The Vacant Chair (28 page)
He wove on his feet. “Better than I was.”
She seized his arm. “Come inside this instant. You need to lie down and then I’ll get you some broth.”
He stopped her, shook his head. “It’s my turn to take care of you now.”
She read the protective glitter in his feverish eyes and knew he was torn up about not being with her when the city fell. From where she stood, he looked like he might topple at any second. “You can take care of me once you’re better,” she promised, and towed him up the stairs into the house.
****
Appomattox Court House
April 9
th
1865
Justin darted a furtive glance over his shoulder at the empty road behind their position and shifted to keep his seat when Boy-o jerked as a shell burst nearby. Still no sign of any reinforcements. Where the hell was the infantry? They couldn’t hold this junction on their own, and God only knew how long they’d last under this kind of pressure. The Confederate infantry swelled in front of them with superior numbers, threatening to spread past their flanks and surround them.
Bugles blared commands through the din of artillery and rifle fire.
“Fall back!” Justin commanded, and guided his troopers to the rear while the enemy kept advancing with their shrill yell. Had he actually thought it might end today? That they would finally cut off and surround what was left of Lee’s army and force surrender?
“Fall back and keep moving!” Bullets whizzed past, peppering the ground around him. He’d already lost two men that morning. He didn’t want to lose anyone else, especially when the end was so agonizingly close. But they couldn’t yield all this ground. Couldn’t let Lee get past them, out into the open where he could run free to regroup and refortify. Neither could they withstand this new attack.
He urged Boy-o further up the road. The horse tossed its head as if he protested the decision. Justin fired his revolver at the enemy until it was empty, and rummaged in his cartridge box for more ammo.
When he looked up, the Confederates were closing in on them from both sides, like a horseshoe. His men kept to their methodical withdrawal, shooting at the enemy ranks with their Spencers. Sweat filmed his skin. So goddamn close, and they were pulling back. If they could just hang on, buy even a few more minutes, maybe their reinforcements would arrive. The end was right in front of them—they could all see it, taste it.
He ground his teeth in aggravation. Careful to keep their formation orderly, he drew his men back from the front lines. The Fifth and the rest of the cavalry withdrew beyond Appomattox station, bending and melting under the onslaught of the advancing foe. Frustration and helplessness seethed inside him. Dammit, the end was right
here
!
A sudden cheer went up from the advance guard. Justin whipped about, heart thudding. The Union infantry suddenly appeared down the road. His men howled in victory. The hair on his arms stood on end. Now it would happen—Lee could never hold against such overwhelming numbers. Elation pulsed through his body.
He drove his heels into Boy-o’s sides and rushed to bolster their flank, charging into an open field to form ranks and wait in position. The enemy spread out to mirror their line, squaring off for another attack, even though they must have known how futile the effort was. The Confederacy was on its deathbed and down to its last painful gasp. It was Palm Sunday, a fitting day for the end.
Justin peered down the mounted line beside him. The men’s eyes were alight with the knowledge of certain victory, every hand clenched purposefully around the hilt of their saber. Four years of hell and it all came down to this. One more battle, just one more charge to repel, and it would be finished. They could all go home.
Goose bumps erupted over his body. He would make this charge for Mitch. For every one of his fallen comrades. For his father, who’d died defending this country. For Brianna and their future together.
Chills raced over his skin as he gazed out over that vast green space. More bugle calls split the air, the men preparing for the attack. He raised his saber and awaited the signal to charge. The swallow-tailed points of the regiment’s guidon whipped in the breeze against the clear blue morning sky. Horses stamped and swished their tails. The jingle of bridles mixed with the shouted commands. Justin tensed, leaned forward in his stirrups. Any moment now…
“Sir!”
Justin jerked his gaze to Williams, whose eyes were wide. “What?”
“Take a look for yourself.” He thrust a pair of field glasses at him.
Justin looked through them and felt a jolt of shock reverberate up his spine. A messenger galloped from the Confederate line carrying a white flag.
My God, a truce.
Was this it? Was it over? Heart in his throat, he followed the soldier’s progress, fingers clenching around the glasses when the rider passed it to someone from the Seventh Michigan. The officer who received it rode back to their lines and presented it to Custer.
A moment later, Custer tore off to deliver the Confederate’s message, presumably to General Grant. As word spread down the line, cheer after cheer rose up from the jubilant men.
