “Your expertise on a horse is conspicuous,” Pierce said, his voice now cold and cruel. “One might even say—memorable.”

  Andrea stood before him, looking at the ground, trying to appear confidant and calm beneath his inscrutable gaze. In her mind she was neither.

  Glancing at the house, she saw it was only about fifteen yards away. Yet the officer in command stood between her and the door, and it looked like the ruthless reputation of which she had been warned was going to make an appearance tonight. From the look on Pierce’s face, and from the stance of the sentries posted on the porch, she knew she was not going to be given any leniency.

  “Almost as memorable as your eyes.” He leaned down closer. “You had to have known I would recognize those bloody, bewitching eyes.”

  For the first time, Andrea looked up and met his gaze, an action that seemed to infuriate him. He twisted her arm behind her back with savage strength, shoved her face against the side of the small building, and placed his revolver against her head. Andrea heard the familiar click of the hammer being pulled and felt the cold steel press directly behind her ear.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked through gritted teeth. “I know who you are.”

  Andrea would have answered if she could have drawn a breath. Pierce leaned against her so heavily and bent her arm so far back that she feared she would pass out from the effect of one or the pain of the other.

  “Do you take me for a fool?” he growled. “Believe me, I remember well the blasted rider on the black horse. The resemblance you share is uncanny. I watched you all day.”

  Pierce shifted his weight and Andrea grabbed one quick breath before he leaned into her again.

  “It all makes sense now. What better place for a spy to lodge than with the Colonel? He may have fallen for your treachery, but I have not.”

  Andrea felt the steel of the gun press more firmly against her neck and had no doubt she would be black and blue as a result.

  “Are you alone?”

  The most she could do was nod her head.

  “Captain?”

  “What is it?” Pierce sounded exasperated at the intrusion.

  “Sorry, sir, I don’t mean to interrupt whatever is going on, but this here boy did save your life today.”

  Andrea closed her eyes tighter.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “That sharpshooter you shot on the river bank,” Boz said. “You didn’t kill him right off. He had you dead in his sights.”

  Andrea felt Pierce pull off just a little and she grabbed another breath.

  “I seen it with my own two eyes,” Boz added for emphasis.

  “That true?” Pierce apparently felt her struggling for air and slammed her head against the wall again.

  Andrea remained silent, too proud to defend her life based on the fact that she had saved his.

  “That true?” He spun her around and stuck his gun none to gently under her chin to lift her head. Andrea found herself gazing into the eyes of a soldier with whom she knew there would be no trifling. Pierce seemed overly eager to dispatch her to the place from which she had saved him.

&
nbsp; “Will you not take the word of one of your men?” Andrea’s voice was hoarse, and she gasped for breath. The top of her head began to throb, while the left side of her face was nothing but numb.

  “Show me your weapon,” Pierce said, as if that would prove the case once and for all.

  “He throwed it in the river, right after,” Boz answered for her. “That ain’t all he throwed,” he added under his breath.

  Pierce accepted that with a grin, understood without further explanation the torment the action had caused her. “Killed one of your own for me, did you?”

  Andrea closed her eyes and swallowed hard to keep from gagging again. Her legs began to shake at the thought, and she knew Pierce was standing close enough to feel it.

  He let the hammer of his gun back slowly. “This is a little ironic, isn’t it?” He laughed. “You save my life, and I threaten to take yours.”

  “Quite a good joke,” Andrea said, her voice shaky and gravelly.

  Pierce fell silent, obviously contemplating what to do with her, while Andrea opened and closed her jaw to make sure it still worked. She tentatively reached up to touch the side of her face, and winced at the pain it caused.

  “You cannot blame me for trying to protect the Colonel,” Pierce said defensively.

  Andrea did not know if his words were meant as an apology and did not really care. The skies had finally opened up, soaking her hat and dripping off her lashes. Pierce seemed to take no notice of the drenching, and was, she decided, about as conscious of the downpour as he was of his wound.

  “Why are you here?” He looked away to return his gun to its holster.

  “My heart demands it.”

  Pierce looked up slowly, as if all the other parts of the puzzle were now falling into place. His gaze drifted down to the oversized coat she wore. He reached out and roughly fixed the collar she had turned under, making the three stars visible once again.

  “I see.”

  Andrea thought she saw a hint of regret flash across his eyes.

  The rain started coming down even more furiously, which finally brought it to his attention. Without a word he grabbed Andrea by the arm, and led her past three sentries to the shelter of the farmhouse’s back porch. He stopped again. “You believe he will wish to see you?” He did not try to hide the disgust in his voice.

  “Yes.”

  He snorted in disgust. “It is folly to fall in love with the enemy. I would think one of you would have more sense.” He looked at her in such a way that Andrea knew he meant that he expected more self-restraint from his leader, not from her, though whether that was because she was a Yankee or a female she could not tell.

  “No. It is folly to look for logic in the chambers of the heart.” Andrea spoke as if it was a lesson she had always known—not learned through months of torturous pain.

  Pierce stared at her long and hard with a mixture, she thought, of curiosity and disbelief. “You have forsaken the Union cause for this?”

  Andrea looked down, closed her eyes, and exhaled loudly. Hearing the words spoken aloud was a damaging blow. “There are other sacred claims,” she said, her eyes filling with tears in spite of her best efforts to stop them, “that touch as deeply as patriotism.”

  Pierce’s gaze locked on hers again. Perhaps he saw the devotion shining there for the Colonel. Perhaps he thought of the peril and the sacrifice she had made in getting there. Or perhaps he thought of the bullet from which his life had been spared. In any event, he reached toward her cheek with the back of his hand, an impulse that appeared to be partly of pity and partly of apology.

