The Sword (12 page)

When they finished, Jeb called Tremayne to him and said, “You cut a fine figure on a horse, Lieutenant. And you’ve learned the orders very well. You drill them like an old hand.”

“Thank you, sir,” he said with pleasure. He was a fine-looking man, six feet tall with broad shoulders. His face was strong with a hard jaw and dark, intense eyes.

Jeb frowned and shifted on his feet. “By any chance, Lieutenant, do you recall that man who was talking about having such a large family? He’s from here, and his family has been here for a long time.”

Clay thought and finally answered, “I’m sorry, sir. I know many of the men are from Richmond, but I can’t recall exactly the one you’re speaking of. Colonel Stuart, is something wrong? Do you need me to find this man?”

“No, it’s a personal matter, nothing to do in particular with the man I’m thinking of,” he replied, worried. “It’s just that my wife is ill, and we have two small children. I really need to find a woman to come in and help her. It’s very important that I find one quickly, since we have to move out in the morning.”

Clay gave him a crooked smile. “Sir, I just happen to know of a woman—or a girl—who is an excellent nurse. I can personally assure you of that. And she is here.”

“Here?” Jeb repeated. “What do you mean? Here, at the fairgrounds?”

“Well, yes sir, she is. She’s … rather unorthodox. But as I said, I can personally vouch for her character. I’m sure she would be happy to help you and your wife.”

“Tell me more about her,” Jeb said, his eyes piercing as they drilled into Clay.

“She is with her grandfather, and they are peddlers. Their wagon is here, and they’ve been selling goods to the men. She’s young, only seventeen. And she wears, uh, breeches.”

“Breeches?” Jeb repeated blankly. “You mean men’s trousers?”

“Yes, sir. She’s from Louisiana, and—oh, I think you’ll understand better if you meet her, sir.”

“Take me to her,” Jeb ordered.

Clay led him to the north side of the crowded field, where a big wagon stood. Outside it a small man sat on a camp stool by a small campfire. The figure that knelt close to him, feeding small logs onto the fire, looked like a young boy. As Clay and Stuart drew near, she looked up, and then Jeb could clearly see the delicate features of a girl.

Clay bowed, rather formally. “Sir, I’d like for you to meet two good friends of mine. This is Jacob Steiner, and this is Miss Chantel Fortier. This is Colonel Stuart, my commanding officer.”

“I’m very happy to meet you,” Jacob Steiner said, bowing his head. He was a small elderly man, rather stooped.

“You’ve just arrived in Richmond, Mr. Steiner?”

“Yes, although we’ve been here several times before. I’ve been a peddler for many years, and I’ve been all over. But I am beginning to believe that in these coming perilous days, the Lord has led us here, to the South, for a purpose.”

“You’re a Christian man?”

Jacob Steiner smiled. “You’ve noticed I am Jewish, but yes, I am one of those rare converted Jews.”

Clay spoke up, “I have to tell you, Colonel, that Miss Chantel saved both of us.”

“Saved you in what way?” Stuart asked with interest. He studied the young woman dressed in a man’s trousers and shirt, with a floppy hat that covered most of her black hair. She had the strangest violet eyes. But in her gaze Jeb found kindness.

Jacob Steiner answered, “She found me sick on the side of the road and nursed me back to health. The same thing happened with Mr.—I mean, Lieutenant Tremayne. We found him wounded. My
granddaughter is such a good nurse that he recovered very quickly.”

“She’s the best nurse I’ve ever known or heard of,” Clay said vehemently.

Jeb Stuart was a man who could assess a situation and make quick decisions. “Miss Chantel, I have a problem, and I need some help.”

Chantel asked him, “What sort of a problem, Colonel?”

“My wife has fallen ill. We have two small children, and she’s simply not able to take care of them by herself right now. I need someone to come in and help with cleaning and cooking, but mostly to take care of my wife and children. Would you be interested in helping me, ma’am?”

Chantel glanced at Jacob. “If
Grandpere
agrees, I’ll be happy to do what I can.”

“Why, of course, Colonel,” Jacob said readily. “Chantel is a good person and has a healing touch, I believe. If you need her to stay at your home, I will go and check on her and your family each day to see to their needs.”

“Thank you, sir,” Jeb said with great relief. “And thank you, Miss Chantel. I will be glad to pay you a fair wage.”

