The Sun Rises (Southern Legacy Book 4) (7 page)

“That is what Amos said.” Jo nodded. “I assume he must know you are a doctor.”

“It would be my assumption,” Andrew agreed. “The roads aren’t safe traveling alone these days. He must have gotten robbed and assaulted.”

“That is what I was thinking.” She eased over to the bedside. “Is he going to live?” The man’s clothing was strewn over the floor. Nothing worth saving, Jo bent down to pick them up.

Drying his hands, Andrew shrugged. “He is in God’s hands. I believe I have stopped the bleeding. He is lucky it didn’t hit any vital organs, but he has lost a lot of blood. Time…time will tell.”

“I am going to take his clothes and burn them. I’m sure we have something in the house that will fit him when he recovers. I need to return. Madeline will need to be fed.” As Jo tucked the clothes in a bundle, a cigar case dropped to the floor from his pants pocket.

She reached down and picked it up. Opened, she saw three cigars, but the fourth had a note wrapped around it. Her fingers untied the string that bound it to the cigar. Her eyes widened in disbelief as she read.

The words and numbers blurred together. There were names of officers, suggested strategy of the leaders, and places of the Confederate defense in Charleston. The number of units stationed within the city and at the forts on the islands, the number of cannons, rifles, and ammunition that had arrived only in the last week…

Her hands trembled. Looking up at Andrew, she uttered with deep hatred, “He is a spy.”

****

“Send for the sheriff, militia, whoever it is that will deal with this….this man.” Jo’s voice rang sharp with a rising anger. Aghast, she caught her breath. “Get him out of here…now.”

Andrew moved swiftly around the cot where the unconscious man laid and took the paper from Jo. Something in the way he glanced over the contents told Jo she was correct in her assumption. The man was a Union spy!

“Well,” Andrew said in a long, drawn-out manner as he scrutinized the paper. “It does seem as though he may have infiltrated our lines, but it would be his death to move him. I won’t allow that.”

“Allow that? You are not serious, Andrew. It is not a question. I want him gone. I thought he was a victim of a robbery along the roads. I will not be party…”

“Calm yourself.” Andrew took her by her shoulders. “Whether or not he is the enemy, it changes nothing. It is my duty to care for him.”

Jo wrenched herself away from his grip and backed up to the wall. Pointing at the man, she cried, “He is not my duty. Get him off the plantation.”

Andrew shook his head slowly. “Jo, it’s impossible to move him. It would be a death sentence. I know you. It’s not what you want…to have a man’s death upon your hands.”

“Do not think my empathy extends to Yankees! Moreover, don’t hold what I did for that poor black child against me. This is not the same thing! He…he is the enemy!”

“You don’t know that. In his state, he can’t defend himself. If you call the authorities, he won’t get that chance. He will die before they get him back to Charleston in his condition. I ask only you wait…it may well be pointless. He may die anyway.”

She shook her head vehemently and stared across the room, frowning. “They killed Wade!” Her lips trembled with the declaration, her hands clenched into a fist. “Wade’s dead because of those damn Yankees. Never has there been a finer man who walked the earth and he’s gone…gone because they killed him!”

“No, Jo, this godforsaken war killed Wade. Can you not see there has been too much death? It is all around us. I refuse to add to it and won’t allow you to do so either.”

“How dare you tell me to remain silent and harbor a spy!”

A long, deep sigh escaped Andrew. He glanced back over at the man, who fidgeted uncomfortably. Sweat poured off his brow. Grimacing, the wounded man clutched his side. Andrew rushed over and jerked the man’s hands back from the injured area.

“Find me a rope,” Andrew demanded from Lonnie. “We are going to have to restrain him so he won’t open back up his wound.”

Andrew watched Lonnie run out the door and then turned to Jo. “Help me. He is going to…”

Jo shook her head. “I told you…”

“I know him,” Andrew abruptly announced, holding the patient’s arm down by his side. He looked up at Jo. “From my time in Philadelphia…you may as well. He is Gavin Mitchell. Jo, he is a friend of Cullen’s.”

