Through the Storm (19 page)

Mavis had always been thin, but now she appeared gaunt. Her usually sunny face bore lines of fatigue and hunger. The dress she was wearing had been purchased five years ago on a shopping trip to Atlanta. “Have you eaten this morning?”

Mavis shook her head.

“There’s bully soup left, if you’d care for some.”

“What in heaven’s name is bully soup?”

“Hot cereal made out of cornmeal and hardtack. It’s boiled in water, wine, and ginger. The Union troops eat it.”

“Is it any good?”

“It beats starving.”

“Then yes, I’ll have some.”

Sable fetched Mavis a bowl of the cereal from the pot on the cook fire outside the ward, and while Mavis ate silently, Sable sat at her side. “Rhine was here a few weeks ago.”

Mavis’s head snapped up. “Was Andrew with him?”

“No, he’s out West.”

“Out West. What happened to his commission?”

Sable shrugged. “I’ve no idea, but right after the first battle, Andrew freed Rhine and headed off to California.”

“So he deserted.”

“It appears so.”

“Well, good. Andrew never wanted to go to war in the first place. A pretty girl and a good bottle of bourbon were all he ever wanted out of life. Did Rhine say he was well?”

“Last he saw him he was.”

Sable didn’t tell Mavis about the path Rhine had chosen for his own life.

Mavis finished off her bully soup and set the bowl aside. “So where are you going from here, Sable?”

“Eventually North, I hope. What about you?”

“I’ve no idea, really. I thought about going up to Philadelphia. Mama has a sister there, maybe she’ll take me in.”

“Do you have funds?”

“No.”

Sable reached into the bosom of her dress and unpinned a small cloth wallet. Since the theft, she’d kept her money hidden on her person. “Take this. It isn’t much, but it will tide you over.”

“Sable, no. I can’t take your money.”

“Why not? Regardless of everything that has happened, Mavis, we are still and will always be sisters. I refuse to let you starve.”

“No.”

“Take the money, Mavis, or do you want to live with Sally Ann and Morse for the rest of your life?”

Mavis shook her head. “No—but what about you?”

“I have a job, Mavis, I can make more money. I cannot make another sister.”

Looking very reluctant, Mavis held out her hand, and Sable placed the wallet in it.

Mavis had tears in her eyes as they shared another hug. “I love you, Sable.”

“And I you. Now find somebody heading North and get going before Morse tries to drag you back as well.”

“Will we ever see each other again?”

“Pray we do, Mavis. Pray we do.”

As Mavis rode away on the mule, Araminta peered into Sable’s teary green eyes. “Who was that?”

“My sister, Mavis. She has no place to go and no money. I gave her all I had.”

Araminta placed her arm around Sable and hugged her tight. “You’ve a good heart, child.”

Bridget stopped by the hospital around midday. She found Sable out back hanging freshly washed sheets on a line to dry.

“So, Fontaine, how did your tryst with the major go last evening?”

“It was not a tryst.”

“It would have been, had you been me. Haven’t you been listening to anything I’ve tried to teach you these last few weeks?” she teased.

“I have, but the major is a gentleman.”

“Sometimes being a gentleman is not all it’s cracked up to be, believe me.”

“I’m sure you’re correct, but we had a good time nonetheless.”

“Kisses?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact.”

“You’re smiling, Fontaine. There must have been lots
of kisses. Maybe there’s hope for you after all.”

“How’d you know I spent the evening with him?”

“Riding through camp with him on a black stallion is not a very discreet mode of travel. The entire camp is gossiping about the two of you.”

That was not what Sable wanted to hear.

“Well, at least they aren’t talking about me being a murderess.”

“Oh, that’s being discussed too. You really need to be thinking about leaving here, Fontaine—major or no major. That sharecropper Morse and his Reb friend Major Borden won’t let this rest. I’m guessing neither one has ever had to take orders from a man of the race, and it didn’t go down well.”

“The major expects them to cause trouble.”

“All the more reason for you to leave.”

“That’s easier said than done, especially with no funds.”

“What happened to your money? You haven’t been robbed again, have you?”

