Shades of Gray: A Novel of the Civil War in Virginia (60 page)

Hunter’s voice became low and lethal. “You must
understand,” he said, leaning his crutch against the wagon and preparing to
help her in. “I’ve come to talk to you, by force, if necessary.”

Andrea took a step back, jerking her arm again
from his grasp. “No,
you
must understand, sir. You are in the middle of
an enemy camp.”

“This camp is surrounded,” Hunter replied in an
unemotional voice. “My men know their business. If you make a scene, a lot of
people could be injured. I hope you will not allow your stubbornness to
jeopardize innocent lives.”

He watched
Andrea’s gaze jerk over to the three men in the back of the wagon and observed
her jaw tighten as the significance of their presence sank in. Slowly, she
lifted her eyes to the tree line behind them, then to the hill that rose beyond
the row of tents. He knew she imagined, even if she did not see, the silent,
vigilant horsemen gazing down from within its shadows.

“But there are injured men here,” she said
broodingly, still staring at the tree line. “Surely you would not—”

“We will do what we must.” His voice was low and
grave, though his pulse raced with violent force through his veins.

“By thunder, you mean to kidnap me?” She turned
back to him with a stamp of her foot. “In broad bloody daylight?”

Hunter’s face crinkled into a smile at her
predictable reaction. “You could put it that way, I suppose.”

Andrea’s face bloomed red with rage. She looked
at him with wariness and defiance and inflexible determination. “I know no
military secrets,” she hissed. “Nor possess anything that would be of interest
or value to you.”

Hunter smiled blankly now, giving her no hint as
to what he was thinking. “I’m afraid I’ll have to be the judge of that.” He did
not allow his voice to betray the offense he took that she would think military
information was his purpose.

“But you have no business—”

“I conceive it to be my business, my duty, and,
hopefully, my pleasure,” he said coolly.

 “But you said it would take only a few
minutes!”

“I believe you misunderstood. I said I would be
leaving
in a few minutes, and indeed I shall. I beg your pardon if I neglected to mention
that you will be with me.”

She gasped at his ruse.

Hunter grabbed her arm again. “I regret that
there is neither time nor opportunity to talk here any longer. Please get in.”

Knowing she would put up an obstinate defense
unless he gave her no other choice, Hunter conveyed by his tone that his
statement was an order and that it was seriously uttered. Yet he was
practically shivering at her proximity. Never upon any battlefield was his
self-control threatened more than on this trying occasion.

Andrea climbed into the wagon, shaking off his
attempts to help her. “How dare you,” she muttered under her breath, though she
did not cause a scene. She knew what he, and his men, were capable of.

“You need not be under any alarm.” Hunter picked
up the reins and moved the horses forward, wondering why he had said the words.
The look in her eyes was wild and unearthly, but it was not fright. He was
sitting beside a powder keg. And it was giving off sparks.

“What is it you want?”

Hunter did not answer. He remained vigilant now,
his eyes intent on the road before them. Only when they met the camp’s
sentinels did his demeanor change. He smiled casually at the guard and waved,
but one of them stepped out in front of them while another grabbed the reins
and brought the horses to a stop.

“Miss Evans,” one said, looking at Hunter
suspiciously, “where might you be off to?”

Hunter slid his hand into his coat pocket when
Andrea did not answer.

“You leaving us?” the sentry questioned again.

Andrea’s green eyes flicked up to Hunter,
expressing once more her displeasure, then she turned to the sentry with a
smile.  “No need to be alarmed, Corporal,” she said with more gaiety than
gloom.

 Hunter did not see her hand move as she talked,
but he felt its pressure. With her fingers wrapped around his, she kept the gun
in his pocket pressed firmly against his thigh.

“There are some injured men at a farmhouse near
here that need moved,” she continued without pause. “These men have generously
offered to help bring them back.”

“They have a pass I presume,” the sentinel said,
glancing at the men in the back doubtfully.

