Shades of Gray: A Novel of the Civil War in Virginia (28 page)

“Well, I see it did nothing to improve your mood
or disposition.”

He looked up sharply. “If that was its
intention, Miss Evans, then I assure you it missed its mark.”

Andrea laughed, humor mingled with concern
lurking in her eyes. “Oh yes, Major, I
know
it missed its mark.”

He watched her scan the distance from his
shoulder to his heart.

“But not by much,” she said, lifting her
mischievous eyes to meet his.

Hunter snorted in contempt. “Then I’m sorry to
have disappointed you.”

“Do not raise
your hackles, Major,” Andrea said, placing her hand on his arm. “I did not mean
to imply that I would relish the thought of a direct hit.”

Their eyes met again, and for just the slightest
moment, Hunter thought he saw compassion rekindled there. But he did not have
time to analyze the glance.

“It will not hurt you to lie low until a doctor
looks at your arm,” Andrea said, turning away for a moment. “I know your blood
is the highest pledge you can give to show your devotion to the Cause, but
surely you’re not required to give
all
of it.”

“Doc is in Richmond getting supplies, and it may
be days until he returns,” Hunter said, as if that explained everything.

“Splendid!” Andrea turned back with a smile.
“Then you will have a few days of rest. Highly deserved by the looks of you.”
She seemed to take great delight in the fact that their roles were now
reversed. “It’s easy enough to preach patience. Now you will have to learn to
practice it.”

“I see it’s a trait that you’ve acquired.”
Hunter glanced at her before collapsing back on the bed, holding his pounding
head.

“Well I hardly believe a few days rest will
cause you fatal injury,” she retorted, mimicking again the words that had been
spoken to her. “You are a mere mortal, Commander, much as you may hate to admit
it. Hence, your flesh will heal at the same rate as the rest of the human
race.”

Hunter put his hand to his head and squeezed his
temples hard, then took a deep breath. Too exhausted and physically drained to argue,
he decided to give in. Closing his eyes again, he made one last attempt to
bring back the image that lingered in his memory. Had he really caught a
glimpse of a woman that could be as compassionate as she was bold, and gentle
as she was stubborn? Or did such a being exist only in his mind? Had she been
real or an angel of the dreamy subconscious?

As if to answer his question, Andrea bent down
and picked up his boots. When she reached the door, she smiled deviously, her
green eyes sparkling with a light that appeared to be of frank good humor as
she held them up for him to see. “I regret the necessity.”

“Where are you going with those?” Hunter
attempted to stand up and groaned at the ensuing pain.

“I’m making sure that my orders are executed,
Major.”

“Come back here this instant,” he yelled,
holding his head and sitting back down, hard. “I do not take orders from you!”

“Nor I from you,” Andrea said over her shoulder
before the door slammed closed.

Chapter
25

“Hard lot of mine! My days are cast

Among the sons of strife,

Whose never-ceasing quarrels waste

My golden years of life.”

– Psalms 120:2

Andrea did one trip around her room with only
one crutch and smiled. Although she gasped for breath and leaned heavily on the
support, she had made progress. Her gaze turned toward the chamber door, and
her thoughts turned to the one task that remained untried—the stairs.

Determined to achieve her goal, Andrea began her
descent, but she soon discovered it was too soon to have made the attempt. When
only halfway down, she began to grow dizzy with pain and her legs to tremble
with the effort. She stopped and leaned on the banister, staring back at the
eight steps she had already traversed. She knew she would never be able to
induce her aching limbs to climb back up. She had no choice but to continue.

Turning back
to the task at hand, Andrea swept her gaze over the room before her. Like the
upstairs, the first floor appeared beautifully decorated, yet pleasantly
unostentatious. A huge open foyer and elegant sitting room appeared neat and
orderly, with beautiful dark-hued floors covered with elaborate and stylish
rugs.

Hearing the sedate ticking of a large timepiece
somewhere in the hall, Andrea renewed her journey with gritted teeth. She
remained focused on a large oaken door to her right—the gateway to freedom.
Although she knew it would not be today or even this week, someday soon this
would be her way out. At the moment, she wished only to touch the large brass
latch to accomplish what she had set out to do.

