Romancing the Rogue (201 page)

Someone was coming; I saw the knowledge written in his green eyes. Fear controlled me, shaking my body violently
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I couldn’t imagine what they’d do to me for being alone with him. And him¯they’d kill him. I knew most of the men around here; men like my uncle, even the reverend at the church
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not a one would have an ounce of mercy or compassion for a Confederate man.

He pulled me back to the farthest corner of the stall, behind the tall mound of hay. He pushed me to my knees, him squatting behind me. He placed his hand over my mouth as if he didn’t trust me not to betray our presence. I shook so badly that I just knew whomever was out there would hear my teeth as they struck against themselves. The door opened and a ray of light passed close to his boots. I tried to take a deep breath but could not
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I felt for sure we were about to be found. He moved almost imperceptibly, blocking his boots with hay and drawing closer to me, surrounding me with his heat. My fear eased to some degree, especially at seeing the man standing framed in the barn’s door.

Gideon Lofton was our neighbor’s son
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a tall, good-looking young man around my own age. My uncle was so vocal in his dislike of Todd Lofton and his seven sons that we dared not mention even the name without fear of strict punishment. The five eldest brothers had volunteered together years ago, leaving town before my sisters and I had arrived. Gideon and young Jedediah were all that was left behind to help their father with the farm.

The soldier and I waited, watching as Gideon settled on a small square bale of hay, then after a few moments jump to his feet and start pacing. We waited what seemed an eternity, until Gideon rushed to the open barn door. I started to relax
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certain that the boy was leaving and I could soon follow.

A feminine voice echoing through the shed caused me to tense up again. I gasped when I saw my sister, Rachel, walking slowly down the center of the barn.

“I have to hurry!” Rachel said. “What did he say?”

“He gave his blessing, and money. I’ve already purchased the tickets.” I watched as he leaned toward her and gave her a passionate kiss. Rachel had never mentioned having a fondness for Gideon and to see them behaving such astounded me. Betrayal
also flirted with my heart¯hadn’t my sister trusted me enough to tell me of her love? I stirred in the soldier’s embrace, forgetting my own dilemma. He tightened his arms, giving me a stern look and shaking his dark head at me.

“Will you tell your uncle?” Gideon asked as he rubbed my sister’s arms in a familiar manner. She leaned in to him and rested her head against his chest.

“No. He’ll be furious and won’t let me go. I know it will be hard for Olivia, but…”

“I know you love them, but you can’t live your life for your sisters. They will eventually marry. Olivia’s near on twenty-one years. She should be married already!” I felt extreme embarrassment that the soldier should hear Gideon’s words. I had my pride, and after the soldier’s comments yesterday, Gideon’s words served only to fuel my embarrassment and indignation. “Come with me, darling, and maybe someday soon we can send for them.”

Rachel nodded, then they whispered to each other for a few moments. We watched as they exited the barn, Gideon’s hand riding low on my sister’s back. I held my breath as the door closed, then released it on a long sigh.

The arms holding me dropped and I turned toward the soldier, wiping my eyes as I did so. He reached up, brushing at a tear. My breath caught and I stared at him, trembling, until he rose to his feet. I followed his actions, taking a step away.

“Can you get me a horse?” He kept his voice low and I struggled to hear him.

His request confused me, and when his meaning became clear my stomach tightened.

“I’ll need a horse,” he said again, taking my hand and pulling me to my feet. “Can you get one without anyone knowing?”

“I don’t know, maybe. I have two horses, but they are old. We rode them here at the start of the war.” Fran and Sally were sturdy, but well into their teens. My uncle had first threatened to sell them, but had never done so. We rode them occasionally, my sisters and I.

“That’ll do.” He opened the barn
door
then leaned against the frame. “Can you meet me here tomorrow night?”

“I’m not sure. I’ll have to wait until everyone is asleep before I can leave.” My mind ran, trying to form a plan. Could I get one of the horses here without being seen? The path was narrow and quite rough in some places. I was not the greatest of riders by any means, so I would have to lead the horse. “I should be able to.”

“Good girl. I’ll need a change of clothing, too. Can you do that?” He looked at his uniform and fingered a tarnished button.

“Clothes?” This request puzzled me.

“This uniform is too noticeable.”

“My uncle’s things will be too big,” I told him, shyly eying his broad shoulders and narrow hips.

“But can you get them?” he asked. “Can you do this?”

“Yes, I can.” I gathered the sewing items I had come for and left the soldier standing in the doorway.

