One Wore Blue (9 page)

“He wouldn’t have left us if he felt that we’d be in any danger, Lacey,” Kiernan assured her.

Lacey clapped her hands together. “How delightfully romantic! You mean, he would have defied duty to stay with two ladies?”

“No, not Jesse,” Kiernan said wryly. “He would have packed up the two ladies and dragged them along with him.” She wished he had dragged her along with him. She couldn’t bear sitting still when so very much was going on. The town was at war! She didn’t know what she could do, but she felt she should be doing something.

“Oh, dear,” Lacey said with a sigh. “Just how well do you know this young man?”

“I’ve known him all my life,” Kiernan admitted. “We grew up together over in the Tidewater.” She was eating her third stack of griddle cakes. She wasn’t the least bit hungry, but she had eaten and eaten, exclaiming over the deliciousness of the food, to assuage Lacey. After all, Lacey blamed Kiernan for the fact that the captain was not wolfing down a good portion of the meal.

“What will happen when Anthony returns?” Lacey asked worriedly.

“What do you mean, what will happen?” Kiernan asked her.

“Well, he’s—he’s very much in love with you, dear! When he sees Jesse Cameron—”

“He knows Jesse Cameron, Lacey. You know Jesse, Lacey!” She counted on her fingers. “You met him at my coming-out ball, the barbecue at the Stacys’ in Richmond, and oh, yes! I believe you both were at Anthony’s sister’s birthday party two years ago up at Montemarte.”

“Yes, I met him. But you know him so well.”

“Anthony knows him very well,” Kiernan asserted with an amused smile. “They’re all good friends—Jesse, his brother Daniel, Anthony, and a number of others who were at West Point during the same years. And they’ve met socially time and time again, both at Cameron Hall and out here at Montemarte.”

Lacey was disgruntled. “How amazing that the captain stumbled upon you in the nick of time.”

“I don’t think he stumbled on me,” Kiernan assured her. “He must have known that I was up here. I wrote to Daniel Cameron recently, so Jesse knew that I’d be in Harpers Ferry with you while Papa and your husband and Anthony and his father were on their business trip. He heard about the attack in Washington after John Brown’s men let that night train come through. He was ordered down to tend to the wounded. Despite appearances, he does have his own peculiar sense of honor. He would have felt he owed it to my father to see to my welfare.”

“Hmph!” Lacey stated.

“And what does that mean?”

“It means that there’s no fool like an old fool, but I’m not an old fool, Kiernan Mackay. That man came here for a great deal more than a sense of obligation to your father.”

Kiernan’s heart was beating too hard, and a flush was warming her cheek. She chewed her griddle cake and sipped her coffee quickly. “We fight like cats and dogs, Lacey. Surely you noticed.”

“I noticed a great deal,” Lacey said sagely.

Kiernan shrugged. She didn’t know how to explain to Lacey that maybe, just maybe, she was in love with Jesse. Or that if she was, it didn’t mean anything. It wasn’t because Jesse didn’t care about her—she was sure that he did. She had felt it in his kiss. Jesse knew women—his was a practiced, arrogant, masterful kiss. He could elicit emotion from a woman even if he himself felt no more than longing, of that she was certain. Jesse knew how to seduce.

She could still feel the warmth of his mouth where he had kissed her. She could taste and breathe the sensation, and hunger for more, hunger to explore everything that had always been forbidden.

But he hadn’t offered her anything. All he had said was that she shouldn’t marry Anthony if he couldn’t kiss her like that. What did Jesse himself want?

And why had it seemed that he was in pain? Talking about love and war, then telling her what scared him.

Why should all of it scare him? Nothing had ever seemed to frighten Jesse before. He had stayed with the cavalry, and he had fought Indians out in the new territories in the West. If war came, and if Virginia seceded, she’d stand behind him. She’d agonize when he rode away, but they were both Tidewater Virginians—fierce, independent, and loyal, passionate lovers of their land and the Tidewater region.

Maybe he wanted to know if she was in love with Anthony. Maybe he himself wasn’t ready to settle down.

But maybe he didn’t really care a whit for her. After all, she was a young woman to taunt and tease and practice seduction upon. Maybe she had only dreamed that he was waiting for her to grow up.

She knew through rumor that he’d had his share of affairs.
Jesse had a way about him. There was something in his eyes. Even if he was as silent about his personal life as a man could be, one could sense things.

