Romancing the Rogue (207 page)

As we exited our cart, my nose was filled with the pungent odor of sulfur and horses, unwashed bodies and factories, spoiled meats and cloying perfumes. And the people! Everywhere we stepped, someone stood in our way. I knew right away that I wouldn’t like this city.

Grayson gave quick orders to a passing porter, wanting our horses unloaded from the back of the vehicle with as much haste as possible. After giving strict orders to Amelia and me not to move from our current spot until he returned to us, he followed to ensure the General and the mares had passed the journey with no harm.

Amelia and I did as we were told, though I could feel the nervous tremblings running up her arms. She was excited, having a love of geography and never traveling before now. At least not that she could recollect with any degree of certainty
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to my way of thinking. I hoped this journey was yielding something to the girl besides fear and uncertainty. Why should she be bothered by the things running through my mind? Let her enjoy this different experience while she could. There would be time enough for reality once we reached Chicago.

There were a lot of men in the station house and it made me uncontrollably nervous. I still had visions of those three cretins trapping me beside my horse. Was that only thirty-something hours ago? I supposed many of those wandering about were soldiers on leave, and my opinion was supported once I looked close enough to see the uniforms, whole or partial, that clothed many of the men.

They looked so sad
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so dead-eyed and empty. Was this what war did to men? I noticed a small knot of men, mostly soldiers, walking in our direction and I pulled Amelia out of their path. One was missing his arm, an empty sleeve dangling uselessly to his waist. Another walked with rough-carved crutches and when he got closer I could see that heavy bandages covered his remaining leg. He caught me staring at him as he walked by and he stared back at me, unflinching. There was nothing in his gaze, and nubs rose along my spine; surely he must feel
something.

Finally I had to look away; I couldn’t look at him any longer. This was the first time I had seen someone with so obvious an injury. Few men had returned to our town and none with amputations. Gideon’s brother Matthew had been hurt, and he limped, but was still intact, possessing all his limbs. I had to confess I found it hard to look at Matthew, unsure what to say to him, how to act. This man was so much worse, and I was glad he passed by without speaking.

Amelia stood silent, taking in all the new sights. Not that there were many visible with so many people in every direction. We waited patiently for Grayson, trying to stay out of the way of the crowds, but still remain visible for when he returned.

It wasn’t but half of an hour before he found us in the crowd. I could tell by looking at his face that something had happened and I straightened my spine, bracing for the worst of news.

“Come.” He grabbed my arm, and I could feel the urgency in his hand. I wanted to demand answers but I waited, certain they would soon be forthcoming. He was tense, his shoulders taut, eyes darting around the large crowd
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the crowd that seemed to have swelled considerably while Amelia and I waited. People began to shriek, shouts were heard,
hallelujahs
and
praises be.
I looked at him, confused.

“Surrender!” The word echoed over my head, repeated by the crowd and by the newsboys running around waving papers in people’s excited faces.

Grayson tightened his hold on my arm and grabbed the back of Amelia’s dress as the people began rushing towards the eager boys, wanting to be the first to read the special editions. The crowds’ movements terrified me and I let Grayson pull us to the nearest exit.

I was certain we were to be trampled! What did surrender mean to me if we were all dead, the victims of a stampede?

I don’t know how we managed, but Grayson found his way out of the exploding crowd, pulling my sister and myself with him. It wasn’t until we took the reins to our mounts from the boy Grayson had paid to hold them that the true meaning of what had just happened set in.

“Surrender?” I looked to Grayson for clarification.
It was over?
“Is it real?”

“Appears so. Grant and Lee met, seems it’s done. They met two days ago to talk.” Grayson’s brows were lowered and I couldn’t discern if he was angry or merely perplexed by this unexpected news.
What did surrender mean for him?

“Is it for real? I mean, people won’t start fighting again?” Amelia clearly didn’t understand and for a moment I reflected on how she must see this war. Literally a third of her life we had been fighting. She most likely remembered little else from before the war and if this were real, her life would be very different now. It must be frightening for her.

