One Wore Blue (47 page)

“That’s enough, Lacey!” Thomas said quickly—the children were in the house. His eyes were on Kiernan. “The man still had no right!”

“Please, please, Thomas. Put the gun down. I have to take the children home before the sharpshooters get started. Please promise me that you’ll put the gun down.”

He sighed at long last and set his rifle down. “All right, Kiernan.”

She smiled at him and called to Patricia and Jacob.

They were both silent as she drove the carriage back to Montemarte. When they arrived, Jeremiah was there to take the carriage from her, and she hurried into the house.

Dusk was just falling. She sat in a rocker in Andrew’s office—or Jesse’s surgery, all scrubbed down now, the cots and bandages gone, no trace of blood remaining. She sat and stared out at the coming darkness.

She felt someone enter the room. Somehow, she knew it was Jacob.

“You’re going to have a baby, right?” he demanded.

She nodded, still rocking, still staring.

“It isn’t my brother’s baby, is it?”

She turned to look at him at last. “Oh, Jacob. I’m so very sorry.”

Jacob stood stiffly by the door. His brown eyes seemed to be touched by so much pain, and so much wisdom. He was too young to have that kind of wisdom.

“What are you going to do?” he asked her.

“I don’t know yet.”

“Are you going to—to leave Patricia and me?”

“No, Jacob, I’d never leave you, I promise you that. Unless, of course …”

“Unless what?”

“Unless you wanted me to.”

He was silent again. “No. No, I don’t want you to leave us. I reckon I don’t want to go into town too often, but I don’t want you to leave us.” He sighed, and his shoulders fell as if he carried the weight of the world upon them. “We’ll get by, Kiernan. I know we will.”

“Thank you.”

He hesitated a minute. “You know, you could marry that Yank.” No matter how well Jacob had come to know Jesse, he still seemed to find it necessary to keep his distance.

Kiernan shrugged. “I don’t even know where he is, Jacob. I swore to him once that I’d never marry him.”

“But you’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

“Jacob, I—”

“You are. I saw the way he looked at you when he was here. And I saw the way that you looked at him.” Jacob frowned suddenly. “He never—I mean, he didn’t—he didn’t
make
you do anything, did he?”

She shook her head, trying not to smile. Jacob could be so very fierce. What a fine man he was going to be one day!

“No,” she said softly, “Jesse never forced me to do anything.”

“Well, whatever, we will get by,” he promised her. To her
surprise, he walked across the room and set his arms around her shoulders. He hugged her briefly, then left her, and she sat alone in the darkness.

Jesse, she thought. Where was he tonight? She prayed that he was warm and safe from danger, and then she wondered what she would do if he were here right now, sitting with her.

He was a Yankee, and he was never going to change. She certainly could not change him—at least, not his sense of right and wrong and his loyalty.

For his part, he had never asked her to change. He had understood that she had her convictions. But she wasn’t certain anymore herself, either about right or wrong, or about their fine southern cause. All she knew was that war killed and maimed, and that it was bitter and painful, no matter what the color of the soldiers’ uniforms.

But could she marry him now?

Yes, she decided she could. But only if he wanted her, really wanted her. Not because of the baby, and not because of honor. Love, finally, must be enough.

And she would marry him only if he came to her, of course. She still couldn’t quite swallow her pride enough to court a Yankee.

She was so calm, she thought, as a slow smile curved her lip. Not so very long ago, the mere thought of her present position would have been scandalous, a horror within the society that had been hers since birth. Her situation would have made matrons whisper and pull their children aside on the sidewalk when she came by.

Hers was the type of situation that would make those who considered themselves very righteous throw things at her, like tomatoes. It was every father’s nightmare.

It was not simply that she was expecting a child. Surely any number of hasty marriages took place, and of course, whispering went along with them.

But Kiernan’s scandal went beyond that. She was the widow of a fine southern soldier who had laid down his life at Manassas. She was expecting the child of a Yank, and her husband had not even been dead a year.

But Jacob loved her, despite everything. He meant to stand by her. That was what mattered now. If she only had sure knowledge that Jesse was alive and well.

Suddenly, she felt a fluttering deep within her abdomen. She thought that she had imagined it, but then it came again.

Despite everything, a thrill burst through her as sweet as any she had ever known. Her baby was alive and well and moving. Her baby was real. Her baby, Jesse’s baby, their flesh and blood.

Conceived in war …

But conceived in love.

“And I will love you, little one!” she vowed vehemently. “I will love you enough to make up for everything!”

She smiled. She was suddenly glad that Jacob knew. Patricia would be all right if Jacob was all right. Both twins could help her now, and she might even begin to live with enthusiasm, with hope.

The fluttering movement came inside her again, the quickening. She wrapped her arms tenderly over her abdomen, and she started to cry softly, tears of a curious joy.

Daniel Cameron had been in the Shenandoah Valley, running spying and harassment raids with a crack company of horse soldiers. Now, in March 1862, his most recent orders had been to move east—Lincoln had put a General named McClellan in charge of his eastern army, and McClellan was planning a huge assault on Richmond by moving up through the peninsula—the Tidewater region.

Daniel had been living in a state of tension ever since the orders had come. For one thing, he was certain that Jesse was with McClellan’s army. For another, this campaign was also going to bring the battle frighteningly close to home. He was anxious, damned anxious to be a part of it. If Union soldiers came anywhere close to Cameron Hall, he’d be on the doorstep waiting for them.

It wasn’t just his home that concerned him so. Christa was there alone. And John Mackay was near, too, alone what with Kiernan caring for the Miller children in Harpers
Ferry. Kiernan was doing well enough. Daniel hadn’t heard from Jesse, and he hadn’t heard from Kiernan, which was strange—they had once been such avid correspondents. But time was scarce these days; he’d barely had time to get notes off to Christa. Christa kept him advised, because Jesse wrote to her too.

