The Rebel Wife (11 page)

Bile burned in his throat. He clenched his teeth, pushing back the nausea and the memory of his own hospital stay after the loss of his eye. He would not give in. He’d promised to find out anything he could on Lance and Jeb, and by God, he would.

His stomach contained, he continued onward. Cots occupied by heavily bandaged patients lined either side of a center aisle. He stopped at the foot of one bed, the dark-skinned occupant clearly out of place among the sea of white prisoners. Odd how some slaves fled captivity, while others fought by their master’s sides against the very army sent to liberate them.

The Negro lay on his stomach, head turned to the side on the thin mattress. His eyes were closed, but his sleep was fitful. Long legs jerked beneath the bed sheets as though he were running a footrace. Thick, white bandages swathed his bare upper torso.

Took a bullet in the back.
Could this be Kitty’s companion? He pointed his pencil at the patient. “What unit was this one with?”

Whitlock shook his head. “None that we know of. He was shot while fleeing from a Yankee Patrol about twelve miles north of here.”

“Why was he running?” He pointed to the white scars fanning out from beneath the bandaging. “Looks like he might’ve been a slave.”

“We’re not sure what he was up to. He was in the company of a woman. A possible rebel spy.” Whitlock prodded the Negro’s foot, then frowned when he got no response. “He hasn’t come ’round long enough for us to get any answers. Appears the fever’s got him for now.”

“And the woman?”

“Still looking for her.”

“Major Brady mentioned you were searching for a female spy...” He flipped through his notepad, pretending to search his notes. “A Miss Lou Carleton?”

“Yes, that’s the one. We had a Corporal Lance Carleton on the prison roster. This woman may just be a hysterical relative hoping to contact him. If that’s the case, she’s wasting her time.”

Damn, that didn’t sound good
.
“Is the corporal dead?”

“No, at least he wasn’t two weeks ago. He and four hundred other prisoners were shipped to Elmira to relieve the overcrowding here.”

“Elmira, New York?”

“Yes. Odd thing about that...” Whitlock lifted his hat and mopped the sweat from his brow with a neckerchief before continuing. “Just before the prisoners shipped out, the Major received a telegram from the Elmira Provost requesting we include Corporal Carleton in the shipment.”

“Why was that odd?”

“Our initial instructions were to send officers first. Strange that the Provost would specifically request a corporal.”

He nodded.
Strange, indeed.

****

A salty tang rode the sun-warmed air. Gulls circled overhead, their shrill screeches melding with the crash of waves on the shore. A solitary figure ambled at the water’s edge. One hand cupped her wind-whipped skirts; the other was clamped atop her straw bonnet. She paused and bent to reach for something in the sand.

She was calm now, but what would happen once he told her about Lance? He’d seen her volatility before. Had a scab on his throat to prove it.

He gave the surroundings a quick check. They were alone, but he knew better than to assume no one watched. If she became overly distressed, she’d draw unwanted attention. How would he explain her hysteria to the soldiers?

She straightened and turned, eyes gleaming as she caught sight of him. A smile dimpled her rosy cheeks, and his heart sank to his feet. She’d risked life and limb getting to Point Lookout and her brother. And now Lance was gone. The news would break her heart, and the thought of causing her pain nearly strangled him.

Damn. When had he started to care?

“Jack,” she greeted as he drew closer. “How was your day at the prison? Good, I hope.”

Good? Not quite the word he would use. “It was productive. I gathered a lot of useful information for my newspaper article.”

“Like what?”

“Well, I learned the prisoners are fed twice a day. That’s as much as the staff can manage with so many mouths to feed.” The real issue was not how often, but what they were fed. Pig slops from what he saw at the cookhouses. But she didn’t need to know that. It would only fuel her anxiety.

“I suppose twice a day is better than nothing.”

“It certainly is.” He fished in his pocket. He was stalling, he knew, but he just wasn’t ready to face her disappointment just yet. “I brought you something.”

“Oh? What?”

“It’s a necklace of seashells. The prisoners make them to relieve the boredom and to barter for goods at the sutler’s store.”

