Souls Aflame (53 page)

The words were locked in his throat, but he knew that no matter how hard he tried, they were going to spill forth. He wasn’t going to be able to hold them in much longer. He had to tell her what he’d kept inside—that he
loved
her…and his love was the reason for his unfailing devotion.

But at that precise moment, without warning, Veston pushed himself up into the wagon. He took one look at Julie and snapped, “You ain’t wearing that goddamn shawl. Get it off, and let’s go. They’re waitin’ on you out there.”

Her chin lifted in familiar defiance. “It’s chilly out. How can I sing if I’m trembling with cold?”

He took a step forward, pointing a finger. “Look, you ain’t going out there lookin’ like a pious preacher’s wife straight from a church sing. You’re supposed to make the soldiers happy, show ’em those teats of yours, and—”

“Veston, shut up!” Luther’s hands clenched about the neck of his guitar. It was a precious instrument, and he was fighting to keep from bringing it crashing down on his partner’s head. “There’s no call for you to talk to her like that, and I won’t have it!”

“You won’t have it!” Veston mimicked, sneering. “Fox was goddamn stupid to let you tag along. If I could play a guitar, you wouldn’t even be here. It’s plain as apple dumplin’s that you’re hot for her, and—”

Luther stepped closer. “I’m warning you for the last time.”

He was not built as big as Veston, but there was something about his voice or expression that proved ominous, for the man stepped back, still sneering but retreating from open confrontation. “Okay, okay, I ain’t gonna fight you. It’d blow the whole job we’re supposed to be doing. We both know the war is bustin’ wide open, and we never know when she might learn something that could prove mighty damned important.”

Veston directed himself to Julie. “There’s a major out there, and I’ve had my eye on him all afternoon. I saw him in a field tent with a colonel and some other high-ranking officers. They were bound to have been talking important doings, ’cause they had sentries posted outside and wouldn’t let nobody come within fifty feet of that tent.

“I heard this major tell somebody he sure was lookin’ forward to hearing you sing tonight, ’cause he’d seen you and thought you was a fine-lookin’ piece o’ womanflesh.”

Luther ached as he saw how miserable Julie looked.

“When you finish singin’,” Veston went on, “you come back here and undress with the lantern still burning. Let him get an eyeful of your silhouette, and he’ll break his neck gettin’ here. You let him know before you finish singing that you’re interested in him. You know what I’m talkin’ about—give him the eye. Smile. Flirt a bit with him.”

He turned to Luther. “We’ll do like always—keep a watch till she gives the signal he’s sleepin’ like a baby. Then you come find out what she got out of him, and if I figure it’s something Major Fox would want to know, I’ll head out and find him.

“All you gotta do,” he grinned as he turned back to Julie, “is give him some secret come-ons, and we’ll have him set up in no time flat.”

“I’m sure you will,” she nodded miserably. “Just like the ones before him, just like the one that will come tomorrow night, and the night after that, and—”

His hand snaked out to grasp her tiny waist and jerk her roughly against his chest. “Listen to me, you little bitch! You’ll do as you’re told, or that no-good brother of yours will die in agony!”

Luther forgot all about his beloved guitar as it fell to the floor of the wagon with a loud thud. He sprang forward, reaching swiftly to slide his knife easily from its hiding place in his boot. Its blade glittered ominously in the lantern’s glow. Pressing the edge of it against Veston’s throat, he growled, “Get your goddamn hands off her, or I’ll kill you!”

Veston released her at once. She stumbled, and Luther shot out one hand to steady her, still keeping the blade pressed against Veston’s flesh with the other. After a few seconds, during which he glared with hatred and venom at Veston, he pulled the knife away.

Only after he had retreated from the wagon, out of striking distance of his foe, did Veston threaten, “I’m gonna see Fox about you, Saxton. You and her got something goin’, and that’s why you act like such a goddamn fool over her. When he hears, you’ll find yourself back on the battlefield—
if
he don’t blow your brains out! You won’t be plinkin’ that guitar and makin’ time with her no more, you can be sure of that!” He disappeared into the darkness.

