Ecstasy's Promise (Historical Romance) (3 page)

All of a sudden, she felt the weight of his body leave hers. She opened her eyes, and saw Bodine standing over her. He had the helpless Mace in an arm lock. "You are dead, Yankee," he hissed. Victoria heard a loud crack as Bodine's powerful arms tightened about the man's neck. Mace went limp and Bodine released him, watching as he slipped to the floor. His eyes went to Victoria. "He did not hurt you, did he, honey?"

She shook her head, unable to speak. She rose from the sofa and threw herself into Bodine's arms. Tears washed down her face. "Oh, Bodine, it was awful. They killed Bess." There was so much grief in her voice.

Bodine held her to him tightly, the hate burning in his eyes. "It is all right, honey. It is all over now."

Victoria cried out her grief for the woman who had loved her and fought so valiantly in her behalf. "I ... I killed the other Yankee," she said, looking
up into his face.

Bodine dried her tears with his handkerchief. "I
know," he said soothingly. "I saw when I came up."

"Bodine," she said, suddenly remembering Cor
poral Fish, "there was a third man. He rode away. He
will probably return with more soldiers. What will they do to me?" she asked fearfully.

His arms tightened protectively around her. "Nothing, Victoria," he said meaningfully, "because we are not going to hang around waiting for
them. Now, listen to me. Between the two of us, we
have killed two Yankee soldiers. I do not need to tell
you the consequences. You gather together whatever you can carry in a small bundle and meet me
out front. Hurry," he said. "I am just going to saddle
the horses. There is no time to waste."

He watched as she raced up the stairs; then he quickly went to the front yard and picked Bess's body up, brought her back into the house, and laid her gently down on the bed that had been her own for so long. Then he made his way to the swamp where the horses were kept.

Victoria quickly gathered up what few things she
needed—her comb and brush, a few mementos that
she treasured—then, she rushed downstairs, found
the book
Romeo and Juliet,
and placed it in her pack.
She went out to the veranda, and, seeing that Bess's
body had been removed, silently thanked Bodine for
his thoughtfulness. She retrieved her father's pistols, placed them back in the leather case, and added it to her bundle. She tied it together neatly.

Quickly she lit an oil lamp and looked about her for the last time. "Forgive me, Father," she said aloud, as she raised the lamp above her head and threw it against the wall. She watched as hungry red flames licked at the drapes. "I swore no Yankee would burn Farraday," she said.

She picked up her bundle and went out to meet Bodine. He was waiting for her. He took her bundle and helped her mount Rebel. He could see the red flames through the window, and looked at her questioningly.

"I had to," she said simply. He nodded.

They rode toward the swamp just as a Yankee column rode up the winding driveway. The sun had set, but the flames from the burning house lit the way for the advancing Yankees, as well as the two fugitives who fled into the swamp. When they were safe within the confines of the swamp, Victoria halted Rebel and looked back at her home. Bodine rode up beside her and they both watched silently, each lost in thought. They could see the tall fingers of fire reaching high into the sky, lighting up the countryside like a giant bonfire.

"This is the worst day of my life," Victoria said softly. "I lost Bess, my home, and I have killed a man; and it is not over yet. I do not suppose the Yankees will rest until they have their revenge on me."

Bodine was silent. He had no words of comfort to offer her. He would gladly have given his life to protect her, but there was nothing he could say to ease what she was feeling at the moment.

"Bodine, the pain is so great and yet I cannot cry. I feel so numb."

His face was expressionless. "Later you will cry, honey. But for now, we had best ride on. They will soon be beating the bushes, looking for us. I intend
to have you a long way from here before they put the
pieces together and start a county-wide search for you."

With one last look at the burning manor house,
Bodine led her deeper into the swamp. They rode for
about an hour before Victoria realized that Bodine had taken the road that led to Five Hills Plantation. The smoldering remains of the Martin's manor house rose grotesquely in the pale moonlight. She could hardly credit that the house where she had spent so much of her girlhood was nothing but smoldering ruins.

This is the way Farraday Plantation will look, she told herself. She felt an ache within her breast. She
closed her eyes, trying to shut out the horrible sight.
She wondered where the Martins were now. Had they gotten away safely?

"They probably moved into Savannah," Bodine told her as though he had read her thoughts.

"I hope so," she said wearily.

"I thought this would be a safe place to spend the night," he said. "Since the Yankees have done their worst here, they are not likely to return. You are tired, honey. The barn seems intact. We will seek shelter there for the night. You stay with the horses while I check around."

Victoria was cold and weary. She felt the night air
creep into her body. She shivered. Where was this all going to end? Was the rest of her life to be spent as a fugitive? Her mind refused to dwell on the past events of the day. She could not let herself think of
Bess. It was too painful.

Rebel nuzzled her neck as though wanting her attention. She stroked him gently. "At least I still have you," she said. "I could not bear it if I had lost you, too."

Bodine returned. He gathered up the reins of the
horses and led the way to the barn. "It will not be too
uncomfortable," he told Victoria.

The interior of the barn was dark, with only the faint light of the moon shining through the open doorway. Bodine unsaddled the horses. He took a
blanket and spread it on a pile of hay, which he had smoothed out for Victoria. She sat wearily down on
the pallet.

"I am sorry we have nothing for you to eat," he said.

"Do not worry about that. I am sure that I have eaten since you have."

"Lie down," he told her gently. "You are weary. I
want you to try to get some sleep." She curled up on the pallet while he spread a second blanket over her.
She was tired. Never in her life had she been so utterly exhausted.

