Souls Aflame (54 page)

“Ah, put your hand there, that’s right…” The major sighed, then said, “I can understand your lament, Julie, and I truly feel the same way. But the war is picking up, what with the spring thaw. We aren’t planning to move anywhere for the moment. Our defenses spread from northwestern Georgia all along the eastern edge of the mountains into Winchester, Virginia. Then we have armies along the southeast across Virginia and on through Fredericksburg and Richmond. We hear Grant and Sherman could head for Richmond anytime, and my men stand ready to move there if we are needed.”

Luther’s ears perked up at hearing the approximate location of the Confederate defenses, but he doubted that this was something Fox did not already know. Still, he could not take a chance on his not receiving the information. He would have to awaken Veston and send him on the way with the news. Luther would take Julie to another camp to see what they could learn there.

It was silent inside the wagon, but he could hear movements, knew that the officer was fondling Julie’s body. Then he heard her coaxing him to drink again, and when he spoke once more, slurring words of desire and intent, Luther knew the opium was doing its job.

Hang on, Julie, he thought fiercely. Hang on. It shouldn’t take much longer.

“Oh, I know you’re going to be so good, but don’t rush things.”

Julie sounded nervous. He knew that she was worried that her lover would not pass out before he actually ravished her. Luther wished he could leap inside and drag that son of a bitch away from her and beat him to a pulp.

But he could do nothing but wait, his heart pounding so loudly he feared the whole camp could hear the thundering sound.

And then there was the longest silence of all. This was it, he knew. Either the drink was taking effect or Julie had been forced to give in to the major.

Finally, when he felt he could endure the torturous waiting no longer, he heard Julie’s feeble cry, hardly more than a whisper, as she called out his name.

He scrambled quickly into the wagon, trying to remember in his haste that he must be quiet at all costs, lest she have summoned him too soon.

“Yes, Julie, I’m here,” he answered her softly. “Is he out?”

“I think so.” She sounded near tears. “He hasn’t moved in quite awhile.”

And then, though he hated to do so, he knew he had to ask the question that was burning through his body. “Julie, did he—”

Her answer was quick, sharp. “No. Thank God, he passed out just in time. Were you outside? Did you hear what he said? That’s all I could get out of him. They’re just waiting for word from Richmond before moving—”

“I heard. Now I’ve got to wake Veston and get him on his way.” He started to leave the wagon, then hesitated. “Julie, will you be all right? I know when dawn comes, it must be even harder for you.”

“To lie here naked in the arms of a man, feeling like a whore—yes, it’s agony, Luther, but I’ve done it before. I suppose I will do it many times over before this hellish war ends. But don’t you fret about me. Just do your job, and please, please, be here as early as possible to make noise as you hitch the wagon so he’ll awaken and we can be on our way.”

His voice was gruff as he tried to hide the pain inside him. “Don’t worry, Julie. I promised you I’d look out for you, and I will. If he wakes up, I’ll be close by if you need me.”

He knew she was crying. “Thank you, Luther. Sweet God, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Nor I without you, precious Julie,
his heart cried in anguish. And as he ran through the night, stumbling, groping, he realized he was blinking back tears of his own.

Finally reaching Veston, he roused him and hurriedly whispered what Julie had learned from Major Anders. He could not see the other’s face, but he knew by the deep silence that Veston was thinking, pondering whether the information was of any value. Finally he made movements to get up, grumbling, “Okay, I’ll just have to go find the major and let him decide whether it’s valuable stuff or not. It’s not up to me to make the decision.”

They moved quietly to the far edge of the camp, where their horses were tethered. Once Veston had saddled his mount, he instructed Luther to do as they had planned earlier. “Move north. Toward Richmond. I’ll find you along the way.”

Annoyed, Luther replied, “How in the hell am I supposed to know when to stop again? Am I to just keep on riding—”

Veston snarled, “Just do as you’re told. I’ve thought it over. I’m going to have a talk with Fox about you. So just keep on riding, and don’t stop.”

His horse moved forward slowly, and Luther knew Veston would be a long distance from the camp before he spurred his mount to a faster gait, lest he be heard by the sentries. He was taking a chance on being shot, but he was good at being covert. That was why he’d been picked for this job.

Luther returned to the wagon to make sure Julie was all right. She had snuggled down next to the sleeping officer and whispered to Luther that there was nothing to be concerned about. “I just want us to leave here at the first break of dawn,” she added with an anxious note in her voice.

“Don’t worry. When you hear me outside, messing with the horses and hitching them to the wagon, you wake him up and tell him we’ve got to hit the road and he’d better get back to his tent before he’s missed.”

“Yes,” she said tightly. “And I should tell him what a wonderful lover he was.”

He could only agree with her, though it grieved him to do so. “You’ve come this far. Finish your performance. Now try to get some sleep, and remember, I’ll be close by.”

He took his place nearby but did not sleep. Instead he cradled his beloved guitar, wishing it were Julie in his arms instead. His eyes burned from staring toward the east, waiting for the first pink rays of dawn to caress the sky.

At last it was time. Springing to his feet, Luther ran to untether the horses and lead them to the front of the wagon, making just enough noise to wake Julie, though he doubted she had even slept.

He felt a wave of relief when he heard the stirrings inside the wagon. He could hear the soft murmur of voices, knew she would be telling the major how wonderful it had been, how she hated to move on but had no choice and perhaps one day they would meet again.

Then he could make out the figure of a man climbing out of the wagon. He stumbled a bit, and he was rubbing his head as though it hurt. “…hate to say it, pretty lady, but I don’t remember much about last night…” Luther heard him tell her.

“I have memories to last a lifetime,” she said, leaning out to kiss him lightly. “Do take care of yourself. I’ll be dreaming of the time when we meet again.”

