The Lady and the Officer (43 page)

“Where are we?” She peered up at the bronze cross atop a wooden steeple.

John gazed skyward too. “We've reached Laurel Hill Church. With the grace of God, Colonel Haywood will find us here.”

“Colonel Haywood?” said Madeline. “Why on earth would he come here?”

“As a member of President Davis's staff, I cannot take you closer to Union lines than this. If anyone can deliver you safely to General Downing's protection, it would be Colonel Haywood.”

“Oh, Uncle, I am grateful, but your idea is hopeless. You have done enough. I will set off alone at first light so I don't endanger your family.”

John put his arm around her and drew her tightly against his side. “For now, let's select seven pews for our beds for the night. Then we shall see what the morrow brings.”

T
WENTY
-F
OUR

 

C
olonel Haywood gazed down on seven sleeping people in the plain, country church. With only moonlight shining through high clerestory windows, it was difficult to ascertain who was who. Silently, he crept up the aisle, finally stopping at one particularly rounded form. Without a doubt, beneath the tattered quilt lay Mrs. Howard, a woman he'd hoped to spend the rest of his life with. Her signature scent of lemon verbena still clung to her clothes and hair despite an arduous trip from the capital.

Elliott settled on the adjacent pew, rested his head on his folded arms, and watched her sleep. Dozing off and on, he would wake with a start unsure of where he was or what he was doing. Then he remembered why he was outside of New Market, within a few miles of the Union Army. He was preparing to deliver the woman he loved into the arms of the enemy. Elliott forced away the end result and concentrated on his motivation—a life for a life, along with the request by a man he respected—John Duncan.

I am a fool, or perhaps addled by too little food, too little sleep, and too much killing.
Soon all that bloodshed would be for naught. With a sigh Elliott closed his eyes against images that would remain etched in his brain for the rest of his life.

“Colonel Haywood?” A soft voice roused him from his reverie.

“Ah, Mrs. Howard, you're awake.” He scrubbed his face with his hands to banish the last of his drowsiness.

“What on earth are you doing here?” she whispered.

“Isn't it obvious? I've ridden to your rescue—your knight in shining armor. Alas, my steed is dark brown instead of pure white,” he also whispered as he offered her his most sincere smile.

She glanced around the church interior. “You've come alone? Have you lost your mind?”

“Affirmative, on both counts. I've just drawn the same conclusion.”
Elliott rubbed the small of his back, which ached from the position he had slept in. Then he stood and gestured to the back of the church, where they could speak quietly without waking the others.

“I don't need to be rescued. You must return to your division at once.” Her eyes filled with pity. “I'm fine with my aunt and uncle.”

“Your bravery is commendable, but if Confederate authorities catch up with your troupe, you will be in grave danger. And if Mr. Duncan attempts to deliver you closer to Union lines, he would be in danger.”

“I don't understand,” Madeline said softly as she swung her legs off the pew and straightened her skirt to cover her ankles.

He sighed and then whispered, “Captain George has been arrested, and the
Bonnie Bess
was confiscated by our navy. Apparently, he was carrying a letter from you to the commander of the fourth corps. However, your letter to him discovered on a known Yankee spy places you in a precarious position.”

“Lord, have mercy.” Madeline scrambled to her feet, staggering a step. “I must leave the Duncans right away so they aren't implicated.”

“Easy, Mrs. Howard.” He tried steadying her with a firm grip.

She shrugged off his hand and moved as quietly as she could to the back of the church before speaking again. “Why are you here? To deliver me to the war department to answer for my crimes?”

“You think I would betray the woman who saved my life? I don't care if you were on a mission to steal gold from the Richmond Treasury.”

Her eyes grew round as an owl's. “You will help me after I treated you cruelly?”

“A life for a life, but there is no time to discuss sentimental gestures. We have a long ride ahead of us if I'm to get you away.” He handed her one of his saddle bags. “Inside are some clothes. Take off your skirt and hoop and put them on. They should fit over your other… garments.”

She withdrew the butternut jacket, trousers, and cap. “The uniform of a Confederate soldier?”

“How better to blend in? I'm hopeful that neither side will shoot at the insignia of the medical corps. You'll have to hide your hair under the cap.”

Madeline fingered the red crossed lines that had been painted boldly on the fabric.

“If we're stopped along the road, let me do the talking. I'll say I'm delivering my mute cousin to the nearest field hospital. Your accent may give us away. I would hate to end an illustrious career in so inglorious a fashion,” he smiled ruefully at her as he tugged on his gloves.

“Thank you for your gallantry and forethought.” Madeline began unfastening the row of buttons on her bodice and then hesitated.

When she stood motionlessly, Elliott's patience waned. “Be quick, Mrs. Howard. We have a long ride to get you out of harm's way.”

“Could you turn your back, sir?” she asked shyly.

“Oh. Of course. I'll wait outside. You may have a few minutes to say goodbye.” He felt a blush climb up his neck as he strode from the dark church. Outside, the first pink streaks of dawn appeared.

Just as his patience ran out, the entire entourage of Duncans and longtime staff emerged from the sanctuary. A scrawny youth walked with Eugenia, his trousers held up with a length of twine. With a jolt, Elliott recognized Mrs. Howard. All of her thick blond hair had been tucked under the cap. “Step lively, soldier, and I expect a dutiful salute.”

“Wearing this scratchy wool will prove hardship enough, Colonel. Please don't expect much military precision.” Madeline glanced around the churchyard while her family closed in, each one silent and morose. “Did you bring only one horse, sir?”

“No others could be spared. But he's a sturdy beast, capable of carrying both our substantial weights.”

Madeline angled a wry frown at him, tied her cloth valise to the saddle, and turned to her family.