Seated at his desk in his field tent, Daniel felt his fingers tighten around his pen. War was so damned strange. All his life, he’d followed his brother, followed him to West Point, followed him to Kansas. He hadn’t attended medical school like Jesse—he’d never had Jesse’s calling for it. But otherwise, they’d been as close as brothers could be.

But now he hadn’t seen him, hadn’t heard a word from him in over a year. If he did see Jesse, he was supposed to shoot him.

Jesse wouldn’t be riding into battle, Daniel knew. He would be taking his skill into field hospitals. Daniel knew that Jesse was trying his best to save lives in this war, but he had been a cavalry soldier for years. There was no telling that he might not mount up in the heat of things and come riding into battle himself—maybe even against orders.

That was Daniel’s biggest fear. Not death, not capture, not loss—just meeting his brother in battle.

He sighed, crumpling up the orders he had been writing and starting over again. Suddenly, there was a fracas outside his tent. For a moment, he thought the canvas structure was going to fall over. As he stared at the support pole in amazement, he heard his name called.

“Captain Cameron! Captain Cameron!”

“What the hell is going on here?” he demanded with a roar, leaping up at last.

His aide, Corporal Beal, came through the opening, following an indignant young lad with handsome blond curls and dark eyes. Corporal Beal nearly had his hands upon the boy’s nape, but the lad seemed tough. He eluded Beal and strode to Daniel’s desk, saluting him quickly.

“Captain Cameron,” the boy began.

“Captain Cameron,” Beal interrupted, “this wild young pup wouldn’t listen when I said that you were busy, that we
had to pull out. He ran right past me, and when I caught up to him, why, he took a swing at me and I had to take one back, but he’s a scamp, he is, wild and—”

“It’s all right, Corporal Beal,” Daniel said. He took his seat behind his field desk, frowning as he recognized Jacob Miller. “Jacob’s an old friend of mine.”

“I done told him we were moving out in a hurry—”

“The Union hasn’t done anything in a hurry yet, Corporal. I think I can spare a few minutes for an old friend.” He smiled, his gaze on Jacob. “You can leave us now.”

“He could be a spy,” Beal warned dourly.

“Not this one. The boy is as loyal as they come. Right, Jacob?”

To his surprise, Jacob reddened, but he replied, “Yes, sir, Captain Cameron.”

“You can’t trust no one these days,” Beal muttered, “not no one, not no how!” Daniel grinned at Jacob, and Beal sniffed again, but he left them at last.

“You haven’t turned Yank, have you, boy?” Daniel asked. He indicated the folding field chair opposite his desk, and Jacob took a seat.

“No, I haven’t turned Yank.”

“You’re not trying to join the army?”

“No, not yet.”

“That’s a relief,” Daniel told him. “Does Kiernan know that you’re out here?” He stiffened suddenly. He’d heard rumors that Kiernan had been giving good information to the troops in the valley. But she wouldn’t allow a child this age to engage in espionage, would she?

Still, the war had made people do all kinds of things.

“Did she give you a message for me?”

“No, no!” Jacob protested. His hat was in his hands, and he twisted it between his fingers, looking down at it. “No, in fact”—he paused, looking up at Daniel—“she’d probably have my hide if she knew that I was here.”

“Oh.” Puzzled, Daniel leaned forward. “Then …?”

“This is a matter of the strictest confidence,” Jacob said, sitting very straight.

“The strictest,” Daniel agreed somberly.

“I’d like you to get through to your brother, sir. I know he’s a Yank and you’re a Reb, and that you probably don’t talk to each other much anymore. But I want you to let him know that …”

“That?”

“That he’s going to be a father.”

For a moment, Daniel was stunned. Then he said, “Oh!” very softly, and leaned back in his chair. It shouldn’t be such a surprise. Anybody who knew Jesse and Kiernan could feel the electricity in the air when they were near each other. If anyone had seen what Jesse meant to Kiernan, it was Daniel himself. And if anybody knew Jesse’s heart, well, that was Daniel, too. That the two of them had consummated those feelings, even in war, wasn’t that much of a surprise.

He leaned forward. “Is Kiernan well?” he asked Jacob.

“Just fine. But—but she’ll never let him know. Don’t you see?”

“Proud, huh?”

“Very. And, well, he’s—”

“A Yankee.”

“Right,” Jacob agreed miserably. He looked at Daniel anxiously once again. “Can you get a message through to him?”

Daniel nodded. “Yes, I can.”

“You have to be very, er …”

“Discreet?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll write to my sister,” Daniel said, “and she’ll get through to him. No others will be involved—unless I can think of something else, equally discreet. Do you trust me?”

“Yes, sir, I do.”

“Good. Then you’d better be on your way. You don’t want Kiernan to start worrying about you.”

Jacob Miller saluted him, slammed his slouch hat back down over his head, and started out. Then he looked back. “Maybe you could not mention my name? No, wait—never mind. That wouldn’t be very honorable, would it? Go ahead and use my name in this if you want. Make sure you let him
know that Patricia and I are all right with this thing. Your brother is a darned good man, sir, except that he’s a Yank.”

“I’ve felt that myself, Jacob,” Daniel assured him.

Jacob grinned at that, and then he was really gone. Daniel sat back and drummed his fingers on his desk.

It occurred to him that he was going to be an uncle, and he grinned.

“Why, you little hellions!” he thought fondly of his brother and Kiernan.

But his smile faded. This was war. He wasn’t at all sure that anybody could do the right thing by anybody else.

He’d try, though. He’d sure as hell try.

Twenty-One