Shades of Honor (33 page)

Radford stepped out of his boots and hung his coat and hat on the peg beside the door. He took two kitchen chairs to the parlor and placed them close to the stove. With a weary sigh, he sank onto the chair and pulled Evelyn down beside him. “Your shutter blew off the kitchen window.”

Evelyn reached for the kettle on the stove and poured Radford a cup of tea. “It’ll probably blow across town by morning.”

Radford took the offered cup. “I stuck it behind the wood bin. I’ll put it back on tomorrow.” He stretched his legs out in front of him, propping his feet on the foot rail that circled the bottom of the stove. Evelyn stood up, but he caught the belt on her wrapper. “Where you going?”

“To get another cup.”

“We can share this one.”

The irony of sharing a cup of tea in the late-night hours made her eyes tear. She had tried to explain this sort of closeness to Kyle, but he’d never really understood. With Radford, it was as natural as sharing a bed.

She sat down and let Radford drink in silence while he lost the chill of the storm. Slowly, his shoulders relaxed and the tension in his face eased. “Thank you,” he said, passing her the half-full cup of tea. He extracted a cheroot from his pocket and paused, his expression questioning. “Do you mind?”

Mind? He couldn’t know how desperately she’d longed for this moment. When she shook her head, he dropped his feet to the floor, opened the cast-iron door, and touched his cigar to the flames. When it was lit, he leaned back and put it to his lips. The motion was fluid, male, and oddly beautiful.

Evelyn absorbed every detail about him as she sipped her tea and inhaled the sweet aroma of his cheroot. It brought back memories of soft summer evenings and one glorious night of Radford's lovemaking. Closing her eyes, she prayed he would find his way back to her, that he would claim the strength necessary to break free of his past, that he would trust her.

His fingers grazed her jaw and her eyes opened. “I’m sorry I broke my promise.” He lowered his hand and rested his wrist on his knee, his cigar forgotten between his fingers. “I wanted to marry you and protect you and be here when you needed me. All I’ve done is ruin your future, then walk out on you when you needed me most. I’m beginning to realize that it doesn’t matter what kind of man I’ve been. It’s the man I’m becoming without you that scares me the most.”

He sat quietly, staring at the stove. “There was a time when I thought I knew all about honor and keeping promises. When I went to war in my father’s place, I was determined to make him proud that a Grayson was doing his part for the Union.” Radford laughed, but it was hollow and self-depreciating. “I was so green, so naive.”

“You were only a boy.”

“Not for long. Our regiment was involved in our first major skirmish at Chancellorsville. We were up to our asses in Grays and they were blowing us apart. Literally, and I was scared to death.” Evelyn saw the shame in his eyes. “I deserted my troop that day like a coward.”

Evelyn touched his shoulder. “You claimed that status once before, but I don't believe it. Papa disputed it also.”

He looked at her in disbelief. “I deserted during a battle. Our regiment was trapped on a hillside and we ate dirt for hours, but the
Rebs
never let up. Their shells were pecking away our flesh like buzzards on a dead carcass. When the man beside me was cut in half by shrapnel, I panicked and ran. I didn’t even try to help him, Evelyn. I just ran through the shelling and bolted into the trees. I kept on running until I saw the enemy flanking our regiment's backside. Your dad was back there on that hill.”

“What did you do?” she asked softly.

Radford opened the stove and tossed the cigar inside. He closed the latch and leaned back in his chair. “I went back to warn them, but I was too late. Most of our men were caught in thickets and cut down. Your dad and I barely made it out with only a few others.”

“You earned your medal for warning your troop about the attack, didn’t you?”

He nodded. “I should have been shot for deserting, not honored for an act of cowardice.”

“It took a brave man to risk his life and return. A coward would have thought of himself.”

“I didn't earn that medal, Evelyn. I felt ashamed when I looked across the fire at your father. He had stayed in the middle of that hell because that was his duty. He knew I deserted.”

Though she understood his fear and shame, Evelyn didn’t agree. Most deserters would have kept on running. Radford went back. That was all she needed to know. “Who is Thorn?” she asked softly.

He glanced at her in surprise. “Who told you about him?”

“You called his name in your nightmares. Was he a friend?”

