Part 10
by Paula B and CJ
July 1863
Perryville, Kentucky
The Galindez home
0300 Hours
Victor Galindez gazed into the face of his sleeping wife. He couldn’t believe that so much had happened in the past five months.
After their long lunchtime conversation in Danville, discussing everything from her love of teaching to his flight from Mexico, they had been firmly told by the owner of the restaurant that if they continued to sit at his table, they would have to order dinner too. Instead, Victor led her outside into the cold January dusk.
"There you are." Webb’s exasperated voice finally pulled Galindez’s attention away from the schoolteacher.
"Hello, Webb. How did it go?" he had asked somewhat distractedly. Instead of answering, Webb just waited until Galindez realized his lapse. "Your pardon, Miss Rice. Clayton Webb, I would like you to meet Miss Gloria Rice. Miss Rice, Mr. Clayton Webb, a friend of mine." He looked around then. "Where’s Sarah?"
Webb grinned as Miss Rice stiffened at the mention of another woman. Gallantly, he took her hand in his. "Your servant, ma’am." He looked at his befuddled friend. Never had he seen Victor this taken with a woman. Returning his eyes to the pretty blond he answered the question. "Sarah checked into the hotel. She’s exhausted, but she wanted me to tell you to take the carriage back if you want. I’ll stay here with her."
"Oh. Well…" Victor looked down at Gloria. "How were you planning to return to Perryville?"
She blushed a bright red and looked at the ground. "I took the train, but I fear that I have no way to return. The last train left twenty minutes ago. The next train won’t be here until tomorrow at 10:00."
"Then, I will escort you home, if you don’t mind. If you fear to ride with me, I will pay for your room at the hotel."
She gasped at his suggestions. Both of them were fraught with danger. Both could ruin her reputation.
He realized what he had said and ignored the snicker from Webb. "Your pardon, senorita," he said stiffly. "I meant no disrespect."
Webb took pity on his friend. "Why don’t you two go have dinner and I’ll wake Sarah and we will all drive back to Perryville together."
"No." Gloria replied firmly. "I trust Mr. Galindez. It will not be too dark when we arrive back in Perryville.
Victor leaned back against the pillow and grinned at the ceiling in their small bedroom in their cozy little house just off the square, two doors down from where the district attorney lived. Of course, that evening the carriage had lost a wheel, and by the time they arrived in Perryville it was nearly dawn. The situation would have been disastrous had a squad of soldiers not found them and escorted them back to town. But soldiers being what they were, the whispers began almost immediately.
He quietly, properly, courted her and hadn’t asked her to marry him for almost two full months. By that time he could barely stand to be around her without crushing her to his chest and kissing her senseless. She welcomed and encouraged his advances though they had been circumspect. He never kissed her in the schoolhouse after that one time when young Bud Roberts, the Reverend’s child, had caught them. Fortunately, Mrs. Roberts had been right behind the boy and after scolding him soundly, promised that nothing further would be said.
His body shook with quiet laughter. «Who would have thought that a Reverend’s wife would be my ally in winning her?» He was proud to have the Reverend Mr. Roberts marry them in a quiet ceremony three weeks ago. He sighed. «Surely these stupid people can be made to see reason.» His euphoria dissolved as he thought about the busybodies who thought a gambler’s wife was not a good choice to teach the children of Perryville. «That woman Imes is a cackling hen of a spinster. What will we do? She deserves better than a gambler who needs to leave her for weeks at a time to earn enough money to support her.»
"Good morning." Gloria Rice Galindez sat up, leaned over and kissed her husband. "What has you so worried this morning?"
"Nothing, Querida." He stroked her golden hair, fingering the delicate strands.
Living with Victor Galindez had made her bold. Her mother had warned her to beware of men like Victor. «Oh mother, what I could have missed.» She sat up, and before he knew it, she was straddling his thighs, her hands holding his shoulders. "Tell me what is the matter."
"The school board meeting is today. They are to decide your fate. What will you do when I have to ride off to play enough poker to support us?" He sighed and didn’t tell her his major concern. «Will I play as well knowing that I am not just playing for me, but for her and any children that might come along? How will I support her if I can’t play well anymore?» His musings were cut off by her lips on his. Her breasts caressed the hair on his chest and he couldn’t help but put his arms around her and hold her tight.
She moved back just enough to position herself over his already rigid shaft. "Look at me, Victor."
"I cannot look anywhere else, Querida. You own my soul."
He caressed her breasts, teasing her nipples as she seated herself on him, causing them both to moan. He never would have thought that a schoolteacher from Missouri would take so well to love making. She was nearly insatiable. "I don’t want you roaming, Victor. Anything that another woman might do for you, I want to be that woman to you." She had told him of her father’s general practice in St. Louis. Though it shamed her mother to no end, the prostitutes from Cass Street had provided a very good living for Dr. Rice’s family. Her mother died when Gloria was only thirteen, and she had no one to keep her from listening to the women who would wait in the small vestibule of Dr. Rice’s home office. She overheard many a story about things men, evidently perfectly respectable men, wanted the whores to do to them because their wives would only just lie there until the chore was over. She told Victor it had bothered and scared her a little until the morning she awoke after their wedding night. "Victor, it was wonderful. Must we wait until tonight to do it again?"
Now she moved on him like no whore or any other woman ever had. She was completely open to any suggestion and he blushed as he remembered the way she could bring him to completion with her mouth, swallowing every drop. He leveraged his body, driving himself deep into her core causing her to arch back so far he was afraid she would fall from him. Instead, he followed her back until their positions were reversed and he covered her with his body. Resting his weight on his elbows he began to pound into her. She reached up and kneaded his shoulders and encouraged him, whispering, "Harder Victor, faster darling, oh yes, just like that." He came moaning her name as her walls clenched around him in her own joyous releases. "Oh darling, so wonderful," she breathed. "Momma was such a fool."
Victor laughed as he fell from her. "Querida, it does my ego no good for you to be thinking of your mother while making love to me."
"Silly man." She stretched under his weight. "What time is it?"
He rolled over and found his pocket watch. "7:30."
"Good. I have time to make breakfast while you wash up. Then I’ll prepare myself for the executioners axe."
"Gloria. Don’t talk like that."
She paused as she was putting on her robe and turned to look at him. "Victor, whatever happens, happens. Just promise me you won’t leave me."
He stood and took her by the shoulders. "Gloria, we’ve talked about this. I will have to leave you soon. No one in this town has enough money to gamble away for me to make a living for myself, let alone support us both. I heard there was a game in Lexington this weekend. I’ll go there and be back by Wednesday at the latest."
Her lower lip trembled. "Can’t I come with you?"
"Dear God, woman. I couldn’t play at all knowing you were in the hotel waiting for me. I would be too worried."
"I’m sorry I’m such a…"
"Don’t." He pulled her until her back rested against his chest. "We will work it out. No matter what the fools decide."
Gloria nodded and he went into the small bathroom adjacent to the house. He pumped water into the tub and sat down in the cold water. A little while later she entered the room with a large steaming kettle. "Victor. Couldn’t you wait?"
He stood up and stepped out of the tub. "I’m used to bathing in cold water. You get in and use the hot."
"You spoil me, sir." She let him pour the hot water into the tub and quickly sat down. "Go eat. Your eggs are on the back of the stove. Go before they’re ruined."
He would have preferred to stay with her, but she took such pride in fixing him a good meal that he quickly dressed in his underwear and pants. Leaving the shirt and waistcoat for later, he sat down and began to eat. He noticed she had retrieved the paper from the front stoop. The boy made sure to place it just so. Opening it up he noticed an editorial on the front page. Quickly reading it he whispered, " ¡Dios mío!"
"What’s the matter?" she said from the doorway. She was wearing her chemise, stockings and crinoline.
