The Wicked North (Hearts Touched By Fire Book 1) (30 page)

Jack crunched through the snow as he and John Henry scouted for prey. He had encouraged the old man to accompany him because he wanted to see how bad John Henry’s feelings were for him. Jack was wary about fighting in the area, so they didn’t go far. He wanted to remain close to the cabin in case of trouble. Heavens only knew who might find them. The longer they remained there, the stronger his fears became. When the snow and ice melted, he would have to get them back on the road to Louisiana. Spring’s arrival was coming and with it, more fighting. He had no doubt both sides were preparing for the next battle. Tennessee was ripe for the picking, as he’d seen in Nashville and Murfreesboro. Frankly, he was edgy because he’d seen no signs of either army recently. Idle armies could be bad.

John Henry had a lucid moment and began asking Jack what their chances were of safely getting to the Fontaine’s when Jack spotted a rabbit and killed it with one shot. Breakfast. It also ended the conversation.

On the way back to the cabin, the hair on the back of Jack’s neck bristled and he stopped. John Henry ran right into him. “Shush,” Jack warned, pointing ahead.

Three saddled ponies were tethered to the post before the front door of the cabin. The animals showed nothing to indicate their origin—that is, fed or secesh—but to Jack, both were bad. The riders obviously were inside the cabin.

Shoving the dead rabbit into John Henry’s arms, Jack leaped over some downed trees, slipping on the snow, but he didn’t fall. His son was in there, and Emma. Closer to the cabin, Jack heard Nathan’s cry and Emma’s soothing tones virtually drowned out by a man’s roar.

He pulled out the revolver, cocking it as he stole to the door. It wasn’t fully shut, and, with a nudge, he opened it further. Before him was a hellish scene.

Emma stood to the side, hugging Nathan to her. Her face was pale, arms wrapped tightly around the little boy who screamed, aware of the escalating tension.

Two men stood there dressed in filthy, tattered clothes that reeked of sweat, dirt and horse manure. Their oily, matted hair fell below their shoulders. Jack noticed their bloodshot eyes, weathered skin and, as they laughed, their broken yellowed teeth. Some of the country’s finest, paying a call to the neighbors.

“She’ll like it. They all do, dirty whores,” one of them snarled, throwing Tilly across the small tabletop. In a lightning swift move, he tossed her skirt up.

Tilly screamed, trying to get away, but a third man came out of the other room, his handgun pointed at Emma. He laughed.

“Don’t,” Emma whispered.

“We don’t hurt white women,” the man stated flatly.

Jack’s temper flared. Violating slaves apparently was accepted. As the girl lay there, unable to move because of the way she was spread on the table, Jack’s demons came out. For a brief time, everything seemed as raw and violent as it had been thirteen years ago.
Another cabin, another slave girl, his childhood friend, sprawled nude and just as vulnerable. Held down by two other men and her owner, demanding Jack take her…

As quickly as the memory came to him, Jack buried it again. All it took was a wail from Nathan to get his attention again. He raced in and elbowed the man in his ribs with such force that he could hear bone break. The other man holding Tilly’s arms above her head released them to grab his gun. Tilly rolled off the table as Jack raised his gun and fired, hitting the man in the shoulder.

“Drop your weapon or she gets it,” the third man ordered, cocking the gun he had pointed at Emma. But Jack kept his own weapon cocked and waited. Each man eyed the other, assessing. Jack knew he could kill the bastard, but what if he pulled the trigger when Jack’s bullet hit him? His momentary indecision made the man snort. “Yellow bellied bastard, I’m...”

Emma stared at Jack, her eyes wide with fear. Fear and a clear message. She wanted him to shoot the man. Her hand braced the back of Nathan’s head as she nodded her head slightly. In that split second, she turned away, shielding the child with her body. Outraged, the man moved to shoot her and Jack pulled his trigger. The bullet whizzed through the air, hitting the intruder between the eyes. As his body thudded to the ground, the other two men ran outside.

