The Sword (27 page)

Chantel was saying, “But you said you’ll be leaving in a few days?”

“Yes, ma’am, that’s the word.”

“You mean, you’re going to go, and there will be fighting?” “The war has started,” Clay said. “Not here in Richmond. But yes, Miss Chantel, I am going to leave, and I am going to war.”

She started to say something and then seemed to change her mind. Finally she said, “May the good God watch over you always, Clay.”

C
hantel was singing softly to Little Flora, or
La Petite,
as Jeb and Flora had begun to call her sometimes, who had gone to sleep on her lap. Looking across the room, she saw that Flora was watching her with a smile on her lips.

Flora was holding Philip, and they were playing with some wooden blocks.

“Why are you laughing at me, Miss Flora?” Chantel asked.

Flora said, “I was just thinking what a good mother you would make.”

“Me? I don’t have a man. I don’t have any plans to get one, me.”

“You’ll get a man. I’m sure of that, and a good one, too.”

Chantel continued to rock, studying the face of the child in her lap. “She is such a pretty girl,” she whispered softly.

“We think she’s going to look like her father. She has his eyes.”

“I think no. I think she’s going to be pretty like you. It’s hard to tell what your husband looks like with that bushy beard. Why don’t you make him shave?”

“I gave up on that a long time ago,” Flora smiled. “He’s proud of his beard. Besides, he says it hides his ugly face, but I don’t think he’s ugly. I think he just hates to shave.”

From the open window, the sounds of birds singing drifted in. Chantel listened, and memories came to her of the different birds she had known in the bayou. She missed the large herons and the brown pelicans and the other birds that she knew so well.

The door opened, and Jeb stepped inside. He always looked as if he was in a hurry, and he never seemed to be tired, which always amazed Chantel. “Don’t be so loud. You’ll wake La Petite,” Chantel warned.

“She’ll be glad to see me.” Jeb smiled. He kissed Flora and Philip, then came over, put his hand on Little Flora’s head, and stroked the soft hair. “Well, you won’t have to be taking care of us any longer, Chantel.”

Chantel stood up. “You found someone?”

“Yes. She’s a widow woman about thirty-five, I guess. Her husband was one of my men killed at Harpers Ferry. I had to go tell her of her husband’s death and found her all alone. She truly needs the money. I think she’ll do well.”

Chantel felt a sudden pang and said, “I will miss your family. I will even miss you, too, sir. I will. Even if you are a general.”

Suddenly Jeb laughed. His laugh, like the man, was big and rollicking and seemed too large for the room. La Petite stirred and opened her eyes. Jeb picked her up and swung her around, as he still did Flora sometimes. She squealed with delight.

His command had indeed been changed to the cavalry, and he had received promotion first to full colonel and then to brigadier general. Now he was commanding the 1st Virginia Cavalry. Ever since this had happened, Jeb had been happier and jollier than ever before.

“Jeb, you are going to make that child dizzy and give her a sick
stomach,” Flora said with mock sternness. “Just because you’re the best officer in the Confederate Army doesn’t mean you can mistreat the children.”

Jeb walked over and put his hands on Flora’s shoulders. “You always think I’m the best soldier in the world.”

“Because you are,” Flora said firmly. “Everyone knows it.”

“All of this ‘everyone’ you’re talking about doesn’t include my men. They think I’m a slave driver.”

“I think you are the best cavalryman and the best officer, Jeb,” Flora said. “You never get tired. You’re so strong and active. Most men wear out at the pace you drive yourself.”

“Well, when they decided to join the cavalry, that’s what they signed on for.” He moved toward Chantel, fishing in his pocket. “Miss Chantel, I don’t know what we would have done without you.” He pulled an envelope from his pocket and held it out to her. “Here. I added a little extra to your wages.”

“You don’t have to do that, General Stuart,” Chantel said. “I like your family, and Miss Flora has been a good friend to me.”

“You’re worth every penny of it. Now, you be sure and come back and see us all. Especially the children. They’ve grown very attached to you.”

“Please do visit me, Chantel,” Flora said sincerely. “You’ve been a good friend to me, too.”

“I will do that,” Chantel promised. She had only stayed with the Stuarts that first week, while Flora recovered from her illness. After that she had come every other day, bringing supplies and food, cooking staples, taking care of the children, and giving Flora a rest. She had no belongings at the Stuart home, so she said her good-byes and left.

She reached the main street of Richmond, which was, as usual, swarming with all sorts of activity. The streets were clogged with wagons being brought in and others that were outward bound, filled with supplies to be carried to various points of the Confederacy. The air echoed with the noise of people shouting and talking, and even the curses of the mule skinners came to her loud and clear.
She had often wondered why mule skinners spoke in such rough language but had given up trying to figure it out.

