Passion's Fury (53 page)

He pulled her into his arms and kissed her gently. “Hang on, sweetheart,” he murmured huskily, holding her against him as he glanced around. “I wish Clark would hurry up.”

Anxious to keep her from passing out, he began to tell her about the war and all that had happened since Kaid had shot him. It was best to keep her from worrying, for he did not like the look on her face. She was ill, physically and mentally, and he was anxious to get her out of there.

He told her how General Grant and the Army of the Potomac had crossed the Rapidan river in early May, marching down through a stretch of junglelike terrain and isolated farms known as “The Wilderness.” Grant had hoped to bring Lee’s army to battle out in open country, farther south, but it had always been one of Lee’s philosophies not to fight where his enemy wanted to fight. So Lee had marched his army straight into the “Wilderness” and attacked the federal columns before they could get across the junglelike lands.

“It was a bad place for a fight,” Rance told her, his eyes grim. “There weren’t many roads. There weren’t many farm clearings, either. Mostly, it was nothing but dense woods, with underbrush so thick it was impossible to see fifty yards in any direction. There were ravines and water courses and brambles and creepers, and you could hardly move. The Yankees
had more men, but that didn’t mean anything, not when they couldn’t move, either. And they had no advantage in artillery, either, because the big guns were useless in that place.”

He paused to take a breath and look at April closely. She was listening. Good. That meant she was not slipping away. If he could just hold onto her for a little while longer!

“It was blind and vicious,” he went on. “Then the woods caught on fire. Some of the wounded on both sides just burned to death. The smoke from the battle and the fire was so bad it choked us, and it made a fog so bad it was impossible to see anything. That lasted two days, and we all thought Grant would retreat. Go north of the Rapidan and reorganize. But he moved south, toward a crossroads at Spotsylvania Court House. It was about eleven miles southwest of Fredericksburg and on Lee’s road to Richmond. Grant moved all night, to get there first, so Lee would have to do all the attacking.

“Damn Grant,” Rance swore loudly, wanting to keep April’s attention. He swung his head from side to side. “When his soldiers, exhausted though they were, realized they weren’t retreating but advancing, they really got excited. Grant turned the Battle of the Wilderness almost into a victory. He wasn’t even pausing to lick his wounds. He was going to force the fighting, knowing he had Lee’s army outnumbered.

“Next thing that happened,” he went on, “was a rolling battle at that crossroads that went on for twelve days. There was one day of nothing but hand-to-hand combat. There was no letup.”

His voice dropped, as though he could not bear to go on, but knew he must…must keep April alert. Her eyes were growing hazy. Damn, he swore silently, where was Clark?

“Stuart heard about Phil Sheridan, an infantry officer in charge of Grant’s cavalry corps,” he went on. “Sheridan took his cavalry off on a driving raid toward Richmond, and Jeb Stuart took us and we galloped off to meet Sheridan. We met him head on at a place called Yellow Tavern, but…” He paused, fighting for composure, but he couldn’t hide his grief. “Stuart got killed.”

“No!” April spoke for the first time. She reached to touch his dear cheek. “How you must ache, Rance! I know how you admired and respected Jeb Stuart.”

He nodded. “Yeah. It hurt. It hurt the South, too. Jeb Stuart was one hell of a man.”

April felt herself slipping away again—from starvation, from all that had happened. Rance gave her a gentle shake, then bent and kissed her. “Hang on,” he whispered.

“Hey, there’s no time for that!”

The jovial voice jolted them. Edward Clark was peering at them through the mausoleum gates, grinning. Beside him, Lucky panted happily, his tail swishing jauntily.

“Let’s get you out of here.”

He told them to stand back, then aimed his gun at the lock and fired. It burst open and he wrenched apart the gates.

As Rance and April stumbled out, clinging together in the twilight, he told them of the scene at the house. Zeke had been shot and killed, and Vanessa had run away. “We couldn’t just shoot her in
the back,” he explained, looking at them beseechingly. “I mean, she
is
a woman.”