"Listen to what Robert Coulter wrote in his editorial today," he said before he began.
"Keep Miss Gloria as Schoolteacher. It has come to our attention that the School Board of the county of Boyle will decide today whether or not Mrs. Victor Galindez, formerly, Miss Gloria Rice, should be kept as schoolteacher of Perryville’s school. Need I point out that before Miss Rice, the town had gone through no less than four teachers since the beginning of the war. That’s four teachers in less than two years. From what we at the Sentinel have discovered, the students at Perryville’s one room schoolhouse adore Miss Gloria. ‘She's stern but very nice.’ Opined Mr. Jason Standish, Mayor Standish’s son who is set to start at Millersburg Military Academy next fall. ‘If it weren’t for Miss Gloria, I would have never understood the things I needed to pass my entrance exams. The teachers before her just ignored me. Miss Gloria worked hard with me these past six months.’
It seems to us that certain busy bodies who are obviously trying to take the place of Mrs. Sydney Walden as arbitrators of what is right in Perryville should look to Mrs. Walden’s ultimate demise. It is the position of the Sentinel that the School Board ignore what Mr. Galindez does for a living. Though, on that vein, we have been unable to find anyone who has a sharp word to say against the man, even gamblers who have been soundly beaten by him seemed to respect him. We should point out that the school board’s attempt to find another teacher to replace Miss Gloria has been woefully unsuccessful."
"Oh, my." Gloria sank into the chair next to him. "I can’t believe he wrote that."
Victor snorted, "It’s little enough. I’m surprised that Miss Imes hasn’t decided to picket the house. That fool Lindsay wouldn’t stop her."
Gloria kissed her husband. "It will be fine."
"I would go with you." He grabbed her and pulled her down onto his lap. "But I’m afraid it would cause more trouble than not."
"Thank you, Victor." She fought back the tears. She did love him so and he was so worried about her. She couldn’t make him understand that it didn’t matter what happened as long as they were together. She realized she was being a bit naïve, but they were young enough and they would find a way.
They finished their breakfast in silence and she quickly dressed in her most demur dress in a beige plaid taffeta covered by a plain black jacket with pagoda sleeves and beige piping down the front.
"You look quite the school teacher, my little wild cat." Victor kissed her chastely and watched with trepidation as she walked down to the street leading to the schoolhouse. Many parents planned on being there. He knew that most of them bore him a grudge for making their lives even more complicated than need be, but he wasn’t going to let that bother him now.
He couldn’t just sit in the house and wait for her, and though he was tired, he dressed and decided to go to the barbershop and get his hair cut. He ran his hand over his stubble and decided on the luxury of a shave too.
Donning his most conservative suit, black with a black vest and broad brimmed hat, he didn’t even think about it as he strapped his gun to his hip before walking out the front door and down to the main street.
In the time that he had been married to Gloria, he had come to recognize most of the good people of the town of Perryville. Some snubbed him, but many politely tipped their hats or nodded pleasantly, returning his greeting of ‘Good morning.’
He waited his turn at the barbershop, speaking when addressed but mostly just scanning the street through the window. He paid the barber and tipped him for a good job. Looking in the mirror, he sighed. He would need to go to that game in Lexington. He just prayed he could convince her to stay. Perhaps he could ask Mrs. Roberts if she could talk to her.
By the time he walked out onto the street the sun was high overhead. He watch confirmed it was almost 11:00. «I wonder if they are done yet? God, please make them see reason. She is a good schoolteacher.»
He was walking back down the street toward the schoolhouse «I’ll wait for her outside» when he noticed the six men ride into town. He didn’t recognize any of them but something in their manner made him very nervous. He noticed that none of them appeared to be older than twenty. «Old enough for mischief.» When he saw them get off their horses and go into the bank, he knew there would be trouble. He stood for a moment checking the positions of everyone on the street. Running forward he grabbed Mrs. Chambers and her young son. "Get inside. Quickly!" he demanded. Mrs. Chambers took one look at his face and grabbed up her son and ran into the general store. "Stay inside." he yelled at Mr. Cramer, the owner. He waved to several men to stood there staring at him until he pointed toward the bank. One ran off down the street toward the Sheriff’s office. "Where the devil are the soldiers when we need them?" He muttered as he shooed three young boys out of the way. "Go home, right this minute." The boys’ eyes grew wide and they hurried down an alley but turned to peer around the corner.
Sheriff Lindsay came running up. "What the devil is the matter with you Galindez? You causin’ trouble again?"
Victor took him by the lapels. "There is a bank robbery going on."
Lindsay scoffed and pulled himself free from Galindez’s grasp. "Nonsense. A few men go into the bank and you see trouble. Just like that fool boy that came and got the soldiers saying that Miss Cori’s place was being overrun by Confederates lookin’ for her husband."
"What!" Galindez demanded. "There aren’t any rebels within a hundred miles of here."
"Thas’ what I said. Probably just a prank. I’ll go in and settle this. You just sit real tight Galindez. Why don’t you go to the saloon and deal a hand of solitaire or somethin’." Lindsay turned and started toward the bank. He was halfway across the street when the doors burst open and six men tumbled out, one of them dragging Harriet.
"Back off, sheriff or the preacher’s wife gets it."
"Danny? Danny Walden?" Lindsay already had his gun drawn. "Son, now you put that gun away."
Danny laughed maniacally and promptly killed Lindsay, shooting him in the chest. Anyone still on the street began running and screaming. Galindez prayed they would keep everyone in the schoolhouse. Carefully, he watched as Danny pulled Harriet down the step to where the horses were. "Nobody come any closer!" he screamed.
Victor saw Reverend Roberts come running out of the church. It was now or never; he knew the little preacher would do something that would get him as dead as Lindsay. He saw Robert Coulter come out of the newspaper office, rifle in hand. He also saw Judge Thomas Boone come running up. Taking a deep breath Victor pulled his gun and took careful aim.
By the time it was all over, Danny Walden lay dead atop the whimpering Harriet. Three of the other gunmen fell under Galindez’s gun, while Coulter took out one and Boone mortally wounded the last. Victor ran up and pulled Danny off Harriet. Helping her up, he handed her over to the Reverend Mr. Roberts.
"Victor!" Gloria was in his arms, sobbing and holding onto him for dear life. "Victor, I can’t believe you did it. You saved Harriet’s life."
"Now, now, Gloria. Hush now. I’m fine. Everyone is fine except for the outlaws and Sheriff Lindsay."
"Dang fool. Should have known better." Old Judge Sebring hobbled out of his office. "Seen it all, you saved the day, young fella."
Galindez just nodded and led Gloria back to their home. She clutched at him sobbing all the way. When they were inside he gently removed her hands from around him and collapsed on the horsehair settee. Pulling her down on his lap he just held her and let the tremors finally take him. It was always like this. He always had this reaction after killing a man, but this was the first time in his life he had someone who cared and loved him to hold him while he lost control.
Gloria stared in awe as her husband began to shake. Her own fear subsided and she cooed and soothed him, caressing her fingers through his hair. "There now. Oh, baby, it’s all right now. Go on Victor, I’m here." It was nearly dark before he regained complete control and she felt she could get up from his lap. "Lands, Victor, your legs must be asleep by now."
He just laid his head against the back of the couch and watched as she bustled through to the kitchen to prepare a light meal. He was exhausted, but he dragged himself to the table and ate what she put before him. He just stared at the pattern on the oil lamp on the table in front of the dining room window while she cleared away the dishes.
"Come to bed now, Victor." She started to nudge him from the table when they heard a knock on the door. He let her go and answer it. "Mayor Standish! Judge Boone! Come in."