And if the fighting was over, would there be as many jobs available? Would the soldiers return home and take the jobs? What would Amelia and I do in Chicago if I couldn’t find an employer?

“Grayson? Is it real?” He lifted me quickly onto Fran’s back and handed me the reins, which I took with slightly numbed hands.

“I don’t know. Only time will tell.” He mounted the General, haste apparent in his every movement and I wondered at it. “We need to find a hotel, now!”

Why? What did our finding lodging have to do with the war’s surrender?

“Why?” Amelia echoed my thoughts and I waited for his answer.

“Rooms will get scarce. Everyone who is traveling will want to stay¯not want to miss any news. Come.”

We applied at two inns, but it was as Grayson feared. We were lucky to find a small room on the outskirts of the city. It had bare walls and only a small thin bed, big enough only for my sister. Where were Grayson and I to sleep?

Grayson left to stable the horses, the same routine I had grown familiar with over the last several days. I requested from the hotelier several extra blankets. The man leered at me and I felt ice slither around my insides. His look was too reminiscent of those men’s by the creek and I was anxious for Grayson to return, bringing with him the safety I associated with him.

I locked the door after he left, placing the room’s lone chair beneath the old knob. I didn’t want anyone pushing through the door. When Grayson knocked and identified himself, I hurriedly removed the chair. He entered, and then replaced it, no more comfortable in our surroundings than I was.

That did not reassure me.

“I’ll try to find better lodgings tomorrow,” he told me, placing the bundles in his arms on the small bed. A rich smell of gravy wafted from the paper-wrapped items and my stomach growled in accompaniment. We quickly devoured his offering, talking over bites about the news.

Grayson seemed doubtful that it was over, but I didn’t know if it was merely that the man was shocked at the ending of what had to be a momentous force in his life. Me, it didn’t affect much. I still had no home, could not return to my uncle’s
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even if I wanted to.

“So what do we do now?” Amelia wanted to know. She was to take the bed this evening. Even though I was less than third a foot taller than she, I would not fit on the small mattress. I wasn’t nervous, at least not overmuch, at the prospect of sleeping beside Grayson on the floor. I had grown somewhat more accustomed to his presence.

“Now, we wait. Be sure it’s true.” Grayson’s voice was low, tired, and I stared at him for a moment, though I didn’t say anything, didn’t dare.

As the evening settled into dusk, the night sounds were drowned out by the sounds of reveling and church bells. Some enterprising souls had found fireworks and were putting on wonderful displays that we could sometimes see through the room’s small un-paned window.

I
was afraid to believe it was over; the war that had changed my life so horrifically was finally at its end? I couldn’t make myself believe it; and if it were true only one question remained in my mind. What would Amelia and I¯and Grayson¯do now?

Fireworks kept me awake long after Grayson and Amelia drifted off; that, and the feel of Grayson’s body lying so close to mine. If I reached my hand out, I could run my fingers over the dark whiskers on his jaw.

I curled my fingers inward, but found my hand doing just that. I hadn’t felt whiskers before; my father and brother had rarely grown beards. The hairs, sharp and soft, tickled my fingertips. I giggled at the way the bristles sprang back into place after my hand passed over them.

As I feathered his jaw, his breathing changed and I knew he was awake. My fingers stilled and my own breath locked in my throat. But I couldn’t pull my hand back. My fingers rested just beneath his chin, his warmth nearly scorching them-nearly scorching me. He said nothing, only watched me, waiting for me to do something, anything.

But I couldn’t. I didn’t know what to do
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it seemed like I never knew what to do. I shook so badly, the trembling of my torso translating to my arms, my hands. He must have felt it. He pulled my palm from his cheek, placing a warm kiss in its center. It only made the shaking worse.

I wanted to feel his lips on mine again. Feel his hands on my back, my shoulders, in my hair. The depth of that wanting scared me a little. I started to pull away from him, though I had little room on our blanket-covered floor. I felt the bed frame at my back; I could see the outline of my sister’s foot beneath the sheet. Still, I tried to pull away as far as I could.