“I don’t need money, me,” she said carelessly. “Grandpere gives me all the money I need.”

“I’m glad of that,” Jeb said, “but still I insist on paying you. I know this is very sudden, but I’m afraid that my command is ordered to move out in the morning. Would it be possible for you to come with me now, Miss Chantel, to meet my wife?”

“I will come,” she answered. “Just let me get a few things.”

She turned, but Jeb said, “Ma’am?”

“Yes?” she asked, turning back to him.

“I just wanted to tell you that you’re an answer to a prayer. I’m very worried about my wife, but now I feel that you’re going to be a very big help to her.”

Chantel said warmly, “I will help her, and I will take care of your little ones, Colonel Stuart. And may the good God bless you and your men as you go to fight.” Her gaze slid to Clay Tremayne.

Jeb noted that Clay smiled at her, but she merely turned and disappeared into the wagon.

Jeb opened the door to his home and motioned for Chantel to enter, following closely on her heels.

Flora was stretched out on the couch with Philip lying beside her. Little Flora was sitting on the floor, playing with a rag doll.

Jeb hurried to kneel by the sofa. He took Flora’s hand and kissed it. “Dear Flora, the Lord has blessed us. This is Miss Chantel Fortier. Miss Chantel, this is my wife, Flora.”

Flora said weakly, “I’m very glad to meet you, Chantel. I’m—I’m sorry I can’t get up to meet you properly.”

“No,” Chantel said firmly. “You’re sick, Miss Flora. That’s why I’m here. And for these two darlings, too.”

“This is Little Flora. She’s a little grubby right now, but she’s my angel. And this is our son, Philip.”

Chantel took off her hat, laid her pack down by the sofa, and said in a businesslike manner, “First, I give Little Flora a bath, and Philip a bath. And then I give you a bath, Miss Flora.”

Jeb laughed as he stood. “The best thing in the world for them. I’m already very glad that you’re here, Miss Chantel.”

“Oh, I am, too,” Flora agreed. “I haven’t felt like bathing the children. I haven’t even felt like cleaning up myself.”

Expertly Chantel picked Philip up and pressed her hand to his fat bottom. “First his cloths need changing, then baths. After that, I fix you something good to eat, Miss Flora, so you can get strong again.”

“That would be wonderful,” Flora said. “Jeb, are you going to be here tonight?”

“I am,” he said slowly. “But there’s something I have to talk to you about.”

Chantel held out her hand to Little Flora, who immediately grinned up at her and took it. Carrying Philip, she led the little girl into the bedroom and quietly closed the door.

Flora searched Jeb’s face, and then she sighed. “You’ve been called out, haven’t you? When must you leave?”

“At dawn.”

“Then,” Flora said quietly, “it is very good that the Lord has sent Chantel to us.”

Jeb knelt by her again and took her hand. “The Lord is good,” he said. “He will never forsake us. Not you, Flora, and not me. I know that, wherever I go now, He is with me.”

“Yes, He is,” Flora whispered, pressing his hand to her cheek. “And wherever you go, I will always be here, waiting for you to come home.”

C
hantel Fortier came out of a deep sleep as a sudden and blinding fear shot through her. Hands were touching her body. When her eyes flew open, she looked into the face of her stepfather, Rufus Bragg. Bragg had a brutal face, and he was leering at her and running his hands over her body. Chantel cried out, “You leave me alone!”

“You need a man, girl,” Bragg said, grinning like a sly snake. He grabbed the top of the lightweight shirt that Chantel wore.

She had been sitting up late with her mother and was exhausted, so she had simply gotten into bed without undressing.

“I know how to make women feel good,” Bragg snickered. He gripped the top of the thin shirt and tore it.

Chantel struck out with both hands, fingers extended like claws, and raked Bragg’s face. He cursed and lost his grip on her. As he did, Chantel rolled to the other side of the bed and jumped up into the corner. She was trapped in the room, and Bragg was laughing at her.

“I like a woman with spirit,” he growled, moving slowly around the bed.

Chantel whirled and picked up the sawed-off shotgun that was leaning on the wall beside her bed. She had put it there for just a time like this, for this wasn’t the first time her stepfather had put his hands on her. She drew back the twin hammers, and the deadly metallic clicking stopped Bragg in his tracks.

He stared at her, his eyes narrowing, “You wouldn’t have the nerve to shoot me, little girl.”