To her surprise, a loud, impatient knock echoed
from the other side just as she reached her destination. Instinctively she
pulled open the massive door and beheld a stern-looking man with disapproving
eyes, blinking in obvious confusion at the sight of her.

“Good afternoon,” he said. “Would the Major be
about by chance?”

Before she could answer, Hunter strode across
the foyer with his good arm extended, the other still bound in the sling she
had made. “Doc. Come in. You don’t know how glad I am to see you.”

“I leave for a few days and you go get shot I
hear,” the doctor said, shaking hands with Hunter. “Thought I should stop in
and check on you and the
patient
.” The doctor cleared his throat at
Hunter’s silence. “That is, if she’s still with us.”

“Oh, she’s still with us,” Hunter said. “You
just saw her.”

Hobbs turned a slightly red color and looked
back toward Andrea. His eyes went from her face to the crutch she leaned upon,
then back to her face. “Impossible,” he muttered under his breath.

Andrea meanwhile, looked from the man, who was a
stranger to her, to Hunter, and back again, waiting for someone to speak.

“My dear, I apologize,” Hobbs finally said, “but
I’m the surgeon for Hunter’s command, the doctor that treated you, and I had no
idea you would make such a … ah, swift recovery.”

“It has not seemed swift to me in the least.”
Andrea closed the door and turned toward him.

“Well … while I’m here, do you mind if I take a
look at your leg?”  The doctor sounded anxious.

“Not at all,” Hunter answered for her, patting
Hobbs on the back as they turned. “This way.”

Andrea glared at Hunter for answering on her
behalf, but since he did not seem to take notice, she followed his sweeping
gesture toward an open doorway at the back of the house.

The two men
were so engaged in talking behind her that they almost ran into Andrea when she
stopped abruptly in the doorway, awed by the magnificence of the room she
entered. Twelve-foot windows adorned each side of a French door that opened
onto a portico. To her left and right stood ceiling-to-floor bookshelves filled
to the brim with handsome leather-bound volumes. A massive stone fireplace that
looked like it would consume wood by the cord graced the remaining wall, with
Hunter’s desk close to its yawning mouth. No room Andrea had ever seen compared
in grandeur. Yet it was not pretentious in the least. It was a room filled with
warmth and inviting, manly charm.

“Come in. Come in.” Hunter gave Andrea a nudge.
“Have a seat.”

Hunter sat at his desk, and Andrea sat with her
back to him in a plush chair he pointed out. The doctor pulled a stool up in
front of her, and picked up her leg, resting her foot on his lap. Andrea
grabbed the side of the chair at the throbbing pain the movement caused.

“How much laudanum are you on a day?” the doctor
inquired

Andrea blinked and looked somewhat surprised. “I
take no laudanum.”

The doctor looked up to see if she was joking,
and then over her head to Hunter. “My lady, you must be in excruciating pain.”

Andrea heard Hunter’s pen stop moving behind her
and imagined him leaning forward to better hear the conversation. She loosened
her grip on the arms of the chair and tried to conjure a smile. “It’s
tolerable.”

“How does it look, Doc?” Hunter’s voice now came
from directly over her shoulder.

Hobbs looked from Andrea to Hunter and back, as
if he did not know what to say. “I’d like to prescribe some laudanum.” He kept
his eyes averted while he lowered Andrea’s leg to the floor.

“You may prescribe all you like, but it shan’t
be used by me,” Andrea said in a low, distinct voice. “I have recovered from
worse.”

“Miss Evans, the doctor knows what is best,”
Hunter said. “I think perhaps you should obey—”

“I think
perhaps
I
know what is best for me,” Andrea said, her voice trembling
with emotion. “And I believe, sir, that you are exceeding your authority by
giving me orders.”

Hunter sighed. “It’s not an order, Miss Evans.
It is merely for your own good.”

Hobbs, who had been standing by speechless,
interrupted. “Miss, your leg is not fit to be walking on. It’s broken and out
of line.”

Andrea turned her head and her inscrutable gaze
to him. “I had my suspicions about the first, and never entertained a doubt
about the second. Thank you for your expert opinion, Doctor.”

