CHAPTER 8
The rain continued to fall steadily outside. A cloaked figure waited patiently, as first the light in the stable loft winked out, then as the large housekeeper trundled her way to the small cottage and after a bit, the lights there, too, went out. The large figure moved silently to hide in the bushes that lined the small back porch, his position affording him a clear view through the kitchen window. What he saw there made him angry. More than angry, he cursed silently to himself. He vowed that he would never be made fool of again, not by that woman. He would see to that.
The hours ticked by, the man having only a bottle of cheap whiskey to keep him company. The more he drank, the angrier he got. He considered the tall woman more than just a threat to the Confederacy. She was a threat to all he held dear. If he allowed her to continue on, he himself, could be called traitor. It had taken a good deal of money, but people talked. According to the medical reports, the messenger who had carried the necessary information to the troops at Ft. Henry had a self inflicted wound. She must have paid him off nicely for that, he thought to himself. He began to tire of waiting. His bottle was almost empty.
The hidden man dozed as he could, waiting out the time till the two people inside fell asleep. He shifted now and again to try and make the best of his situation. Branches dug into his back and face, the cloak long since useless against the steady barrage of rain. Sitting there in the mud, he thought of his plan, not much of one really, but it had taken him so long to get to the here and now. Weeks of tracking, his men following each of the two. He had taken over the tracking when it became obvious that the two would be leaving the Haversham’s party together. He couldn’t have arranged a more perfect scanario himself. Both were in the same room, totally unaware that they had been followed. Inside, it became quiet. The low conversation he had been barely hearing for the past several hours finally coming to an end. He waited a few more minutes, then made his move.
The two women slept easily by the fire. The feather mattress like a nest for them. Emma had found an old uniform of her husbands and it fit Reil better than expected. She herself wore a long flannel nightgown. Reils’ wool clad toes stuck out slightly from beneath the blanket. The two were entwined, with Emma’s head resting in the crook of Reils neck, face tucked in close, one arm slung across the smaller woman’s chest. Reil had an arm draped in an almost protective manner over the dark haired womans’ shoulders. They both bolted up into a sitting position as the kitchen door was kicked in.
A tall figure stood in the doorway, silhouetted briefly by a flash of lightning. The man, which it had to be by sheer size, held a pistol in one hand, the other clenching into a fist. He strode in like he owned the place. His alcohol laced mind convinced him he soon would. Emma rose to her feet, instantly recognizing the man. “How dare you! How dare you come into my house! What right do you have to come barging in here?” She was furious, but Reil thought it might not be such a good idea to anger someone who was pointing a pistol at you. She glanced over to where she had laid her own service revolver, and knew that if she moved for it, she would only have seconds, and she didn’t want Emma hurt. She leaned back on one elbow, her right arm draped across her stomach. She would just have to wait for an opportunity to present itself.
The man looked up, the large brim of the hat he wore under the hood of the cloak caused his eyes to be hidden in shadows. The only noise to be heard was the steady drip as water from his huge, greying moustache sent one after the other drop of water onto the whitewashed floor. The man’s booming southern voice filled the room, his pistol still aimed at Emma. “You lying bitch. I never trusted you from the start. The excuses you gave me...the lies...all for what? So you could bed some damn Yankee? You told me once you took no man to your bed, I gave you time to grieve...” The man was practically choking out his words, his anger building with each syllable, his drunken state threw caution to the wind. “That should have been me dancing with you tonight, me lying there next to you. ME! Then there was the misinformation...the stalling...it all makes sense now. But it doesn’t matter now. Lee has his plan all set, he’s been watching Hooker’s troop movement since that lousy excuse for a General took command of the Northern forces. There’s gonna be one tremendous battle ahead, and we’re gonna win it. But first, first...you’re gonna die, you traitorous whore!” He leveled the gun at Emma, his knuckles white from the death grip on the handle.
Reil saw that any opportunity for distraction that she may have been hoping for was lost. Something about the man’s voice was vaguely familiar, but the words were so distorted, she set aside the thought. She had more important things to worry about. She reached for her weapon, coming up slightly to get one leg under her for balance. Not having the time to take it out of it’s holster, she aimed the gun, holster and all at the large man and fired a round.