Bodine sat down with his back against the wall, his
gun across his lap, his eyes and ears alert to any sound that might mean danger.

Victoria was quiet for so long he thought she had fallen asleep. Then she spoke softly. "The war is lost, isn't it, Bodine?"

"Yes," he replied simply. He heard her sigh. Then
she closed her eyes. He sat for a long time, lost in thought. He had to decide what was the best course for them to take. He loved the small golden-haired
girl with a fierce devotion. She was very like her mother, and if fate had not been so unkind, she might well have been his own daughter. Then the
answer came to him. He knew what he must do. He
would tell Victoria his decision in the morning. He would take her to Texas.

It would be a long hard journey, filled with many
dangers, but he knew it was the only place where she
would be safe.

The next morning Bodine woke Victoria before daybreak. He saddled the horses while she went to the well and washed her face. He led the horses out of the barn and stood waiting for her.

It was a cold crisp morning. The grass was wet
with dew. Victoria stood looking at the ruins of Five
Hills in the early-morning sun. It was still smoldering. She could feel the heat from it warm her cold body. She turned and looked at Bodine. "What now?" she asked him. As always when she needed guidance, she turned to Bodine. He was the rock
from which she drew her strength, and he had never
let her down.

"I have given it a lot of thought," he answered, "and the only thing I can see to do is take you to your grandmother in Texas."

She looked at him in surprise. "Texas is a long way from here, and I do not even know my grandmother."

"Your grandmother is one of the finest women I know. She will be delighted to have you. She is alone, as you are. You are the only family she has left."

"I am not alone, Bodine. I have you."

He smiled. "So you do, Imp."

She walked over to a wooden bench and sat down. "Tell me about my grandmother," she said.

"That would take some telling." He sat down beside her and stretched his long legs out in front of him. "Alice Anderson is probably one of the kindest women I have ever met. She is much loved by her neighbors. In fact, most of them call her Mammaw, affectionately. She took me in when I was a ten-year-old boy with no home of my own; she made me a part of her family. She had two children—a girl, your mother, and a boy who died in infancy. Your grandfather died fighting for Texas' independence from Mexico."

"I know you worked for my grandmother, Bodine."

He nodded. "She has a small ranch, which she put me in charge of. Though she treated me more as a son than a ranch hand."

"Why did you leave Texas and come to Georgia?"

He was quiet for a moment. "When your father came to Texas on a business trip, he met and married your mother. Your mother asked me to accompany them to Georgia and I agreed. I never intended to stay permanently, just long enough for your mother to settle into her new home." He spread his hand out and studied his fingernails before he answered. "One thing led to another, and the first thing I knew I was running Farraday Plantation for your father."

"My mother asked you to stay, didn't she, Bodine?"

He looked at her and nodded. It finally came to
Victoria. She wondered why she had not seen it before. "You loved my mother, didn't you?" she asked softly. She searched his eyes and knew she had found the truth. She placed her hand on his. "Now I know why you never married."

"I did not need to marry, Imp. I already had a daughter."

Her eyes widened.

"No, not that. You are John Farraday's daughter, though he was kind enough to share you with me."

"Yes," Victoria said. "I have been lucky, for I have known the love of two fathers. I do not want to be disloyal to my father, but I think I love you best." Bodine drew in his breath. Trying to cover his feelings, he turned his back to her. "Why did my grandmother not keep in touch with me?" Victoria asked, tactfully changing the subject.

"I don't really know," Bodine said. "I guess the thread was broken when your mother died. It is hard to explain. Your father and grandmother were from two different worlds. They simply did not correspond."

"Tell me about Texas," Victoria said. "I only know what I have read. To me it seems a place full of wild Indians and cactus."

He sat down beside her again. "It is big and wild and untamed. There is a ranch next to your grandmother's that is so big, it would take you a week to ride across it. It is called Rio del Lobo. Texas has a beauty that you will find nowhere in the world. Not the lush green you have in Georgia, but a subtle beauty, exciting and teeming with life. You have not seen a sunset until you have stood on a mesa in the
middle of nowhere and watched the sun go down. Since you like to paint, honey, you can let your artist's imagination run away with you there."

"You love Texas, don't you, Bodine?"

"Yeah. Guess I have been like a cactus in the snow since I left her."

"Yet you stayed in Georgia."

He smiled at her. "Yet I stayed, Imp. Now enough
talk. We are going to the O'Brians', if there are no
Yankees about. We need supplies, for we have a long
trip ahead of us."

It was a little before noon when they rode up to the O'Brian Plantation. They dismounted just as Mr. and Mrs. O'Brian came out on their veranda. Mrs. O'Brian ran down the steps and enfolded
Victoria in her arms. Her eyes were brimming with
tears.

"Victoria, you are safe!" she cried. "We saw the fire last night and knew Farraday Plantation was burning. Tom told me that you would be safe in
Savannah. Oh, my dear, I am so sorry you have lost your home. You must come and stay with Tom and myself." Martha O'Brian was talking so fast, she had
no chance to answer. Victoria smiled at the gentle woman who looked so much like Paul.

"Have the Yankees been here?" Bodine asked Tom.

"Yes, they rode in last night. They took everything that was not nailed down. I tell you, Bodine, if I could have laid my hands on a gun, I would have killed me a Yankee or two."

Bodine and Victoria exchanged glances.

"They made Martha and I stand out in the front yard while they ransacked the house," he continued. "I am glad you talked me into hiding the livestock or they would have taken that, too."