Jack stood there, his revolver smoking from the blast. Nothing mattered more than the two people in front of him–his son and Emma. Nathan cried, angry and upset by all the commotion. He squirmed in Emma’s embrace. Vaguely, Jack saw Tilly hurry over to the babe, her clothes righted. She took Nathan. Emma’s eyes were unblinking as she stared at him, her lips paling as blood drained from her face. Just as he reached her, she collapsed in his arms.

I cannot comprehend the madness of the times. Southern men are theoretically crazy. Extreme northern men are practical fools, the latter are really quite as bad as the former. Treason is in the air around us every where and goes by the name of Patriotism.

—Thomas Corwin to Abraham Lincoln January 16, 1861

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Jack carried Emma to her bed, laying her gently across the mattress. She laid there limp, barely breathing. His own heart thudded wildly.

“Massa Jack,” Tilly whispered behind him. Placing his son on the floor with his wooden horse, she dampened a rag and pushed Jack out of the way to place it on Emma’s head.

Jack backed out of the room, his eyes never leaving Emma. He prayed that God had heard him and would make her all right. But once out of the room, he knew he had to go after the two men.

Stepping outside the cabin, he found only one horse remained. John Henry stared at him from the trees, still holding the dead rabbit.

“Jack?”

He shook his head and went back inside, collected the body of the man he had shot and carried it outside and into the woods. The ground was too frozen to dig a grave, so he gathered tree limbs and other foliage to cover the body.

They needed to leave, before the man’s friends returned. He sighed, wiping the sweat from his brow. He didn’t want to move Emma until she woke up. His shoulder twinged, pain streaking down his arm and into his chest.
Damn
! He needed to rest himself, because if they ran into trouble on the road, he doubted he could control Goliath and shoot with only one good arm.

On his way back to the cabin, he saw Emma dash out the door and go to the side. She hugged her stomach and bent over, retching and heaving. She groaned, and, pale and trembling, wiped her mouth when done.

Jack became alarmed. Why had she been sick? He quickened his steps but stopped as Tilly walked to her, holding a tin cup. Emma took it and drank. The contents must have tasted awful because she shuddered when she finished. Handing Tilly the empty cup, Emma went back inside.

Jack’s temper flared. What the hell had that slave done? He stormed up to her. Grabbing her wrist, he twisted it, making her drop the cup.

“I told you not to give her that poison,” he snarled.

The girl cowed before him. “But she ain’t well, massa…”

“If you’ve harmed her or made her loose…” He couldn’t say the words. If the concoction made Emma abort a child, he’d kill the girl.

Tilly shook her head frantically. “No, sur, afte’ ever’thing, she’s a mite jittery.”

“What the hell are you saying?” He released her wrist.

She rubbed the reddened skin, looking at the ground. “She ain’t slept much nor ate hardly a thin’, massa.”

He closed his eyes, banking his anger. No, of course not, she’d been too upset to do either. He had hurt her anew, soon followed by witnessing the attack on Tilly and the threat to her own life. It was no wonder Emma couldn’t keep anything down, and it was all because of him.
Hell and damnation!

“She’s not with?”

She shook her head. “Nots that I’s can see.”

He nodded. Sending Tilly back inside, he returned to his father-in-law and the dead rabbit. They’d eat and let Emma rest some more. If they didn’t leave soon, though, they’d have more “visitors.” Union troops. Confederate troops. Or more “patrols” like the white trash who wandered the area, claiming to be the law while their betters were fighting. The dregs of society, with loaded guns and no one to stop them from ransacking or anything else, all in the name of the law. He flexed his shoulder and winced.

#

Emma held her hand on Nathan’s forehead and could feel the heat radiating from it. It wasn’t as bad as it had been, but still, the baby was cranky. Fortunately, Tilly’s bout with the same illness had passed, but she feared the slave’s inability to feed him enough milk wasn’t just due to her illness. He was nearly a year old, had been crawling around the cabin and had begun pulling himself by using furniture for support. He’d be walking in no time.

Emma rocked back on her heels, pressing her fingers to her temple. The light headedness and weakness that threatened was beginning to take control.