He stopped me. I didn’t resist. I let him slide an arm around my waist, let him pull me closer; let him push the blanket aside. I asked myself how far I was willing to let him go. Did I want him to kiss me? I honestly didn’t know the answer.

His fingers pulled the hair loose from the bun at my nape. He loved to do that, had done it before. Several times, in fact. Why? It was just hair, brown and a little wavy, nothing much to look at. He buried his fingers in the mass, parting it, winding around his palm. What was the man doing?

I pulled back to look at him, though little light seeped through the window. The moonlight delineated his cheekbones, illuminated his hair. I couldn’t see his eyes; I wished I could see what he was thinking. I never knew what he was thinking and that made me nervous
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especially when he was touching me.

“Grayson?” I still didn’t know if that was his first name, and I sat up, almost jerking out of his arms.
I do not know this man.

“Hmm?” He pulled back slightly, but not releasing my hair. I was tethered to him as surely as Fran had been tied to the General. Would he let me go if I asked? Did I want to ask?

“What are you doing?” I tried to keep my voice down, fervently hoping my sister slept through this interlude like she had the last, “I don’t…”

“Don’t what?” He ran small kisses along my neck, and it was like nothing I had felt before.
What is he doing?
His kisses before had been decorously confined to my lips, my cheeks, and occasionally my forehead. Nothing like this; then, his hands had stayed acceptably around my waist, above it, running the length of my spine. He was ever mindful of the child sleeping so close then.

“I don’t think we should do...” Do what? Kiss, touch, hold one another? I hadn’t been held in forever, and never like this. This made me feel special, unique, yet wicked all at once.

“Come. I won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with.” He pulled back some, replacing the blanket near to my shoulder. I wasn’t sure I wanted that. I liked feeling the heat from his body against my chest and belly.

“Comfortable with?” My confusion must have shown, for he laughed and pulled me nearer. I shouldn’t have said that, it was like a challenge to him.

“Just kiss me back.” That was all he said for several moments, but his lips met mine and speaking became impossible. I did as he told me, and when his mouth became more insistent I easily acquiesced. It wasn’t long before his tongue began tickling my lips. I gave in, gave him entry and his tongue mingled with mine. I liked it, he had done that before. This time, though, my tongue darted out to meet his.

I closed my eyes, not wanting him to see what I was thinking, wanting to enjoy the feel of his lips so insistent on mine. He pulled the blanket from between us once again. This time, though, I barely noticed. Suddenly, he rolled on his back, pulling me atop him. My eyes jerked open and I stared down at him, seeing the moonlight playing shadows on his cheeks.

My chest was flattened against his, swelling over the sides of my shift. Nothing separated that part of my body from his save the two thin layers of our underclothing. He was hot. So hot against me. I placed my hand against that chest, wanting to ensure my balance. I felt so vulnerable there, against the hard ridges of his body. He had finally removed the earlier bandage, though I was sure his wound was nowhere near healed. He didn’t seem to care, just lay there watching me. What did he want me to do?

He kept staring at me, waiting for something. I didn’t know what it was. Knew it had to be something. Why else would he be holding his breath? I ran a hand over his whiskers again, the bristles tickling my palm, causing an answering tickle to echo along my spine.
What am I doing?

This wasn’t like those other embraces, even those of last night. Those had been almost sweet. Then, I knew I wouldn’t see him again, knew he would stop if I asked. Now, I didn’t know what he wanted, what would happen, what to do next.

“Kiss me. You know how. I've taught you how.”

I debated a moment for I had never kissed anyone. Mark and Grayson had always kissed me. What did I do first?

I lowered my head, brushing the seal of his lips with mine. He parted them and I almost drew back right there. I slipped my tongue out, running it softly over his upper lip. I could feel him shaking beneath me.