She took the necklace and fingered the tiny shells, her expression awed as if he’d given her a crown jewel. “How pretty.” Her lips tipped into the sunny smile he’d come to adore. “Thank you, Jack.”

“You’re welcome. So, what did you do with your day? Did you visit the lighthouse?”

“I did. Sure is an interesting place. The keeper, Miss Edwards, was very sweet. Invited me to have tea.” She leaned closer and lowered her voice. “I think she might be a Reb sympathizer. She didn’t speak too highly of the Yankees. Said the conditions inside the prison were horrible. Are they?”

So much for keeping her sheltered from the ugly details. “Unfortunately, with so many men crowded into one small plot, it’s hard to maintain an ideal environment.”

“By that, you mean, it’s bad.” Her smile faded. “What else did you find out?”

She meant regarding her brother and Jeb. Dread roosted in his gut. No more delaying. He had to deliver the news.

He stepped closer and folded her into his arms. She tensed at first, then thankfully relaxed against him, her warmth seeping through the linen of his shirt. She felt so good, so right, as though she belonged in his arms.

He wished to God she did.

“Is someone watching?” she whispered.

She assumed he was playacting as he’d done at the farmhouse. If only he were. “I have some news, and I want you to promise to stay calm.”

She stiffened. “Is it...is Lance..?”

“Your brother’s fine.”

“Oh, God. Jeb—”

“It’s not him either. He’s still alive and being well cared for at the prison hospital.”

She sagged against him. “What is it then?”

“Lance is alive, but he’s not here.”

“Not here?” She tipped her head back. Though the brim of her bonnet shaded her eyes, it didn’t conceal the worry-lines creasing her skin. “Where is he?”

“He and four hundred other prisoners were sent to another prison to relieve the overcrowding here at Point Lookout.”

Color drained from her face. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She swallowed, then squeaked out, “Wh-what other prison?”

“The one in Elmira, New York.”

“Oh God, no.” She wilted, slipping from his grasp and sinking to her knees in the wet sand. A wave swept in and soaked her skirts. Yet, she merely sat there, silent and still as a pylon, letting the sea lap at her as she stared out over the water.

He blinked in confusion. What the hell? He expected her to be upset, but not this hopeless despair. He squatted beside her. “What is it, Kitty? What’s wrong?”

“I’m too late.”

Her forlorn tone stabbed his gut. He reached out and pulled her into his arms. “Shhh...” he whispered. “You’re not too late.”

Her reply was a soft sob. Warm tears dampened his shirtfront. He massaged her back, now rigid as a brick wall. “Don’t be upset. Lance is still alive.”

“H-he might’ve been alive...when he left here. But...”

“Lance is a lot stronger than you think. Look how long he survived at this prison.”

“It doesn’t matter how strong he is. Once he reaches Elmira, he’ll die...or wish he was dead.” She collapsed against him, her thin body wracked by vicious shudders.

He gave her a gentle squeeze. “Lance is not going to die, Kitty. You have to think positively.”

“You’re wrong. Let me go, Jack.” She pushed away from him and reached for the water. “Let the tide take me under.”

He yanked her back into his arms, his heart keeling over at her words. “Don’t talk like that.”

“Lance is dead. I might as well be, too.”

Where was that spitting she-cat he so admired? She should be ranting and raving, holding him at knifepoint and demanding he take her to Elmira. There was more to her story than she was letting on.

And it was high time he found out what.

Chapter Seven

Elmira
. It was just as she feared all along. She hadn’t reached Lance in time. She’d failed. And he would pay the price with his life.

“Everything’s going to be fine, Kitty.”

Fine? Nothing would ever be fine again. A sob caught in her throat.

Jack’s embrace tightened, then he pushed to his feet with her cradled in his arms. She should protest, but God help her, she could barely draw a breath, much less speak. It was as if someone had tapped her veins and drained every ounce of strength from her body.

He carried her the short distance to their cottage, and once inside, lowered her onto the bed. She lay there, unable to move, limbs heavy as snow-heaped logs. How would she go on without Lance? He was her twin, her other half. They shared everything together. Life without him would be bleak and empty.

The sound of pouring water trickled into her misery, then a cool, damp cloth bathed her forehead. “Kitty, talk to me.”

