Beguiled (14 page)

The Scot held up his hands in surrender. “I am a Union soldier and demand quarter!”

“I’ll give you quarter,” the bushwhacker said and fired right into the man’s face.

Alice’s ears rang with the shot. She twisted her head against the spray of blood and hard bits of bone that spattered her face.

A hand clutched her shirt at the shoulder and jerked her to her feet. “You’re comin’ with us.”

* * *

Unable to sleep, I tossed in the bed. My heart ached for Alice. I dragged in a deep breath. It was a mistake. My sheets and pillowslips still smelled like her, warm and woodsy.

Heartsick, I flopped onto my back. My eyes stung from crying.

I wanted to go with her, but Uncle Hewlett had practically forbidden me from following her to Atlanta. The woods were filled with deserters from both armies and brigands of all sorts. It wouldn’t be safe for a woman alone, and I couldn’t dare ask Granny or any of the neighbors to go with me. They were all in the same dire straits we’d found ourselves in: scrambling for food and wood for the winter.

Somehow, Alice’s presence in my life had made all those things seem insignificant.

Terror seized me that they’d hang her or ship her back up north and I’d never know what became of her. I knew I should take off for Atlanta right now, but I was torn between my responsibilities here and my love for Alice.

I squeezed my eyes shut against a fresh onslaught of tears. When I’d asked Uncle Hewlett why he was willing to take the blame for the Yankee’s death, he’d told me that he’d rather die than see me lose another person I loved. I knew the feeling. I hadn’t realized Uncle Hewlett was so astute in matters of the heart. If he knew Alice and I were lovers, he never let on.

Right now, I wished the earth would swallow me up.

In the darkness, I heard the dog bark. I shot up on my elbows. He barked again. Someone was outside. Alice! My pulse raced as I flung back the covers and raced down the stairs.

She’d escaped the Yankees! Already, I schemed how we would trade with Uncle Hewlett and move into the cabin while he stayed in the big house with Ma. Alice would be safe there. I ran to the door and heaved the thick board off the brackets. It clattered to the floor noisily. I didn’t care. All I could think about was having Alice back in my arms again. I twisted the knob and pulled, and my heart lodged in my throat when I saw Alice.

Bruises marred her face. Dried blood clung to her nostrils. One eye was black and swollen. Her chapped lips moved as she tried to speak.

She wouldn’t have been able to stand if two of the bushwhackers who’d deviled us last month hadn’t been supporting her.

They shoved her through the front door. She crumpled to the floor. Shocked, I dropped and reached to touch her.

“Alice!”

“I’m sorry, Belle,” she managed, her voice but a weak breath.

Fear twisted into raging anger. I shot to my feet and flew at the nearest bushwhacker, fists flailing. It proved a stupid thing to do. I got in one or two hits before he caught my wrists, restraining me.

My breaths came in great, heaving gasps. He rolled both my wrists into one of his big hands and caught my throat with the other.

“Where’s that old darky?” His breath reeked of whiskey and rotted teeth.

The way he referred to Uncle Hewlett made me want to spit in his face, but I refrained. I had to think, to keep my wits about me. “He ran off when the Yankees came through.”

The bushwhacker chuckled. I recognized him as one of the brown-haired brothers, the one called Jake. The other was the dark man with the mustache who’d tormented my mother when they were here before. My heart lurched that they would do anything to her. Hopefully, she had sense enough to hide. The Yankees had scared her, and she’d spent most of the afternoon under her bed.

My gaze slid to Alice. She struggled to push herself up, but the man with the mustache kicked her in the ribs. She slumped to the floor again. A scream tore from my throat. “Stop it! Don’t hurt her!”

“Where’s that old lady?” Jake asked, eyeing the shadows of the rooms on either side of the foyer.

“Dead,” I snapped.

He jerked my hair back, forcing me to look up at him. “If you’re lying, I’ll gut you like a catfish.” He slid his fist from my crotch up to my belly.

I shivered. I didn’t doubt his word, but I figured they’d kill us anyway. I’d heard rumors about a mother and two daughters they’d hanged by the hair and tortured by soaking newspapers in turpentine and setting them on fire to torment the women. None of them had been killed, but when it was all over, they wished they had been.