It was a freeing feeling, and I found myself repeating the caress with a little more pressure. His lips were both soft and firm; his breath was hot, fanning my mouth, equally hot as his hands, which were tracing my ribs, and lower along my spine. I liked that, liked feeling his big hands on my body. Was that wrong? I pressed my lips more firmly to his, wanting him to do what he’d done before, to take charge, do what came next.

This time he didn’t; I did. I tried to part my lips, using them to open his wider. It worked¯his mouth opened enough for me to trace the inner rim of his with the tip of my tongue. I grew a little more daring, running my tongue over the edge of his teeth.
They overlapped slightly, so slightly that I hadn’t noticed before. He opened his mouth still wider under mine, pulling my tongue in deeper. It rubbed against his, being tickled by his teeth; I tried to pull back, unsure of this newly intimate touch. He ha
dn’t done that earlier, and I wasn’t certain I liked it. His hands tightened over my lower back, pulling me even closer to him. My legs parted¯forced to do nothing else as he aligned my lower body with his¯falling to rest beside his much longer ones. The s
kirt of my undergarment proved no barrier.

It was the most intimate thing I had ever felt and was so shocking, I immediately tried to close my knees. That did little to help
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in fact it did the opposite. He raised his own knees behind me and I slid forward, coming to rest directly over his hard pelvic region. My eyes jerked to his face. I could see his eyes now, could see the intensity in them as he stared at me, waiting for what I would do. Moonlight shone directly on his face now, and hid him from me not at all. It took a moment before I realized that he, too, could now see me
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directly in the path of the window’s light.

Knowing this, I began to withdraw. I didn’t want him to
see
me behaving like this. It was unseemly. He laughed, soft so not to disturb Amelia and I knew he was aware of my feelings.

“It’s ok. There’s nothing wrong with this.” His hand rose to the back of my head and he guided it back down, once more meeting my mouth with his.

Something had changed about his embrace. His hands weren’t holding me as tightly, as insistently. Instead, his touch slid slowly over my shoulders, tangling in the hair dangling down my back
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now hopelessly tousled from his fingers. He lowered his knees, freeing room for me to move away if I chose.

I waited a moment, undecided, uncertain, before doing just that. He released a long sigh and I looked at his face. Nothing showed in his countenance to imply irritation, so I relaxed. I rolled off of him as delicately as I could. My face flamed as I realized that the blanket was now completely gone from my body. He must have been able to see right down the top of my garment. I was so shamed I turned my body away from him, burrowing into the blanket’s protection.
What had happened?

I waited for him to say something. He didn’t. After a few moments of me lying there holding my breath, he rolled to his side, his front near my back but thankfully not touching me. I didn’t know what would happened if he
did
touch me then. What would I do?

Finally, finally, after the sound of fireworks had long faded somewhere near dawn, I drifted off, my blanket rolled around me so tightly I could not move.

The next morning, I awoke to find myself curled on Amelia’s mattress. Grayson must have moved me. My companions were playing chess quietly on the floor, both washed and dressed. Only I still lay abed. The sun was bright through the window and I knew it must be later in the morning. I never slept past dawn; chores always required me to rise near to beating the sun.

I couldn’t look at him, ashamed of what had happened hours before.

“Good morning. Sleep well?” Humor laced his voice, and I knew he was making fun of me for my embarrassment.
What an arrogant man!
I looked at Amelia, wanting to pretend just a little longer that the soldier was not there. I knew it was the height of rudeness, but what was I to say?

Grayson excused himself, ostensibly to check on the horses, but I knew it was to give me some privacy while I washed. I hoped he’d bring news of the surrender and I hurried through my morning toiletry, eager for him to return, yet wanting him to stay gone as long as possible.

“You kissed him.” At my sister’s words I dropped the ceramic carafe of water. I was thankful it hadn’t shattered, though water went everywhere, soaking the wood plank floors. “I saw you.”

“Amelia!”