Hunter dared not look at Andrea and she gave him
no time to answer. “I would trust my explanation is sufficient, Corporal,” she
said, sounding offended that he would ask for further documentation. “I asked
for volunteers, and these men kindly came forward. Surely you do not wish to
humiliate me among men of such generosity.”

“It’s for your own safety that I ask,” the
corporal said, trying to defend himself.

“Corporal Jennings.” Andrea’s tone grew stern
and intimidating. “I believe the intentions of these men are honorable and
there is no occasion for protection. Are you insinuating I cannot take care of
myself?”

“N-o-o, Miss Evans. B-but, you have no escort,”
he stuttered, quailing visibly before the look of defiance in her eyes.

“I have just told you
these
men
are my escort!”

The corporal’s face turned instantly red, and
his hand dropped to his side as he released the reins. “Pass on!”

Hunter hit the reins against the back of the
horses and smiled to himself. Never had he met anyone who could more readily
adapt to circumstances beyond her control than the being sitting next to him.

A few miles down the road, Hunter pulled the
horses to a stop. The three men in the back jumped off, tearing away their
bandages, while eight riders appeared out of nowhere on either side of the road
with three extra horses. Without a word, the men went about their business with
the precision of a drill team and then disappeared like magic, the shadows of
the trees engulfing them instantly and completely.

Hunter ripped the sling off his arm, while
Andrea watched the proceedings around her. “See what a skillful nurse you are?
Good as new.”

Andrea threw him a look of scorn.  “You feigned
your injuries?”

“That one I did. Wish I could say the same for
this one.” He ran his hand down his leg and grimaced at the pain. “Still hurts
damnably … begging your pardon.”

“You shouldn’t be pushing yourself so,” Andrea
said in a concerned voice, touching his arm before withdrawing it quickly.

 “You are worried about me?” Hunter tried hard
to make his voice sound unemotional.

Andrea did not answer and stared straight ahead,
obviously annoyed that she had allowed him to see her concern.

Hunter tried to act unmoved at her coldness, but
he was beginning to wonder if he had made a mistake. He was not sure he was
strong enough to endure the ordeal to come.

“Where are we going?” she asked after a few
moments silence.

“You’ll see.” He reached into the back of the
wagon and pulled out a woolen cloak. “You may need this.”

Andrea looked with cool scrutiny at his offering
and accepted it without a word. With the descent of the sun, a chill was back
in the air. Pulling the garment on, she put the hood up as if to hide any
further emotions. Within moments, the gentle sway of the wagon caused her head
to slump, and within a few miles, she was leaning against Hunter’s shoulder in
a deep, apparently much needed, sleep.

Chapter
60

“For all sad words of tongue or pen,

The saddest are these, ‘it might have been.’”

– John Greenleaf Whittier

Andrea, wake up. We’re here.” Andrea opened her
eyes with great effort. “We’re where?” She looked around sleepily, though it
was now too dark to see any of her surroundings.

“Where we were going.” Hunter jumped from the
wagon, cursing when his leg hit the ground. Putting his hands around Andrea’s
waist, he lifted her easily from the seat. Even with his injuries and
weariness, he seemed to her like a giant in strength. Yet she thought she felt
him trembling once her feet were on the ground.

Andrea’s eyes went to the back of the wagon
where a saddle horse stood tied, munching contentedly on hay. She had no idea
where it came from or when it had been acquired.

“You must have been very tired,” Hunter said, seeing
her questioning stare. He took her hand and led her through the darkness.

They had proceeded but a few steps when Andrea
stopped. “What are we doing
here
?”

“I told you. We need to talk. Go inside.”

“I’ll not!” Andrea crossed her arms and planted
her feet

“I insist.” Taking her gently but firmly by the
arm, Hunter guided her into the cabin. Although Andrea could see every effort
had been made to erase any evidence of the past, the crushing weight of
memories descended upon her the instant she inhaled its musty smell.

“I do not see why you deemed it necessary to
bring me
here
.”

“I needed to find a place with privacy,” came
the steady reply from behind her as he lit a lamp.

She whirled around to face him, her eyes
blazing. “I could have found an empty tent for privacy.”