“What will poor Anthony say?”

For Lacey, it was almost as if his name were Poor Anthony.

“Say about what, Lacey?” Kiernan asked with a weary sigh.

“Everything that has happened. He’ll be so upset that you were threatened by those horrible men. And he’ll be very upset that he wasn’t here to rescue you. And he’d be very upset if he knew—”

“But Lacey, poor Anthony won’t know anything,” Kiernan said. “Jesse will ride away with the troops tomorrow, and by the time Anthony and the other men return, this will all be history. We won’t tell them that I was threatened.”

“But Kiernan, Anthony has a right to know. And everyone in town will know what happened here!” She waved a handkerchief before her. “And your father—”

“Lacey, please. There’s no reason to worry Papa needlessly. They’ll know what happened here, but they will also know that we’re fine. And I’m not engaged to Anthony. I haven’t figured out what I want to do yet.” She smiled at Lacey.

“But your father
has
to know! You were nearly taken a hostage because—”

“Because my father is a wealthy man.”

“A slaveowner,” Lacey corrected.

“Like many Virginians!” Kiernan protested.

“Like most wealthy Virginians. Why, you know as well as I do that very few of the poorer farmers own even one slave, young lady. And not all wealthy Virginians are slaveowners, at least not in the western counties,” Lacey stated. Lacey opposed slavery, Kiernan knew. Not violently, not the way that John Brown did. But in her own quiet way, she was very much against the institution.

“Lacey, please, there’s no reason for Papa to know anything. I’m fine. Nothing happened to me in the end.”

“Because of Jesse Cameron’s timely arrival.”

“Yes, because of his timely arrival,” Kiernan admitted. She smiled, and began to clear their dishes. Lacey decided to let it be—for the moment. But several hours later, as they sat in the parlor together, she began anew.

“Kiernan, I just worry so.”

“And you really shouldn’t. In fact, you absolutely mustn’t. I think I’ll take a little walk,” Kiernan said suddenly. She would go out and find out what was going on. She couldn’t bear to sit and wait any longer.

“But you can’t go out there! You promised Captain Cameron you wouldn’t go!”

“I didn’t promise anybody anything, and I don’t owe Captain Cameron any allegiance!” she said firmly.

“But Kiernan—”

“I have Jesse’s Colt, Lacey, and I know how to use it. I can’t stand it anymore, not knowing what’s going on out there.” She leaped up and squeezed Lacey’s cheeks together with her thumb and forefinger. Lacey’s mouth made a big round O and a sound escaped her, but she couldn’t protest further as Kiernan planted a kiss upon her forehead. “Don’t worry! I’ll be fine. I’ll be careful, and I know how to shoot. And I have real live ammunition in the gun—which is apparently much more than anyone else has.”

She hurried from the kitchen to the parlor. Lacey called after her, but she moved quickly, finding the Colt on the mantel. She felt a twinge of guilt about defying Lacey, but that couldn’t be helped. Momentous things were happening, and she had to understand what they were.

“I’ll be back soon!” she called, then she hurried out to the street. She looked up and saw that the sun was already beginning its descent. In another few hours, darkness would fall over them again.

There was no one before the house, but down the street to her left, a crowd had gathered before the firehouse—out of range of shot, it seemed. Militiamen were surrounding the firehouse, she realized, and the citizens of Harpers Ferry were surrounding the militia.

Things seemed fairly quiet and subdued, but still, an air of electric tension seemed to have settled upon the town.

People were talking about how the townfolk had battled John Brown until he’d had no choice but to take refuge in the firehouse.

Kiernan hurried down the street. When a hand fell upon her shoulder, she nearly jumped sky-high and swung around. Dr. Bruce Whelan, white-haired with a drooping moustache, stared at her sternly with a pair of clear, dove-gray eyes.

“Doc Whelan—”

“I was told to look out for you, young lady,” he said gruffly.

“What?”

“Captain Cameron came through to help with the wounded.” He waved a hand in the air. “People were all kind of cut up, what with firing shotguns filled with whatever debris they came across. There’s been a heap of death today, young lady. A heap of death.”

“Jesse doesn’t have the right—” she began.

“Yes, Jesse does. He said that he come upon you in a bit of trouble, Kiernan Mackay.”