Justin held his breath and stole a glance at the Confederate force across the field. “They’re breaking ranks,” he said breathlessly. “And stacking their weapons!” In shock, he lowered the glasses and met Williams’s tear-glazed eyes.
“Glory be to God, sir, it’s over. It’s
over
!”
Justin couldn’t summon the energy to cheer. He couldn’t speak past the sudden lump in his throat, had to look away before he started crying. An odd stillness overcame him. Was it really done? He’d known for weeks the end was near, but now that it seemed to be happening, he felt numb.
Williams grabbed him by the shoulders. “We did it, sir. We won the damned war!”
Some of the ice that had settled around his heart melted, and a smile trembled on his lips. “We won.”
Williams leaned over to throw an arm around him, laughing tearfully. Justin returned the embrace, eyes squeezed shut as he sent up a prayer of thanks, the first prayer he’d said since his brother died. God, how he wished Mitch could have seen this. And Brianna—she’d been in Richmond this whole time, had been there when it fell. He’d tried like hell to find a way to get to her, but the constant fighting had made seeing her impossible.
“We’ll be sent home,” Williams said against his shoulder, squeezing hard. “I’ll get to see my baby when it’s born.”
Returning his friend’s embrace, Justin didn’t have the heart to tell him their job wasn’t over yet. Lee might be surrendering, but Johnston’s army was still out there somewhere. Once
they
gave up, the war would be over. And not until.
Washington, D.C.
May 23, 1865
When they arrived in the nation’s capital from City Point, Morgan took Brianna directly to the hotel where Justin had reserved rooms for them. He pressed a kiss to her brow. He looked much better now, having regained some of the weight he’d lost. “I’m going to find my regiment. Leave a note for me at the front desk so I know what your plans are.”
She didn’t know where Justin wanted to go after he was discharged. A single letter was all she’d received from him since Lee’s surrender at Appomattox. “I will.” She loved her brother so much and was proud of him. “We won,” she whispered to him, still in awe it was over.
“We sure did.” He hugged her goodbye, holding on for a moment. “Maybe I’ll see you in Lexington.”
“Maybe.” She didn’t want to let him go. She’d missed too much time with him already. But she had a new life to lead and a new husband to share it with. And Morgan had his own future to determine.
“Be happy, Bree.”
“I will be.” She held her smile as he left, tall and proud, despite the size he’d yet to put back on from his illness. Standing by the window overlooking the street, she watched him exit the hotel and stroll out of sight. The tick of the mantle clock made her realize how quiet it was. Her stomach was full, she was safe and warm, and in a few hours Justin would walk through the door. For good. She hugged herself and glanced at the wide bed, hardly able to believe she would be holding him in it later.
He was already here, somewhere in the city with the rest of the Michigan Brigade. Eager to get to the parade site, she took her parasol and headed out with the throngs going to watch the Grand Review. Band music reached her long before she got there. The streets along the parade route were crowded with onlookers waving flags and banners. Women and children clutched flowers to throw at the victorious troops. She found a spot close to the Presidential box where President Johnson sat and felt a pang of regret that Lincoln wasn’t here to see this. He’d been a great man and a strong leader, and he’d been taken from the country much too soon.
She waited in place as people squeezed in around her on all sides. Brass bands played and vendors hawked their wares, selling food and trinkets for the war weary crowds to commemorate the occasion. She had to stand on tiptoe to see over the feathered hat of the woman in front of her.
A loud cheer rose up from down the block, and excitement buzzed in her stomach. She didn’t have any idea when Justin’s division was scheduled to ride past, but she would happily stand there all day just for the chance to see him in the review with his regiment. She stood on her toes as a precise formation of soldiers marched up in their blue uniforms, rifles held against their shoulders. Their bayonets gleamed in the sun, each step in precise cadence, their perfectly timed paces hitting the pavement like drum beats. Their smiles and obvious pride brought tears to her eyes. How much they’d all suffered to reach this day.
Almost an hour passed before the first division of cavalry advanced. Her heart pounded as she again strained to see over the people in front of her. The spectators roared, their applause and cheers seeming much louder than before. Then she saw why. General Custer rode at the head of the Third Division, resplendent in his famous blue velvet uniform and red neckerchief.