Taken back, she said nothing. 
Cullen
…for so long she had refused to think of him. He had deserted her…taken the side of the enemy. Finally, she said in a voice that could barely be heard in the small cabin, “Why…why would he come here?”

“How can I say? He visited before the war with Cullen. As you said before, he knows I am a doctor…he had nowhere else to turn.”

Anguish suffused within her. 
What am I to do?
 She had not time to contemplate the dilemma. Lonnie raced inside, empty-handed. “They’re coming, Dr. Andrew!”

“Who, Lonnie?” Andrew asked, unable to leave Mitchell’s side.

“Soldiers…Confederate soldiers are at the main house,” Lonnie uttered, out of breath. “What’s we going to do?”

Jo looked out the dirty window
. Oh, Good Lord, it was a whole unit!
 She looked back at Andrew. She had no choice. She walked out.

****

Jo stood in the doorway for a moment. The sight she must have presented to the men. The front of her dress was drenched in blood; her hands, sticky and coated with the same liquid. She didn’t care. She was in no mood to be hospitable…no matter whether it was the militia.

Lonnie hadn’t been wrong. It was a unit of soldiers. From the looks of the weary men, they had been drudging through the swamps.

Immediately, she recognized the leader, Lucas McCoy. He was dressed in a ragtag Confederate uniform, as were most of the men. Their britches had holes in them; boots with the soles worn clean through; their uniform coats, faded and patched.

The sun bore down in the cloudless sky. Jo marched out toward them with her skirt swinging in the wake of her gait. She gave no mind to the men who reined in their horses around her.

“Good day, Mr. McCoy. What brings you out this day?” She tossed her head back. Bone-tired, she hadn’t the patience to deal with this man…this abomination who helped Harry Lee kill Gillie…for that was what he had done, surely as if he choked the life out of her himself.

“It’s Captain McCoy, Mrs. Montgomery,” he answered solemnly, nodding his head slightly. “I hate to impose on you at this time, but we have been searching for a renegade. We fear we may have a spy in our midst. We have tracked him down to the river and have since lost him.”

“And this has to do with me?” she asked with a venom that cut with contempt. “I can assure you I don’t make a practice of taking in renegades, Captain. Now, if there is anything else you need?”

“I believe you don’t understand my request, Mrs. Montgomery. We need to search your plantation. As I said, the trail ends…”

Fuming, her eyes flared at him. “You will do no such thing!” She lashed out at him, scarcely hiding the contempt she felt for the man. “I won’t have my home turned upside down because you lost your prisoner or whatever he was. Why, so that you can find someone else to try to hang without a trial? No, Mr.…Captain. You will do no such thing. I give you my word that no one is here.”

“I believe what Captain McCoy is asking, dear cousin, is what have you been doing since you are drenched in blood and I myself stabbed the spy in the gut? Could it be you are sheltering a spy at Magnolia Bluff?”

The skin on her nape prickled as if evil breathed on her neck. Her heart lurched with fear. Breaking through the crowd of men, Buck Haynes rode up beside McCoy. His appearance had changed. His dirty hair fell down to his shoulders; his unkempt beard looked as though a bird had nested in it. Skinnier, his worn clothes hung loose about him, but his eyes…his eyes still held the same gleam of depravity.

She met those eyes with a scornful glare. “Get off my land, Buck. You are not welcome here.”

“Can’t, cous. I’m part of the militia now.”

“Don’t tell me they allow deserters into our militia!”

He chuckled and leaned back on his horse. “Tough words coming from a nigger lover—at least, that is what rumor has it.”

Burning with humiliation, she felt her face go scarlet.
How had he found out about the incident at Whitney Hall?
An uneasy feeling washed over her. She supposed that it was inevitable that word would get out what she had done…more than likely twisted the facts, that she had betrayed Grace Ann and Mr. Whitney.

“I haven’t a clue to what you are trying to insinuate. I am loyal citizen of South Carolina. Do not question my allegiance.”