Time seemed to slow down, it was as if one could see the motion of the bullet, it’s slow turns as it made it’s way out of the barrel of the gun, moving towards its’ inevitable target. The man saw the movement of the young soldier, redirected his aim, firing at the same time as Reil. Emma turned to see what had made the man change his sights. The large man crashed against the island in the kitchen, falling heavily to the floor, the hood of the cloak falling away from his face. Reil took the force of the blow, and it landed her in a noisy, clanging heap amoung the racks and chairs by the hearth that had been used to dry the wet items from the night before. The last thing Reil saw, was the man’s face, twisted in agony. The last thing Reil heard, was Emma scream. It echoed in the now quiet room. “Nooooooo!.........”
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A loud noise woke Flo from a sound sleep. Her eyes flew open, and with the kind of instincts only a mother has, she knew Emma was in trouble, even if she weren’t her own blood daughter. She had raised enough children, and knew deep in her heart, that something terrible had happened. She rushed to get her shoes on, and threw a shawl about her shoulders. Quickly igniting the lantern from the banked fire in the front room, she raced out across the small patch of land in between her home and the larger house. She saw Jimmy already at the splintered door, pitchfork in hand, and he motioned for her to stay behind him. She roughly pushed him out of the way, striding past him saying in a gruff voice; “Lemme through, my baby’s in there.”
As she came in the door, the first thing she noticed was a large, dark lump laying on the floor. A bright crimson pool of blood, faintly glowing in the light of her lantern was slowly spreading out from underneath. Her eyes opened wide as she scanned the room for the other two people she knew were in the house. She spotted Emma first, who was on her knees tending to the young man. “Emma, my lord, child, why is there a dead man on the floor of my kitchen?” She moved over towards the tall woman to see what had happened to the young soldier. “He gonna live?” Emma, to her credit, had regained her senses quickly after seeing that Reil was, indeed, going to be alright. “Yes, bullet went through the arm, got knocked out landing on all the clutter by the hearth. Can you get me something to clean the wound with?”
“You just let me take care of everything. Did you stop the bleeding?” At the woman’s nod, she set about stoking the fire back to a blaze, and heated a pot of water. “Jimmy, be a dear and take that man outta my kitchen.” The young man had turned the body over, checking to see if there were any signs of life. He used the cloak to cover the man’s face, it’s hideous visage too much for the hired hand to look upon without feeling queasy. “Lord above, Flo. That there officer got him right through the heart. Bugger didn’t stand a chance.”
He got the large form onto it’s back. Hooking his arms under the portly mans armpits, Jimmy began hauling the body outside. “I’ll stick him out behind the barn for now, bury him at first light so’s I can see what it is I’m doin’.” Flo looked up as he made his way towards the door. “Hold on there a minute.” She walked over, carefully avoiding stepping in the blood. Lifting back the hood of the cloak she cried out. “Lord have mercy! Emma, that’s the Colonel!” Emma looked up from tending Reil. “I know. Reil saved my life, he would have killed me for sure. Somehow, Flo, he found out about me.”
She looked back down at the unconcious form of the woman who held her soul. “I should never have let Reil into my life. Reil’s hurt now because of me, Flo. I did this as sure as if I had pulled the trigger.” Flo came back around to the other side of the room and placed a hand on the woman’s shoulder. “Don’t you worry none about that. That there young man knew he might find trouble one way or the other as soon as he put on that uniform. We’re all living in a hard time right now. Nothin’ you could’a done. If you ask me, that Colonel got what he deserved.” She glanced over towards the body once more. “Always did give me the willies.”
It was small comfort to the woman, but she knew that Flo was right. Life these days was filled with danger, but she still couldn’t fully shake the feeling that if it hadn’t been for her, Reil wouldn’t be injured right now. She gave a small smile to the housekeeper, then pointed her chin in Jimmy’s direction. “Better go and take him outside now Jimmy. And look around, should be a horse nearby. Big black one. Don’t worry though, it looks fearful, but it’s really a gentle horse.” Jimmy nodded that he understood. He had no fear of horses, hadn’t met one yet that he couldn’t tame with a gentle word. He bent his back again to the grisly task, the Colonels boots thumping on the doorsill as he was dragged away.