“I needed a place where you couldn’t get away.”

“You will
never
find that!” Andrea
watched Hunter wince, and the pain in his eyes made her instantly sorry she had
said it.

 He swallowed hard as if nerving himself forward
in a futile charge. “I-I know I have done you a grave injustice.”

Andrea tried to sound nonchalant, as if the pain
of the last months had not made her long to die. “Fate and the war have dealt
me a number of injustices, Colonel. I’ve not had the time to contemplate them individually—nor
do I care to do so now.”

“Andrea, I know I’ve hurt you deeply.”

Andrea threw her hands up in frustration.
“Really, must we discuss this? I accept being a casualty of war if that is your
desire. Nothing more.”

“A casualty of war? You think not of the past?
Of Hawthorne?”

Hunter stood right behind her now. Andrea moved
forward, unable to stand the nearness. All the strength of her spirit rebelled
against allowing herself to think about the memories he evoked. “The past is a
world to which we cannot return. Hawthorne was a thousand years ago and as far
from my mind.”

“You cannot mean that.” Hunter sounded hurt and
confused. “Never for a moment could I force myself to forget you. The thought
of you consumes me.”

Andrea’s insides reeled.
No, I don’t mean
that
. How many minutes of how many hours and how many weeks and months had
she yearned for him—yet dreaded ever seeing him again?

She remained silent, staring at the floor and
praying it would open up and swallow her. She could not allow him to know the
agony he had caused her, did not want to trust him not to cause that misery
again. She must end this here and now. Yet the thought of never seeing him
again sent a chill down her spine.

“You say you don’t care, yet you are trembling.”
He put his hand lightly on her shoulder, and she jumped as if a lightning bolt
had struck out of a cloudless sky.

“Don’t touch me, I implore you.” Andrea stepped
away. She felt her emotions surging as all of the pain and anguish she had
endured over the past few months welled up inside her. Tears formed in her eyes
and began running down her cheeks. She put her face in her hands to hide and
sobbed like a child. “You bring up things I do not wish to recall. I am not
sufficiently strong to banish such memories!”

“Do you think I want to remember what I said to
you? What I did to you? I was a fool!”

Andrea tried
to hold back the tears, but there were too many now. She no longer had the
power to control her emotions like she once had.

“My words should not wound, I seek to heal.”
Hunter turned her around and encircled her in his arms. “Andrea, I beg of you,
please say you’ll forgive me!”

Andrea could barely breathe in the tightness of
his embrace. She felt his heart pounding wildly against her cheek, felt that
manly, prodigious strength she had longed for and never believed she would ever
feel again. The sanctuary and strength of his arms felt so good around her—so
powerful, yet so gentle, so comforting and so reassuring.

But when she thought of the pain he had caused
her, she rallied her strength and pushed him away. “I request not your pity or
regret, Colonel Hunter. What’s done is done. We cannot return to the past, nor
lament over what could or should or might have been.”

“But we can begin again.”

“We cannot. Too much has happened. Nothing is
the same.”

“Much has happened. But little has changed. Come
back with me to Hawthorne. I will show you.”

Andrea struggled to remain strong. “Wish what
you will. As for me, I have no way of judging the future but by the past—and it
is not a place to which I wish to return.” She almost wept afresh when she
beheld his expression before he lowered his head.

“You would not say that if you knew what you
meant to me.” His voice cracked with emotion.

“I believe I
learned quite sufficiently what I meant to you in my last few minutes at
Hawthorne,” Andrea replied unemotionally. “Please do not feel you must
reiterate those thoughts for me tonight, for I can assure you my memory serves
me overly well in that regard.” She angrily wiped fresh tears from her cheeks.

“Andrea, I pray my words have not haunted you as
they have haunted me. I hope that you have not hurt as I have hurt!”

“Don’t
worry, Colonel. I do not blame you for anything you did.” She stared blankly at
the wall as she spoke. “An officer cannot be expected to trust the enemy. That
was a mistake reserved for me alone to make, and a grave one I assure you.
Grave enough, indeed, that it shall never be made again.”