One Wore Blue (19 page)

Her eyes narrowed sharply, furiously. “Who is to say that I am tormenting him, Jesse? Dear Lord, he’s a better man than you, so it seems!”

She was suddenly seized so tightly that she could scarcely breathe. “In what way, Kiernan? Is he a better man when he kisses you, touches you? Have you decided to test your greatest powers upon Anthony too?”

“Let go of me, you arrogant Yank!” she spat out. “How dare you suggest such things! Anthony is far too noble—”

“Anthony is far too besotted a fool, Kiernan,” Jesse said bluntly. “He hasn’t been making love to you in dark corners. He allows you to dangle him along at your whim and asks for nothing in return but one of those devastating smiles. Well, I’m not Anthony, Kiernan. I love you, but my mind is
my own, and I cannot change what I see as right or wrong for you or for anyone else. Do you understand that?”

She understood that he was rejecting her—and his own life-style—because of something that might or might not happen in the future.

She tried to wrench free of him, torn by the pain. “Don’t you ever touch me again, Jesse Cameron!”

“Touch you? Why, Miss Mackay! Do correct me if I’m wrong, but I could have sworn that you came soaring across the earth to land in my arms.”

“How very, very rude of you to put it so.”

“That, too, is because I am not the driveling Anthony.”

Once again, he pulled her closer, so close that she could feel the hot whisper of his breath, so very close that she could feel the excitement of his body. Enter her … warm her, stir her.

“Kiernan, I love you. I am the man for you, the only one to know you and to love you. But you won’t rule me. Do you understand? I’d give you everything that I can give you, but there are certain things that I cannot give. When you’re ready to accept me for what I am, for what I believe, come to me.” He smiled at her then, a smile that was bittersweet, anguished, and crooked with a wry humor that mocked himself as well as her. “If you’re lucky, I’ll be waiting.”

“Oh!” she cried, but he was holding her too tightly against him for her to injure him. “You bastard!”

“I know,” he agreed. He kissed her again, her hard, with passion and insinuation. He kissed her so long and so completely that she felt that she had been ravished there on the streets. He kissed her until she had no breath, until her limbs were powerless, until the hot fires of desire raced ruthlessly through her.

Then he set her down. “Until then, little girl,” he demanded harshly, “torment me no longer!”

He tipped his hat and walked on by her. Kiernan was left to look after him in amazement.

For a moment she felt as if he had given her a physical blow, a strike to the cheek—no, to her heart.

Then her pride raced to her salvation, and she swept past
him. With her back to him she said icily, “Please inform my father that I’ve retired for the evening because I’m feeling ill.”

He caught her arm and pulled her back. His eyes were light, and his smile was tender.

“No. He’d never believe that you were suddenly ill. You’re simply not the type for vapors, Kiernan.”

“Fine!” she snapped. “We’ll dine!” She strode on before him, pausing only once to swirl back around. “Don’t wait for me, Jesse. My loyalties are fierce.”

She preceded him across the street, and they dined. The conversation was easy-flowing and polite, and anyone in the room would have said that it was a comfortable dinner among good friends.

And then it ended. Jesse rose and bade the men good night, telling them that he was riding back to Washington that evening.

He paused by Kiernan. He lifted her hand to his lips, and his eyes met hers. “Good evening, Kiernan,” he told her softly. “It’s been a pleasure.”

“Indeed, it has, Captain,” she said with regal dignity. She withdrew her hand and kept her eyes steady upon his. “Good-bye, Captain,” she said flatly.

He nodded, pulled the brim of his plumed hat low, and exited the room in long strides.

Moments later, she heard the thunder of his horse’s hooves as he rode out of town.

And out of her life.

Eight

Kiernan would not attend the hanging—Jesse knew that. She wouldn’t even be allowed, and if she were, she would not come. He had no chance of seeing her there.

And he shouldn’t see her. They had both laid their positions on the line. He couldn’t compromise on this. If he saw her, he would want her, want to insist that she forget Anthony, that she marry him and cling to him as a wife should.

And accept whatever he chose to do in the future.

He’d already asked her to marry him. He couldn’t force her to do so. Even if he wished a thousand times over that he could kidnap her and force his will upon her, he knew it would never work. Anthony would feel honor-bound to challenge him in some way, and he had no desire to hurt Anthony.

But she didn’t love Anthony. Jesse knew that she was in love with him—she had told him so.

He’d never meant to touch her. But when he had seen her standing upon the chair and looking down upon him in the shack along the river, he felt as if he had always meant to touch her.

Maybe he’d been in love before that day. But seeing her in the sunfire light of that shack, seeing the gold of her hair and the sparkling emerald of her eyes, the softness of her flesh, and breathed the scent of her he knew he’d never be free of her again. He could deny that he was like Anthony, but it
wasn’t true. She haunted his days, as she haunted Anthony’s, and she was a tempest in his nights.

He’d had no right to her, knowing that his conscience came between them. But in his arrogance he had thought that she wouldn’t be able to stay away, that she would love him more than any belief or ideal once they had been together.

He had been wrong.

Still, he came back to Charles Town. He was stationed in Washington, and he had plenty of leave time as the day set for John Brown’s hanging drew near. So he determined that he would ride out and attend. He had been there at the beginning of the drama involving old John Brown. He might as well be there at the end.

