Daniel's Desire (5 page)

“Yeah. And me and Mr. McCoy shot a rabbit.” Chandler’s chest puffed out, his mouth in a wide grin.

Rosemarie’s gaze swung to Daniel. “Where’s the gun now?”

Before Daniel could answer, Chandler jumped in. “Mr. McCoy put it away — up high over the fireplace, so’s the little ones can’t reach it.”

Rosemarie closed her eyes and nodded.

“Why don’t you leave that water there, on the dresser, and check on Jace and Amelia while I cool your ma off?” Daniel slid the sheet down, then dipped the cloth into the water. With great care, he bathed her heated body with the water, trying to ignore her full curves.

“I hate Rebels.” She spoke with her eyes still closed.

“I know. And for what it’s worth, I hate what they did to you, too.”

She moved her head and opened her deep blue eyes. “You’re one of them.”

He shook his head and wrung out the cloth. “No, ma’am. I’m a Confederate soldier, but I’m not one of the men who stole everything from you.”

The clock ticked in the background for a minute before she spoke. “Not yet, anyway.”

He smiled at the slight tilt of her lips.

• • •

Daniel groaned as he sat up, his muscles sore from a night on the barn floor. He rubbed his eyes and stretched to relieve his cramped muscles. After using a bucket of well water to take care of his morning ablutions, he hurried to the house and crept quietly down the hallway. The children were all asleep, Chandler and Jace snuggled up against each other. He pulled a blanket over Amelia and smoothed back the hair tickling her face.

Mrs. Wilson’s “enter” greeted him after a light tap on her closed door. She lay on one side, watching him with wary eyes.

“G’morning, how are you feeling today?”

“Fine. You can leave now.”

Daniel laughed softly and approached her bed. “I doubt you’re fine, and I don’t think I should leave just yet.”

She shifted so she could look him in the eye. “I would think you’d be worried about the army finding you and dragging you back to prison.”

“I am worried. But you need help.” At her raised eyebrows, he continued, “Mrs. Wilson, you have three young children to care for.”

“I know that, Reb.”

“Until you’re on your feet again, I’ll just have to lay low.”

Her face screwed up in pain as she settled on her back, crossing her hands over her stomach. “Just don’t get comfortable.”

“Tell you what. I won’t get comfortable, if you stop trying to run me off the place.”

When she remained staring at the ceiling, he said. “Is it a deal?”

She sighed and nodded.

After leaving Rosemarie with a pan of water to wash and change her nightgown, Daniel carried his cup of chicory-laced coffee to the front porch and settled on the top step. He took a sip, grateful it wasn’t plain chicory, which was all he’d had to drink since the war started. Now that he and Rosemarie had declared a truce for as long as she needed his help, things should be a bit more pleasant. He grinned at her sassy attitude, despite being bedridden.

The sun crept over the hill in the distance, slowly removing any trace of the dusky dawn — his favorite time of day. He inhaled deeply, but the cold winter air of Indiana didn’t soothe him. Before the war had taken over his life, he’d sat on his front porch just about every morning in Virginia, coffee in hand, readying himself for the day.

He’d thought to spend the rest of his life repeating those days, eventually marrying one of the young ladies from the county, having a passel of kids. The horse farm had been his life, his legacy, in his family since his great grandfather, Sean McCoy, stepped off the ship from Ireland and earned enough money to buy his first few horses.

Then the war came, and after days of heated arguments over the dinner table, his brother decided to honor his mother’s people, who were from nearby West Virginia, by signing on with the Union Army. Maggie had been proud, Daniel disgusted. What he’d seen as Stephen’s betrayal had caused a break in their lifelong friendship that might never be healed. He took another sip of the warming beverage and ran his fingers through his hair.

Where was his younger brother now? Had he been killed in battle? Wounded? He might never know. Once the ire had subsided at what he’d considered his brother’s betrayal, a gnawing fear for the younger man’s life took the anger’s place, never to diminish during all the years of the war. Even fighting against each other wouldn’t break the brothers’ bond.

“Mr. a’Coy, whatcha doing out here?” Amelia’s soft baby voice interrupted his musings.

He turned to smile at the little girl, face flushed from sleep, dragging a rag doll behind her.

“Just enjoying the sunrise, darlin’.”

