Indigo Sky (13 page)

The trip to Benton Barracks was slow. People turned to stare as the wet, grubby trio made their way through town in the loaded buggy. Leila was beyond exhausted, but she couldn’t weaken now. “Joshua, you must stay at the boarding house with my friend and me.”

Laughter rumbled deep in his barrel chest. “That might be harder to accomplish than you think, Mrs. Dempsey.”

“Please call me Leila.”

He shook his head. “We don’t want to draw more fire than necessary.”

She scowled. “Why? Because you’re a colored man and I’m a white woman?”

“Yes. The North might be fighting for emancipation, but that doesn’t mean equality.”

She caught her breath and looked at him. “I am not worried about other’s opinions.” Alf glanced at her. “He be right, ma’am. This town has a foot in both camps. Plenty o’ folk won’t see it yer way.”

“You think so?”

They finally trundled through the gates to the hospital. Joshua jumped down and lifted Leila off. “I shan’t be a minute.”

“Here, I took this.” Joshua thrust a bag into her hands. “It’s the money you gave the trader.”

She smiled, her eyes flashed, and she handed the bag back. “I want you to take it and start a new life.” Leila glowered as he opened his mouth to protest. “I will be offended if you refuse.”

He nodded and stuffed it into his pocket. “Thank you. I will repay you one day.”

“Joshua, please, you owe me nothing. I owe you my life.” She took his arm, and they walked into the hospital.

McBride’s attention, diverted from surgery momentarily, said, “Lord alive, gal, what happened to you?”

Leila glanced down at her soiled dress and cape. “There was a horrible accident. The trader’s paddle steamer exploded.”

“That would be the Confederates. Not the first time.” He washed his hands in a bowl and covered his patient with a blanket.

“I have six crates of medicines and supplies.”

A smile creased his exhausted face. “You certainly are resourceful.” He looked past her and blinked. “Who’s the big fellow?”

Leila glanced over her shoulder. “Joshua Manning. He saved my life, not once, but twice.”

“Manning, you say?” He looked across the room at a young brunette woman with hair working with the soldiers. “Oh, Lord, that is not good.”

Chapter 17

Leila’s eyes looked from McBride to the young woman. Then to Joshua. “Why isn’t it good?”

Joshua took a step toward the woman. “Kate,” he breathed.

McBride gripped his arm. “Wait.”

“For what?” Joshua shook him off.

“Young man, listen to me!” McBride took his arm again. “Her family is here in St. Louis. I know Manning. The man is vindictive, to say the least. He’s spreading the word that you tried to molest his daughter.”

Joshua gaped at him. “What? I would never hurt Kate.”

“Miss Manning also said you wouldn’t hurt her, and I can see that now, but your life is nevertheless in danger. I suggest you change your name and get the hell out of St. Louis.”

Torment and pain creviced Joshua’s chiseled features, but he nodded, his eyes fixed on Kate.

She turned. “Josh!” A smile lit her pretty, elfin face. Lifting her stained skirt, she ran between beds and pallets.

He caught her against his massive chest and held her close. Tears squeezed from between his tightly shut eyes. “I thought I’d never find you,” he said, burying his face in her hair.

Kate wept openly. “I thought you were dead. My father said you were.”

“I am not that easy to kill.”

She stroked his cheek. “Josh, you must get away from St. Louis. If my father knows you’re here, he’ll do everything in his power to see you hanged.”

Their tender reunion touched Leila to the core and brought home the pain of her own situation.
Will I ever know such a love
? She took Joshua’s arm. “Go to Pennsylvania. The Anti-Slavery Society will help you.”

Kate clapped her hands, her brown eyes sparkling. “That’s a wonderful idea.” Her face fell. “We have no money.”

“Yes, we have no money now, but we will.” Joshua grinned. “I can start a business, and you can teach. You’ve always wanted to, and you’re good at it.” He stepped back and studied Kate. “Would you hate it if we cut your hair short?”

She touched her hair caught up in a bun. “Why?”

“If people see a white woman with a dark man it could cause trouble for us. I think you should dress as a man, and I’ll be your slave.”

She wrinkled her pert, freckled nose. “You know, Josh, I loathe slavery. I can’t go against what I believe.”

“Dammit, Kate, there are women being raped. I may not be able to fight off a whole gang of men.” He ran his hand along her cheek. “Please listen to me. You know tensions are running high. And who knows, if they see you with me, they might recognize you, and that will bring your father down on us.”