It was December 2, 1859. The day was cold, but clear.

Since the trial, a number of restrictions had been placed on Charles Town. Many feared that an escape plot was being hatched outside the city, and a proclamation had been handed out that visitors would be arrested for trying to enter Charles Town. Only the military were allowed to the immediate execution site.

But that didn’t keep civilians from the Charles Town streets, or from following the events as closely as they could. People came out in masses to see old John Brown head out for his hanging.

Jesse rode into the town alone with his military pass and remained upon Pegasus, keeping his distance from the general fanfare. A curious mood of a celebration was stirring much of the crowd, along with a somber element too. John Brown had committed murder, and he had committed treason, but he had comported himself well in court. Jesse sensed that he would become a martyr in the North. Even Governor Wise, after questioning him about the raid, said that he was “the gamest man I ever saw.”

“Cameron!”

Jesse was startled to hear his name called, and he turned to see Anthony Miller. Miller was with his local militia unit, but he broke away from them to ride to Jesse’s side. A broad
grin was spread across his face as he offered Jesse his hand. “Come for the hanging, eh?”

Jesse shook his hand, then shrugged. “I’ve come to see the end, I guess.”

“And a damned good thing it is,” Anthony announced flatly. Jesse didn’t have a response to that, but Anthony didn’t seem to need one. “There are a number of interesting folks here for this. One of our esteemed senators, over there. And that man with the Richmond Grays is an actor. I’ve seen him perform—he’s excellent. His name is Boots or something like that. Booth, that’s it. John Booth. If you ever get a chance, you should see him perform. Yes, there are lots of interesting people gathered here.”

“Any of my neighbors?” Jesse asked. He wanted to know about Kiernan. She wouldn’t be at the hanging, but she could be in town. He couldn’t bring himself to ask.

“You mean John Mackay?”

He meant Kiernan Mackay.

“Yes.”

Anthony shrugged. “No, I’m not expecting John.” Anthony tilted his hat back. “Kiernan’s gone and gotten this idea she needs more education. What a girl like that needs with more education, I’ll never know. I just want to get married and end all this back-and-forth business. I guess I could never make you understand just how badly. But she’s got it in her head to go to Europe for a while. Says there’s a fine finishing school in London.” He shook his head, confused and hurt. “John’s on the coast, seeing her off.”

Jesse nodded. His heart leaped to his throat, then slammed down hard against his chest.

So she wasn’t with Anthony. She wasn’t a complete fool. She was heading across the ocean to watch things from a distance.

“When is she coming back?”

“I imagine in about a year.”

A year. So much could happen in a year.

“Excuse me,” Anthony went on, “I’ve got my troops over there. You’re welcome to join us. There’ll be a dinner at my father’s house later.”

“Thanks, but I’ve got to ride back to Washington tonight,” Jesse told him.

He couldn’t get into a party mood after a hanging. Whether a man deserved to die or not, it was an ugly way to meet one’s maker.

And still, he understood the way a lot of the folks felt. John Brown had attacked them. He had come into Harpers Ferry to create an insurrection. When he had gone after the slaveholders in the West, he had murdered them in cold blood, dragging the men from their beds, slaying them with swords before their loved ones. The battle in Kansas and Missouri had been an ugly one. John Brown had shown no mercy. It was fitting that he should die.

But still, he really believed in the freedom for all men that he preached.

“You’re not one of those—” Anthony began. “You’re not one of those people who think that Brown should be set free?”

Jesse looked at him steadily. “He broke the law,” Jesse said. “He committed murder and treason. No, Anthony, I’m not one of those—people—who think that.”

Anthony grinned, abashed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to imply that you; were one of those bleeding-heart abolitionists. Hell, you’ve got slaves yourself back at Cameron Hall.”

Yes, he did, Jesse thought. A number of them. Cameron Hall was still a working plantation, and he understood the economic position of the South as well as anyone.

They had freed a number of their slaves, though, he and Daniel and Christa. He’d discussed the issue with his father several years ago, before his death. They’d agreed they wouldn’t buy any new slaves at auctions. If a slave married a slave from another plantation, they’d purchase the wife or child. They’d also establish a way for the men and women to earn their freedom and hope that they’d want to stay on as paid workers.

But it was compromise, Jesse realized. All compromise, and he was guilty of it. Washington and Jefferson had made the same compromise. They’d believed in freeing slaves. Jefferson
had wanted the slaves freed when he’d written the Declaration of Independence.

But he’d been convinced that he’d never get the states together if he tried to do such a thing.

All these years later the situation hadn’t improved.

“It’s been good to see you, Jesse,” Anthony told him. “Don’t forget, you’re welcome anytime.”

“Thanks, Anthony.”

Anthony lifted his hat again and rode off. Jesse watched him go.

He felt the sun on his face and looked up, hearing the movement of restless cavalry horses. The troops were well disciplined, even if there was a tremendous amount of fanfare.

His mind wandered to Kiernan.

She was gone, Jesse thought. Kiernan was gone, to where he couldn’t reach her. It was just as well.

Jesse waited, feeling the sun on him. He felt a little bit numb.

At the appointed time, John Brown appeared. He was brought along in a horse-drawn cart, his hands bound behind him. He rode in silence, sitting straight with quiet dignity.

He sat upon his own coffin.

He stepped from the cart with dignity and walked to the gallows the same way.