”Mrs. Montgomery,” McCoy intervened. “Ain’t here for no other reason than finding the fugitive.”

With the back of her hand, she wiped her brow and looked back at the sick cabin. “My man, Lonnie, was out in the fields this morning with a swing blade. It got caught on a vine and he tried to jerk the swing blade off and was successful, except it went back at him, nearly cut his arm off. I’ve been tending to him all morning.”

“You won’t mind if we check it out.”

“I do,” Jo declared. “I gave you my word. It should suffice. I will not be disgraced at my home when we have sacrificed much for the cause.”

“There is no need for your stance. I assure you it is a necessity.”

“You understand perfectly my stance and my aversion to your presence,” she retorted, riddled with disdain. “Can you tell me that you searched the Randolphs’ place or the Middletons’? I sincerely doubt it. I believe you are here only to dishonor my family. If you even dare dismount, I will write to General Beauregard personally and tell him of your treatment of the family of his beloved major. I have a letter in his own hand stating the bravery and courage my husband displayed and the ultimate sacrifice he made for God, family, and country. I gave you my answer. Now, get off this land.”

Jo refused to move.

Some in the unit began to withdraw. Another rode up to McCoy. “Told ya I saw signs of a boat pushed into the water. I swear he left by the Ashley.”

McCoy started to say more, and then refrained. Instead, he turned to Buck, who was the only one who had not retreated. “Come on. We have more work to do.”

Buck glared at Jo. “I’ll be back.”

She made no retort, but stood there on trembling legs until the last soldier disappeared out of sight.

****

Jo sat in the dark and waited. A door opened and closed. She made no movement to leave. Andrew was about to feel the brunt of her rage. Her anger flamed, fanned at Andrew, Captain McCoy…Buck!

Oh, Heavens to Betsy
! She had lied to save a damn Yankee! Only after she had calmed down…after she had fed Madeline, hugged Percival tightly…had she comprehended the full extent of her actions.

Disaster loomed over Magnolia Bluff. The whole of the plantation was endangered while that Yankee recovered in the sick cabin. Everything that Wade had done…the sacrifice he made would be for naught if that blasted McCoy—or worse, Buck—discovered they harbored the spy.

“Jo, I got your note. Why are you sitting in the dark?”

She said nothing while Andrew lit the lamp on the desk. The room glowed in the dark as the lamp’s light burned. He had not changed his blood-stained clothes, but he had washed up. Turning back to her, his eyes lit on the empty glass on the table beside her and walked over to the decanter.

“Would you like another? I find I need one myself.” Andrew lifted the decanter.

Ladies of quality would never drink hard liquor in the presence of a gentleman. At the moment, neither was she a lady or Andrew a gentleman. She handed him her glass. “Don’t dawdle. Out with it,” she demanded contemptuously.

“There’s not much to tell,” he said, grimly, drinking down the entire contents in one
mouthful. “Mitchell’s alive, but barely. I told Gardner what had happened. Had no choice in the matter. He is watching him now.”

Jo grimaced.
Lord almighty! However were they going to keep him a secret if the whole of the plantation knew of his presence!
 Her anger stirred. “I’m not taking a chance on getting caught with him. I don’t care how you do it, but move him!”

Slowly, Andrew poured himself another drink and stared at it as he swirled the brandy around his glass. “I suppose I should tell you I’m grateful you did not turn him over to McCoy. I thought for sure it was your intention when you stormed out of the cabin.”

“Spare me, Andrew. You know well enough I’m not that much of an idiot. McCoy would have condemned us all if he discovered the man. Why, I have no doubt Buck would have burnt Magnolia Bluff down! But I won’t have it! I won’t lose Magnolia Bluff over some dirty, lousy Yankee spy!”

“Stop! I do not need you hammering at me. I will handle it.”

“You won’t be able to if Buck…”

“Jo, I know.” Andrew’s manner eased. “I will not make light of the situation and surely not Buck. It will bode well for you and the children to move into Charleston, at least for the time being.”

Terror struck her. “You are afraid of what Buck will do?”