Leila took scissors from McBride’s top pocket. “I agree. It will be the safest way. I bought men’s clothes. You’re quite tall, so something should fit you.”

McBride smiled at Kate. “I think you should listen, my dear.”

“I suppose you’re right. My hair will grow in no time.” She pulled the pins from her bun. Her brown hair tumbled around her shoulders. She turned her back to Leila. “Please cut it before I lose courage.” She screwed her eyes shut as Leila rapidly cut the long tresses.

Leila turned her when she was done. “I think you look cute, and it’s so fashionable in England and Europe.” She smiled at Joshua. “So what will your new name be?”

“Let’s keep it simple. What about Formby?”

Leila nodded. “Perfect.”

Kate grinned. “Mmm, Mrs. Kate Formby. I think it has a nice ring.”

Joshua chuckled. “I’ll have to get papers drawn up first.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Leila said. “I’ll see to it. I’ll go to the courthouse and tell them I have a new slave who needs to be named. I will get the papers to you, and then you and Kate can take a train out of here.”

Five days later, footsore and weary, Joshua and Kate appeared back at the hospital.

Leila stared at them in dismay. “What are you doing here? What happened?”

“Do you want the whole story, Leila?”

“Of course, Joshua, please tell me.”

“We were at the train station waiting to board. I stayed close to Kate but kept a respectful distance. I had her valise, and it looked like we would be safe. I kept my head down. The brim of my hat was wide enough to hide my face, I thought. Kate was dressed in male garb. She looked adorable. She even walked like a young buck.

“All of a sudden, she stopped and gasped. When she turned to face me, her eyes were huge. She said she saw her father. She was worried he was going to recognize her.

“I searched the crowd, and sure enough, Manning stood between Union soldiers, arms flailing. God, I hate that man. Kate asked, ‘What will we do?’ I told her we had to get the hell out of there and get back to the hospital. Kate turned and walked away, so I hurried after her. I told her to hail a nearby buggy. As we were climbing into the vehicle, Manning spotted us.

“He started yelling, ‘There he is! There’s that rapist!’ The Union soldiers, led by Manning, bore down on us.

“I lifted the driver and threw him into the seat next to Kate. I took the reins and flicked them, and the horse took off. The buggy swayed violently as I guided the rig through the crowd. But we finally broke free.

“We had some trouble with the driver, so Kate hit him with her cane.

“I continued driving and veered left down a side street, turned right, and stopped at an arbitrary boarding house. I gave the buggy back to the driver, and we started walking along the dusty road to Benton Barracks. To avoid detection, we slipped into the trees lining the road whenever a carriage passed.”

“My goodness, that’s quite a story. That was brave, but what will you do now?” asked Leila.

Joshua sighed. “Now that Manning knows we want to get out of St. Louis, he’ll be watching the station.” Shoulders slumped, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “This was never going to work, Kate.”

She planted slender hands on her hips. “Don’t you wilt on me now, Joshua Formby.”

His gentle gaze held unbearable pain. “Kate, if we marry, there will be trouble and danger wherever we go.”

Her brown eyes flashed. “Do you think bigoted people frighten me? How can you give up and allow this evil of slavery to prevail?” She put her hands on his immense shoulders. “Stand with me, Josh. I would rather die trying than give you up. We’ve loved each other since we were young.”

“Damn it, Kate, I don’t fear for my life. It’s yours I want to preserve!”

“My dearest heart, without you, I’m nothing—my life is nothing,” she croaked.

Leila touched Joshua’s arm. “I’m going out west to look for Hank, and Cornelia wants to take Michael to his family in California. Come with us.”

Kate nodded. “But is Michael well enough to travel?”

Leila glanced across at Cornelia who was still sitting by Michael’s side. “He’s not right mentally, but Cornelia believes with familiar, pleasant surroundings he’ll heal faster.”

“His injuries are still critical,” Kate said softly.

Running a hand wearily over her face, Leila sighed. “I know, but in these surroundings, he’s prone to infection. Dr. McBride agrees that it may be best for him.” She smiled. “Even in twenty-four hours, his arm has improved with Cornelia cleaning the wound regularly.”

“It’s a long journey out west, Leila. I hear it’s also grueling.”

“I know, but I think people in the west are more tolerant.”