I cut my gaze at Alice. They’d beaten her badly, but her clothes were still intact. At least they hadn’t raped her—yet. I had to focus their attention on me, and somehow I had to get to Alice’s pistol, which was still hidden under my mattress.

Jake dipped and started tugging up the hem of my nightgown. “What’re you wearin’ under that nightie, sugar?”

Becoming rigid, I steeled myself, but nothing could prepare me for the awful violation of his hand between my legs. Nausea roiled, and I swallowed a rush of bitter bile back down.

Jake grinned as he rubbed me roughly. “How long has it been since you had a man?”

I flinched at the sight of his rotted, yellow teeth, but I said nothing.

“I bet you’re as tight as a June bride,” he added, pushing his hand farther between my legs. His fingers probed.

At that, I could tolerate it no longer. I jerked and tried to writhe away from his hand, but he only laughed. “Slow, honey. Slow.” And then he jerked me close. His hot breath fanned my neck. “I’m gonna take my sweet time with you,” he whispered.

I shuddered.

“Shit, Jake! How come you get that one? This’un looks like a damn boy,” the black-haired man argued. He poked Alice with the toe of his boot.

Jake released me. “It wouldn’t be the first time you corn-holed a boy, now would it, Marcus?”

Marcus drew back a fist. Hope surged that they’d fight each other, and I could snatch the opportunity to get to the pistol.

“Hold up, shitass. I’ll take this’un first, and then we’ll trade,” Jake offered. “Besides, I want the last turn with that bitch. She killed my brother.”

While he gawked at Alice, I wrenched my arm free and flew up the stairs. He followed, cursing and grasping at my heels. At the top of the stairs, I pushed a table over behind me. An heirloom vase that had belonged to my grandmother crashed into pieces, but I had no time to mourn things.

Lungs heaving, I darted into my room, and with a strength I didn’t know I possessed, I peeled back the mattress and grappled for the pistol. Finally my hand closed around hard steel. Just as Jake rounded the foot of my bed, I yanked it out, forced the hammer back, and gritted my teeth as I pulled the trigger. The shot surprised him—and luckily, nicked him in the knee.

With a howl, he stumbled and sprawled, dragging me to the floorboards underneath him. “You fucking bitch!” he raged.

With the gun wedged between us, I struggled to cock the hammer, and when he lifted his body just enough to drag up my nightgown, I fired another shot.

His eyes widened. Blood appeared in his gaping mouth, and I weaved out from under him before he dropped lifelessly to the floor.

Alice…

As I crept to my door and peered into the dark hallway, I wondered if the shots had alerted the other bushwhacker. Moonlight from the window glimmered on the shards of the broken vase. I was barefoot but didn’t dare put on shoes. I wanted to be as quiet as possible.

Downstairs, I heard Alice groan and heard Marcus laugh. My stomach knotted when I heard the unmistakable sound of a belt being undone. No sounds came from Ma’s room. Good. Hopefully, she was still hiding.

I cocked the pistol and gritting my teeth, trod across the broken glass, and then sneaked down the stairs. Dread consumed me. Marcus had Alice bent over the hall table. Her breeches had been pushed down to her knees, baring her bottom. Marcus stood behind her, furiously trying to work up an erection, his pants dangling around his thighs.

From this position, I didn’t trust my aim well enough to shoot him. I bit my bottom lip so hard I tasted blood. I had to get him away from her. Wincing, I eased down two more steps. Blood from my cut feet oozed between my toes. “Marcus!”

He spun and gaped at me. “Jake!” he called. His nervous gaze darted back and forth between me and the top of the stairs. “Jake! This ain’t funny!”

I aimed the pistol. “Get away from her.”

“We was just foolin’,” he said, trying to pull his breeches back up. “We wasn’t really gonna hurt y’all.”

My eyes narrowed. “Get away from her, you bastard.”

He took one step to the side. I didn’t dare avert my gaze when Alice snatched a chair and heaved it against the side of Marcus’s head. The chair split, and Marcus hollered. I fired the pistol and caught him in the chest. Coughing and sputtering, he wilted. Alice did up her breeches as we both stared at the macabre sight until one last breath rattled out of his chest and his eyes glazed over.

As soon as I realized he’d died, I fled down the stairs and into Alice’s arms. We clung to each other, sobbing. I finally held her face back far enough to look into her eyes. “Are you all right?”

She nodded. “I’ve been better.” She grimaced. “I think I cracked a rib.”