Hobbs blinked in astonishment at her words and
looked with dismay toward Hunter for support.

A knock on the door interrupted the tirade, and
Gus Dorsey burst in.

“’Scuse me, sirs, ah … miss.” He nodded and
smiled at Andrea like she was an old friend, then turned toward Hunter and
handed him a dispatch. “Sir, the men are meeting at Locust Hollow. Something’s
cooking near headquarters. They’re moving the horses from the Talberts’ now.”

Hunter put up his hand to stop his scout and
gave a worried glance toward his houseguest. Andrea stared at the wall as if
she was not listening, but he knew she had not missed a word.

“Give me a minute, Gus,” he said, running his
gaze over the dispatch. “Have Zach saddle Dixie and I’ll meet you out front.”

“Please,”
Andrea said, rising with an alacrity that surprised even her, considering the
depth of her pain. “Do not end your interview on my account.”

Leaning
heavily on the crutch, she headed toward the door, followed by Gus, who took
the time to exchange a few words before rushing to follow orders.

* * *

The two remaining men were silent until the
sound of the crutch faded.

“What do you think, Doc?” Hunter handed the
doctor his customary glass of brandy.

Continuing to stare at the open door, Hobbs took
a moment to answer. “I think that is one remarkable woman,” he said before
downing the contents and plopping the glass on the desk.

“Do you believe she is in much pain?” Hunter
thought back to her kind treatment of him and worried that the return of her
hostility might be a manifestation of her injury.

The doctor did not pause. “Excruciating. Beyond
the capability of mortal endurance I would think.”

Hunter frowned. She had never complained of
pain, though he had often witnessed her sitting with closed eyes and gritted
teeth, as if concentrating on some unknown purpose.

The doctor cleared his throat. “I … never
expected her to be walking on that leg.”

Hunter looked at him with probing eyes. “What
are you trying to say?”

“It needs to be reset.”

Hunter blinked with surprise. “Reset? Now?”

Hobbs walked over to the decanter and poured
himself another drink, which again he downed in one gulp. He nodded. “She was
too weak, too fragile. I did not want to attempt it before.”

“Damnation, man!” Hunter ran his hand through
his hair. “She’ll never stand for it.”

“She is a bit of a lioness, isn’t she? I’m
afraid it will require further bed rest.”

Hunter groaned in response, knowing she would
never consent to such a thing without a fight.

“How long will she be down?”

“She should not rise for four to six weeks.”

“Four to six?” Hunter sounded incredulous.

“I fear her recovery will be slow and her
impatience will be great,” Hobbs said. “I don’t envy you the trouble it will
cause.”

Hunter, incapable of speaking, groaned as he
paced the floor. Hobbs had only just met her, yet already recognized Andrea’s
intolerance for idleness and repose.

“I am not a doctor,” Hunter said, “but I believe
in some cases, and with some individuals, rest can be more hurtful than
action.”

Hobbs grunted.
“I am inclined to agree. However, it cannot be helped in this case. It must be
done today.” He gazed at Hunter over his spectacles. “Now.”

Hunter looked up at the urgency in the doctor’s
voice and watched him pull a vial from his bag.

“Do not fear. She won’t know what hit her.”

* * *

Andrea wanted to go back to her room, but
standing at the bottom of the stairs, she knew better than to make the attempt.
After exchanging pleasantries with Gus, she made her way to a comfortable chair
in the front foyer. Perhaps after a little rest she would be able to find the
strength to make the journey. For now, she needed to sit. Glancing around to
make sure she was alone, Andrea collapsed into the chair in a most unladylike
fashion.

Not long after, Mattie emerged. “You want
something to drink, missy?”

Andrea
started to decline, but one look at the sparkling glass of lemonade and she
could not refuse. Drinking none too sparingly, Andrea could almost feel the
cool liquid enter her veins, easing beat by beat the throbbing in her leg. 

But just as abruptly, she began to feel warm and
shaky. Closing one eye, she stared at the glass, and watched it grow distinctly
out of focus. Why did she suddenly feel so horribly dizzy? So amazingly tired?
Andrea fought to keep her lids open, to keep her head from falling to her
chest.