“Thank you, Luther,” Julie whispered tremulously. “I don’t know why you’ve taken it upon yourself to watch over me, but I’m grateful.”

“Julie, it’s because I—” Once again he had been about to proclaim the love he felt with every beat of his heart, but just then, as though fate were stepping in to prevent such a pronouncement, the drawling voice of a Confederate soldier came to them from beyond the canvas flaps, calling out that everyone was waiting for Julie.

With a sigh, she dropped the shawl from her shoulders, exposing her bosom all the way down to where the rosy pink shadows of her nipples began. “I suppose we must go now,” she whispered. “You’re not only my friend, Luther, but you’re also an excellent accompanist. Hearing you play gives me the strength to find my voice at times when I’m sure I can’t sing a note.”

She slipped her tiny hand in his, and once again his heart began to pound, inflamed, thundering with emotion. God, how he loved her!

He stepped from the wagon, then propped his guitar against a wheel as he reached to clasp her about her waist and help her to the ground, reveling in the few seconds he could actually hold her, touch her. And he slipped a protective arm about her waist as they moved through the darkness toward the burning campfires, where the soldiers were gathered and waiting.

They took their places. Julie stood on a makeshift platform, and Luther sat at her feet. A ripple went through the troops as the men ogled Julie’s beauty, her body, and it was with trembling fingers that Luther touched the strings of the guitar.

He knew Julie liked to begin her performance with the song favored by all the men, “Dixie.” She would encourage them to join her, which they always did, thus establishing a good atmosphere. Then she liked to sing another favorite of theirs, “When This Cruel War Is Over,” before going into the soft, romantic “Annie Laurie.”

By the time she sang “Juanita,” which was usually her last song, the major had moved forward to stand at the front of the group, and Veston had long ago signaled to Julie that he was the one she should direct herself to. She had done so, and he was gazing up at her with eyes that were openly shining with lust.

Luther fought for control. Now was not the time to act. But soon he knew he would have to take her away from all this, for he was losing patience, could not stand to see her endure such anguish and degradation.

As always, the soldiers grumbled because the night’s entertainment was over. Veston nodded to Luther, signaling it was time for them to pretend to bed down. They walked away together, but Luther glanced back to see that Julie was talking with Major Anders, smiling, flirting, doing what she had been instructed, and he knew it would not be long before she was leading him toward the wagon, inviting him to drink from the bottle that had already been laced with the drug that would make his tongue loose before it eventually put him to sleep.

And when he awoke, Julie would tell him what a wonderful lover he had been…and with her lying naked beside him, he would believe her…as the others had. And even though Luther knew that the Reb officer would not have actually possessed her body, it made him want to spit blood to know that the major would hold her warm, bare flesh in his arms, touch it with his hands, his lips, before finally passing into unconsciousness.

Veston settled down beneath a sprawling oak tree, jerking his blanket about him. “Look, Luther,” he started, “I’m sorry about what happened before. Ain’t no need for me and you to be at each other’s throats all the time over that woman. We got a war goin’ on with the Rebs, not each other. If you’re laying her, that’s okay by me, even though I’d like to have a bit myself…”

“Veston…“ Luther snarled, warning him he was going too far again.

“Okay, friend, okay!” came his quick, snappy reply. “I ain’t gonna say nothin’ else. But just try to keep your head on your shoulders till this war is over, and then you can do what you want with her, understand? ’Cause if you don’t, then I ain’t got no choice but to tell Fox, and he’ll have you sent back into the field, and I don’t think you want that.”

Luther knew it was no idle threat, and even though he was not afraid of being in actual battle, he did not like the idea of being forced to leave Julie in Veston’s hands. He promised himself that before he let that happen, he would take her and run.

“I’m not going to have her mistreated,” he said, propping himself against a tree, prepared to keep a close vigil on the wagon. “The sooner you realize that, the better off we’ll all be.”