I caressed her cheek. “I better go get Uncle Hewlett to help me get these dogs out of our house.”

Her hand covered mine, and she gazed into my eyes. “I like the sound of that.”

Not comprehending, I looked at her askance.

A smile played on her swollen lips. “
Our
house.”

I returned her smile, but mine quickly faded when I heard footsteps echo in the back hall. I gasped and whirled but blew out the breath I’d been holding when Uncle Hewlett appeared, rifle in hand. His eyes widened as he scanned the dead bushwhacker and the busted chair. “Are you ladies all right?”

Just as I was about to relate what had happened, a shot rang out from upstairs. Lightning quick, Alice snatched the pistol out of my hand, pushed me out of the way, whirled, aimed, and fired.

Jake tumbled noisily down the stairs, and when he landed at the bottom, his neck twisted at an unnatural angle. His eyes stared at nothing.

Alice jammed the pistol in her belt.

We all stood there, staring for what seemed like an eternity before Alice looked at me and then at Uncle Hewlett. “Let’s get these dogs out of our house.”

“‘Cry “Havoc” and let slip the dogs of war, that this foul deed shall smell above the earth with carrion men, groaning for burial,’” Uncle Hewlett said, and he calmly came to help Alice and me drag the dead bushwhackers out of the house.

* * *

The first glimmer of dawn shone through the windows as I finished tenderly bathing Alice’s bruised body. I kissed every cut, scrape, and purple spot, and then I drew the covers over her and stroked her hair until she fell asleep.

As the morning light illuminated her angelic face, I watched her sleep, thinking back over the past few months. I’d lived through some of the most horrible moments of my life and some of the most wonderful.

I’d never dreamed I would find such solace in the arms of another woman. With Alice, I felt complete in a way I never had before. I cherished her friendship, her companionship, her protection, her love. And although our relationship still beguiled me, I only knew that what I had with Alice was true.

Truer than anything I had ever imagined.

Epilogue

“Get in the house, Granny!” I said, urging her in. “What are you doing out in this cold weather?”

As she hobbled into the foyer, I offered to take her coat. “Come in and warm yourself by the fire.”

“No, thank you,” she protested as she hugged me in greeting. “I don’t have time to stay.”

At the same time, Alice came in the back door and swung Dalton’s old greatcoat off her shoulders. “That damn billy goat butted me again. The son of a bitch,” she ranted as she hung the coat and her hat on a peg in the hallway. “Oh, afternoon, Granny,” she called when she saw our neighbor in the foyer.

Granny snickered. “You’re just the person I came to see. Another passel of Yankees stopped by asking questions about those bushwhackers again.”

“What’d you tell them?” I asked.

“Told ’em they rode off after they killed that Yankee girl,” she said with a wink.

Alice’s eyes widened. “Did they believe you?”

“After the story had been told to ’em all over Jonesborough about still being able to hear the Yankee girl’s ghost crying at Dead Horse Hollow Creek, I suppose they did,” she said as she patted Alice on the arm. “We protect our own around here, honey. But if you don’t want ’em to recognize you, you’d best grow that hair of yours out and start wearing dresses instead of them britches.”

Alice laughed. “Hell no.”

Granny wagged her finger at Alice. “If you won’t do it to save your own hide, then do it for me.”

Alice’s lips pulled into a smile. “All right, Granny. But just until they leave.”

Granny snorted. “Good enough.”

She hugged each of us before she was off on her mission to spread the story about Alice’s ghost to more neighbors. Once she’d gotten halfway down the drive, I turned to Alice. “I suppose we should do as Granny said and go upstairs and get you out of those clothes.”

She patted my bottom. “I’ll take off mine—if you take off yours.”

I laced my fingers with hers and started up the stairs. Even now, I was stunned at how easily I’d fallen in love with Alice—with a woman. I suspected Granny and Uncle Hewlett knew we were lovers, but neither of them would ever condemn us for it. Not in these times. Not after what Alice had done to those bushwhackers.

I imagined the people in town would talk, but I didn’t care. I was happy here with my life. With my goats and Alice.

God willing, my brother would come home safe and ask questions, but I knew in my heart Granny would handle him.

When we reached the top of the stairs, I stopped and turned to Alice. I searched her eyes.

“What?” she asked, smiling.