She settled alongside him, snuggling into the warmth of his body.

He placed his arm around her shoulders and tugged her close. “You shouldn’t be out here without your coat.”

“I forgot.” She tucked her fingers into her mouth and regarded him wide-eyed. “Are we goin’ to have oatmeal for breakfast again?”

“No, ma’am. Chandler brought in some more eggs yesterday and we’ll scramble ’em up for you.”

She nodded. “Good. I like scrambled eggs.”

Daniel stood, scooping Amelia into his arms. “It’s time to start breakfast, and I need your help.”

Amelia yawned, tiny tears forming in her eyes. “Don’t let Chandler help, ’cause he’ll just make oatmeal.”

He deposited her on the chair as Chandler entered the kitchen, rubbing his eyes. “Ma’s lookin’ for you. Why were you outside?”

“Looking at the beautiful sunrise,” Daniel said as he ruffled Chandler’s hair. “Why don’t you fetch those eggs you collected yesterday and scramble ’em up while I see what you ma wants?”

“And don’t make oatmeal, Chandler.” Amelia’s voice drifted down the hall as he headed to Rosemarie’s bedroom.

“Can you take away the water and help me get up?”

Daniel placed the pan of water on the table next to her. “I don’t think so.”

“Excuse me?” Her chin rose, and her eyes flashed in defiance.

“I don’t mean to tell you what to do, but it’s really not a good idea to get out of bed yet.”

“Look, Reb, I have work to do, children to take care of.”

He pointed at her leg. “You could rip those stitches out, and you’d be back where you started. And besides we made a deal.”

“We’re not your concern.”

His jaw tightened. “You are now.”

“Mama, Jace wet the bed again, and Chandler’s mad. He said he’s gonna make me eat oatmeal, even though Mr. a’Coy told him to cook me scrambled eggs. He’s being mean.” Amelia climbed on the bed, and Daniel grabbed her when he saw Rosemarie’s face pale.

“Best to stay off your mama’s bed until her leg is better.” He shifted Amelia in his arms, and glanced at Rosemarie. “As soon as I get them settled, I’ll bring you some breakfast.”

“Take care of them, I’ll be fine.”

• • •

Rosemarie studied the large man as he left the room carrying her little girl, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck.

He’s a Reb.

It would do her well to remember that. The southern scoundrels took all their food, shot her husband and left him for dead. Even with the best nursing she’d ever done, Hans succumbed within days. And left her alone with three children.

Since then, not a day passed that she didn’t feel a burning hatred in her stomach. At one time, she’d been a contented, if not happy, wife and mother, and within days, she stood alone, struggling to keep her children from starving.

The Rebs had taken her animals, including the horses. With the snows of winter upon them, and no way to visit any of the surrounding farms to solicit help, she and her eight-year-old son had dug her husband’s grave while the two little ones watched in confused silence. She’d conducted the burial service herself, praying from the worn Bible Hans had brought with him from Germany.

After a supper of soup and bread, she had put the children to bed. Then she sat in the rocking chair Hans had made, and rocked, a blanket wrapped around her shaking body. Her eyes were still wide open and dry when the sun peeked over the horizon and flooded the bedroom she’d shared with her husband for nine years. A man she really hadn’t known.

Now another large man had entered her life. One as unwanted and unwelcomed as Hans had been. Only this large man had gentle hands when he wiped her down with the cool water. He carried Amelia in his arms and made her scrambled eggs because she didn’t like oatmeal. He took Chandler hunting, not pushing the boy aside, telling him he was too young.

She winced as she moved again, trying to ease her sore bottom. Despite what the Reb said, she would be up today, and back to her work in a day or so. The children were already too attached to him. A man who smiled at them, rather than frowned. But he was also a Confederate escaped prisoner.

Truth be told, it scared her at how her heart sped up when he looked at her with those piercing hazel eyes. And the twitch of his lips when he began to smile. Just her luck to be attracted to a southern Rebel wanted by the Union Army. Thank God he’d be gone soon.

Her stomach tightened. What would she do if the army showed up here? Turn him in, of course. She was no strong Unionist, but that would be the lawful thing to do. And she always obeyed the law.