Veston grunted as he curled up on the ground. “Ain’t no need for me to tell you to keep an eye out. I know you’re gonna be watchin’ that wagon like a vulture flyin’ over a battlefield. When she gets anything outta him, just let me know so’s I can ride out of here and find Fox.”

Yes, he would be watching, Luther thought fiercely. He was not about to let Julie be harmed. He could see her in the dim glow of the lantern as the major helped her into the wagon. He had let her know he wanted her, and she was not being coy about being receptive to his intentions.

Luther saw their outline as they embraced, and he squeezed his eyes shut, turning his face upward as a painful shudder went through his body. Long seconds passed before he could open his gaze to the sky, so like a giant black hand covering the entire world in a veil of infinity…and endless grief.

Moments crept by with agonizing slowness. Luther tried to calculate exactly how long it would be before the drink took its effect on Major Anders. He prayed that Julie would work fast, coax him, tease him into confiding his future “plans” as though her very existence depended upon his. Luther ground his teeth together as he conjured an image of what she would be doing with her body all the while, driving the major insane with desire.

And all because of her brother!

He slammed his fist into the ground. Veston stirred in his sleep.

Her brother might be dead by now. But Julie did not know that. She would not risk his life, not when she’d been through so much already to save him. If there was one chance in a million that her actions would keep him alive, Luther knew that she would take it. He only hoped the bastard was worth it, then chided himself for thinking such thoughts. He had to be a hell of a man to warrant such love and devotion from his sister. He wished he were as worthy.

Suddenly his head jerked up. Something was wrong. He could sense it. The lantern was out in the wagon, and he could see nothing in the pitch dark. Silently, stealthily, he rose from the ground and began to move through the night in the direction where the wagon had been tied and the horses tethered.

He tried to judge how many steps it would take to reach the wagon but realized, with a stab of worry, that he had no idea. Hell, he didn’t want to bump into the damn thing, make a racket, rouse the whole camp, and have to answer questions as to why he was poking about in the dead of night, especially around the wagon.

And then he heard them—Julie’s voice, soft and tender, coaxing, pleading. “You know you want something to drink,” she was cooing. “It’ll relax you…”

“No, my darling, I don’t need anything to make me relax,” came the southern drawl of the Reb officer. “I want to remember every second of this night, this time with you. When I saw you, my heart turned over, and I knew I had to have you, if only for a little while.”

“But one drink won’t hurt. Please, have one with me.”

No, Julie, no.
Luther cursed silently, clenching his fists at his sides.
Don’t drink that shit!
Yet he knew she would, if necessary, but then she would pass out also, and how could she get information and then pass it along to Veston? Oh, damn, he knew this was going to be a hell of a night.

“…if you insist,” the officer murmured. Then his laugh, deep, throaty. “Yours spilled on your breasts…those beautiful, luscious breasts. Here, we can’t let the delicacy of either go to waste.”

And then he heard them—the sounds that tore into the depths of his soul—moans and sighs of satisfaction, and he could see in his mind’s eye what that bastard was doing to Julie’s breasts with his hungry, eager lips.

“Now drink from the bottle,” Julie giggled, and Luther knew it was forced, just as the slur in her voice was faked.

“I live such a hectic life,” Julie was saying. “You can’t imagine what it’s like, traveling from camp to camp, dodging those dreadful Yankees.”

“But it’s an admirable, honorable thing you do, my sweet. And you do have a lovely voice. My men enjoyed you, but not nearly as much as I intend to before this night ends.”

“Oh, I pray it never ends,” came Julie’s voice once more, sounding quite sincere. “I—I do like you. We move from here to Richmond, I suppose. The fighting is getting so intense. Perhaps I will see you then.”

“I doubt it.” His voice sounded strained, and the wagon shook a bit. Luther knew the officer was taking off his boots, his trousers, getting comfortable.

God, he prayed the opium would work quickly.

He could almost see Julie’s petulant expression as he heard her say, “Then when will I see you again? If you don’t mind my saying so, sir, a lady does not like to feel that she is only to have one night of pleasuring a man that takes her fancy as you have taken mine.”