Radford's nostrils flared, his expression pained. “Thorn and I met during the war, but he was more than a friend. He was like a brother.”

The idea made her smile. “How did a Billy Yank befriend a Johnny
Reb
during the war?”

“You wouldn’t believe the crazy things that went on out there. Thorn and I met at Gettysburg. He and two other Confederate skirmishers were captured near our ranks. We had to guard them until they could be taken off with the other prisoners.” Radford shook his head, a melancholy smile lifting his lips. “I'd never met anyone like him. He sat there in the middle of the whole Union army while bullets ricocheted off trees and drilled holes in the earth around us, and he wasn’t a bit intimidated. We were ducking shrapnel and he asked if we Yanks had any good coffee brewing. We all stared at him like he was crazy, but he just shrugged and offered us a smoke. The craziest part was that we all took a puff and moaned with pleasure. The damned idiot asked if the Northern girls could make us moan like that and every danged one of us cut up laughing.”

“Did you see him again?”

He nodded. “Thorn returned to the Confederate force when the government swapped prisoners. I met up with him again at Kennesaw, Georgia, and later at Stevenson, Alabama. We were there for five months without any real skirmishes. Thorn was posted across the river as a picket for the
Rebs
. Mostly, he spent his day yelling across the water to us; everything from ribald jokes to the best way to win a poker hand. A few of us started rowing across the river to play cards with him, but our commanders were concerned about leaking war secrets so they put a stop to it. After that, Thorn and I met late at night. I traded coffee for his sweet Southern tobacco, and we became friends. We told each other about our families and what we were going to do when the war was over. I promised Thorn that I'd come south someday and see how a Southern boy learned to tell such good jokes and grow fine tobacco. We made a lot of plans,” Radford said, his voice trailing off to a whisper.

Evelyn touched his leg. “What happened to him?”

“After his troop pulled out, we didn’t meet again until Collier's Mills in Georgia. My regiment was part of Sherman's plan to take Atlanta and our mission was to cross the Chattahoochee then push into the city. We had to cross Peach Tree Creek to get there. The
Rebs
cut us up bad and we lost over half of our regiment right there on that creek bank.”

“Is that where you were wounded?”

He shook his head. “No. We retreated and waited until Hooker and Geary could re-form their troops and join us. With the added men, we were able to drive the
Rebs
back behind their lines, but the fighting went on for days. By dumb luck and a few messages, Thorn and I were able to meet after dark one night in the middle of the river. I think we both knew what was coming, but we didn't have time to linger over goodbyes. The next time I saw Thorn was in a cornfield at Collier's Mill.” Radford compressed his lips and stopped talking.

“That was the last time you saw him, wasn't it?” Evelyn asked, knowing in her heart this was the source of Radford’s nightmares.

He nodded. “We knew the odds were against us meeting on the battlefield, but somehow we did. Rebel infantry charged my regiment in a cornfield. Thorn was coming straight at me. I knew the second he spotted me because he tried to swerve, but we were both locked in position by the men flanking us. We couldn't turn. There wasn't anywhere for either of us to go.”

“Oh, Radford, you didn't?”

“He did.” A sheen of moisture glinted on Radford’s cheeks and he placed his hands prayer fashion against his lips. Evelyn waited while he struggled for control. “He had no choice. I couldn’t shoot him. I just couldn’t. My gun fell when he stuck his bayonet in my side.”

“He stabbed you?” Evelyn asked in horror.

“I was his enemy.”

“You were friends!”

“Not on the battlefield.” Radford raised sorrowful eyes to hers, seemingly oblivious to the moisture that brimmed his lids. “Your father shot him.”

“Oh, my God. Oh, Radford.”

“Thorn fell beside me.” Radford closed his eyes, his throat convulsing. He drew a ragged breath. “We lay in the crushed cornstalks, bleeding and gripping hands. Thorn handed me a bag of tobacco and said to think of him when I smoked it. He asked me to give his watch to his fiancée and tell her that he loved her, that she didn't have to wait anymore, and that he wished he...that he was sorry he wouldn’t make it back to marry her.”