“Careful you don’t drop it.” The Reb’s deep voice rolled over her as he and Amelia entered the bedroom. Jace toddled behind them, then raced for her bed when he spotted her. McCoy scooped him up before he landed on her leg, and tossed him over his shoulder, causing the child to giggle and shriek.

Amelia carried a tray with a cup of tea and a bowl of oatmeal. She never looked up as she approached the bed, keeping her eyes on the tray. “Mama, I brought you breakfast.”

“I see that, Amelia. How nice of you.” Rosemarie’s heart melted at the sight of her little girl carefully walking across the room.

The child’s face broke into a smile as she reached her destination. “Whew,” she sighed as she placed the tray on the table next to Rosemarie’s bed.

“Good job, Amelia. You remembered to not place the tray on your mama’s bed.”

Amelia puffed her chest out. “I ’membered.” Then she slid her fingers into her mouth.

Jace reached his arms out. “Mama.”

“Let me eat my breakfast, and then you can sit on my lap.” Rosemarie reached for the cup of tea and sipped as the Reb juggled a red-faced Jace. The baby was having none of it, and let out a wail.

Rosemarie returned the teacup to the table and stretched her arms out. “I can eat while he sits on my lap.”

Daniel handed over Jace, who cuddled up to her, rubbing his nose along his mama’s generous breasts. She glanced up at Daniel, her face heated.

• • •

Lucky kid.

Daniel smiled to himself as he watched Jace nuzzling Rosemarie. The clarity in her eyes denied the flush on her face came from fever. The little guy had embarrassed her. He bit his lip to keep from smiling. Somehow he didn’t think she would appreciate knowing his thoughts. “When you’re finished with your breakfast, ma’am, I’ll want to take a look at your injury, be sure it’s still healing.”

She nodded and reached for the bowl of oatmeal.

He turned to leave when she called him. “Reb?”

“The name’s Daniel, ma’am.”

“If you want to change, there are clean clothes you can use, hanging on the nails in the mudroom. They were my husband’s and might fit you.”

Daniel nodded. “Thank you, I appreciate it. Is there a creek nearby where I can wash up?”

“About half a mile east of the house, but it’ll be mighty cold this time of year.”

“No matter. I’ll take those clothes you offered and head to the creek.” He nodded and left the room.

Daniel plucked a soft flannel shirt and worn wool pants from the nail, grabbed a linen cloth from a small pile on the table underneath, and headed to the kitchen. There he took a small brown jug containing lye soap and left the house.

Although vastly different from his homestead, this section of Indiana had an appeal all its own. Consisting mostly of rolling forests and prairie, the area offered good, rich farmland. It appeared the Wilson farm provided plenty of food to sustain the family, along with several acres of corn and wheat, which most likely brought in cash.

Hans had built the house to withstand the heat of summer and the cold winds of winter. The structure sat nestled between several large oaks, which would provide plenty of cooling protection from strong sunlight.

Sturdy shutters framed each window, which boasted much-coveted panes of glass. All in all, the farm looked solid and productive — a place that could easily add horse breeding to its design.

Get your mind off that subject. This is all temporary for you.

Had it not been for the war, he would certainly stick around to see if this attraction he felt for Rosemarie was real. And discover if she felt it too, as he suspected she did. Running his palms over her soft, curvy body as he cooled her down had transferred the heat from her body to his. He did not imagine her heart sped up when he shifted her soft body while carrying her, those soft breasts pressed up against his chest. But he needed to put those thoughts aside.

Daniel whistled as he surveyed the area, and made his way to the creek. After scrubbing his body and hair, then rubbing the goose bumps on his skin dry, he tugged on the pants, which were a bit loose in the waist. He switched his suspenders from his worn uniform to the wool pants. The flannel shirt stretched across his chest, straining the buttons. The cuffs were a bit short, so he rolled them to his elbows. Hans Wilson had been a large man, but not quite as big as Daniel.

After gathering his filthy uniform, he bundled the pieces, strode off into the woods, and buried them under a log. Checking the pocket of the borrowed pants to assure himself the ring was there, Daniel headed back to the house, feeling and smelling a whole lot better than when he’d left.

• • •

Daniel spent the next couple of days working on the chicken coop and some fencing that had fallen into disrepair since Hans’ passing. Then he and the three children scoured the woods, rounding up the escaped chickens and returning them to their proper home. He fixed a gate that had blown down during a winter storm.