“Let’s not forget the route we need to take is mostly occupied by Rebels.” Joshua shook his head. “If we come with you, we’ll endanger all of you.”

Leila scowled at him. “Kate is right. The evil practice of slavery will continue if people like us give up.”

He compressed his lips. “Very well.”

“That’s decided then. I’ll speak to Cornelia and find out when she thinks it’ll be safe to move Michael. In the meantime, you must stay in my room at the boarding house.” Leila’s eyes twinkled. “I know a pastor, sympathetic to the emancipation movement, who will marry you immediately, if you wish. It will make sleeping arrangements easier.”

A smile lit Kate’s face. Even Joshua lost his morbid demeanor. “Thank you, Mrs. Dempsey,” he whispered.

“Please call me Leila. Take the carriage I have outside. Alf knows where to take you. I will contact the pastor and visit him as soon as Alf returns.” She hurried off to consult with Cornelia.

Pounding on the door dragged Rork to awareness. “Yes?” he said hoarsely and flung back the blankets and rose. He clutched his aching shoulder and staggered to the door, ripping it open.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, Mr. Millburn. I was asked by a courier to deliver this letter immediately.”

He glared at the scrawny clerk. “Damn, couldn’t it wait until morning?”

The clerk thrust the letter at him and scurried off.

Kicking the door closed behind him, Rork winced. His shoulder wasn’t healing in a hurry. Even sleeping was a chore. But his heart ached more than the wound. He missed Leila unbearably. Again, he cursed himself for moving too fast with her. Putting the letter on a desk, he used one hand to splash cold water on his face. He ran his fingers over the stubble on his chin. Shaving was another nightmare. His nightshirt, half on, hampered his efforts as he ripped the letter open, accidentally tearing it in two. He cursed and laid the pieces on the desk and turned up a kerosene lamp.

Rork tilted the lamp and scowled.
What the hell does it say
? Sliding the torn edges together, he squinted at the words.
Cornelia wants
—
what?
He slammed a fist onto the desk and winced as a sharp pain shot through his shoulder. His knees gave way, and he leaned his good hand on the desk, took a deep breath, and pieced the letter together more carefully.
Dear Mr. Millburn, Leila is going to Atchison by steamer within a week or two. I believe she returns your affection. Cornelia Hancock
.

Rork stared at the letter. He folded it. Clutching the note, he ripped open the door and took the stairs two at a time down to the lobby. His head swollen with thoughts of Leila, he cornered the clerk. “How often do the trains run to St. Louis?”

The clerk stared at him. “E-early morning and late afternoon.”

“Get a porter to take my luggage to the train in an hour.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Thanks.” Rork slapped his back. “Didn’t mean to stomp you earlier, boy, but this injured shoulder is a bear.”

The crowd gave way to Rork’s careening carriage. Wincing with pain, he jounced on the back seat, holding onto his hat. The sun pushed up beyond tall buildings with a splashy sunrise and quite spectacular symphony of
pink rippling across the white mist of a morning sky. He breathed a sigh of relief when the carriage stopped. Unbuttoning his long morning coat, he checked his pocket watch then stepped from the carriage.

A colored boy ran to him. “Ya need help carryin’ yer baggage, sir?”

“Sure. Come on, lad, let’s get my things onto the train.”

An explosion erupted. Silence and the stench of gunpowder replaced the hubbub of voices.

Rork and the boy were thrown to the ground. A cloud of dust and debris covered the area. Slowly, the smoke and dust cleared. Rork stared at his coat, which was covered in blood. He looked up at the men who were standing over him.

“An ambulance is on the way, but the boy is dead. Are you hurt, sir?”

“I don’t think so.” Emotion clogged his throat. Rork rose and removed his coat, placing it over the boy. “Can someone find out who his folks are?”

“We’ll see what we can do, sir, but he may be a war orphan,” a station attendant said.

Rork picked up his hat and dusted it off. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a train to catch.”

“Where are you headed?” an elderly, groomed gentleman asked, falling in step with Rork.

“West.”

“Aren’t you the artist, Millburn?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Love your work. Are you going to paint scenes of the battles?”

Rork laughed. “I may do that.”

The man lifted his hat. “I’ll keep an eye out for your work. Good Day, Mr. Millburn.”

Biting his lip, Rork boarded the train. His reluctance to join the war bothered him, especially since he vehemently supported the emancipation of slaves. Sighing, he called a porter to load his baggage. He boarded the train and headed for his compartment.