Suddenly a man stepped in front of her and stopped her. “Well, I know who you are. You’re the woman that took up with Clay Tremayne.”

“Let me pass.”

“Just a minute, missy. You’re a right pretty girl. You may have been Tremayne’s woman, but you need a real man like me. I’m Ed Howard.”

Suddenly things came together. “You are one of the men who shot Clay.”

“Sure am. I’ll do it again, too, if I get a chance. Come along. You and me will go have something to drink.”

“Leave me alone!” Chantel tried to pull her arm out of Ed Howard’s grasp, but he held it tightly and laughed at her efforts. She slapped at him, and her hand made a red outline on Howard’s face.

“Why, you little cat!” he snarled and started to shake her.

But then his wrist was grasped so tightly he grunted involuntarily. He turned and saw that Morgan Tremayne was holding him. Morgan was not a big man, but he had a wiry strength, and his mild blue eyes were now hot with anger.

“Let go of me, Tremayne,” Ed said, grunting, writhing a little in the awkward postion. “What do you care about this little bit of sauce?”

“Apologize to the lady,” Morgan said, and twitched his hand just a bit.

Ed Howard cried out as the pressure on his hand grew intense. “Leave it, Morgan. You’re breaking my fingers.”

“You need to learn some manners,” Morgan said. “I said, apologize.”

Charles Howard came up behind Morgan. He had a cane in his hand, and Chantel saw him swing it and cried, “Look out!” But it was too late. The cane struck Morgan in the back of the neck, and he fell forward.

Both men laughed, and Charles said, “So, this is Clay’s little piece. That’s right, little lady, I want to have a word with you, too.” Both brothers started toward her.

From down the street, Sheriff Asa Butler had seen Charles knock Morgan down, and he had hurried to stand in front of the brothers like a big wall. He put his hands—they were wide and powerful—on both brothers’ chests and shoved them so hard they staggered. “Back off, you two.”

They both started yelling at Butler, but he made a quick cutting motion with his hand, and they shut up. “So, lemme get this straight. Morgan hurt your dainty little hand, Ed. And you, Charles, you’re kinda getting in the habit of sneaking up on people and hitting them from behind, aren’t you?”

Charles’s face turned a deep crimson, but then he said rather sulkily, “C’mon, Ed. Waste of our time anyway.” They went strutting down the street.

Chantel said, “Thank you, Sheriff.”

“You be careful, Miss Chantel. If these two bother you anymore, you just let me know. You look kind of shook up, Morgan. You all right?”

Morgan had gotten to his feet during this exchange. He rubbed the back of his neck where Charles Howard’s cane had hit him with the force of a hammer. “Aw, guess I’m all right, Sheriff. Probably have a good headache tonight though.”

Butler considered him. “You know, Morgan, I could arrest Charles Howard for assault. If you want to press charges.”

“I think our two families have tangled enough,” Morgan said drily. “Thanks, though, Sheriff.”

The two men shook hands, and the sheriff walked back down the street.

Chantel said to Morgan, “You tried to help me. Thank you very much.”

“I wasn’t enough help,” Morgan said. “I sure am sorry that I couldn’t keep those swine from insulting you.”

“Well, you tried, and that’s what counts. You’re a much better
man than them, you,” she said disdainfully.

Morgan made a little bow. “I’m Morgan Tremayne, ma’am.”

“Yes, I heard the sheriff. You’re Clay’s brother?”

“I am. He’s told you about me?”

“Not really,” Chantel said. “Mr. Tremayne, he doesn’t talk much about his family or his past.”

“But he’s told me about you,” Morgan said. “When I was walking by, I heard what Ed Howard said. I knew you must be Chantel, the angel that saved my brother’s life.”

Chantel shrugged. “I must go back to camp now. Ma grandpere will be waiting for me.”

“There’s going to be a celebration at the fairgrounds tonight. There’ll be some food and music and fireworks and speeches. I don’t like the speeches much, but the food will probably be pretty good. Would you go with me?”

Chantel considered it then said carelessly. “Yes, I’ll go with you, Mr. Tremayne. But only if ma grandpere comes with me.”

Morgan grinned. “Your grandfather is welcome to come, too, Miss Fortier.”

“Our wagon is at the camp. You’ll ask for me there. Any of the soldiers will know.”

“I’ll come about five o’clock. That’ll give us plenty of time to get there for the food.”

“All right, Mr. Tremayne.” She was interested in Morgan Tremayne. He didn’t look like Clay, except maybe in their stances and the way they walked. But she had been impressed by the way he had so quickly defended her from Ed Howard’s unwelcome attentions.