Tom Boone took a long look at Victor who was struggling to his feet. «Good. Can’t stand a man who can kill someone, even a rat like Danny Walden, and not feel the pain of the death.» "Evenin’ Mizz Galindez. Can we have a word with your husband?"
Gloria gazed evenly at the two men. "Are you here to give him any trouble about shooting those men?"
"Trouble, ma’am? Now I would be in the same trouble, now wouldn’t I?" Tom Boone reminded her. "No. We just want to talk with him. You sit down too."
"I can put on some coffee."
"Lord, child, if I have another cup of coffee I'll explode." Howard Standish walked over to the table and sat down across from Victor. Tom Boone motioned for Gloria to precede him to the table. He waited until she sat between Victor and Standish before taking the chair across from her. Tom looked at Howard, who nodded for him to take the lead.
Boone cleared his throat. "First off. No matter what comes of tonight, Mizz Galindez, I’ve been told to tell you that until such time when you have a baby or until you decide to leave, you are the school teacher of Perryville."
"Oh, thank you, Judge Boone." Gloria reached out and clutched Victor’s hand. "But that’s not why you are here, is it?"
"No. We could have told you tomorrow. The city council had an emergency meeting. Heard from those fool soldiers that ran hell bent for leather out to Miss Cori’s place. Damnedest thing I ever did hear. Why would rebels want to hurt Miss Cori?"
Even though it was obviously a ploy by the bank robbers, Gloria thought she might know why rebels or rebel sympathizers might attack Miss Cori, but she kept her mouth shut. No one had said a word to her, but she recognized the signs of a well-run station on the Underground Railroad. But she didn’t want to know the details, not yet. Once everything was settled she would drop subtle hints to Harriet Roberts that she was willing to help. She had her own problems to deal with right now.
"Anyway," Tom Boone continued, "the council was called because we are now without a sheriff." The three men exchanged glances but no one said what was on all their minds. «Good riddance»
Galindez stared at the two men. "What does that have to do with me?"
"You handled yourself well. I spoke with Harmon Rabb. He heard everything you did. Miss Peterson ran into his office when you waved her off the street. I like the fact that you took care of the townspeople before you thought about takin’ on those bank robbers."
"If they hadn’t had Senora Roberts, I would have let them go and then chased after them."
"Exactly!" Standish finally spoke. "Shows some sense. Not like the idiot Lindsay. You tried to keep the people safe, but when you had no choice…Lord son, I ain’t seen shootin’ like that for a long spell. We want you to take the job. Pays a dollar a day, plus the room over the jail. Seein’ you’ve got a nice place here, we can give you an extra five dollars a month and put Deputy Young up there and save some money on his room at Mrs. Stiles. That sound okay to you?"
Before he could answer, Boone nudged Standish who sighed. "Oh, and we know you make more than that gamblin’. Well I guess if you can keep the peace and have a friendly card game now and then nothin’ will be hurt." He sighed. "'Course that fool woman Caroline Imes is gonna raise a fuss."
Gloria stood. "Gentlemen, we thank you for your news and your offer. I think Victor needs to sleep on it. He’ll be down to see you in the morning. Right Victor?"
"Si. Thank you gentlemen. Thank you for keeping Gloria in her job." He rose from the table. "I will consider your offer."
After turning down the lights, Gloria took Victor’s hand and led him back to the bedroom. She had never seen him like this and it only made her love for him grow. He truly needed her. Gently, she pulled his coat from him. Studying it carefully, she shook it out and laid it over the back of the chair by the window. "I’ll give it a good brushing tomorrow." She turned to see him working the buttons of his vest. Slapping his hands away she carefully removed it too and placed it on top of the coat. When she was done he stood before her naked. "Get into bed, husband."
She started to turn down the oil lamp but he stopped her. "No. I like to watch you undress."
Her skin flushed in the lamplight but she slowly took off her dress. She had removed the jacket long ago. Taking the time to hang it up, she finally stood before him in her chemise and bloomers. The first time he had asked her to do this, two nights after their wedding she had barely been able to comply, but now the look of appreciation in his eyes made her feel cherished and very naughty. She found she liked feeling a little naughty around him.
When she, too, was naked, he reached out his hand to her, and she joined him on the bed. They made love, touching, caressing and kissing until passion overtook them. He nestled between her thighs and gently pushed home. She held him tight, wrapping her legs around his back. They came together, and when they were spent, he rolled off of her, bringing her with him to rest on their sides. They fell asleep wrapped in each other's arms, knowing that everything would work out.
15 November 1863
Perryville, Kentucky
Wallace horse farm
2130 hours
Cordelia noticed that the troops had been exceptionally busy for the last week. She saw little of AJ during the day. He disappeared early in the morning and returned just before dinner each day. At night, in their bedroom, he loved her with a fierce passion, embracing her tightly, even in his sleep. Cordelia blushed at the memory of their bodies melded together.
"You're smiling about something. What is it?" AJ asked as he watched her brush her hair before coming to bed.
"I was thinking about you loving me, touching me," Cordelia smiled and joined AJ on the bed
«I must tell her tonight. I leave before dawn. But how do I tell her good-bye when I know I may never return?» AJ had received his orders to join Generals Grant and Thomas outside Chattanooga in an attempt to free the city, where Union armies were trapped by Bragg's Confederates. «Bragg is arguably the worst officer in the Confederate Army, but he's had a stroke of luck in Chattanooga.»
Cordelia wore the lace nightgown she had worn on their wedding night. «The night our bodies first fused like molten metal. His love has burned like a fire in my heart -- and in my belly -- since that day.» Beneath the blankets and quilts of their bed, her body found his. She knew that even in the bitter cold, he would be naked, waiting for her love. She pressed against him. "When must you leave, AJ?"
Staring at her in amazement, AJ stammered, "You know?"
"The men have been careful, but I can see that you are preparing to leave. I knew I could not hope to have you here forever while the war rages on elsewhere. As the wounded have healed and returned to their homes, leaving only the pitiful souls who may never recover, I have watched the forces stationed here dwindle. I expected that you would leave soon." Cordelia swallowed. "Dreaded your leaving, but expected it, nonetheless. You are loath to leave me, yet you long to join the fight once more."
"You are too observant for your own good, " AJ murmured.
"When must you leave, AJ?" Cordelia repeated.
Gazing sorrowfully into her eyes, AJ whispered, "Tomorrow. Before dawn."
Cordelia batted away tears. "So soon?" She touched his face. "I am greedy. You have been here in Perryville for more than a year. We have had the first eight months of our marriage unimpeded by the war. I know that you have chafed against remaining here with the sick and wounded while others left to join the fight, but I have found every day a blessing."
"It is I who has been blessed. I never thought to find such love," AJ stated.
"I know it is your duty, and that you would never shirk such a noble responsibility. But you must write me when you can, AJ, even if it is only a sentence or two, so that I may know you are still alive," Cordelia smiled weakly. "I cannot bear the thought of you dying, but even harder to bear is the possibility that you should die alone, or in some prison hospital. It is foolish for me to say 'be careful' as you leave to fight a war, but be wise my love. Come home to me." Her body melted into his as their lips met in a kiss.
With gentle intensity, AJ touched her, his hands roving over her body as he lifted the nightgown over her head to reveal her nakedness. He hesitated, memorizing her features one last time. Cordelia waited patiently, allowing him to take in every nuance. Finally, he gazed into her eyes and she whispered, "Love me." She raised her hips to his, guiding him into her wetness. She held him tightly as their bodies began to crash together. As always, Cordelia felt the burning power of their coupling, but their bodies fused as he pulsed inside her with an urgency she had never felt before. They seemed suspended in time, forgetting briefly the war, his leaving, allowing everything to fall away except that which their senses realized with such urgency.
Strangely silent, as if their voices might break the spell of their love, they touched.