“Flo, help me move Reil somewhere more comfortable. We’ll have to toss that mattress out, it’s covered in blood.” The two women were able to easily lift the still unconcious form and carry Reil into Emma’s bedroom. This earned a ‘look’ from Flo, but she kept her thoughts to herself, for once. Emma stayed by the bedside, holding Reil’s hand. Flo left and quickly came back with the heated water and some fresh bandages. Tucked under her arm was a flask of whiskey.
Flo set down the bowl of water and the bandages on the nightstand and handed Emma the flask. “Pour some of that on the wound, then some inside him when he comes ‘round. That man is gonna have one heck of a headache, I imagine. I’ll go fix up some breakfast.” Emma looked up, she hadn’t missed the reference that Flo thought of Reil now as a man, and not a boy. Reil was accepted, in Flo’s mind. She made a mental note to ask Reil later if she could let the housekeeper in on her secret. She just didn’t feel right hiding something like that from the woman who had been like a mother to her for so long. Flo was always there for her, like she was now, making everything right. She would never be able to express her thanks enough. As Flo was leaving, Emma spoke up. “You saved Reil’s life, you know.”
“How’s that?” Flo turned around, confusion showing clearly on her face. “Last night, when you chased Reil around the kitchen? You smacked with your spoon, leaving a bruise just above the elbow. Right where the bullet went in. See?” She indicated to the older woman the exact spot on Reil’s arm. A faint bruise could be seen outlining the bullet hole. “I’m glad you didn’t aim for the head!” Flo began making some hand gestures, warding off evil. “My word, Emma. Looks like I must’ve had some good magic in that spoon! All things happen for a reason, I suppose.” Emma finished cleaning and bandaging the wound, thankful that the bullet had gone clean through, missing the bone.
“Emma, you look a sight. Why don’t you get some rest while I cook?” The dark haired woman nodded, never taking her eyes off of Reil’s unconcious form. As Flo left the room, Emma heard a soft moan. “Whu...ow..what happened?” Smoothing the hair back from Reil’s eyes, relief showed in Emma’s face. She smiled down at a sight she knew she would never tire of seeing. “You were shot, then you hit your head. Sleep now, you’ll be fine. I’ll be right here beside you.” Finding herself too tired to protest, she asked in a small voice, “Promise?”. “I promise.” Emma crawled up beside her, the smaller woman instinctively moving closer, even in sleep. Later on, she knew she would have questions to answer. For now, she was content to hold the small woman in her arms. Emma drew the woman closer still, and finally drifted off to sleep as well.
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She was cloaked in blackness. No sight, no sound. As she stretched her arms out, they were met with a solid, sticky object. Every direction she moved in, on hands and knees, more of the objects met her questing fingers.
The woman began to notice a change in the darkness, it was softening into light. She could make out shadows all around her in the gloom. A crimson fog settled over everyting, allowing her to only see that wich was nearby. A wind picked up, whispering it’s baleful howl, searching for a soul to steal.
She was not afraid. Managing to stand up, she shouted her defiance in a gutteral snarl, balling up her small fists at her sides. The wind carried away the fog as more light illuminated the grisly scene. There she stood, a frozen monument of hatred in a bloody sea of bodies.
She spun around, searching for the cause of all this carnage. Off in the distance a figure of a woman could be seen. Head hung low with long, dark hair flowing about the figures shoulders, head and face. A long white lace gown hung down past her feet. Floating above the sea of bodies, it slowly approached the angry woman. The figure held out both hands, palms up, blood covered.
“You!” The angry woman shouted. “It was you. You caused all this!” She gestured across the bloody landscape. In a dry raspy voice, the figure replied; “T’was only what was owed me...” The floating woman’s head came up, piercing blue eyes slamming into the angry woman. Her own green ones blazing an off color green, reflecting the red glow now coming off the bodies. “Those you see here wear gray...”, the figure spoke again, “you are now responsible for one as well.”