“No, I don’t want her killed,” April said quickly, and then her legs began to give way. She felt herself falling, the black shroud engulfing once again.

Rance lifted her in his arms and Edward on one side, Lucky trotting along on the other, they made their way up the path to where their friends were waiting at the house.

“We’ll spend the night here,” Rance decided after he had placed April on a bed. “I’m going to rummage around and find some food. She’s wasted away.”

Edward frowned, then murmured hesitantly, “I hate to say it, Taggart, but she don’t look good. No telling how long she’s been locked in that place. She just might not make it.”

“She’s going to make it,” Rance said fiercely, reaching to brush her hair back from her face. “I’m going to see that she makes it. We’ve been through too much to lose now.”

“Yeah I reckon the South feels the same way, even though Sherman’s moving full steam on Atlanta.”

Rance took a deep breath and stared down at April’s pale, thin body, so skeletal that she looked dead. Quietly, he said, “I know there’s a war going on, Clark. And I’m getting back into it just as soon as I take care of April, I swear it. We’ll leave for Cheaha as soon as she’s able. Meanwhile, I just hope that she-devil sister of hers comes back. I want to deal with her myself.”

“If she does make it, maybe April won’t want to go live on your mountain. I mean, all she ever talked about was coming back here and claiming what was rightfully hers.”

“That was when she hoped her father was alive.”

“She might not like you dragging her off again.”

Rance smiled to himself.

“She’ll want to come with me,” he said with finality, pressing his lips against her sunken cheek. “For her, the war is over.”

Outside, in the night, hidden in the thick underbrush around the slaves’ quarters, Vanessa crouched, staring toward the great house. The hatred flowing through her was as poisonous as snake venom.

She could see the lighted window of April’s bedroom, knew that he had taken her there to nurse her back to health. Zeke was dead. And she still did not know where the Pinehurst ring was hidden.

How long would they remain in her house? There were too many of them for her to fight now, especially without Zeke.

There, crouched in the shadows, Vanessa was sure of only one thing. For her, the war was just beginning.

Chapter Thirty-Three

While Sherman wrought hell throughout Georgia, Alabama was suffering its own hell at the hands of plundering Yankees who were waging smaller raids.

Even as Rance settled April in at the ranch on Cheaha, a raid led by the federal officer was striking deep into the heart of Alabama, destroying important iron furnaces, cotton mills, and the railroad running from Montgomery to West Point.

As word spread that Rance intended to “run his guts” out to get horses and supplies through to the Rebels, his band of followers grew. Most brought their families, for there were stories of women being attacked in their homes.

It was a time of terror for Southern women. As April healed and grew stronger, she urged Rance to move them to a higher spot on the mountain. There would be weeks, perhaps even months, when he and his men would be away. The women were far too vulnerable living at the base of the mountain. He agreed, and his band, now grown to fifty-seven men, moved up the mountain and began chopping down trees and building cabins. Fall was in the air and winter would soon be upon them.

He found a place for them on a high peak, confident that Yankee foragers would not take the trouble to climb so high.

Just as the little mountain village was being completed, word came from one of Rance’s scouts that Atlanta had fallen to Sherman. The city was in flames.

April was sure that Montgomery would be next. “They will burn Pinehurst. I know they will,” she cried. “Rance, what can we do? I want so desperately for us to go back there one day. I want us to live there…see our children grow up there.”

He held her against him, his bearded chin resting on her head. “I feel the same way, sweetheart,” he told her gently. “If they burn it down, then we’ll rebuild it. We just can’t worry about that now. We have to think about our own survival. I have to leave you and find a way to help the Confederacy in any way I can. You must be strong and help the other women be strong.”

Now that there was shelter for the women and children, he and the men would soon leave. “First, I’m going down into Talladega and find food and supplies for all of you, even if I have to steal it. Then we’ll go, and I don’t know when we’ll be back.”