AJ kissed Cordelia, his lips sealing her mute cries of passion. She arched against him and wrapped her legs around him, loving him with abandon. Their breathing, ragged in the stillness of the night, pounded in their ears just as their blood rushed to the frantic beating of their hearts. He arched his back, threw his head back in a mask of ecstasy and spilled into her. He began to roll to her side, but she pulled him to her with a fierce passion. Holding her, he rolled onto his back, taking her with him. She lay on top of him, holding him inside her as they fell asleep in each other's arms.
24 December 1863
Chattanooga, Tennessee
A church
2330 hours
AJ sat in the balcony and stared at the box in front of him. «My own Christmas miracle.» He marvelled at Cordelia's ability to find him in this war. She had sent him three new pair of long johns in the month-and-a-half he'd been gone. This package, her Christmas gift, had arrived earlier that week with a letter instructing him to open the package, if at all possible, near midnight on Christmas Eve. That way, even if they could not be together, she could be thinking of him as he opened her gift. He sighed and waited for the bells of the church to ring. As he waited, he listened to the people in the church below sing.
Finally, the bell struck and AJ began to open the package. It was a gold pocket watch. « She must have received my letter.» When he last wrote her, he told her that his watch had been broken. «What I didn't tell her was that the cause had been a bullet.» It had ricocheted off the watch, leaving him only a bruise instead of a wound. His thoughts returning to the present, he opened the door over the face and read the inscription. It was from the Book of Common Prayer, "Give peace in our time, O Lord." On the back was a second opening, a locket. Inside he found a lock of hair tied in a dark blue ribbon clipped into one side and photograph of Cordelia in the other. He touched the picture as if to touch her face. There was also a letter in the box. He propped the watch open so that he could see her picture and held the letter near his face, breathing deeply, hoping to catch some of her scent on the paper. Then he began to read.
My Dearest Husband,
I pray this finds you safe and well. And if it is not too much to ask, somewhere warm in such a cold winter. The war seems to rage all around us, but somehow, miraculously, we have been spared since that battle that brought you to me. I have several quilts that I plan to send to the north as soon after Christmas as possible. Reverend Roberts will be taking them, as usual.
The brood mares remain healthy, so this spring should bring a fine group of foals for the stables. I trust that Ares and Hercules continue to serve you well. I do believe that they are the finest horses ever bred on this farm, at least in my memory. Your horse, Admiral, seems in fine condition and I would like to breed him this spring. He may be tired of battle, be he will make a strong addition to the studs available here on the farm. I suppose I shall need to think up nautical names for his progeny, and break from the mythical names that have been a tradition here for so long.
Lucy sends her best wishes and says that she thinks you would rather she sent fried chicken. I don't know what I would do without her these past weeks. I grow tired quite easily. I suppose that is only natural. My Love, I give you yet another reason to return home safely: your child should know his father.
I must rest now, but know that whenever you read this, be it near midnight Christmas Eve or any other time, I am thinking of you, for I think of you always.
Yours forever,
Cordelia
AJ blinked. «My child?» He grinned and held the letter to his chest for a moment, then slipped his hand into the inner pocket of his jacket. He pulled out a simple leather wallet in which he kept her letters. «So many.» He smiled. He suspected that Cordelia wrote him every day, although a few letters were missing. He was happy to receive each letter that reached him, counting each one a miracle. He opened the letter briefly to re-read it before tucking it away in the wallet to protect it. «I will come home to you, Cordelia. To you and to our child.»
10 June 1864
Perryville, Kentucky
The Wallace horse farm
1430 hours
"Read me the letter, Lucy," Cordelia panted. "Read it to me now."
Lucy gave Cordelia a questioning look. Dr. Sloane glanced from one woman to another. "Now is not the time," he said sternly. "And how is it that she knows how to read? It is illegal to teach coloreds to read."
"It was necessary that Lucy learn to read. She helps me with my work. Don't be a silly old man," Cordelia chastised. "Read it, Lucy. I cannot do it myself right now and I will wait no longer to hear his words. Read the letter to me."
Dr. Sloane nodded, acquiescing. "Perhaps it will soothe her."
Lucy began to read aloud.
My Dearest Cordelia, There is little I can tell you except that I love you. I watch daily as men sink farther from humanity. Such cruelty and devastation I have never imagined. But I am safe, as the Union continues to hold the upper hand in this venue. I fear the long-term effects of such wanton destruction will haunt our nation long after the war is finished, and we are united once more. But I will speak no more of sadness.
You ask me for a boy's name. Are you so sure our child is not a girl? I would choose the name Thomas in honor of General George Thomas, with whom I serve. I dare say, you met him at Perryville, where he commanded a division. The newspapers call him "The Rock of Chickamauga" for his bravery in that battle, where, when most of the Union troops fled back toward Chattanooga, he continued to fight. He rallied the left wing and defended Snodgrass Hill even though the enemy outnumbered him two to one. I fought by his side at Missionary Ridge. He is a brave and good man, a fine namesake for our son. If you must use Albert, take it as a middle name, Thomas Albert Chegwidden.
But if our child should be a girl, whatever do you plan to name her? Have you even considered such a possibility?
I pray that I will see you both soon.
With all my love, forever,
AJ
Lucy had screamed most of the letter so that Cordelia might hear it over her own screams. The room seemed to fall silent suddenly, and then was filled with a baby's crying. Dr. Sloane cleaned the child, swaddling it, and placed the bundle in Cordelia's arms. "Your son, Mrs. Chegwidden."
"Your father's letter seems to arrived just in time, Thomas," Cordelia grinned.
20 November 1864
Perryville, Kentucky
Just outside the home of Harmon Rabb
0033 hours
She stood there staring at the door of the small house. It was late and but there was a warm glow coming from the front window. Tess Coulter sighed and turned away. Perhaps it would be better to just wake up her mother.
"Is there a problem, senorita?"
She jerked around and gasped at the strange man standing before her. The path leading to Harmon Rabb’s house was dark and she could barely make out his form let alone his features.
"Easy, senorita. I’m the sheriff here."
"Sheriff? What happened to Sheriff Lindsay?"
"Lindsay’s been dead for over a year. Could you step out into the light, senorita? Senor Rabb is not home yet."
"Not home. Why it’s after midnight."
"Si. But he works late these nights." Tess could hear the sadness in the man’s voice.
"I’m an old friend of Mr. Rabb’s," she said as she stepped back out onto the street. The glow of the street lamp showed her the handsome man’s features. "Tess Coulter, she stuck out her hand."
Victor Galindez stared at it a moment then took her small hand in his. "I’ve heard much about you, senorita. I read your dispatches whenever they appear in the Sentinel."
Tess Coulter could only stare at him in disbelief. She had left over a year and a half ago to accept the correspondent’s position that Maxwell Anderson of the New York Sun had offered her via telegram. He had seen the article covering the trial of Mrs. Cordelia Wallace and advised T. Coulter that the Sun was very interested in hiring ‘him.’ As far as Tess knew, Anderson still didn’t realize that one of his best war correspondents was a woman.
She hadn’t been surprised by her father’s angry reaction. He had made it perfectly clear that women had no place in reporting more than purely social news. In fact, she had been rather surprised that Robert Coulter hadn’t shot off an angry telegram to Anderson asking the editor to fire her. He hadn’t, and she had seen more in the past eighteen months than she had been prepared to see. She sighed audibly and thought, «So many dead. So much destruction.» Finally giving the sheriff the attention he deserved she asked, "My father runs my articles in the Sentinel?"
"Si. He speaks quite highly of you. He has become quite the radical. He even published an editorial in favor of my wife continuing to teach after we were married."
"Why wouldn’t the wife of the town sheriff continue to teach?"