Green eyes slowly looked down at her own hands, still clenched in fists. She raised them up, and opened them slowly. Red ocher poured off her hands, down her elbows.
A scream tore itself from her throat...
The noise had Flo running in from the kitchen, but she stopped at the door to the bedroom, seeing Emma rocking the officer in her arms. She turned and went back to her duties, hearing the soft endearments that Emma was whispering fade as she moved farther from the room. Flo was a bit worried about Reil. Some never moved on from the nightmares. Her nephew still woke screaming in the night. Her sister had told her once that sometimes, even waking, the boy had seen things that were no longer happening, jumping at loud noises and such. Flo truely hoped that Emma’s young officer didn’t suffer the same fate that the war had handed her nephew.
Reil’s body sensed two things upon waking up later that same morning. One was a soft warm comfort snuggled against her left side. The other was a dull throbbing pain in her right arm. She decided even before she opened her eyes, that she liked the former much more so than the latter. Struggling to remember the events of earlier (Today? How long had it been?), images came in rather fuzzy, some out of order. She finally worked up the energy to open one eye, and beheld a sight she knew she wanted to wake up to for the rest of her life. The taller woman was sprawled across most of her body, one hand cupping a breast, and one leg tucked between her own. Reil didn’t know whether or not she actually wanted the woman to move or not.
Emma moved in her sleep, readjusting her position, causing Reil to blush furiously. The fact that they were both clothed made no difference to Reil. The fact that Reil was rather enjoying the contact also made no differenct to her. It was simply that she felt a moral duty to have some type of formal relationship with the woman before they took things any farther. She mentally clamped down those feelings that her body was telling her. Based on recent events, Reil wanted some answers before anything else happened. She lay there for long moments, thinking about just those events. Too many questions needed answers.
Acknowledging the need to wait for those answers, Reil decided she needed to get up. She had become sore sleeping in one position, pinned down. A small smile showed, as she had trouble thinking of a better thing to be pinned down by. But, she sighed, all good things must come to an end, and it really was a bit embarrassing. She wouldn’t be able to control herself again if Emma shifted once more. Gently, she used her good arm and nudged the sleeping form.
Emma made a small noise that Reil could only describe as a purr, and it sent shivers through her whole body. She nudged again. Emma opened her eyes, then realized where her hand was. Reluctantly, she moved her hand to a safer place, but decided the rest of her was way too comfortable right where it was. “Morning. How do you feel?” Reil gave her a one armed hug. “Waking up with you in my arms? Couldn’t feel better! But...um....I kinda have to get up.”
“Oh, sure. Umm...I think I smell coffee. Flo promised breakfast when I saw her last.” The smaller woman gave a small smile. “Oh, so the woman who chased me last night has a name? That’s good to know. By the way, how long was I out?” “Just a couple of hours.” Emma decided it was best not to remind the woman of the nightmare, thinking that it might embarass her. Reil sat up, allowed the brief dizzyness to pass, and made her way to the chamber pot. She was having some difficulty with the buttons on her trousers, due to the limited use of her arm. “Here, let me.” Emma walked over, commented once again on the cuteness of the blush, and lent a hand. She then left the room saying that she would meet her in the kitchen.
A few moments later, having managed to get the buttons redone with minimal cursing, Reil made her way to breakfast. As she looked around the kitchen several things had changed since last night. The mattress was gone, as was the clothing and other items that had been set out to dry. A faint stain was on the floor, it would have to be whitewashed again. Flo knealt by the hearth, stirring something in a large skillet. Wonderful smells filled the room. “Ah, there you are.” Flo said as she stood up. “How you feeling today, Lieutenant?” At first, Reil had backed up against the counter, expecting another all out attack. But the look on the woman’s face and the tone of her voice convinced Reil that she was safe, at least for now.