I waited for the sun to go down the next evening. I had completed all my chores including the laundry early in the morning and had managed to procure one of my uncle’s shirts and a pair of his work trousers; I stuffed them into a linen pillowcase along with other items I thought the soldier would need such as a thicker blanket, a pair of socks, and a knife. I arranged the sack under my pillow, hoping it would blend in with the bed coverings.

Rachel was nervous, though she did a wonderful job of hiding it. But there was a tell-tale flush about her cheeks and when she thought no one was looking her eyes were lit with the most wonderful glow. I wished her all the happiness, but a part of me was envious. Her life was taking her away from me and that saddened me.

Rachel and Amel
ia left for school early in the morning¯Amelia to study and Rachel to teach¯and I knew as I told her goodbye it would most likely be months, if not years, before I saw my sister again. If ever.

I made an excuse to my aunt and went to the far barn about midday to decide which horse would be better able to carry the soldier. Both were large farm horses that my father had raised from foals and had been well cared for until four years ago. Since that time they had been mostly ignored unless my sisters or I had a free moment to devote to them. I loved these horses, they were the last vestige of my life in Maryland and I hated the thought that one would be gone, given to the soldier.

Fran was a steady horse, with sturdy legs and a wonderful disposition. Sally was smaller and a bit on the frisky side. Fran would be a better mount for the soldier’s weight, I thought, but Sally was a faster horse, and that might be important as well.

I contemplated this all afternoon and was still undecided when Amelia arrived home from school. My aunt demanded to know where Rachel was. Amelia told her a well rehearsed lie, that Rachel was doing mending at the church to earn some extra money. My aunt was partially mollified; after all, she dare not begrudge Godly work. Amelia glanced at me, relief in her eyes. The child was not an accomplished liar.

We finished the remainder of our chores, Rachel’s as well. I then sent Amelia to get ready for bed as our uncle began to demand Rachel’s whereabouts. I told him bluntly that Rachel had left this morning with Gideon and that she was no longer his concern. I thought he would have a heart palpitation. His face turned putrid and he began to choke for air. I knew what was coming and I braced myself for it, thankful I had sent Amelia out of the room.

He split my lip with the first blow and I felt blood trickle down my chin. I wiped it away and looked him in the eye. He bellowed at me to get to my room as he grabbed his coat and called for two of my cousins. He threatened me, stating he would beat me if he could not find her. I assumed he was headed to the Lofton place and hoped he would be gone long enough for me to finish what I had to do.

Amelia was crying when I entered our room, and when she saw the blood on my mouth she cried even harder. I hushed her, told her crying would not help and that she must be happy for Rachel. I held her until she fell asleep then gathered the linen sack, praying my uncle would not return for several more hours.

I opened the window nearest my bed and climbed over the sill. The dogs barked and I froze for a moment thinking they would wake someone. When they recognized my scent they stopped and my heart started beating again. I hurried to the horse barn, and saddled both horses; I had decided to take both mares and let the soldier choose. I started down the path
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praying my uncle was still away and no one else would see me
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leading both horses as carefully as I could. I made it to the barn without incident, though Sally balked once or twice.

I left the horses tied outside the barn and slid into the waiting darkness.

“Hello?” I called, an eerie repeat of yesterday morning. “Are you in here?”

“Olivia. Did he do that?” He slid from the last stall, with a lamp burning low. He touched a gentle finger to my lip. When I nodded he cursed roughly and I flinched.

“Livy? Are you in here?” I spun toward the door to see Amelia standing outlined in the moonlight. “Olivia?”

“Amelia, what are you doing?” I asked her. “You’re supposed to be in bed!”

“I heard something and when I looked up you were gone! I saw you outside.” Amelia had not seen the soldier yet and he was standing still. “What are you doing with Fran and Sally? Are you leaving? Without me?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I am not leaving without you.” I told her, shaking her slightly, “I would never do that.”

“Then what are the horses doing here?” she asked. I was at a loss as to what to tell her and I couldn’t help but look at the soldier. Amelia followed my gaze and would have screamed had I not had the presence of mind to cover her mouth. I waited until I could see that she had calmed down before lowering my hand.

“You mustn’t tell anyone. I will be in quite a lot of trouble if you do.” I was uncertain if she understood. “They will kill him if they find him.”

She stared at the soldier. “Are you running away?”

He nodded, smiling at her. It was the first time I had seen him smile, and though the light was dim, I could see that his smile was beautiful with straight even teeth and small dimples near the corners of his mouth. I handed him the linen sack and he withdrew the clothes. Amelia and I turned around while he retreated into a stall to change his clothing. We did not talk as we waited for him to emerge, though I could feel her trembling from excitement and nerves.

The door slammed open with such a loud noise that I screamed, as did Amelia. My uncle burst in, lamp blazing, and brandishing his fist.