"Ah, because at the time, I wasn’t the town sheriff." When Tess didn’t say anything his grin grew. "I was just an itinerant gambler when we married."
"Oh."
"Victor?"
They turned toward the voice coming down the street. "Good evening, Senor Rabb."
"Is something the matter?"
"No. You have a visitor. I wasn’t sure how long you would be."
"Hello, Harm."
"Tess?" There was awe and sadness and something else there that she heard.
"Thank you for waiting with me, Sheriff."
Victor said his good nights and walked off down the street.
"Tess. It’s really you?"
"Yes. And I’m very cold. There was no stove on the train, I discovered the hotel burned down two months ago and I am loathe to wake mother and father this late at night." She sniffed in the cold November air.
«Why did she come back here. I can’t bear the thought of her pitying me.» "So. Did you get your fill of adventure?" He couldn’t keep the bitterness from his voice. He didn’t hear her answer though he was sure she had said something. That wasn’t like him not to pick up on the least little sound.
She had just managed to swallow her sob. She wouldn’t cry in front of him. She wouldn’t tell him of the things she had seen. She hadn’t let General Grant see her cry, she wouldn’t let Harmon Rabb hear her.
"Well, come in. Maisy probably left my dinner on the stove as well as the kettle. I’ll warm you up. I have a spare bedroom. I’ll send for Maisy."
"Why?" She followed him into the neat little house.
"Well, you know. So that you aren’t here by yourself with me. Your reputation."
Tess groaned. "Oh, Harm. What reputation? In the past 18 months I’ve slept with 10,000 thousand men without a…" Suddenly hearing her words, she stumbled. "Oh I meant…"
Rabb laughed softly. "I knew what you meant." She watched in fascination as he carefully lit the fire in the kitchen hearth. "I’ll make the tea now."
"May I? It’s been so long since I did something so wonderfully simple like make a cup of tea on a stove for myself."
"You sound wistful, Tess." Through all the years that they had known each other, Tess Coulter had never lied to Harmon Rabb. She couldn’t now. The tears of exhaustion and regret that she had been fighting since she stepped off the train finally broke free. Instantly he was by her side. "Tess? What’s wrong. Tell me."
"Oh, God, Harm, it was so terrible." The sobs shook her and all he could do was hold her. Carefully, he moved them back until he was sitting in the large overstuffed chair near the hearth. He held her like a baby and soothed her the best he could. As her sobs subsided she began again. "You can’t imagine how bad it was, Harm."
He brought his hands up and rubbed the tears from her cheeks. "Water isn’t supposed to be red, but the Creek at Chickamauga was that morning of September 19. Red where you could see the water, though it was hard with all the bodies piled high upon each other. Blue and gray united again in death. Doctors and corpsmen waded through the teeming dead to reach the living. Often the only way they find them was by a feeble moan that could barely be heard over the incessant buzzing of tens of thousands of flies." He paused for a moment. "Joshua read that to me after the battle."
"Oh, God," she moaned. "I thought that was what I wanted, Harmon. I can’t go back."
He gently pushed her off his lap and stood. "You’re exhausted. I’ll show you the bed." He led her into the bedroom next to his. "I’ll be right next door."
"Please," she whispered.
"What, Tess?"
"Please don’t leave me."
He sighed. "Tess."
"Damn it, Harm." She knew he was shocked by her tone and her language. As quickly as she had burst into tears, hysterical laughter seized her. "Your pardon, Mr. Rabb. My language is…" Once again he was next to her, this time shaking her gently until she stopped laughing. "I’m sorry. Go on. I’ll be fine."
He went to his room, pulled off his jacket, vest and shirt. Kicking off his boots he then pulled off his wool pants. Leaving his long underwear on he stretched out on top of the counterpane covering his bed and let the night sounds converge on him. He was used to the sounds of his small house. Maisy had stoked the stove in the living room so the whole house was warm – for now. He knew as the night wore on and the coals died down the cold would seep through the cracks at the windows and doors and it would be too cold. «I should find her another blanket.» He went to the cupboard and found a quilt that his mother had finished last year. He had just reached her door when he heard the low moans. Gently pushing open the door he entered the room.
"Please don’t die. Oh please. No. No. No." By the time her voice had reached a scream he was sitting next to her holding her to his chest.
"Who was it?" Harm asked. «Did she finally find someone else? And then he died?»
Tess leaned into him, shaking as she sobbed. "A soldier. A boy, really. He said he was sixteen, but he wasn't. He cried for his mama before he died. That's how I found out that he was really just fourteen; I took his belongings back to her."
"Just fourteen. Are they so desperate that they will take a soldier as young as that?" Harm shook his head in disbelief.
"Harm, this war is such a tragedy. I can't help but think our nation may never recover from it." Tess had stopped crying, but she still trembled in his arms. "No one, nothing will be the same ever a gain." As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them.
"Some may recover more than others," Harm said bitterly.
Tess heard the anger in his voice, the venom in his words. She turned on him. "Harmon Rabb, how dare you? How much has your life changed? You make a fine living; you're well-respected in this town. You aren't dependent on anyone else. You have your life. You've only been denied what you refuse to allow yourself to enjoy."
"I cannot see, Tess. Only dark shapes in very bright light," Harm whispered.
Tess brought her hand up to slap him. He caught her wrist before she made contact. "There you go. How did you know?"
Pausing to consider her question, Harm said, "I heard your clothes rustle, I felt your hand disturb the air."
"You may not see, but your other senses are so acute. You have suffered a great loss, Harmon, yet you go on living, but denying yourself the life you deserve," Tess hissed angrily.
"The life I deserve? With you? With anyone? How could I take on the responsibility of a family? I'm blind, Tess." The anger in Harm's voice combined with pain. "What kind of husband can I be? What kind of father?"
"A living one. More of a husband and father than many wives and children will have after this war is over." Tess had begun to sob again and under her breath she muttered, "And the only husband I have ever wanted."
"What did you say?" Harm asked, in his anger barely hearing her comment. «Can it be possible? Could she still want me?»
Tess wiped the tears out of her eyes. "Let me be Harm, I'm tired. I'm saying things I shouldn't."
"The last thing you said Tess, tell me again. I could barely hear you," Harm pleaded.
"I said that you would be a living husband and father, which is more than many wives and children will have after this war is over." Tess enunciated each word carefully.
"And after that? What did you say?" Harm prodded gently.
«He heard that. Damn, I was so angry, I forgot how well he hears.» Tess hesitated.
"Did you say that I was the only husband you ever wanted?" Harm whispered.
Tess closed her eyes and nodded. Then laughed, realizing that he couldn't see her. "Yes. That's what I said," she whispered.
"After all this time, you found no one else?" Harm voiced the words just loud enough for her to hear.
Tess took a deep breath, then answered, "I never looked, Harm. You were everything I ever wanted for as long as I can remember."
The frustration in his words stung her as Harm spoke, "But I can't see. Don't you understand?"
"Harmon Rabb. Your blindness matters a hell of a lot more to you than it does to me. Don't you wince at my language. It needs to be said. You have your life, and it's a good one, as far as lives go. Could it be better?" Tess laughed. "Damn it, yes. And it would be if you'd get over feeling sorry for yourself and marry me instead of being a fool, and a blind fool at that, damn you!" This time she slapped him before he could stop her.
Tess expected him to be angry. She knew he'd never strike her, but she was waiting for the words to fly. Instead, Harm laughed.
"Harmon Rabb, are you laughing at me?" Tess railed. She opened her mouth to scream at him again only to have his lips cover hers in a passionate kiss.
When she finally quieted, Harm spoke, "I'm laughing at me, Tess. All this time I was afraid you felt sorry for me, that that was the reason you still wanted to marry me. I just realized that isn't true. You're mad at me, not sorry for me. I've never been so happy to be around you when you're angry."