“Or even whether you ever will come back.” She fought her tears. Then, breaking the promise she had made to herself, she cried, “Rance, sign a pledge of loyalty to the Union. Let’s leave here and go home.”

He gripped her shoulders and held her away from him so that he could stare down into her face. “April, you don’t mean that. I know your home means a lot to you, but to ask me to turn my back on the Confederacy, now, in its most desperate hour? Turn away from what Stuart and all the others fought for?”

She asked evenly, “Would you do it for our child?”

He blinked, not understanding.

“Rance,” she sighed, “I’m trying to tell you that I am going to have a baby. In the spring. I want the baby to be born at Pinehurst. And I want the baby’s father to be alive when he’s born! Haven’t you given enough to the Confederacy? Haven’t I?”

He ran his fingers through his long, thick hair, then through his beard, a slow smile touching his lips. “Well, I’ll be damned! I’m going to be a father!”

April stamped her foot in exasperation. “Will you listen to me? I don’t want to be left here on this mountain to give birth alone. I don’t want my baby’s father dying. Damn you, Rance.” She threw herself against his chest, sobbing. Feeling him stiffen, she pulled back to stare up into his face and see anger there.

“I don’t want my baby’s mother to be a coward, either, April,” he said stonily. “Now grow up. Look around you. There are plenty of other women around you in the family way, and they aren’t whining to go back to some fancy mansion to have their babies. They aren’t asking their men to turn yellow, denounce everything they believe in to get out of fighting.”

He cupped her chin in his hand, forcing her to meet his fiery gaze. “What has happened to your spirit, April? I know you’ve been through all kinds of hell, but your spirit’s still there, I’m sure of that. I love you, April, but I swear I’ll die before I ever sign an oath of loyalty to the Union. You do whatever you want. I’ve got a war to fight.”

He stalked away, leaving her there alone. She had never felt such shame. If he were not the man he was, proud, brave, believing in a cause and willing to die for it, then she could never have given him her heart. And she had never been a coward before. She wouldn’t be one now!

“Rance, I didn’t mean it!”

He turned, holding his arms open to catch her as she threw herself against him.

“I’m just frightened. To have a baby. To see you leave me. But I love you, and I’ll stay, and—”

He silenced her with a kiss, then, not caring that others were watching, he lifted her in his arms and carried her toward the cool, green forest, disappearing into the thick foliage and underbrush. Neither spoke. It was not a time for words. Everything had been said.

When they were deep enough in
the woods, far away from the others, Rance laid her gently on a bed of fragrant pine needles. Slowly, he undressed her, his eyes gazing adoringly upon her face. She trembled beneath his touch, her body already beginning to shiver with anticipation of the ecstasy to come.

They lay side by side, naked, the sun beaming golden light through the foliage above. A bird sang his song of joy, sharing in their glory.

His lips touched her forehead, her cheeks, finally pressing down upon her mouth. She received his tongue, arching her back to move even closer as his warm, possessive hands closed about her breasts. She sighed as he squeezed her nipples, feeling them quickly move to hard, taut, eagerness.

He lowered his seeking tongue, trailing downward to flick teasingly about the succulent tips, then sucking each hungrily into his mouth.

She wanted him. Heaven above knew how much she wanted him
.
Her hands began to explore, and she found what she was seeking, that proud flesh of manhood, erect and taut, quivering in eagerness to claim her with force and tender fury. And it was this, she thought in wonder, drawing the swollen organ toward her, thighs spreading to receive it, that had planted the seed of love within her. And it was from here, she thought, touching her own self as she guided him into her, that the product of that love would be born.

He rocked himself in and out of her, lifting himself up on his hands, his arms straight and rigid. He wanted to see her face, delighting in the waves of joy that she did not try to hide. “Mine…” he whispered triumphantly, thrusting himself harder, faster, causing her body to move roughly against the ground. “Mine…forever…”