“Running are you? Off to join that no-good sister of yours!” He was angry and he was drunk, a bad combination. “After all I’ve done for you! Stealing my horses!”

I pushed Amelia behind me, protecting her as best I could, as I had always done, when he raised a hand and swung. I fell to the side, striking my head against the stall. I heard a bellow and watched as the soldier charged my uncle, brandishing the knife I’d placed in the sack with the clothing. The shirt was partially unbuttoned, revealing his chest and the bandage I’d placed over the wound. My uncle saw the dressing as
well
and aimed several blows at that point. The soldier staggered and I rose clumsily, grabbing a pitchfork as I did. I swung it as hard as I could, connecting with my uncle’s shoulder. I took Amelia’s hand, pulling her through the door as the soldier wrestled with my uncle.

We quickly untied the horses’ reins, just as the soldier ran through the barn door. I didn’t know if he had killed my uncle, and I am shamed to say that for a moment I wished he had. We heard shouting coming from the path and I recognized the voices of my two cousins, Tom and Jeremiah, as well as that of Mark, the man I once thought I loved. I looked at the soldier and saw the knowledge and fear in his eyes. He had to hurry, but I also saw the indecision reflected there as well.

“Please,” I begged, handing him the reins to my uncle’s horse as Amelia mounted Sally. “Take us with you?”

He looked at me trembling in front of him there in the moonlight, and then looked back toward the barn. “Mount up. Hurry, we need to hurry.”

Instead of waiting for me to mount, he lifted me into the saddle and then touched my cheek, lingering over the welt from my uncle’s gold ring. He climbed into my uncle’s saddle, and grabbed the reins to Amelia’s horse. I followed, turning only once when my uncle screamed my name in fury and damnation. He stood with my cousins and Mark
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fists waving in anger and frustrated fury
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looking like a man cursed with dementia.

I turned around, looking forward, watching my little sister and the soldier ride in front of me. I had no idea where we were going and I did not even know the soldier’s name, but right then I said a little prayer, thanking God that I had been the one to find him.

We rode for what seemed like days, stopping only when the soldier saw Amelia and I were having difficulty staying on our horses. Stiff and sore, from both the unaccustomed riding and the blows my uncle had delivered me, I gratefully slipped off Fran’s back into the soldier’s arms. I rested there a moment, overwhelmed, and the soldier made no complaint. I pulled back, embarrassed and ever mindful of my younger sister’s inquisitive gaze.

The sun peeked through the trees as we unsaddled the horses. Amelia wrapped the saddle blanket around her frame and sank to the ground; she rested her head on her arms and fell asleep before I even managed to get the saddle off of Fran. Amelia was a natural with animals, spending many hours roaming on horseback. I was glad of her skill; it kept her out of my uncle’s way
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making it less likely she’d trigger his temper.

Our father, the night the war began, had sent us off to his brother’s place, wanting to keep us safe. He’d said that a country ravaged by war was not safe for young women, and we would be better off in Indiana. I hadn’t believed him then, and I knew for certain that wasn’t true now. Not that it mattered, our farm was gone, burned by Confederates shortly after my sisters and I had left. And my brother was gone as well, dying on a field near our home less than a year later. Rumor had it my father had buried John under the large tree John used to sit and read under and then my father had disappeared. I assumed he was gone, lost in some battle with the enemy troops.

I had no idea where we were. It was nearing noon now, and I could barely think of what to do next. I just wanted to collapse next to my sister and sleep for at least three days. But I couldn’t. My horse needed unsaddled and watered and I needed to speak with the soldier about our situation. I pulled Fran’s saddle blanket off and shook it, sending needle-like pains through my aching arms.

“Olivia.” A large hand came down on my shoulder as he approached me from behind. He startled me and had I not been so exhausted I would have screamed.

“I didn’t mean to startle you.” I looked at him, seeing my own exhaustion echoed in his face. His eyes, dark green in the sun, were encircled by rings, and were dull, listless even. He had to be hurting. It wasn’t that long ago when he was unconscious from his wounds, and I wondered how he stayed upright.

“I’m going to find the nearest town. We need food, supplies.”

I was befuddled and I knew it showed. We needed food, but what else?

“A rifle, a gun, something besides this knife.” He motioned to the knife stuck in his belt. “It is too dangerous without a gun, and I lost mine in the river.”

“Oh. You will come back, right?” I hated that I sounded so needy, but without his help I had no idea what I would do. What if he did decide to just leave Amelia and me here? I could find my way back to my uncle’s, but for what? So I could be beaten and locked in the root cellar, shunned by my family and the town, for daring to help a Confederate? That was not a viable option for me, and I hated that I had to depend on this soldier, a man I knew nothing about, to ensure the safety of my sister and my own well-being.