"Sorry for you?" Tess repeated. "I was worried when you first came back. But then you seemed to start back almost as if nothing had happened. Except for me, you didn't want me any more." Tess was crying again.
"I have always wanted you, Tess Coulter. Always. Even now, when I can't remember what most things look like, I can see your face clearly in my mind's eye." Harm kissed her again and wrapped his arms around her. "I have always loved you."
"Then don't push me away, Harm," Tess cried.
Harm pulled her into his lap and turned her face up to kiss her. "Never again." With his right hand he explored her face, his fingers running over her cheek, her temple and finally her forehead. He touched her eyebrows and gently passed over her eyelids. He followed the slope of her nose then traced her lips.
"What are you doing?" Tess breathed.
"I'm looking at your face," Harm smiled. He leaned forward to kiss her eyelids. His hand travelled down her neck, feeling the hollow of her throat then her shoulder blades, wavering back and forth over the fragile bones. Finally, his hands dropped lower, cupping her breasts.
Tess had already begun to release the bodice of her dress. She let it fall over her shoulders then took Harm's hands in hers, placing them on her uncovered breasts. He drew a sharp breath as he felt the silky warmth of her breast. He could feel her dimpled aureolae and the taut buds of her nipples between his fingers. He stopped abruptly.
"We shouldn't, Tess. Not yet. It isn't right," Harm protested.
Covering his mouth with her hand, Tess whispered, "I have always belonged to you. We are wedded in our souls. Don't make me wait any longer, Harmon Rabb. Make me yours in body and in soul." She leaned forward, her mouth meeting his in a kiss before she guided his lips to her breasts.
Suckling her nipples, Harm let his hands drift to release the remaining buttons of her dress and petticoats. Deftly, he set her body free and began to explore. Tess was patient as his fingers, then his lips, gently touched and prodded her body, finding secret places to which he could return and bring her pleasure. He rubbed the silky curls that covered her sex between his fingers, then parted her lips and stroked her tender flesh. Her body was warm and he could smell the sweet flavor of her before his tongue dipped into her wetness to taste her juices. He listened carefully to her breathing, noting each catch of her breath and repeating every touch that seemed to please her.
Tess rested in his arms, enjoying the warmth of his body, but she was eager to share his exploration. She peeled off the woolen material of his long johns, exposing his flesh to her touch. She shivered in the cold and Harm pulled the blanket he had brought with him over her, wrapping her in both the heavy quilt and his arms as he pulled her back onto the bed. He let her guide him inside her, his fingers touching her face to know her expression, to sense her response. Slowly, he began to thrust as she hovered over him. Keeping one hand on her face, Harm let the other stray, teasing her breasts, pinching her nipples gently as Tess moaned softly. She pressed her palms against his chest, bracing herself as she rocked against him. The years of pent-up passion surged through them both and his thrusts became more forceful and her rocking more frantic until together, they screamed their release then lay quietly in each other's arms.
March 20, 1865
New Orleans, LA
Early Evening
Sarah was most unhappy and Webb knew it. Leaning in toward her he whispered. "You can stay in Natchez and I’ll do it."
Any other time such a suggestion would have brought a snort of derision at best; a stern lecture more likely. In fact, since that fateful day over ten years ago when he had given her his key to his set of rooms in New Orleans, Clayton Webb never again suggested that Sarah MacKenzie go anywhere that she didn’t want to go.
Now, she just leaned into him and laid her head on his shoulder. "I’ll be fine." She whispered. "Just, please."
Kissing the top of her head he promised, "I won’t leave your side."
"Thank you."
The carriage ride from Biloxi had been silent. They stopped for the night at an inn midway between the two towns held by Union forces. They carried papers that would get them past the soldiers. No one else had cared enough to ask. Arriving in New Orleans at dusk, Webb took them through the last checkpoint on Decatur Street.
"I know a hotel, sweetheart. We’ll rest up there and then go to Antoine’s. Maybe he'll be there tonight and we can leave."
"Clay." She started, but then fell silent as he turned down St. Anne.
"What?" He followed her gaze and stopped the horse outside the huge Cathedral. "Sarah?"
"Nothing. I…I just spent a lot of time here."
"Here. At the St. Louis Cathedral?"
"Yeah, Clay, even whore’s daughters…"
"Hey." He took her hand. "That’s not what I meant. I’m just surprised. You’ve never mentioned going to church."
"I’m sorry. It’s just there was this priest." She shrugged. "Momma always made sure one of the Negro women took me to the Creole service that Father Anthony held early Sunday mornings. Momma would never have got up that early, but she made me."
Webb took a deep breath. Something inside fell into place. Hiding his grin, then thinking she might kill him for what he was about to do, he quickly alighted from the carriage, tied the reins at the hitching post and reached out his hand to her. "Let's go inside."
"Clay." She stared at him.
"Come on. This is the first place in New Orleans that you’ve mentioned without any venom in your voice. Let’s go inside. Maybe your Father Anthony is still here."
"Clay." She whispered as they entered the church. "I don’t have any head covering."
"Well we can’t allow that to stop you from praying to God, my child." They turned to find an elderly priest coming out of one of the chapels just before the nave. He disappeared for a moment and then returned with a lacy white scarf. "Here my child."
Sarah just stood there holding the scarf. She was surprised when Clay reached up and untied the knot at her throat and pulled the light cloak form her shoulders.
"May I help you, my children?"
"I’m, we’re looking for Father Anthony." Sarah whispered.
"Ah. I’ll be right back."
"Clay." Sarah started again, but let him lead her into the church. He paused to dip his hand into the font and cross himself. She repeated his movements. "I didn’t know you were Catholic."
He shrugged. "Mother was. A traveling priest married them two years after Reverend Jacobs married them. She took me to church in Bardstown a few times. And she always had Father…." He closed his eyes in thought, "Paul for dinner. I – I wish I had found a priest to give her the last rites when she was dying."
A priest, perhaps in his fifties came up to them.
She blushed under his gaze. "Hello, Father Anthony."
"Sarah? Of course. You look just like her, you know."
"Who?" Sarah gasped. "My mother?" «How would a priest know my mother? She NEVER went to church.»
Clay watched the interplay, but said nothing. He almost gave up the idea that had hit him as soon as they had spotted the Cathedral. «No! There’s always a reason.» Clearing his throat, he took the lace from her clenched hands and lovingly placed over her thick curls. "Marry me, Sarah. Tonight."
"Wha…" She started, but his fingers on her lips stilled her protest.
"No more excuses. There is never enough time, or there’s never a priest or minister when there is enough time. Well, now we have a little time and there’s a priest – a priest who knows you – and a very fine church. Marry me Sarah. Right now. Right here."
"But Clay, we have no witnesses."
"Oh, I’m sure Mr. and Mrs. Decker will stand up with you." Father Anthony pointed to the couple in a pew halfway down in the otherwise deserted church. "They come in every night to pray that their only son returns from the war. Shall I ask them?"
Trembling, Sarah walked toward one of the many statues. When she felt Clay’s hands on her shoulders she didn’t flinch. "Sarah?"
"You know you don’t have to do this, Clay." Her voice trembled with emotions she could even begin to sort out.
Gently he turned her around. "Do you love me Sarah?"
"You know I do. Don’t you?" Then she leaned in and chastely kissed him. "All right, Clayton." «Dear God in Heaven. I can’t believe this. What if…» She nodded and took his hand.
And so, under the light of a dozen candles and with only a couple they had never met before as witnesses, Clayton Webb and Sarah MacKenzie finally legalized a union that had begun almost twenty years ago outside a whorehouse not three blocks from where they were standing.
