Unwilling Warrior

by Andrea Boeshaar

  “No, he’s a preacher. We were traveling together. My partner, Clint Culver, his wife, Luke, and me. We . . . Clint and I were photographing the troops, and Luke was ministering to the men’s spiritual needs—when we lost touch. Somehow we got separated.”

  “Hmm . . . ” James sat back, appearing thoughtful.

  “I’m ever so sorry to hear it, Mr. McCabe,” Valerie said. “I pray you find him soon.”

  “Prayers appreciated.” He turned to look at her, the intimacy of his gaze causing her face to flame.

  James cleared his throat. “So tell me what you’ve heard in the field, McCabe.”

  “Heard plenty.” He looked across the way at him. “What sort of information are you looking for?”

  “Nothing in particular. But surely you’ve conversed with military officers if you’ve photographed them. What do they have to say?”

  “Could we please talk about something else?” Valerie asked. “I’m tired of hearing about the war. It feels like the end of the world sometimes, and it scares me.” She gazed into the surrounding darkness. “But I don’t want to think about that tonight. Tonight I plan to enjoy myself.” She shifted slightly, her arm pressed tightly against Mr. McCabe’s. “Besides, I’m in the company of two handsome gentlemen. I’ll be the envy of every lady at the party.”

  “Well, I’d say so.” The lilt to Mr. McCabe’s voice said he’d found her remark amusing. “With or without us ‘handsome gentlemen.’”

  Valerie blushed at the compliment as she noted James’s look of challenge aimed at their guest. Was he jealous? Angry? Both? She couldn’t be sure.

  The carriage continued to roll through the streets of the neighborhood, finally turning onto the lane that led to the Donahues’ expansive home. Despite the rain and fog, candlelight shone like beacons from the tall front windows. Live oaks lined the circular brick drive, their gnarled limbs forming an eerie-looking canopy.

  At last the conveyance pulled to a halt at the front entrance, and Valerie alighted with the assistance of the coachman. She gazed around the first floor gallery, admiring the bows of holly and the large evergreen wreaths. How she used to enjoy decorating for the holidays with Mama—

  She quickly pushed back the onslaught of memories.

  Mr. McCabe and James climbed from the carriage, and the three of them made their way up the stairs to the portico. At the door they were greeted with hugs and handshakes and ushered into the house.

  Valerie breathed in awe as she took in the foyer with its tinsel and glitter. Her gaze swept over the evergreen bows tied to the balustrade with red velvet ribbons and the three shimmering Christmas trees that stood aglow with candles on every branch.

  “Well, Valerie Fontaine . . . ” Elicia Donahue, dressed in red silk with white satin trim, strolled over to greet her. “I’m glad you could come to our party tonight.”

  Valerie embraced her longtime friend. They hadn’t seen each other in almost a year and a half, and while Valerie wrote often, Elicia wasn’t in the habit of corresponding.

  “Everything looks so lovely,” Valerie said. “Your family did an expert job with the decorations this year.”

  “Why, thank you.” A pleased smile stretched across Elicia’s face before her hazel eyes moved to James. “You handsome devil, how nice to see you again.”

  He grinned while a spark of mischief entered his gaze, and he bowed over Elicia’s gloved hand.

  “And who might this be?” she asked, taking a step toward Mr. McCabe.

  “Benjamin McCabe at your service.” He too gave a courteous bow.

  “Mr. McCabe is an acquaintance of my father,” Valerie explained to her friend who had now locked arms with her. “He’ll be staying with us for a bit.”

  “How very nice.” Elicia smiled. “Welcome to our home, Mr. McCabe.”

  “Thank you kindly,” he replied with another of his lazy grins that Valerie found quite charming.

  “Well, now if y’all will come with me,” she drawled, “there are more people to meet and greet.” Elicia showed them to the bedecked ballroom where a small ensemble of musicians was playing a lively waltz. As they entered the room, several other friends came up to greet Valerie. She hadn’t seen them since returning from school.

  Wistfulness stole over Valerie as she watched men and women, dressed in all their finery, dance beneath crystal chandeliers. Several Confederate soldiers in uniform took turns around the dance floor, their lovely ladies held close to their hearts.