“I shall miss you, Maddy.” Eugenia hurried forward, despite the prancing hooves of the horse.

“And I, you. I will make every human effort to return for your wedding,” Madeline said as she hugged her cousin and then kissed her cheek. “Good bye, dear aunt and uncle. I am in your debt.” Her luminous blue eyes were shiny with tears as her aunt enveloped her in a last embrace.

“And my wife and I are in yours, Colonel Haywood. Thank you.” Mr. Duncan reached out his hand.

Elliott shook and then tipped his hat to Mrs. Duncan. “Someday I'll collect my reward at your dinner table, ma'am. Goodbye.” Swinging up
into the saddle, he held out his hand to assist Mrs. Howard up behind him. He was immediately assaulted by her lemony scent, while her soft curves beneath the private's uniform pressed against his back.

“Goodbye,” she called as the horse trotted down the trail. “I'll never forget all that you've done.”

Elliott knew the back roads west of Richmond and thus avoided the thoroughfares where Confederate pickets might be posted or Union detachments of cavalry might patrol. He stayed on farm traces and trails that connected towns too small to appear on Virginia maps. While they rode he tried concentrating on the scenery—rich fields ready for planting, the canopy of new green leaves, and the cacophony of birds singing in the trees. But try as he might, he couldn't keep his mind off the woman clinging to his midsection. A wisp of her hair across his neck, the press of her leg next to his, her warmth radiating through the threadbare jacket—all conspired to entice him like a moth to a flame.

It will be a long ride, indeed.

When they paused beside a shallow stream around midday, Madeline pulled bread, a block of cheese, and two shriveled apples from her valise. “My aunt insisted I take some food.” She offered half the provender in her outstretched hand.

Elliott gazed at her slender fingers and delicate wrist, the curve of her hips beneath trousers, and felt palpable desire. He stood motionless, paralyzed by the forbidden fruit.

“What are you staring at, Colonel?”

Elliott grabbed an apple from her palm. “Seeing you without one of those ridiculous hoops. It's been a long time. I'll bet you welcome your release from bondage.”

“I do, but it's unusual for a man to recognize those uncomfortable tormentors for what they are.”

“I'm not like most men.” The statement hung in the warm spring air.

“I've recently discovered that.” With a blush she averted her gaze.

“Yes, well, thank you for lunch, however, this might be the last grass not ravaged by the cavalry—one or the other.” Taking a large bite of apple, Elliott led his horse to a thick patch. But when he turned around the object of his affection stood behind him.

“May I know where we're going?” She peered up at him through impossibly thick eyelashes.

“We're headed to the Namozine church. It should be south of the Confederate exodus from Richmond and with any luck, north of the Yankees reconnoitering from Petersburg. But we must reach the rendezvous point by nightfall, so eat up.”

For hours they rode at a gentle pace so as to not overtire the horse. Just when he sensed she might fall from the saddle from exhaustion, Elliott spotted a familiar landmark in the distance. “Wake up, Mrs. Howard. We had better walk from here.”

She slipped from the saddle clumsily. Getting used to being on her feet again, she peered around the scrub brush and briar patches as though expecting recognition. “Have we reached our mysterious destination?” she whispered.

“We have. Keep quiet and remain behind me. If anyone shoots first, perhaps you'll live long enough to answer their questions.” Elliott stumbled along the rutted path but kept a tight grip on the reins and her small hand.

The trail led down to a well-hidden river ford, used primarily by local farmers to move livestock to pastures downstream. He had known of this crossing for some time and expected it to be unguarded. The far bank, shrouded by thick foliage and vines, looked steeper than the one in front of them. Pulling Madeline behind a mountain laurel bush, he issued a mediocre imitation of a hoot owl.

“What on earth?” she whispered.

“Hush and stay down.” Elliott repeated his bird call.

For several moments they listened to silence and then heard an equally poor imitation of an owl's cry.

Inhaling a deep breath, Elliott stepped into the circle of moonlight.

“Colonel Haywood, I presume?” A deep voice resonated from the shadows.

“Show yourself, General Downing. Have you come alone?”

“
What?
” Though she burst from the shrubbery, the colonel held on to her tightly.

James Downing stepped from the shadows twenty paces away. Taller
than Elliott had imagined, the general looked powerful as a bull with a chest almost as wide. “I have two lieutenants tending the horses, but I approach you unarmed.” He slowly lifted his hands, revealing an empty scabbard and holster.

“James, is it really you? I can't believe my eyes.” Madeline broke free and closed the distance in a few long strides.

The poignant reunion of two people separated so long nearly ripped Elliott's soul in half. Downing enveloped Mrs. Howard in his arms, knocking off her cap and releasing her mane of golden hair. He planted a string of kisses across her forehead. Her response was no less enthusiastic. She transformed in the Yankee's presence. She'd spoken of her feelings for him, but until Elliott witnessed for himself he'd refused to believe. Their affection—their passion—was punishment to watch. He'd been deluded, not by her but by himself, his male ego tricking him into believing he could capture a heart that belonged to another. Clearing his throat, Elliott approached the pair unconcerned who might be hiding in the trees.

“Excuse me, sir.” General Downing swept his wide-brimmed hat from his head, pulled off his gloves, and extended his hand. Madeline shrank back in embarrassment. “I would like to thank you—”

“Save your words, General. I didn't do this for you.” His voice was little more than a growl. “I owed Mrs. Howard a debt from Gettysburg. Now she and I are square.”

Withdrawing his hand, the general nodded with mute understanding. He knew Elliott's motivation went beyond the ageless code of honor among enemies. “I will see that she safely reaches Pennsylvania soil. You have my word.”

“How on earth did you know where we would be?” asked Madeline.