"You may kiss the bride." Father Anthony solemnly intoned. The priest kept his sad smile to himself as memories of an earlier union flooded in on him. After the Deckers walked out of the church he reached out and touched Webb’s shoulder.
Webb, who still held Sarah in his arms, though he was just staring into her bright eyes, wondering how he had finally got what he wanted, almost didn’t look at the priest.
"You know, you still have to sign the register. And, no marriage is complete until we toast the bride."
"Very well, Father, but a quick toast." Webb sighed. He longed to get her to the hotel and make love to her. It had been a while; the past month had been hectic and frightening and fraught with danger. . Most nights they collapsed in total exhaustion. Last night had been the first night in a week they actually slept in a bed. Tonight, perhaps they would find out who had blown their cover and what Chegwidden planned on doing about it.
Father Anthony led them back to the vestry. After Sarah and Clay both signed the heavy book, they turned around to find the priest standing there with a cut glass decanter and three glasses on a tray. "Madeira. I received my last bottle before the war."
"Father, we don’t want to…" Clay gallantly tried to refuse the offer.
"No, no. I insist." He set the tray on a small table and carefully poured out the ruby liquid into the glasses. The candlelight seemed to dance in the depths of the fine wine as he handed them each a glass. "To Mr. and Mrs. Webb." They all drank. "The circle has been completed."
Clay sipped again but Sarah just stared at the priest. There was something in his eyes that told her the second toast wasn’t just a polite little platitude. "What did you mean by that?" she asked quietly.
Webb looked at her in surprise. He had read nothing into the priest’s salute.
Father Anthony cocked his head. "Why child, I married your mother and Joe MacKenzie nearly thirty-five years ago, this very month, I believe."
Webb barely had time to put his glass down, grab hers and catch her before she swooned. In all the years he had known Sarah MacKenzie she had never fainted.
"Oh, dear." Father Anthony whispered. He helped Webb lower her to the settee in the corner.
Kneeling next to her, Webb gently rubbed her hand. "Sarah, honey. Come back to me now."
Her eyes fluttered open and for a moment she looked around unsure of where they were. But when she spotted the priest again, she began to shiver violently. Webb sat next to her on the couch and hugged her shoulders. "There, now. Baby, it's okay. Come on, Sarah, take a few deep breaths."
When she had calmed down sufficiently, Webb was afraid he would have to minister to the priest who was pacing back and forth. "Oh dear. I thought you knew."
"Knew. I never even knew my mother was married to my father."
"What?" The priest stopped and stared at her. "She never told you?"
"Never. She refused to speak of him. The other pro…women who she lived with…"
Father Anthony waved his hand dismissively. "The other prostitutes. I knew what she became, Sarah. I realize now that I failed her worse than even I thought I had. I am so very sorry, child."
"You knew my father?"
Father Anthony shrugged. "He was the son of Caleb MacKenzie, one of the richest men in New Orleans before he lost everything, including his life, in the fire of 1825. Young Joe tried hard to rebuild the family fortune but he wasn’t as strong or as ruthless as his father. He married your mother, and then ten months later died in the cholera epidemic. You were born a month after that. I begged your grandmother to forget her daughter’s foolish stubbornness, but she always felt that your mother married too far above her." He paused his pacing and asked, "Did your mother never take you to see your grandmother?"
Sarah could only shake her head.
Father Anthony sighed. "Clara Dubeaux owned a boarding house over on Canal. She could have taken you both in. The good people in this town are very unforgiving and things were very bad in New Orleans then. Your mother refused charity, it would have meant giving you up."
"What happened to my grandmother?" Sarah angrily struggled out of Clay’s gentle grasp to stand and face the priest. "Is she still alive? I think perhaps…"
Father Anthony glanced at Clay who had stood with her. "No child, she died when you were still living at Del’s place. I asked your mother if she wanted to attend the funeral but she laughed in my face."
"Good! Good for her." Sarah said with tears streaming down her face. "I wish dear Grandmama was still alive. I would have like to shown her what she missed. Stupid, stupid…" She collapsed against Clay’s shoulder and let the tears fall. "Oh God, Clay."
"Hush now. Its over and it doesn’t change anything. You are still who you are." He kissed her hair. "You want to go find her grave and throw stones at it?"
She laughed softly then reached up and kissed him quickly. "No. Just do we have time to go to the hotel, before…" She left the rest of the sentence trail. They were supposed to meet Chegwidden at midnight at Antoine's. She wanted to wash and change before going into the bastion of New Orleans society.
They walked out into humid night air. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close. "Well, Mrs. Webb may I escort you to our hotel?"
She allowed him to help her into the carriage. She couldn’t help but stifle a yawn. "That would be nice. Where are we staying?"
"Carlton House."
She straightened up. "Clay. That’s the most expensive hotel in New Orleans."
"Well, it is our honeymoon." He took her hand and in the light cast by the gas lamps she saw the smirk that often infuriated her but sometimes thrilled her.
"What else aren’t you telling me?" she demanded.
"Well last night, after you went to sleep…"
She sighed. "You didn’t."
He shrugged. "I couldn’t sleep and they really did need a fourth."
"How much?"
"A little over $400.00."
"Well then, Mr. Webb. Lead the way to Carlton House." She grew silent then as he drove the carriage up St. Anne to Bourbon Street. He handed the reins to the boy out front and led her into the lobby. For the first time he boldly signed Mr. & Mrs. C. Webb without cringing because it was a lie he loathed telling.
"Your very best room, please," he insisted.
"Yes, sir."
The porter carried their travel stained bags upstairs.
"Oh, my." Sarah breathed when she saw the room. "Oh, Clay. It has a separate bath. Look!"
"Well I’ll be." Webb flung his hat on the chair and walked into the tile-lined room. Good God." At the timid knock at the other door in the bath, Webb called, "Come in?"
"Evenin’ ma’am, sir." The young woman said as she dragged a heavy steaming kettle inside. "I’ll do this for you. She began to pump water into the tin tub. Sarah and Webb just stood there in awe.
"You know, I read about this in Harpers last month. The Tremont in New York has bathrooms on every floor of their hotel now."
"Well, we gots them on the first floor and in all the suite rooms up here." The girl boldly informed them.
After partaking of the unimaginable pleasure of a clean HOT bath, Webb, a towel around his waist came out into the bedroom to find his bride, naked and sound asleep, her still damp hair haloed around her head on the fine linen covered pillow. His cock grew just watching her breathe, but he made no move to wake her. Instead he pulled on his underwear and socks then padded over to their suitcases and began to carefully unpack the clothes they would need to wear later. When he was finished, he sank into one of the overstuffed chairs and just watched her. «She’s so beautiful. We’re married. Oh Mother, Father, if you can hear my thoughts, know that I finally did something right in my pathetic life.»
He dozed in the chair, one ear cocked for any sound outside the door. He had already placed his revolver within easy reach so that when the faint knock came he was out of the chair, the gun in his hand and the knob twisting before he was fully awake.
Sarah’s dreams were a tumbled mix of flashes of memories. Her mother’s bitter face just before she died, Del Reed giving her the money to get out of New Orleans, Clayton’s triumphant look that first night when he ‘won’ their first poker game. Anger, joy, fear and passion flitted at the corners of her emotions but as she slowly came awake she realized that she felt safe in this room with him by her side.
"Hey, Mrs. Webb." He leaned over her to kiss her. She pushed him back until she had his body captured between her thighs. He didn’t look like he minded.
"You really like saying that don’t you?" she demanded before rubbing her naked body over his cotton drawers, already feeling his erection beginning to grow."
"Yes," he answered simply before pulling her down for a long slow kiss.
"Hmmmmm. Good, because I like hearing it."
"Well, then, we can be like those old stuffed shirts who call each other Mr. Webb and Mrs. Webb. I do love you, Sarah."