“No, I gave it all to my sister, Mavis, this morning.”

“
All of it
?”

Sable nodded.

“Fontaine, what were you thinking?”

“She’s my sister, Bridget. I couldn’t let her starve. Besides, I’ll be paid soon.”

“Says who?”

“I’m on the army’s payroll now—”

“And you’ll be lucky to see what you’re owed before the new year arrives. The Yankees are notorious for paying their soldiers when they get around to it.”

Sable had to admit she had heard many of the men grousing about the length of time between payments, but Mavis had needed her help. Sable did not regret offering it. “What happened to your own plans for leaving? Wasn’t Randolph supposed to be your ticket out?”

“He still may be. He’s hinting about leaving sometime early next week.”

“Is he being transferred?”

“No, he’s going to desert.”

“Desert?” Sable whispered, looking around to make certain they weren’t being overheard.

Bridget nodded. “He’s tired of war, and he misses his wife and daughter. When he goes, he’s promised to take me along.”

“How’s he going to get through the lines?”

Bridget shrugged. “I’ve no idea and I haven’t asked. All I care about is leaving here. He can handle the details. Do you want to tag along?”

“Maybe.”

Sable thought about never seeing the major again, and a chill grabbed her heart.

“Well, I’ll look in on you later in the week and let you know if he’s set on his plan,” Bridget said. “You’re going to need money though, Fontaine. Find some. Borrow it or steal it if you have to.”

“I doubt I’ll have to go that far, Bridget.”

“You never know. Now give me a hug and I’ll see you later.”

They shared a quick, tight embrace.

As Bridget strode off across the yard, Sable called out, “Tell Mrs. Reese I said hello!”

Bridget turned and waved. “I will!”

Sable went back to hanging up sheets and thinking about leaving the camp. Common sense told her to give serious thought to Bridget’s invitation. Going North was Sable’s ultimate goal, and right now, she had no way to get there. Could she leave LeVeq? Although he’d stolen her heart, she knew she must. For all his gallant courting, he would be heading back to Louisiana after the war, and once there, he’d pick a wife from the wealthy daughters of his elite class. In a year’s time, she doubted he would even remember her name.

Certainly he would never know she loved him, because she had no intention of telling him.

Chapter 7

“H
ow many more?” Raimond asked Andre as he scribbled his signature on yet another camp document. It seemed as if he’d been signing duty rosters, supply requisitions, and field reports all day.

“Only five more.”

Raimond growled. He detested paperwork.

Andre placed another sheaf under Raimond’s pen and waited for him to sign it before giving him another. “I’d’ve thought you’d be in a better mood after your evening with Miss Fontaine.”

Raimond did not comment.

“You didn’t have a good time?”

“Yes, I had a good time.”

“Then why the growling?”

“Let’s just say I’d hoped for a
better
time, but my conscience reared its head.”

“Your conscience? You have a conscience?”

“Evidently I do, and I’m still trying to decide whether I’m proud of it or not.”

“Galeno is going to laugh himself sick.”

Raimond glared.

“He is, you know.”

“Don’t talk to me about Galeno. If he hadn’t wished this on me, none of it would be happening.”

“Wished what?”

“That one day a woman would come along and put me through the same paces La Petite Indigo put him through.”

“And the lovely Mademoiselle Fontaine has made Galeno’s wish come true.”

“Are we finished here?” Raimond snapped.

“Nope, two more.”

Raimond signed them and Andre placed the documents in his ledger. “You know, if it’s any consolation, I believe your mother would genuinely like Miss Fontaine,” Andre observed.

“I believe so too, but Sable wanted no part of my plan to send her to Louisiana.”

“Really, why not?”

“She asked me why in heaven would she trade her newfound freedom for another type of slavery by becoming my mistress.”

“She has a point.”

Raimond glared again.

“She does, there’s no sense in lying about it,” Andre continued. “I can’t remember a woman ever turning you down this way, though. It appears to be rather painful.”

“Don’t you have work to do, someplace else?”

Andre saluted. “I will leave you to your misery.”

He gathered up the remaining papers and headed toward the tent opening, whistling cheerily.