He had almost reached the place where she stood when something spooked his horse. The General twisted in the saddle as his mount reared and tore down the street. Everyone gasped, the woman in front of her crying out in alarm. Custer held his seat superbly and brought the animal under control in short order, his golden curls bouncing as his horse came plunging down on its front hooves. As the crowd roared in appreciation of Custer’s skill, she smirked. Had he done it on purpose? From what Justin had told her about him, she wouldn’t put it past the flamboyant general, and he certainly hadn’t seemed short on confidence when she met him.
Turning her attention to the end of the column, she waited breathlessly to find out which division was next. When she spotted another body of mounted troopers wearing red neckerchiefs coming toward her, her throat tightened. The Wolverines were there at last. Her husband was
there.
She recognized General Merritt in the lead and could hardly breathe. Where was the Fifth? Were the regiments proceeding in numerical order? The Michigan Brigade began to file past, and her eyes fell on a man riding near the head of the next regiment.
Her heart skipped a beat. Her hands flew to her mouth.
Justin.
She smiled so wide her cheeks ached. Oh, dear God, he was magnificent.
Her heart pounded against her ribs as he rode by at the front of his regiment, tall and handsome atop Boy-o. He held a glinting saber raised in salute in his gauntleted right hand, and his red neckerchief fluttered in the breeze along with the flags and swallowtail guidon. Larger than life, mounted upon his favorite horse. Boy-o’s coal black coat gleamed in the sunlight. Goose bumps raced over her skin. Brianna thought her chest would burst with pride. When Justin came abreast of her, she jumped up and down and yelled out as loud as she could to him, but her voice was lost in the roar of the crowd and he didn’t see her waving her arms.
Through teary eyes she watched him lead his men along the route until they turned the corner and he became a speck in the distance. Exhaling, she pressed a hand to her heart and blew out a breath. If she lived to be a hundred, she’d never forget the sight of him today.
She made her way through the melee back to the hotel, smiling the whole time. She couldn’t wait for him to burst into their room and take her into his arms, to hold him again. The future stretched out before her with limitless potential, the rest of their lives ripe with possibility. Dizzy with joy, she tossed her bonnet on the bed where she’d be making love with her husband in a matter of hours.
She should pinch herself, just to make sure she wasn’t dreaming.
To kill time, she ordered a light supper and the staff brought up hot water for a bath in a hip tub. After a good soak, she toweled off and dressed in a fresh gown of deep blue sprigged cotton. She kept glancing out the window in the hope of spying her husband coming along the sidewalk but gave up after a couple of hours. The sun dipped below the buildings, bathing them and the trees lining the street in shades of gold and rust. Several times she heard footsteps in the hallway and her heart started to race, but they always passed by her door. She’d dozed off in a chair next to the low burning fire when a brisk knock finally came.
Brianna bolted upright, blinking, and the knob turned. She jumped out of her chair and lunged for the door, heart hammering.
He’s finally here
. When she was halfway to it the door swung open to reveal her husband. A funny sound escaped her throat, almost a cry, and she clapped her hands over her nose and mouth.
Justin wore a huge smile, his sapphire eyes shining as he reached for her. “Hi, angel.”
Brianna threw her arms around his neck and he lifted her off the floor to sweep her around in a jubilant circle. She laughed, kissing him wherever her lips landed, squeezing him so hard her arms trembled. He chuckled against her mouth and crushed her against his chest. “Justin,” she croaked, hardly able to believe he was there. “Justin, Justin.”
“I missed you so much.” His voice was rough. After a moment, he set her away from him and took her hands in his. “Let me look at you.”
She wiped her hands over her cheeks to erase her tears as his eyes swept over her. “I promised myself I wouldn’t cry.”
He grinned and kissed her again. “It’s all right.”
“I saw you in the parade today. You were the most incredible sight I have ever seen, and I’m so proud to be your wife.” She hugged him again, absorbing the laugh that rumbled through his chest. “I’ve dreamed about this for so long. I can’t believe it’s happening.”
“I know. And once we’re mustered out back in Michigan, I’ll be home with you for good. Then you’ll be sorry.” He eased a lock of hair away from her face and bent his head, finding her mouth with his.
Brianna swayed in his embrace and opened to him like a flower in the sun. Hunger roared through her veins. He growled at her eagerness and took her deeper, sliding his tongue against hers in a slow, erotic assault that had her gasping and fighting to be closer. One of his hands slid up to cup her breast.