  “I hope I did not hurt you overly much,” he said. “I do apologize.”

  Andrea reacted by flinching at the nearness of his strong hand, causing him to withdraw and drop it dejectedly to his side.

  “Wait here,” he ordered. “I need to speak to the doctor.”

  After counting to ten, Andrea let herself in, just as a burst of thunder shook the house, covering the sound of the creaking door. She heard muffled voices in a room to her left and noticed stairs off to her right. Taking them two at a time, she saw an open bedroom door and entered, ignoring Pierce’s orders from downstairs to halt.

  Hunter lay in a bed, seemingly asleep, yet so pale Andrea barely recognized him as living.

  Approaching slowly, fearing she was too late, she tentatively put her hand on his forehead. The soldier who had appeared just hours earlier the essence of magnificent manhood and muscle, now appeared drained of all vitality. She gazed at a life hanging by a thread.

  Feeling her touch, he opened his eyes. Andrea watched him try to focus, his gaze moving from her face, down to the stars on her collar. “Howdy, Kulnel,” he said hoarsely.

  Andrea smiled in relief, and knelt beside him. “It appears I’ve received a temporary promotion.”

  “Well deserved,” he said closing his eyes.

  Andrea held his hand in both of hers. “I yield to your wisdom and authority,” she whispered, leaning near him. “And accept any orders you are inclined to give.”

  “Stay…with me…Andrea.”

  “I’ll never leave you, Alex.” She threw her arm across his chest. “Never, never again!”

  Kissing his forehead and then his cheek, Andrea stared at his strained face. “Alex, how do you feel?”

  He was quiet for a long moment, as if trying to find the energy to speak. “Like I’ve been…humbled.” He winced and then gazed up at her, as to see if she remembered the conversation from so long ago. “You look like—” He paused and licked his lips. “Hell.”

  Andrea brought her hand up to her face and felt the puffiness in her cheek where it had been rammed against the building. “Just a little disagreement.” She glanced up at Pierce, who now stood in the doorway, thinking Hunter’s eyes were still closed.

  But they were not. When he followed her gaze, his hands curled into fists.

  “It is nothing,” Andrea said, looking back down and seeing she had alarmed him. “The vigilance of your men and the security of your camp are commendable.”

  Alex let out a long, deep sigh as if agitated he could not come to her defense, could not move…could not find the strength to keep his eyes open. He gazed vacantly at the ceiling with livid lips and contorted features as a wave of pain overcame him. And then his eyes glazed over with agony.

  Andrea could see strength was failing him, and so could the doctor, who walked briskly to the bed. “That’s enough. He needs rest.”

  Andrea nodded in response. Alex did not respond at all.

  “Fight, Alex.” She lay her head on his chest for a brief moment to soak in the essence of him. “Please fight like you’ve never fought before. You cannot leave me now.”

  There was still no response. His eyes were slightly open, but they were not seeing. He had fallen back into a darkness that Andrea knew too well.

  * * *

  Doctor Hobbs stood in the hallway with Pierce, eyeing Andrea from head to toe with a disapproving look. “You are a mess,” he said gruffly, squinting at her. “I don’t know why you are dressed like that and what you are doing here, but you cannot be permitted to continue this charade any longer.”

  Andrea looked at him defiantly. “I’m not—” But catching a look at herself in a hall mirror made her lose her train of thought. Black, sooty streaks marred her face, but did not conceal the red, swollen cheek or dirty, stringy hair. She could barely even recognize herself. She wondered how Pierce had.

  “I need to get back to my duties.” Pierce gave Andrea one more backward glance of disgust—or bewilderment—then hobbled down the stairs, his leg obviously causing him great pain.

  Hobbs did not even wait for his footsteps to fade away. “I will order a bath drawn for you. There is a lady in the house about your size. You should be able to find something appropriate to wear.”

  Andrea stared at him, her eyes blank. Exhaustion and worry left her too tired to argue—almost
. She gathered her strength for one final skirmish. “I have ridden all night to find out the Colonel’s condition, not to take a bath and change my clothes.”

  “Very well.” Hobbs led her by the arm a short distance down the hall, but still spoke in a whisper as if someone might hear. “He’s got a good chance.” He gazed down the stairs, avoiding Andrea’s eyes.

  “That’s all? A good chance?” When he did not respond, Andrea grabbed him by the arm. “In mercy, speak. Tell me the truth!”

  “He was hit in the lower abdomen,” Hobbs answered in a low voice. “I took the bullet out of his back. We have no way of knowing what damage was done in—”

  Andrea swayed and grasped the banister for support. It was worse than she had expected. “Like Stuart,” she said in a whispered voice.

  “The fact that he’s still alive is encouraging.” Hobbs ignored her reference to the fatal wound of the well-loved general. “That makes it appear the bullet missed all his organs.”

  Andrea nodded, but her mind was miles away, stuck on that night in the cabin. She thought of all the terrible things she had said—and all the heartfelt things she had not.

  Her hand and her eyes dropped to the torn fabric of the coat she still wore. Running her fingers over the wool, she found it was no longer damp. But a dark stain around the gaping hole showed where the bullet had penetrated.

  Feeling that cavernous hole was more than Andrea could take. She felt sick, like she was going to faint or vomit, or both. Her legs began to tremble. She looked helplessly into the eyes of the physician and tried to speak, but could find no words.

  He grabbed her by the arms and shook her. “You’ve got to be strong. Do you understand me? And that is an order.”

  Andrea blinked back tears that hopelessness and fatigue forced into her eyes. Her mind rebelled against submitting to anything under the compulsion of a threat, but she merely nodded, and in a quivering voice responded in a way that Hunter would not have believed if he had heard it. “Yes, sir…I’ll do whatever you say.”

  Chapter 25