“It is important that you listen closely. You must stay awake. It’s not safe for you and Amelia out here alone, and you must keep an eye out for
anyone
, do you understand me? Stay awake.” He didn’t answer my question, instead giving me a chiding look.

“I’ll stay awake until you return.”

It wasn’t until an hour after he left on the General
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my uncle’s gelding
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that I realized he’d never said he would return. Suddenly I had little trouble keeping my eyes open. Panicked thoughts flooded my mind.

I kept a careful watch over Amelia, feeling sick from hunger, exhaustion and nerves. The fallen tree I huddled on was rubbing my leg and I shifted, trying to find a more comfortable spot. It was a struggle to keep my eyes open. I had been up since sunrise the morning before and I didn’t think I could continue much longer, yet I knew I couldn’t leave Amelia sleeping unprotected. Bless her heart; I knew she was viewing this as a grand and romantic adventure, complete with a handsome prince rescuing us from our evil relatives. I didn’t dare share my fears with her.

I sat there, worrying and scared and wished fleetingly that Rachel was with me. My sister had always been a smart, resourceful girl and I missed her quiet humor. I felt so alone, and unable to cope. This was unusual for me; I was used to being the strong one. Hadn’t I, at only sixteen, managed to get both my sisters and myself from Maryland to Indiana? Didn’t I run my uncle’s household, since my aunt was too lazy to take an interest? Hadn’t I ensured that Rachel and Amelia completed their chores every evening?

I shouldn’t need him; I was used to taking care of my family on my own. I calmed down after a moment, slumping on my log perch. It was just exhaustion talking. I was intelligent enough to realize that a woman couldn’t travel through the countryside with just a young girl as a companion. We would be sure to be set upon by outlaws. I had heard rumors of army deserters on both sides of the war, who roamed, thieving and terrorizing any in their path. Hadn’t there been talk of deserters over in Harrison County just last month? I had not
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except for that harrowing journey four years ago
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traveled more than ten miles from my uncle’s farm. I spent all my time serving my aunt and uncle and caring for Amelia.

I was sitting on my log, pondering my options when a large owl¯unusual during the daylight hours¯flew from the nearby pine. It startled me so badly I fell right off my perch. I was righting myself when I heard the sound of approaching boot steps.

My first thought was absolute joy and relief.
The soldier has come back!
A second thought ran right behind that, warning me to be careful. What if it wasn’t the soldier? I hesitated in rising, peering over the fallen tree that protected me. I grabbed a three foot branch, ready to brandish it at anyone who threatened our safety.

The boot steps sounded louder and I knew the intruder was almost upon us. I shook so badly I feared I would drop my makeshift weapon. I sensed him getting closer, his footsteps echoing the beat of my heart.

“Olivia?” Amelia tugged on my skirt, her sleep disturbed by the owl’s sudden flight. I hushed her and she sat up, eyes widening.
What’s happening?
she mouthed at me, shaking from excitement.

I shook my head at her and motioned her to stay down behind me. I was looking at her when the soldier called my name.

The relief I felt was so great that my eyes filled with tears. It was not until that moment that I realized I had doubted he would return. He must have been itching to rejoin his men, after all. He must have resented us; I knew I would, if our positions were reversed.

He came more fully into the little clearing, and I dropped my stick, rushing to his side. Somehow, since leaving me several hours earlier he had been in an altercation. The left side of his face sported a two-inch cut on his high cheekbone. It was crusted with drying blood. The eye above it was swollen almost shut, with a horrific purple bruise ringing it.

What had happened to him? Had he managed to get the supplies he had went after? His arms were barren and my stomach rumbled in empty protest. I was famished but I said nothing for I knew he too must be hungry.

“What happened?” I dabbed at the bloody cut on his cheek¯only mildly squeamish this time
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with the handkerchief my sister had passed me.

“Nothing to worry about. Someone just didn’t like the way I talk.” I hadn’t thought of that. What would we do? If it became suspected that a Rebel was traveling through, townspeople would be forming lynch mobs. He covered my hand with his own, reminding me that I was touching him as if I had every right.

I dropped my hand, feeling the heat of shame hit my cheeks. What was I doing? What must he think of me? I didn’t want him to think me a woman of loose character, free with the first man to come around.

“Thank you.” He took the handkerchief from me, pressing it to his most recent injury.

Poor man.
He hadn’t had sufficient time to heal from the wound that had brought him to me in the first place, and here he was with bruising from fighting my uncle and now being attacked for trying to buy food! Yet he wasn’t complaining one bit.