“What? I did. Last night.” Amelia helped me sop some of the water into the lone towel the hotelier had provided. “What did it feel like? Did you like it? Is he a good kisser? Does his breath smell? Did he use his tongue? Rachel and Gideon used tongues.”

“I…
how do you know?” I hated to sound so shocked but knowing Amelia had witnessed my behavior last evening made my mortification tenfold worse. “'Bout Rachel, I mean?”

“I watched them once. They thought I was riding with Matthew. Gideon touched her, too.”

“Touched her? What do you mean?” I was curious for a multitude of reasons. Just what did Amelia know of those things between a man and a woman? Did my youngest sister know more than I
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even if she had learned this vicariously? Just what sort of touches had Rachel and Gideon partaken in? Had they acted shamefully? Was this wanton wickedness a trait Rachel and I shared? Would Amelia too have to face such things
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had she inherited this predilection also?

“I’m not going to say. I promised her I wouldn’t tell anyone.” Amelia must have realized that she had said too much, for no matter how much I pestered her, even ordering her to tell me, she refused to betray our sister’s confidence. I was filled with alternating pride and exasperation at the child. Proud she felt honor bound to keep a promise and annoyed she wouldn’t give me the information I so desperately wanted to know.

Grayson returned shortly after I buttoned the last of the pearl shaped buttons on my dress. My hair still hung loose, damp and curling as it floated down the middle of my back. His green eyes sparked, and he reached a hand out, tangling it in the strands. He showed no restraint, in fact appeared not aware the child was still in the room. What was he about?

“So is it true?” Amelia was staring out the window, watching what must have been a thousand people as they milled about in the streets below our hotel room. “There’re Rebels in the streets.”

Her words shocked me and I rushed to the window to look for myself. It was true; men in ragged and faded Confederate dress were staggering down the middle of the street. Civilian-clothed men guarded the sidewalks staring at the rebels, some holding guns. No women or children were seen, the crowd was all men. I could feel the tensions of the group, but the enemy soldiers kept on.

“Where did they come from?” I turned to Grayson as he came up to the window behind me. We stood there, the three of us, watching the crowds for several moments before he answered.

“Prisoners. Morton’s prisoners. They’ve been freed.” Grayson’s voice was terse as he watched the men. Was he searching the faces for his brother? Was he seeing his friends in those battered and humbled creatures? It must be hard for him, staying here with us. Was he wishing he could join that ragtag parade? What had happened to Fischer? Grayson had said he was hurt, was the boy still alive?

“What about your brother? Will you be able to find him?” What would happen to these soldiers returning home? “What will you do now?”

“Get you settled. Fischer’ll head to the farm, I expect.”

“Where is your farm at in Tennessee?” Grayson didn’t talk much about his life before the war; in fact the man didn’t talk much at all
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to me anyway. He was always telling Amelia about different beasts and fishes that he had seen. He spoke quite eloquently about the animals, possessing more than the average knowledge. “Is it very big?”

“About middlin’ I guess. Used to run cattle before the fighting, grew tobacco every couple years or so. It’s near the center of the state, between Cookeville and
Monterrey.”

“Has it been in your family very long?”

“Since my great-grandfather came from the Carolina’s in Seventeen-seventy, it passed to his son then to my father.”

“So did you always want to farm?” Amelia sank onto the bed, kicking her feet idly against the wood frame. “Did you maybe want to do something else?”

“Farming is all right. It’s a way to make a living. Provide for me and Fischer until he got grown.” Grayson backed away from the window, pulling the thin curtain over it, drowning out little of the commotion.

“So what else did you want to do?” There was something about the tightening of his mouth when he answered my sister that made me certain he
hadn’t been
happy farming. “Before farming, I mean, and enlisting.”

He looked at me a moment and was silent. What was he thinking? Was it impertinent for me to ask such questions? Was it any of my concern?

“Didn’t enlist. Was drafted in sixty-three. Before the war
—
I had thoughts of being a doctor.” His voice was low and I struggled to hear him over the noise of the street below us.

“And now? Do you still want to be a doctor?”