Raimond sat brooding and silent in the tent. He couldn’t remember ever wanting a woman as badly as he wanted Sable Fontaine. After returning her to camp last evening, he’d been hard pressed to let her go. He’d ached to make love to her in as many ways as one night could hold. He wanted more of her kisses, more of her soft sighs. He wanted to brand her with the full extent of his sensual expertise so that she would remember him for the rest of her life.

But he hadn’t, and because of their flirtation with passion he’d gone to bed as hard as a railroad tie and had awakened this morning in the same state. Would having
her finally put an end to his obsessive desire, or would it only increase? Who ever would have thought he’d hesitate to consummate a relationship with a beautiful and desirable woman because of a conscience he never knew he possessed?

When he and Galeno had spent their university years in Paris, they’d sampled the courtesans as freely as they had the wines. Perfumed and provocative women with names like Yvette, Simone, and Gabrielle had tutored them in the sensual arts, showing them the many and varied roads to a woman’s pleasure. In the years since then, he’d had the daughters of counts, court officials, ministers, and escaped slaves. He’d made love in haystacks, perfumed boudoirs, and stately gardens, and never once had his conscience bothered him. Never.

So why now? Raimond took pride in loving a willing woman to the fullest. Had he been with someone other than Sable last night, he doubted there would have been any hesitation; he would have stripped her slowly and taken her right there on the floor beneath the torchlights. But it had been Sable, and as he’d told himself last night, she deserved better. For reasons he had yet to untangle, he didn’t wish to be remembered as the man she’d made love to on the sooty floor of a burned-out mansion.

He did want her to be his mistress, however, and although he understood why she didn’t embrace the idea, being turned down flat did not sit well with him. The charm of the eldest son of the house of LeVeq was legendary, yet with Sable he felt like a destitute little boy standing outside a sweet shop with his face pressed longingly against the glass.

Raimond rubbed his hands over his weary eyes, and vowing to set aside all thoughts of Sable, began to go over the day’s reports.

Union troops had forced most of the Rebels back into Alabama after the fall of Atlanta, but they hadn’t been polite enough to stay there. By now Rebels under the command of Sherman’s old adversaries Hood, Forrest,
and Wheeler had become a major annoyance for Sherman. Their hit-and-run attacks on Union-held roads, railroads, and cities were forcing the general to waste valuable time recapturing territory he’d already taken. Tired of chasing the Rebs back and forth, Sherman now proposed to ignore them altogether. He intended to leave a few regiments behind to hold Atlanta while he and the bulk of his men pushed through to the sea, thereby effectively cutting the Confederacy in two and giving Grant a chance to march right up to General Lee’s backside.

Raimond had thought the plan made sense when the general had briefed him and the other officers back in late September, but Sherman had had trouble selling the idea to the President and to Grant. He’d gone to Washington to plead his case in person, and had returned this morning with their approval. He and his army would be moving right after Election Day. The report on Raimond’s desk gave the date as the fifteenth of November, less than two weeks away.

Raimond looked over the roster of the troops who would be staying behind and his face soured at the sight of Major Claude Borden’s name. Raimond had hoped he’d be among those leaving.

The next report on his desk dealt with a request from Grant that soldiers from the state of Indiana be allowed to return home so they could vote on Tuesday, November 8. Nineteen states were allowing their resident soldiers to vote in the field; Indiana was not one of them. The Republicans considered Indiana crucial in next week’s election so army commanders were being asked to help the President’s reelection by giving these men speedy furloughs.

The last report of note concerned the Davis Bend plantation, located about twenty-five miles south of Vicksburg. Before the war it had been owned by Jefferson Davis’s brother, Joseph, but after the fall of the Mississippi Valley, it had become a Union spoil. Grant
had thought the fertile land an ideal place to settle contrabands, and this past April the land had been leased to seventy-five free Black heads of households, representing a total population of about six hundred former slaves. They were leased plots as small as one acre and as large as one hundred. As with all the new home farms, the government provided rations and teams of mules and horses to get them started as farmers, with the understanding that the debts would be paid from the profits of the crops planted.