Her tension heightened when Jack walked in. She closed her eyes. Despite resolving to treat Jack as simply a helpmate while she handled most of Nathan’s needs, she still felt the pain in her heart. Did he really think she’d be able to forget what had happened between them? Or when those men had attacked Tilly and threatened Emma, the look in Jack’s eyes? Had it meant fear? Anger? Revenge? Whatever the emotion, it had frightened her.

Tilly finally convinced Emma to eat something, exclaiming in her shrill voice that if she didn’t, Nathan wouldn’t have a mother. Cringing, Emma fully felt like his mother, at least for now. The little boy couldn’t be faulted for having a deceitful father, so she tried to eat, to make herself stronger for him.

“We need to leave,” Jack stated flatly as he stood behind her.

She refused to turn. “Give me till this afternoon. He’s not as hot today, but I don’t want to leave till I think he’s well enough for the trip. It’s still cold out there.”

Jack ran his fingers through his hair. “We may not have the time to wait, my dear.”

The endearment confused her, but he had said it so casually, surely he meant nothing by it. Swallowing the knot in her throat and praying she didn’t lose her breakfast, she said, “Have you seen movement?”

“Something’s up. Too many damn hills around here, so I can’t place the sounds right,” he muttered. “Think we’re close to Thompson’s Station. We’ll stop and get some supplies, maybe see if the doc there can look at the boy, then go.

She nodded numbly. Suddenly, her ears began buzzing, but when she tried to say something, her world turned black.

#

Jack caught Emma in his arms and carried her to the other room. She was so thin, although Tilly had gotten her to eat some. He gently laid Emma on the bed and sat next to her and caressed her face. She wasn’t especially warm, but, still, she hadn’t fainted for no reason.

He relished that moment alone with her. He hadn’t realized how much he had missed touching her. Trying to protect Emma by staying away from her had hurt him every minute of the day, and it was worse at night. Without thinking, he removed the pins and braiding in her hair to better feel the silken strands. He desperately wanted to hold her, to keep her next to him. He fought the impulse to kiss her, to plunge past her lips and taste the inside of her mouth.

Her eyes fluttered open but he couldn’t read anything in them. He remained, waiting, hoping she’d accept him. At least she hadn’t screamed at him or ordered him away, but the fact remained that he was a Yankee, a murderer, a traitor and a deserter and no good for her.

And she was his angel; he prayed she was a forgiving angel and not a vengeful one. To have to live without her would be his lifelong penance.

“How are you feeling?” His voice sounded strained, on the verge of cracking.

“I’m all right.” Her reply was a shaky whisper, tinged with fear.

Fear he’d caused. He was angry with himself but also felt desire stirring because of her nearness. “Good. Rest some more, but not for long. We need to go soon. When we get to town, I want the doctor there to look at you, too.” He wanted to kiss her, to hold her in his arms again. Searching her eyes, he silently begged her to allow him. But she offered no permission in return. Slowly, he untangled his fingers from her hair, stood up and walked to the door.

Just as he reached it, he heard, “Jack.”

His heart raced as he turned.

She gave him a whisper of a smile, no more. But he was relieved by it and gave her a lop-sided grin in return. “I’ll get the wagon ready.” He left.

#

Emma bundled Nathan and placed him in Tilly’s arms. The child squirmed to get free but wound up burrowed even deeper inside the greatcoat she had on. Emma had insisted the slave wear the mammoth coat because her cotton dress wasn’t warm enough for the chilling temperature. She herself felt the bite of the wind even though she had on a long sleeve dress and had worn her three under-petticoats for added warmth. If she was lucky, a wave of heat would wash over her, as it had on the last three days. Her illness had continued, and when she tried to eat—which was difficult in itself—she barely kept anything down.

“Here, put this on,” Jack said gruffly as he shoved his wool frock coat at her.