  “My, my, this is a sight for my country boy eyes,” Mr. McCabe remarked.

  Valerie turned to him. “You’ve never attended a ball?”

  “I’ve attended plenty, but none like this.” He turned to her. “This is quite the elaborate affair.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.” Elicia regarded him with an appreciative glance.

  A moment of hesitation followed. Valerie sensed that Elicia wanted to say more to Mr. McCabe, but his attention was caught up in the revelry.

  “Elicia, honey,” James said. “I think I see Gabe over there, flirting with Iris Hackelbarth.”

  “What!” Her expression indicated her sudden displeasure. “Where is that scoundrel?”

  “I’ll escort you,” James said. “Perhaps we will locate some champagne on the way too.”

  “You’re teasing me.”

  James chuckled.

  “I should have known.” Elicia glanced at Valerie. “Some people never change, and it appears James is one of them.”

  “Hmm . . . ” So had she misjudged him too?

  Holding one of Elicia’s gloved hands, James encircled her waist with the other arm and led her across the room.

  “Some escort,” Mr. McCabe murmured near her ear.

  “Some friend,” Valerie replied on a tart note.

  She glanced at Mr. McCabe, and they shared a laugh. It didn’t bother her in the least that James and Elicia had strode off together. “Are you hungry?” she finally asked. She pointed out the long table at the far side of the ballroom that was piled high with all manner of delectable foods.

  “You must have read my mind, Miss Fontaine. I’m starved.”

  “Well, please, help yourself. I’ll find us a table.” She gazed off in James’s direction. “I’m sure James will be a gentleman and make up a plate for me before he joins us.” Her words belied the wondering inside.

  “All right, then. I’ll see you at the table.” After a polite incline of his head, he took off across the room.

  Valerie just stood there, watching him go. What was it about him that captivated her so?

  ***

  As Ben helped himself to a mountainous plate of food, he kept a watchful eye on a certain Mr. James Ladden. There was something about the man that prickled the hair on Ben’s neck. Even now as Ladden stood talking with three other rather dubious-looking men, Ben had a hunch they weren’t planning a church picnic.

  He worked his way down to the end of the table where the red-haired dandy and his friends stood. Delectable aromas of roasted meats caused his stomach to protest its emptiness all the more. Still he took his time and strained to hear what the well-dressed group was up to. Ladden drank liberally from an elegant long-stemmed glass.

  Moving on down the table, Ben had just added a piece of corn bread to his plate when the name “Allan Pinkerton” reached his ears. That couldn’t be good. Although he’d never met the man, he knew of Pinkerton’s detective work before the war broke out. Why would Ladden and his three friends be discussing one of the nation’s top detectives?

  Ben paused to study them. They were clearly up to something.

  Three

  Valerie spotted a few open tables and made her way through the ballroom, greeting friends and acquaintances as they passed. She paused once to converse with Mrs. Ethel Tyler, who’d been a dear friend of Mama. Then, of course, she had to exchange pleasantries with Mr. Grimshaw, one of Father’s associates.

  At long last Valerie arrived at a round table cove
red with a festive red cloth. An older gentleman in a gray uniform with gold braiding on the sleeves and a regal-looking woman who Valerie guessed to be his wife were seated at one side.

  “Excuse me, but are these three seats taken?”

  “Why, no, miss.” The older soldier smiled from beneath a bushy gray mustache as he stood. “Please join us.”

  Valerie smiled. But before introductions could be made, Mr. McCabe showed up, balancing two plates of food and two glasses of punch.

  “Allow me.” Setting his load on the table, he held out the chair for her.

  “Thank you.”

  “It appears Mr. Ladden got sidetracked,” he explained, “so I took the liberty of selecting from the buffet for you.”

  “How kind of you.”

  Her mouth watered as the aroma of roasted pork, oyster dressing, and spicy ratatouille reached her nostrils.

  “There’s plenty more where that came from. I haven’t seen such a hearty spread since the war began.”

  He silently prayed over his food, and Valerie watched him covertly as she did the same.