Her heart sank. If Doc Whelan knew about last night, her father would know. He’d be loath to leave her alone ever again. Anthony and his father would be loath to leave her, but she really did love her independence.

“Nothing catastrophic happened—”

“You might be in grave danger at this very moment!” he corrected her. “Jesse said you managed a good fight on your own, but hell, girl! Not even a man can stand up against a bullet. And now John Brown has his hostages holed up with him in the firehouse. Colonel Lewis Washington is in there, girl! They’re saying that Brown wanted to have the sword Frederick the Great gave to George Washington and the pistol Lafayette gave him, and so they’ve taken that fine brave gentleman. And Mr. Allstadt, his neighbor, and his young son. You could have been among them!”

She gritted her teeth. Jesse must have described her flight from her pursuer with full dramatic license, she thought.

“But I am all right.”

“And you should be off the streets.”

“Doc Whelan, the whole town is on the streets!”

“The whole town is out here, right. But the things happening to the whole town haven’t been good! Kiernan, Mr. Beckham has been killed.”

She gasped, thinking of the kindly mayor. He had been such a gentle man!

“And young lady, when Mayor Beckham was killed, a lynch mob broke into the Wager Hotel and seized one of the raiders who had been taken prisoner. They dragged him on out to the bridge and shot him up on either side of the head. Half the maniacs in this town are still pumping bullets into the body.”

“My Lord,” Kiernan breathed.

“Go home, Kiernan.”

“I will, soon. I promise.”

“There’s more, young lady. There was shooting all around, what with the various militias coming in. Seems like there were about twenty raiders to begin with. Some of them were wounded and killed. Some were shot trying to escape across the river. It just isn’t a good day to be out, and I do mean it.”

“I know, Doc Whelan. Really, I do.”

He tried to look stern, but then he shrugged. “Don’t imagine I could get you to go home if I talked myself blue in the face. So be careful, and head back in by nightfall. Hell, some assistance could still come this way before we get federal troops in here to deal with this.” He stared at her for a moment. “Too bad Captain Cameron isn’t around. I reckon he’d get you back inside.” He grinned, then laughed out loud. “He’d pick you right up over his shoulder and see you back to the house.” He grinned again and started on his way. He paused to laugh again—no, to cackle—then he started down the street once more.

The shooting was over for the moment, Kiernan realized. She hurried onward.

Jesse wasn’t about, but she wasn’t going to be told what she could and couldn’t do.

*  *  *

Jesse Cameron was a lot closer than Kiernan thought.

Colonel Baylor of one of the militia companies had taken matters under control as best he could. Negotiations hadn’t gone very well between the townsfolk and the raiders holed up in the firehouse. Two of Brown’s men had been shot under a white flag of surrender. One had crawled back into the firehouse, and one had been killed, his body mutilated by the people.

But someone had asked for a doctor, and Jesse was regular army. He was sent in with one of Baylor’s militiamen, a man called Sinn.

The firehouse was a brick structure, about thirty-five by thirty feet. The doors were heavy wood, and they were soundly battened down. Under a white flag of truce, Jesse and Sinn approached the firehouse. The doors opened briefly, and they were let in.

Jesse had been with the cavalry in Kansas, and he’d heard about the doings of old “Ossawatomie” Brown for years, but he’d never met the man.

When he did now, he was startled, physically moved, by the fires burning in the old man’s eyes. He’d never seen anything like it. Brown’s face was haggard, aged, and lined. It was full of character, with a long beard and thick bushy brows. But that blaze in his eyes was arresting. He was a murderer, a cold-blooded one, Jesse was convinced.

But he was also convinced that he had never before seen a man who so truly believed that he committed murder for God’s own cause.

“The cavalry is here,” Brown commented.

Jesse shook his head. “I’m a doctor. I’ve come to see to your wounded.”

“Then take a look at the boy.”

The boy was on the ground, to the far left of the entrance and the old fire engines. Jesse nodded and strode over to his side.

He was a handsome young man, no more than twenty. As soon as Jesse stooped down beside him, he knew that that
the boy was going to die. He was gut-shot, and badly. There wasn’t a thing that any man could do to save him.

Sinn was getting ready to address Brown with terms from Colonel Baylor, but Brown, with his fire-edged eyes, was watching Jesse. “He’s my son, Oliver.”