She closed her eyes, refusing to meet his gaze. She didn’t deserve his kindness. She was a worthless piece of human flesh, just as Mr. Lawrence had said. Tears of guilt and despair spilled from beneath her lids.

Smooth cotton swabbed her cheek. “Don’t cry, honey.”

Don’t cry
. He might as well ask the ocean tides to stop rising.

Bed ropes creaked as he sat beside her. “Look at me.”

“C-can’t.”

“Yes, you can.” He cupped her chin and tilted her head toward him. “Open your eyes, Kitty.”

His harsh tone goaded her to obey. She met his steady gaze.

“Would you like something? A glass of water? Wine?”

“I don’t need anything.”
Not anymore.

His mouth flattened into a thin line. “What’s going on? Why are you so upset?”

She stuffed down a groan. Here it comes, the relentless digging, like a hound after a rabbit burrow.

“You were so determined to get here,” he continued. “Yet, now that you’ve learned Lance was moved to another prison, you’ve given up. Why?”

“I’ll never reach him in time.”

“In time for what?”

“Not what. Who.”

“Who then?”

She gave a half shrug. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter, and we both know it.”

He brushed a stray curl off her forehead. The tender words and sweet gesture brought on a fresh pool of tears.

“Tell me why you’re so upset, Kitty.”

How could she tell him? He’d despise her, just as she despised herself. Despite her efforts to keep him at arm’s length, Jack Porter had crawled under her skin, making her itch for things she could never have. No man wanted a soiled woman for a wife.

Best to end things now, before parting became any harder.

She shoved upright and grabbed her cloak from the foot of the bed. She’d at least make one thing right. She tugged at the hem until the seam ripped and coins and paper dollars spilled onto the counterpane.

“There,” she thrust past the thickness in her throat. “Take what I owe you. You upheld your end of our bargain.”

“I don’t want your money.”

“Take it.” She shoveled the pile toward him. “Take all of it. I don’t need it any longer.”

He caught her hand in a firm but gentle grip. “I said I don’t want your money. What I want is to know why you’re so upset about Lance getting sent to Elmira.”

She traced a path with her eyes from the tips of his fingers to the point where his wrist disappeared into a stiff white cuff. Such strong hands. Unusual for a man who used his mind to do battle. And right now, he was intent on dueling with her.

“Let me help you, Kitty.”

She drew in a ragged breath. God how she wanted his help. If he could find a way to save Lance, she’d be forever grateful. But that would mean telling him what she’d done, and she just couldn’t do that. She’d rather face a Yankee firing squad than see his tenderness turn to scorn.

She scooted off the bed and crossed to the window. A retreat, yes. But she just didn’t have any fight left.

Unfortunately, the fight followed her.

Boot heels clicked on the floorboards, then his strong hands cupped her shoulders. “I won’t stop until you tell me what’s going on.”

She closed her eyes, resisting the urge to turn into his comforting embrace. It would be wrong to encourage him. “You have to let this go, Jack.”

“I won’t. I want to help you.”

“Why?”

He remained silent as though pondering an answer. “Because...” He spun her around until she faced him. “I promised I would help find your brother, and I always keep my promises. In order to do that, I need to know what’s going on, no matter how difficult it is to talk about.”

Difficult didn’t even begin to describe it. She focused on his perfectly-tied black cotton cravat. He was a gentleman through and through. He’d treated her with nothing but kindness and respect since agreeing to play her husband. Maybe he’d understand. Maybe.

“I-I don’t know where to begin.”

“Start with why the Elmira commandant specifically requested your brother, a corporal, be sent to his prison when officers are sent first.”

Her knees weakened. A tiny part of her hoped Lance’s movement to another prison had been mere coincidence. Clearly, it wasn’t. She pressed back against the window sash, using the hardness to shore up her sagging strength. “The Elmira commandant is Mrs. Lawrence’s brother.”

“And that’s a concern because..?”

“Because, before leaving Spivey Point, the Lawrences swore they’d get even with my family.”

“Get even for what?”

She swallowed hard. “For a wrong they felt had been done them.”

“What kind of wrong?”

The worst sort
. “They blame us for a death.”