She took the garment, muttering thanks, but he had already walked away. Anger flared anew. He should have given it to her sooner to guard her health for the sake of his son. Slipping into the warm coat, she felt better instantly, even though she cringed at wearing anything Yankee. Closing the lapels tighter, she inhaled the faint traces of Jack’s sandalwood scent. Her emotions began to battle again–her longing for Jack seeming to win the fight. If only…

Abruptly, she was lifted onto the wagon and gasped in surprise. The heat of Jack’s hands on her hips and memories of when he had touched her naked flesh came back to her in a rush. But the memories disappeared just as quickly when he sat her on the seat.

“We gotta get moving,” he said, hauling himself up next to her and picking up the reins. “I heard a large number of horses close by.” With a signal from Jack, Petey began pulling the wagon.

Jack kept the wagon to the trees, trying to remain hidden, but a buckboard traveling across leaves and sticks couldn’t help but make noise. Goliath’s lead was tied to the rear of the wagon, but he was saddled as well.

Emma gripped the seat, feeling unsteady. Jack was so close to her that her emotional barriers faltered. But he wouldn’t even look at her, leaving her torn by anger, desire and loss. She closed her eyes and fought not to cry again.

“See, ahead,” he whispered to her. “Movement in the trees and there, in the field.”

And she did see. Horsemen ran out from the trees to their right, up and away from them, whooping and hollering as they fired their weapons at a distant target. But she heard gunfire in response. It sounded close and she shuddered. Jack must’ve thought so too, and he snapped the reins to make Petey go faster.

They continued until the sounds of battle began to fade. Just as Emma started to breathe easier again, she realized their cover was gone. Jack had steered them out of the trees and down the hill to the township below.

Evening was falling as they rode into the quiet village. Emma could barely read the signs on the buildings. One she could read said, “Thompson’s Station General Store” in gold-colored paint above the door. Jack stopped the wagon and leapt off the seat.

“Stay here,” he said and walked into the store.

Emma turned to check on Nathan. He was wide awake, looking at the buildings and listening to the few people on the street. Tilly also was awake but said nothing. Emma’s father was asleep. He had been sleeping a lot recently.

Without a word, Jack came out and stepped back up onto the wagon and took them down the street to a two-storied clapboard house. A small wooden sign swung in the breeze. “Doctor Elijah Thompson” was stamped across it. Jack lifted her off the wagon, but she steeled herself against his touch.

Elijah Thompson looked up as his wife brought Emma, Nathan and Jack into his study. The man’s eyebrows rose at the unexpected intrusion. “What do we have here?”

“Dr. Thompson,” Jack stepped forward, offering his hand. “I’m Jack Fontaine. I’ve brought my wife and child. We’ve been travelin’ and they’ve both been ill. We still have a long way to go. I need you take a look at them.”

Thompson stood slowly, his legs stiff with age. He was perturbed. “Young man, now see here, I…”

“Sir,” Jack’s tone changed, dropping to almost pleading. “I need to get them home to my family in Lou’s’ana. With all the troops in the area, I fear I’m runnin’ out of time. I can’t have anythin’ happen to them. I beg you.”

The elderly doctor sighed. “Follow me.”

He took Emma and Nathan to his medical office at the right side of the house and closed the door on Jack’s face.

“Come here, little fellow,” he coaxed the child, sitting him on the table. The doctor looked at Emma. “What’s been wrong with him?”

“Slight fever and crankiness.”

The old doctor chuckled. “Your first?” When she nodded, he looked in the boy’s mouth and ears. “His teeth are comin’ in. Always a problem, especially for new parents. Here,” he handed her a small bottle after he dampened a rag with it. He made a noise at Nathan and opened his mouth. The boy mimicked his movements. “Good lad.” He rubbed the boy’s gums. “Put a dab of this on his gums. It’ll deaden the pain.” Handing Nathan a flat wooden stick to play with and placing him back on the floor, he then turned to Emma.

She bit her bottom lip as his eyes narrowed, taking in her coat.

“Your husband sounds like a good Southern boy, so you wanna tell me how you got that coat?”

She swallowed. “Found it on the road. It’s cold out, so I took to wearing it for the warmth.” He seemed skeptical.