“Cat got your tounge? Mebbe that blow to the head rattled somethin’ around.” The large woman’s wide smile softened the words. Emma came to Reil’s rescue. “Not so many questions, Flo. I’m sure Reil’s still a little weary from all the excitement.” She came over to stand by the blonde, asking her if she would like to sit down. Her head was still spinning a bit, and gratefully took a seat at the small table next to the hearth. Flo set down two plates of eggs, bacon and fried potatoes, then poured them each a cup of coffee.
Reil looked at the feast in front of her. She hadn’t eaten a breakfast this fine in quite a while. She dug in with gusto, putting the thoughts of earlier that morning aside for the time being. She had decided that maybe, just maybe, she could put the whole thing behind her. She didn’t want to think about who she had killed. She knew Emma would probably want to talk about it, but for now, she just enjoyed the meal. Finishing off what was on her plate, Flo promptly reappeared, filling it once more. “Well, at least it looks like that blow on your head didn’t ruin your appitite none!” Reil ducked her head and fiddled with a piece of bacon. “No ma’am.” Then she resumed eating. Flo chuckled softly, seeing the amazement in Emma’s eyes at how much her friend was actually putting away.
Finishing breakfast, Emma suggested a walk. “Let me show you the grounds, Reil. It’s not much, but the walk will do you good. I think we could both use some fresh air.” Reil agreed and Emma helped her place her boots and jacket on. Snugging her hat in place, and wincing just a bit where it touched on a sore spot, Reil was ready to go.
The two stepped out onto the back porch and Reil offered Emma her arm. Although the smaller woman would never admit, it was just as much for her desire to be close as it was to balance herself. The rain had stopped and there was a crispness to the air that promised warmer days ahead. They walked to the barn first, Reil checking in on Alcaeus. Seeing that Jimmy had done a fine job with the honey colored horse, they made their way to a small stream behind the barn.
Off to their left, Jimmy was just finishing up with his task, placing the final shovel of dirt on the small mound. “Emma, there’s something I need to do. But I think I’ll need your help.” The smaller woman was having a hard time controlling her emotions upon seeing the grave. Setting the problem aside and not thinking about it were moot points now. Here it was, in her face, and she found that it was harder than expected. “Of course. Anything you need.” Came the soft reply. Reil looked up, gratitude showing in her eyes.
They made their way over to the grave. Reil knelt down, removing her hat from her head, the arm holding the hat resting across her bent knee. “Do you know who this man was, Emma?” She remembered from earlier that Emma *had* known the man, but he wasn’t who she thought he was. Or maybe he was more than what either one knew. Emma knelt down beside Reil, heedless of the mud. “This man was a Confederate officer who thought I was his spy. He was wrong, I could never work for them, not after what they did to my family. But he didn’t know that. He found out I was a double agent, and he came here to kill me.” She rested a hand on the blonde woman’s shoulder. “Thanks to you, that didn’t happen. You’re my hero.”
Reil blushed a bit, then sighed deeply. “I’m no hero. I just couldn’t stand by and see you hurt.” She looked the woman in the eyes, trying to convey how much it would have pained her if things had gone differently. “But there’s a problem. One I’m going to have to work out alone.” Emma was a bit confused. This was, after all, wartime. People died, the enemy...died. That was just the way things turned out when people fought. “Emma. That man was my father.” With that statement, Reil’s defenses broke. Emma gathered her up in her arms as they both sank to a sitting position. She let the woman cry herself out. “You’re wrong you know. You won’t have to be alone.”
As the two women had approached, Jimmy slipped away, sensing that they needed a private moment. As they stood back up to make their way back to the house, he intercepted them. “Sorry to bother you, but if I may ask a question?” Emma had her arm around Reil, who was feeling a bit worse for wear. “Sure, Jimmy, what is it?” Emma liked Jimmy, ever since her husband came back from some time in Missouri, Jimmy in tow. He had said, in his gruff manner, “New stable boy. Feed him good, he starts right away.” And Jimmy had been a part of her extended family ever since.
Emma came out of her musings with a gentle nudge from Reil. “Well, Mrs. Collingsworth, I made up sort of a cross for the poor fella out there. I was wonderin’ if you could tell me what name to put on it?” Reil looked up at the young man. Softly, ever so softly, she said, “Silas Bardlow.”