Her back arched. “I want you.” She was starved for him. Couldn’t wait a moment longer.
He dropped his mouth to the side of her neck and stroked his tongue over her skin. “You’ve got me,” he muttered, taking her hand and sliding it down to cover the hard length that pushed against the front of his trousers. “Every last inch of me.”
Someone coughed from the hallway, the door still wide open.
Neither of them cared enough to stop.
A discreet clearing of a throat followed. “I’ll just, uh…close the door for you.” It clicked shut.
Laughing, Brianna started in on the buttons of Justin’s coat. He dragged her nearer, tugged on the ties that held up her skirts and shoved the mass of cotton to the floor. They struggled with each other’s clothing, throwing garments aside in a heap until he was naked and she wore only her chemise and stockings. She could hardly breathe. If she didn’t have him inside her in the next few seconds, she would die from the pressure building in her. Impatient, she grabbed hold of his shoulders and pulled him toward the bed.
They fell in a tangle of limbs on the clean sheets she’d turned down. Justin rose on his knees to peel the rest of her clothes off and lowered his weight onto her, kissing her with an urgency that bordered on desperation. After a while, he raised his head and gazed at her with blazing eyes. “I can’t wait this time.”
“Then don’t,” she urged, wrapping her legs around his hips to pull him inside. He settled against her, his solid, hungry weight pressing her into the bed, surrounding her with his warmth and strength. She was so wet already, aching for him. “I want you inside me. Right now.”
He pushed forward and drove himself inside her with one thrust. They both cried out at the feel of it. Brianna locked her body around him, holding him as tight and as close as she could. He braced himself on his hands and rode her hard, stroking the thick, hard length of him inside her.
She gave herself up to his wild, plunging rhythm, stunned by the intense pleasure coursing through her with so little effort. Each time he rubbed against the knot of sensation inside her, the mindlessness increased until she strained up beneath him and dug her nails into his back. Finally he groaned and shuddered once as he neared the peak, and it triggered her own release. She cried out with him in fulfillment, let herself sink deep into the velvet oblivion. Relaxed and breathless, she tucked him in close to her body and nuzzled the damp raven hair at his temple, marveling that she had him in her arms again.
Justin levered up on his elbows, eyes sparkling. “I love the way you welcome me home.”
She laughed. “I love it, too.” Her hands traveled the long length of his back, tracing the smooth bands of muscle beneath his hot skin. “Want me to do it again?”
He smiled against her mouth, kissing her slow and sweet, his tongue caressing her lips.
She turned her head aside. “Is that a yes? Because to do it properly, I’m going to need a few more days in bed with you.”
He eased up to meet her gaze, a wicked gleam in his deep blue eyes. “Careful what you wish for, angel.”
****
Justin returned from a meeting the next morning and hesitated in the doorway of their hotel room, staring down at his hat clenched in his hands. With one look at his face, Brianna’s stomach dropped. He shut the door quietly behind him, jaw set, his troubled expression putting her on edge.
“What is it?” she demanded, instantly on her feet and willing her pulse to slow down.
Rather than answer, he sat her on the edge of the bed and sank down beside her, his gaze on the floor. He wouldn’t look at her. After a moment of taut silence he dropped his head into his hands and dragged them through his hair.
His obvious distress frightened her. “Justin?”
When he finally glanced up at her, the haunted look in his eyes made her certain someone had died. She laid a hand on his arm, finding the muscles beneath her palm rock hard.
He studied her for a long moment, searching her eyes. “I don’t know how to tell you.” He closed his mouth, shook his head.
The blood pounded in her ears. “Tell me what?” Dear God, what could be so bad that he couldn’t even say it?
“We’ve been ordered to the frontier,” he said dully.
She shook her head. “I don’t understand.
Who
?”
“The brigade.” He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “They’re sending us out to fight the Indians.”
Her heart went into free-fall.
No.
There had to be some mistake. The war was over. He had served his time, done his duty, suffered enough. This couldn’t be real. “But they can’t do this. Can they?” The question came out as a plea.
He closed his eyes and tipped his head back, still rubbing the back of his neck. “There was a misunderstanding about our papers. Our terms of enlistment were for three years, unless we were discharged before then.”