  “You say you’re from Missouri?” she asked after they’d finished saying grace.

  Mr. McCabe nodded as he chewed his first bite. “Born and raised.”

  “And your father—what line of work is he in?”

  “He’s a preacher.”

  “And your mother?” She pressed her lips together, hoping she wasn’t asking too many questions.

  Mr. McCabe replied with a fond smile, then said, “Ma works around the clock trying to keep my brothers, sisters, and me in line.”

  “You’re fortunate. I never had any siblings. I used to dream of having a sister.” Valerie sipped her punch. “Never happened, though.”

  “Tell you the truth, there are times I wished I was an only child. My two brothers and two sisters sure could wear my patience as thin as onion skin, especially my baby sister, Sarah.”

  “Really? How so?”

  Valerie leaned forward, intent on listening to him.

  “One time,” he began, “she wandered off and we all went searching for her. Looked for hours. Turns out she spent the afternoon in a neighbor’s barn, playing with a litter of kittens. That was when she was only five years old. Her wanderings have gotten worse now that she’s a young lady of sixteen.”

  Valerie couldn’t suppress a grin as she enjoyed the image of the big, happy family. “I suppose you miss her and all your family terribly.”

  “That I do.”

  Hearing him speak about his family caused Valerie to feel drawn to Mr. Benjamin McCabe. He had what she’d always longed for: a family. She paused, considering her next question.

  “So, if you don’t mind my asking, why come here to New Orleans—why visit my father?”

  He swallowed a bite of food. “A favor to my father. He’s had a burden for your family ever since your mother died.”

  She tamped down her melancholy and focused on her present company. “So how exactly did your father meet mine anyway?”

  “You don’t know?”

  Valerie shook her head.

  “Do you know Maxwell Elliot?”

  “Pastor Elliot? Of course. He’s the pastor of the church I attend.”

  “He’s also married to my mother’s favorite second cousin. Growing up, Ma and my cousin Amanda were like sisters. So my folks visit the Elliots every so often.”

  Valerie suddenly made the connection with what her father had told her earlier in the evening. “And your father was in New Orleans when my mother took ill last June.”

  Mr. McCabe inclined his head, his expression somber. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you.” She managed a tiny but grateful grin. She sensed he understood how it felt to lose a loved one. “Will you tell me about your missing brother? He’s a preacher, you said, like your father?”

  “Luke’s a chaplain. Last year when Clint and I headed out to document the war, he traveled with us to help those who needed it.” He paused and seemed to select his next words with care. “That day, at Bull Run, there were so many—so many men who required my brother’s services that we got separated.” Mr. McCabe shook his head.

  “That was months ago!”

  “Five months and ten days, to be exact.”

  Valerie’s heart ached for him. “Perhaps your brother got captured and is alive and well.”

  “Didn’t get captured from what I’ve been able to find out, and I know he’s not dead. I combed that entire battlefield.”

  That had to have been a gruesome task. She laid down her fork.

  “Forgive me, Miss Fontaine.”

  She glanced up to see an expression of remorse on his face.

  “I didn’t mean to spoil your evening. You wanted to have fun tonight, and here I am talking of such things.”

  She gave him a reassuring smile. The subject of his missing brother obviously weighed heavily on his mind. A moment passed between them when their senses were filled with only each other. They no longer heard the din of laughter in the room, the orchestra, or the rustle of silk skirts as dancers twirled by their table. Valerie saw the moisture gathering in his eyes, and her heart went out to him. Reaching across the table, she gave his hand a squeeze, and he replied with an appreciative grin.

  “So . . . ” he said after a long moment, breaking the spell. He looked at his plate of food.

  “So . . . ” Valerie picked up the cue. “You mentioned you’re a photographer. Tell me more about your work.”

  Mr. McCabe seemed grateful for the chance to continue their discussion, albeit on a more generic note. “As I said, I’m documenting the war with photographs. I’ve written a few articles that have appeared in several newspapers as well.” A wry, almost shy smile played across his lips.

  “How impressive.” Valerie meant it sincerely.