Radford buried his face in his hands. He couldn’t go on. The memory of Thorn lying beside him with blood staining his chest, running from his mouth into his blond hair, was too much. He’d never forget Thorn's crooked smile as they lay in the crushed stalks, feet scuffling near their heads mingling with shouts and gunshot, that fierce grip of hands in that last moment before Thorn passed away. Memories assailed Radford and he recalled how Thorn had made fun of his name and called him Radical. He’d been able to make Radford laugh when he felt like blowing his own head off. He’d bragged that the Southern girls were
sweeter'n
peach pie. He taught Radford all the best ways to cheat at cards so he'd be able to catch his opponent at dirty dealing. He told stupid jokes that were only funny because of the way Thorn animated them.

“Thorn just punctured my side,” Radford whispered. “It was the only way for him to remain loyal and not risk the men flanking him, but he forfeited his life for mine.” Radford pressed his fingers to his eyes, cursing the tears that wet his fingers, damning the reason they were there.

“You don’t have to do this.”

“Yes I do.” His voice cracked, but he fought to speak. He was going to tell Evelyn everything. There wouldn’t be any more secrets to tear him down or ruin his future. He slid his fingers into his hair and clenched his fists. “I buried Thorn in that field. After the war ended, I took his watch home to his family. His brothers’ showed me the tobacco fields Thorn was so proud of. I'd heard so much about his Caroline that she felt like a sister. She wanted to know what the war was like for Thorn and if he had kept his sense of humor.”

Radford’s confession was tearing Evelyn’s heart out, but she had to ask the question burning in her heart. “Did you hate my father for killing your friend?”

He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and leaned back in his chair. “I loved your father. I never blamed him. He didn't know Thorn. All he saw was a Rebel who had stuck his bayonet in my side. No one had time to ask questions. We lost two hundred and thirty-three men in our brigade during those few days, and almost five hundred in the division. When it was over, we buried our dead and wept like children. We just couldn’t stand it any longer.”

The image of a group of bedraggled men weeping beside a string of fresh graves made Evelyn cry. She lowered her forehead to Radford’s shoulder and stroked his back. “I'll never know how you survived that. I can’t even imagine how you felt.”

“Mad,” he said. “In every sense of the word. After Collier's Mills, I went crazy.”

Evelyn sat back. “Who could blame you?”

“I should have pulled myself together, but I couldn’t manage it.” He leaned forward and chucked a piece of wood in the stove. A spray of sparks shot up the chimney and he latched the door. With a shaky sigh, Radford stood up and shoved his hands in his pockets. “After Thorn died, I couldn’t control my reactions. I was at the edge of sanity. I had spent months at your father's side, walking the leather off my boots, fighting dysentery, hunger, killing men who had wives and children waiting for them at home. All we did was skirmish, catch a few hours of sleep, then march over the next hill and assault the enemy again. I hated it. I was homesick as hell. I missed my brothers and my parents and the sound of our sawmill. Sometimes at night, I would break off a small pine bough and lay it next to my head. I’d smell the pine and pretend I heard the whine of circular saws rather than distant gunfire. I’d lie there and wonder if my family knew how often I thought about them.”

“They knew, Radford. Kyle talked about you all the time. I know he missed you.”

“When I volunteered, I never believed I’d be gone over three years.” Radford leaned against the edge of the table. “After General Sherman took Atlanta in early September, our regiment returned in November. We were ordered to destroy anything of military value: railroads, bridges, public buildings, anything the South might use against us, but during the siege the city turned into an inferno.”

Evelyn thought of her livery in flames and it sickened her. “Those people must have been devastated.”

“The residents were furious and they came out to stop us. We tried to warn them off, but they were beyond reasoning. Most of them ended up crushed beneath the heels of our troops. That night became a repeat of every damn battle we saw. The yells, the shots, the sound of flying metal and screaming men. I couldn't stand it. The smoke burned my eyes and clogged my throat and I felt sick to my soul. I was sick to death of being forced to kill men. When I saw your father go down, my mind snapped. I killed the man who shot him. I felt like I'd climbed up out of the bowels of hell. I felt confused and out of control.” Radford turned tormented eyes to Evelyn. “I was going to kill myself then, but I didn't have the guts. I figured the Confederates owed me one so I ran straight into their ranks. It was supposed to be a swift end.”