I suddenly felt horrible
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sitting there for several hours doubting him while he was off hunting supplies. He should have been lying somewhere resting, allowing his injuries to heal. “You should rest.” I motioned him to the log I had just vacated.

“So should you, Livy.” Amelia was watching me, fascinated by my discourse with the soldier.

“There’s no time. We’re too close to the town of Salem. They were hit by Morgan’s men and don’t take kindly to outsiders. Saddle up, I want to put some miles between us and any men who decide to investigate the man with the southern accent up close-like.”

I was exhausted but knew better than to argue
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what if someone had followed the soldier? We were tired and weaponless, a wounded man, a woman, and a half-grown girl. We wouldn’t have even a fighting chance against a lynch mob.

I had heard of Morgan’s attacks, of course. Salem and Corydon had both been ravaged. Though I had never been to either of the two towns, my uncle’s farm was within a day’s ride of both. The Rebels had passed so close to my uncle’s place that we had been forced to hide in the root cellar until all the troops had passed. My uncle had even provided two farm hands to Hobson’s forces when they were trailing Morgan. The Loftons had lost seven fine horses to the raiders. I could well understand the townspeople’s animosity. I had been terrified and when I had learned of the destruction wrought, I had given thanks that my uncle had had the presence of mind to hide us in the cellar.

I saddled Fran, grateful she was such a steady, placid animal¯maybe I would have a small chance of staying on her back. I led her over to the fallen log, using
it as a step up to mount. The soldier lifted Amelia into her saddle and mounted General and all at once it occurred to me that the soldier was now a horse thief. My uncle would be within his rights to shoot the soldier on sight if he caught up with us. I urged Fran forward, following behind the soldier and my sister. I glanced over my shoulder frequently, fearing being followed, as we traversed the hard, dirt packed road leading away from Salem.

I relaxed somewhat after about an hour or so
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mostly because I was struggling to keep myself erect in Fran’s saddle. The soldier seemed to be having little difficulty remaining awake as he explained to my sister how we met. Nearing mid afternoon I began to falter. I couldn’t stay awake any longer, I just knew I couldn’t.

I felt myself sliding out of the saddle when the soldier stopped his horse beside me. “Take your feet out of the stirrups, lady.”

Too tired to wonder why, I did as he ordered. He pulled me across Fran’s back and onto the General’s much higher one. I was unclear on what he intended as he turned me in his arms but I cooperated as much as I could. I was so tired I could hardly move my arms when he directed. Pretty soon my head rested against his uninjured shoulder, my legs dangling with no modesty over his. I didn’t care; all that mattered to me right then was that I was safe and that I could rest. I felt the warm spring sun against my scalp, lulling me into a deep sleep, cradled in his arms. The last sound I heard was that of Amelia giggling at something the soldier said.

I awoke to hear my little sister speaking. “Please, sir, the buttons are all we have left of my father.” What was Amelia speaking of? What buttons? Who was she talking to? I was still cradled in front of the soldier, and Amelia was not speaking to him, was she?

I opened my eyes partially, trying to see where we were. A man stood near General and Amelia was beside him. The man held an older rifle, obviously debating whether to sell it.

“The buttons are sterling silver. Worth more than any greenback or paper bill.” The soldier stated and I felt his chest rumble as he spoke. His hand came to rest over my stomach, holding me in place and keeping me from speaking. I didn’t know if he realized I had awakened. “I don’t feel safe, having my wife and her sister out here without a weapon. We were set upon by a band of deserters near the Louisville crossing, and they took my guns, all our money, and most of our food. They even struck my wife when she went to help me.”

His wife?
What was going on? What scheme had he involved my sister in and what part was I supposed to play? Confused, I decided to feign sleep a little longer, hoping it would become clearer. I listened as the man haggled for three of the silver buttons, instead of the two the soldier had offered him. I once again wondered what buttons he was speaking of, and then it occurred to me. The buttons on the soldier’s Confederate uniform could have been made of silver, though they had been severely tarnished. Was he trading his buttons?

“Throw in three pounds of flour and you have a deal, sir.” Amelia stated, and I nearly forgot to feign slumber. When had my sister gotten so forward? The flour was an excellent idea
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with it I could make biscuits for our meals.

They haggled for a moment more, the man, the soldier and my sister until the man finally agreed on Amelia’s original request plus a battered copper pan. I was grateful for both the rifle and the flour, and the pan was an asset as well. With the flour and pan I could cook some simple biscuits, and with the rifle the soldier might be able to find some meat for us along the trail.