“No. Farming is what I will do until the day I breathe my last.” His tone rang out with conviction and I got the sense that he would be more than happy to plant corn for the rest of his life. Because of the war? Had it disillusioned him so?

“And Fischer? What did he want to do?” Amelia was fascinated with the subject of Grayson’s brother, knowing that Grayson had raised him in much the same manner that I had raised her.

“He likes to read, wanted to teach. Would have been good at it, too. If he hadn’t enlisted.”

“So he wasn’t conscripted?” This surprised me. I thought that with Grayson being drafted his brother would have also not joined the fighting until it was demanded. Why hadn’t Grayson joined at the war’s onset? “Why didn’t you enlist when he did?”

Had I ove
rstepped my place asking such a personal question? Of course, he knew much of the intimacies of my own life since the war¯shouldn’t I be entitled to knowing something about him?

“I wanted him to stay out of the fighting, finish his education. He was only nineteen years old. There were plenty of others willing to fight. If he hadn’t enlisted I was going to.”

“Why? Why didn’t you enlist with him then?” This puzzled Amelia, I could see it on her face. I waited for his answer, curious myself.

“The farm. Didn’t want to leave it in someone else’s hands. Probably gone now though.”

That hadn’t occurred to me. Were Federal soldiers seizing land in Tennessee? If his farm had been in his family nigh on eighty years, it would be a shame for him to lose it now.

“What will you do if it is? Would you become a doctor then?”

“No. I’ll never pick up a scalpel against a man again.” With that cryptic statement, he pushed past me and sank into the chair.

I wanted to ask him what he meant by
again
but the look in his eyes stayed me. Had he worked in a medical capacity for the Southerners? “What will we do? Will we leave for Chicago today? Will you join the prisoners and head home?”

“I’ve been thinking. We need to know exactly where your sister and her husband are. Can you send a telegram to his family? Would they answer?”

“Matthew would.” Amelia stated while I worried the question. I certainly didn’t know the Loftons well enough to ask them such a thing, but then again, my uncle had long been set against Mr. Lofton so why would he feel the need to speak to my uncle?

“Good. We will send a message this afternoon.” Grayson then told me to hurry and pin my hair, that we would go to find something to eat. I did as he bid, wanting to get out of the little room. I knew I couldn’t spend the entire day with Grayson in such close confines
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not without expressing my curiosity over last night’s behaviors.

We left our hotel after paying the hotelier for two more nights in advance, guaranteeing we would have lodging while in the city. Although the room was cramped, old, and somewhat shabby, it was still a roof above our heads. What would we do while waiting for Mr. Lofton to return our missive?

Grayson inquired as to directions to the nearest telegraph office and we found one located just inside a local bank. He told Amelia what to say, and gave her the coin to pay for it. Why he was letting the child do it I didn’t know, but Amelia seemed thrilled at the responsibility. When it was done, we found a local restaurant and Grayson asked that a picnic lunch be packed. We soon found ourselves carrying a blanket-wrapped bundle of sandwiches and a bottle of strong iced tea. Grayson led the way, following directions the large woman who handed us the meal had given him. We soon found ourselves seated along the banks of the White River. It was a water of intermediate size, flood-swollen from this winter’s melted snow. It had been an unbelievably harsh winter. Thankfully that seemed to be over now, and the day dawned clear and bright, and only a little bit chilly. Of course it was several weeks past the beginning of spring.

I couldn’t remember ever enjoying such a leisurely luncheon as I did there by the river. People often wandered by, happily stopping to chat about the surrender. Grayson remained quiet, and when he did speak he tempered his voice so that his accent was much less noticeable. It saddened me that he felt the need to be so careful, and I hoped that soon he would be amongst those with whom he could drop his guard.

We finished our meal, giving the remaining bread crusts to Amelia so she could feed the mallard and his family that had wandered near to us. Then Grayson gathered the bundle, wrapping our trash up in it, and suggested we check the telegraph office for the Loftons’ reply.