Then the officer was lurching off down the hill toward his own tent, no doubt to fall into his blankets and finish sleeping off the effects of the opium-laced whiskey.

By the time Luther was ready, Julie had hastily dressed, wrapping a blanket about her shoulders to fend off the chill of the early morning air. She climbed up to sit beside him on the wooden driver’s bench. “Do you want anything to eat?” he asked, suddenly remembering that in their haste to be on their way, he had not considered that she might be hungry.

She shook her head. “I don’t feel very well. I didn’t sleep at all. Where are we heading, anyway?”

He told her Veston had said they were to ride north, that he would meet them somewhere along the way. “It’ll probably be sometime tomorrow before we run into him. I don’t plan to just keep on moving, though. We’re both tired. I’m going to find someplace I figure is safe, and then we’ll just camp out and wait for him to find us.”

“What if we run into Yankees?” she asked fearfully.

“Not likely. We’re smack dab in the middle of the Rebel forces. They won’t ask any questions. All we’ve got to do is tell them we travel about to entertain the soldiers. You may have to sing a song or two, but I think you can handle that.” It was light enough that she could see the comforting smile he flashed in her direction.

They had not gone far when her head began to nod. Luther noticed and told her to climb into the wagon and try to sleep. “Don’t worry. I’ve got my gun handy, and if there are any problems, I’ll let you know.”

She protested. “But you didn’t sleep either. I wanted to try to help you stay awake.”

He laughed, pleased at her concern. “That’s nice of you, but you aren’t much company with your head flopping all around your neck like a chicken that’s just been axed. Now you get on back there. Then if we do have to sing for our supper, you’ll feel more obliging.”

With a sleepy smile of gratitude, she climbed back into the wagon. He could hear her stirring about, then all was still. He knew she was resting at last.

A few times during the morning, Confederate sentries along the way flagged him down. He knew how to handle the situation, explaining that they were a traveling troupe bound to entertain the brave and valiant men of the South.

But one burly sergeant he encountered scowled and asked suspiciously, “Yeah? How come you ain’t in uniform if you’re so damned concerned about the southern cause?”

Luther was ready for that too. Tapping his right leg, he said, “Got a ball at Gettysburg. Can’t hardly stand on it at times. The doctors say there’s nothing they can do. I’d only be in the way if I took up a gun, so I took up my guitar instead. I figured that’s doing my part better than sittin’ on the porch back home in Alabama.” He tried to make his voice drawl with a southern accent.

The sergeant was satisfied. Apologizing, he waved him on after commending him for his true and honorable spirit. Luther gave him a snappy salute, laughing inside all the while.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

About mid-day Julie came out to sit beside him once again. They were near a rushing stream, so Luther reined in the horses, saying they both needed to stretch their legs a bit. He wandered away into the woods, staying close enough for her to call should she need him, but giving her adequate privacy to bathe and tend to her personal needs.

Later he found fixings for gruel and hoe cakes, and he built a small fire. After they had eaten, he said they were just going to stay put. “Veston will find us. This is the main road to Richmond, and that’s the way he told me to travel.”

Julie allowed as to how that suited her fine, especially since she would not have to perform for the night. “It gives me a bit of reprieve, doesn’t it?”

He looked into her eyes, wondering if their lovely green depths had ever sparkled with happiness or whether they had always been shadowed by pain. How he wished
he
could make them shine. But now wasn’t the time, he thought, gritting his teeth and turning to the task of rubbing the horses down and making sure they were tethered near grass and water. Later, he promised himself, later…when this was all behind them…then he could tell her what was in his heart.

They sat at the edge of the stream, enjoying the warmth of the late March sunshine. They talked of the war, how they both prayed it would soon end. Then they turned to nonsensical things, like how they wished it were warm enough to go wading.

“Back in Savannah, I loved to play in the water,” Julie lamented. “Myles taught me to swim, and our cousin, Thomas Carrigan, would go with us. He’s in the army now.

“In fact,” she rambled on, “he was at Libby Prison the last I heard. I wonder if he was there when you all rescued Myles…” Her voice trailed off, as she was shocked to see the strange expression on Luther’s face.

“Did I say something wrong?” she wanted to know at once. “I was just talking about my childhood days—”

“Carrigan.” He spoke sharply, something ringing a warning bell deep within him. “Did you say your cousin’s name was Carrigan?”

She nodded, watching him, puzzled. “Yes. Thomas Carrigan. He was at Libby Prison. At least that’s what his mother told me when she went to my mother’s funeral. But why are you looking at me like that? I don’t understand—”

“No reason.” He reached over quickly to pat her hand. She was frightened, and he didn’t want that. “It’s nothing. I guess I’m just tired.”

She stared at him for a moment longer, then began talking of other things, how she worried about leaving Sara and Lionel behind in Wilmington and prayed they had continued safely on to Pennsylvania. They would have been worried terribly when she did not return, she said.

But Luther was not listening. He was remembering the night they went to Libby to break out Myles Marshal. They had encountered the Confederate soldier who said he’d been waiting for just such a chance so he could desert his post and get out of the war’s misery. He wanted only to hide out till the fighting was over, he assured them.

At the time, Luther recalled they’d had no choice but to take him along. It was apparent the soldier knew about the planned escape and had stationed himself in a position where he would be right in the middle of it all. He could have sounded an alarm that would have blown the whole scheme, but he hadn’t. Instead he begged to go along, or rather
demanded
that he be allowed to participate. There had been no time to argue, and it was quickly agreed that he could be a part of things.

And Luther remembered the soldier’s name now:
Thomas Carrigan.

Julie saw the tremor go through him. “Are you cold?” she asked at once. “I do hope you aren’t coming down with the fever. You drive yourself so, Luther. You never get enough rest. I wish you would let me help you in some way.”