  “You’re most gracious.” His smile broadened. “There’s a regiment in the area I’d like to photograph as I keep looking for Luke. So I figured I’d check in on your family for Pa and accomplish a little work of my own in the process.”

  “We’re glad you’re here, Mr. McCabe.”

  “I appreciate the hospitality.”

  Their gazes met again, and Valerie’s heart beat out the most unusual rhythm.

  At that moment, the older gentleman at the table cleared his throat. “I beg your pardon, but I couldn’t help overhearing . . . you say you’re a photographer, son?”

  Mr. McCabe gave a nod. “That’s right.”

  The silver-haired gent in decorated uniform regarded him for several long moments. “And . . . are you for hire?”

  “Well, that depends, sir.” Mr. McCabe set down his fork.

  The older man leaned forward and grinned. “Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Colonel William LaPorte.”

  “Benjamin McCabe.” He stretched his arm across the table. “Glad to meet you.”

  The men shook hands, but Valerie was stunned by the revelation. Colonel LaPorte? Why, everyone knew the colonel was an important man with the Confederate Army!

  Colonel LaPorte produced a carte de visite from the inside pocket of his uniform jacket. The small business card had the colonel’s photograph on one side and his contact information on the other. “If you don’t mind coming to my home tomorrow even though it’s a holiday, let’s meet at ten o’clock sharp. I have a business proposition for you.”

  Mr. McCabe seemed to think it over before replying with a nod. “I’ll do that.”

  “Good.” With that, the colonel returned his attention to his wife. “Shall we dance, Gertrude?”

  “Oh, yes. Let’s.” The elegantly clad woman stood, and the couple waltzed off.

  “Do you realize what has just happened?” Valerie leaned toward Mr. McCabe, smiling.

  He shook his head, pocketing the visiting card.

  “You were conversing with none other than the Colonel LaPorte. He has direct connections with Robert E. Lee. Why, it’s even rumored that
the LaPortes have entertained him in their home. Imagine it. Robert E. Lee!”

  “Is that right?”

  “Have you ever met him?”

  “Can’t say as I have.” A lazy grin spread across Mr. McCabe’s face. “But to tell you the truth, right now I’m more interested in the company I’m presently keeping. Somehow I’ve been doing all the talking. How ’bout telling me about Miss Valerie Fontaine?”

  “Me?” She couldn’t help the blush that flamed up her cheeks. “There isn’t much to tell, I’m afraid.”

  “I don’t believe it. I detect a spark of something . . . maybe adventure in your eyes.”

  “Perhaps.” The blush remained. “Still, most men prefer to talk about the war or politics or . . . horses.”

  He chuckled. “Reckon I’m not ‘most men.’”

  Valerie found his manner quite beguiling. “All right, then.” She wet her lips. “It’s just my father and me. Most recently, I have returned home from finishing school, although my father isn’t happy about it.” The lack of welcome still hurt. “Unbeknownst to me, he wanted me to stay in Virginia. Too late now. Here I am.”

  “Why did you leave?”

  Valerie took a few moments to think about the answer. “My reasons are somewhat complicated. Can I tell you about them another time?”

  “Of course.” Mr. McCabe mulled over what she’d told him. “But your father isn’t happy to have you home? Hmm . . . maybe he wanted you to stay put for your own good. Skirmishes are breaking out all over Virginia.”

  “You might be right.” Valerie sipped from the crystal punch glass. “Or maybe I remind him too much of Mama. We did look very much alike.”

  “She must’ve been very beautiful.”

  The compliment wasn’t lost on Valerie. She brought her gaze up in time to see a light of sincerity glimmering in Mr. McCabe’s golden brown eyes. “You’re very kind to say so.”

  “Miss Fontaine, I know you don’t know me—” His words were softly spoken, meant for her ears alone. “—but let’s get something straight between us here and now: I never say anything I don’t mean.”

  “All right.” Valerie didn’t quite know what to make of his candor. She stared into his handsome face, feeling overcome once more. “I guess that’s good to know.” Another waltz began to play, and James appeared out of nowhere. He grabbed Valerie’s hand, causing her to gasp, and promptly whisked her onto the dance floor.