"And I love you. Let me show you how much."
He crossed his hands behind his head. "Then show me."
She kissed him, tracing his lips with her tongue. He sucked her tongue into his mouth, holding it there, but not making any move to touch her.
Running her hands over his chest she began to whisper. "I love touching you. I love what you let me be when I’m with you."
"Do you?" He groaned as she pushed the undershirt over his head. Lowering her head she began an all out assault on him. Nipping at his chin, lathing his throat with her tongue, moving down a little with each kiss.
"I love kissing you." She proceeded to show him how much by paying close attention to his nipples, much as he enjoyed playing with hers. Her hands never stopped roving and touching, her ass ground against his cock still confined by his underwear. She moved down a little more, tracing the path to his manhood. Her breasts rubbed against his groin.
"God Sarah, so good. You make me feel so good."
"Do I, Mr. Webb?"
"Yes."
Her fingers grasped the material keeping her from touching him and he raised his hips to help her remove them. She had just got them down when she stopped. "What?" He demanded.
"Clayton?"
"Saraaahhhh." He pleaded.
"Clayton?" she demanded.
Taking a shuddering breath he met her steady gaze. "Yes, Sarah?" he said as calmly as he could.
"We’re married right?"
"Yes, Sarah." He sighed and brought his hands to her hair, caressing his fingers through it, pushing it away from her face.
"Well, if I remember correctly, and you have to remember it’s been a very long time, but back at Del’s place I used to overhear some of the men talking."
"Sarah," he growled menacingly.
"Well, if I remember correctly, married women don’t do this, do they?"
He saw her grin and it took every ounce of will power he had, but he decided to play her game. At least he hoped it was just a game. "Oh, I don’t know Sarah. All the married women I bedded…ouch!"
She giggled as she nipped her teeth on the soft tissue covering the head of his cock. Clay had never lied to her. And she believed him when he told her he hadn’t slept with anyone since he had taken her virginity all those years ago. Remembering that, she kissed where she had bitten then proceeded to kiss up and down the rest of his shaft. All complaints stopped, only to be replaced by his groans and whispered encouragement. "Oh yes, just like that baby. So good, Sarah."
Finally when she knew he was close she crawled back up until she could straddle his hips. Lowering herself down upon him she sighed in contentment. He held her hip with one hand and brought the other to rub against the hard little nubbin just the way she liked it. Rocking back and forth she threw her head back as she felt her own release begin somewhere in the pit of her stomach.
Webb knew he would never tire of watching her like this. Watching the rosy blush spread out from her stomach up to her breasts.
Her keening release started low and finally erupted as a shout of joy. Just watching her drove him over the edge and he arched up, pulling her down even harder onto his shaft, until she fell forward, her hair flowing around his face and shoulders.
When the after tremors finally subsided she stretched out next to him. She almost drifted off to sleep when she suddenly sat up. "What time is it?"
"After midnight."
"Clay! We have to…"
"Hush. He sent word hours ago. He’s been held up. We’re to meet him at Dalton Lowne’s house in the Garden District tomorrow. It’s Mrs. Lowne’s birthday and all the high society of New Orleans and the upper command of the Union occupying force will be there. Now come back and keep me warm, Mrs. Webb."
Instead she continued to stare at him.
"Sarah?"
"Clayton, I can’t go there."
"Why not?"
"Clayton, I’m the daughter of…"
"You’re the wife of Clayton Webb, black sheep of Boyle County, Kentucky. Chegwidden has secured us invitations and we are going."
"Clay!" Through clenched teeth she continued. "I have nothing to wear to a party in the Garden District."
"The party is tomorrow night. We will buy you a dress." He pulled her down until her head rested against his chest. With one finger he lazily traced a pattern on her shoulder blade. "I’ll need evening wear too."
"Good thing you won that money last night then." She nestled closer throwing her arm over his chest. Even in late March, it was too warm really for even the sheets and together they slept until the dawn light woke them.
They made love again before going downstairs for a leisurely breakfast. Webb kept constant watch.
"Darling, I thought we lost him in Mobile."
"We thought we lost him in Prattville, but I swear, it's like he knows who we are."
"Clay, you’re getting paranoid."
"Paranoid, madame?" Clay drank his coffee. "Every contact we visit ends up dead or being compromised. I swore after Prattville I wouldn’t approach another one. I just fear for Chegwidden."
"Clay, if he really knew what we were doing, why didn’t they kill us in Greenville?"
"I don’t know. Maybe he’s hoping we’ll lead him to Chegwidden."
"Clay, it makes no sense. If he kills Chegwidden then we’ll just be passed off to another Union contact."
"Indeed? Who else knows we’re spying for the North, Sarah?" Webb voice lowered to a harsh whisper. "Did you ever think this might be a game with him?"
"Clay, darling. Listen to yourself. You’re beginning to worry me."
Webb sighed and finished his coffee. Standing he reached out his hand. "Well, Mrs. Webb, let us go shopping for decent clothes.
They strolled down Bourbon Street back toward St. Anne. Webb noticed that Sarah kept her head held high but he could feel the anxiety that flowed through her. "I believe there is a rather nice dress shop in the next block."
"Miss Annalee’s." Sarah whispered.
"Yes. That’s the name." He led her to the door and opened it for her.
An older woman bustled out from behind a curtained doorway. "How may I…help you?" Eyeing Sarah, she seemed to flounder for a moment.
She stared at Sarah for a long time before Webb cleared his throat. "My wife needs a new ball gown for tonight."
"T-tonight?"
"That’s correct. Do you have anything or shall we continue down to Miss Evaline’s shop?"
The woman finally tore her eyes away from Sarah to look at Webb. "Miss Evaline sold out to those damned Yankees six months ago. The woman runnin’ it now doesn’t have anything."
"And you do?" Webb encouraged her.
"Well yes, yes I do."
"Well then?" The woman shot one more glance at Sarah then nodded and went to the back of the shop, bypassing several ball gowns hanging on the walls.
"Clayton, can we just leave please?" Sarah whispered.
"Why?"
"I don’t like her."
"Well I don’t like her either, but you need a dress for tonight."
"I can just…please Clayton."
Webb started to agree when the woman came back out with several dresses. Clay took one look at them and then studied the woman. "I see. Well I’m sorry to see that you have been so badly hit by the war that your taste in garments has so deteriorated."
"Sir. I just thought." The woman held up two dresses that would have been very acceptable had Sarah been thinking of working in a dance hall – or whorehouse.
"You just thought that a whore’s daughter wouldn’t have better taste that this?" Sarah spat out. "Come along Clayton. You’ll need to send your regrets to Mr. Lowne. Pity, I believe he was rather hoping for that loan from you."
Webb tipped his broad brimmed hat at the suddenly pale woman and left the shop. He found Sarah walking purposefully back down the street. He hurried up to her to congratulate her on a direct hit. However, the words died in his throat when he saw the tears streaming down her face. "Oh Sarah, honey. Don’t."
"I’ll stay at the hotel tonight. You meet with Chegwidden."
"This is what you wanted to do, Sarah. You even came up with the code. I’m just the body guard and logistics man in this partnership." He stressed the last word and she sighed.
Reaching into her small bag she pulled out a square of white cloth. For a moment she stared at it. "Momma always made sure that I had a clean handkerchief. Pretty ones too. She said that’s all ladies of breeding had nice handkerchiefs. Oh God, Clay. I am no lady."
He took the handkerchief and dried the tears from her eyes. "You are a true lady, Sarah Webb. My lady. Now let's go check out what that ‘damned Yankee’ has in her shop."
The low corsage bodice rode low on the shoulder and was scarlet red. The skirt was really six separate layers of red and white and had a span of no less than five full feet; the cap sleeves mirrored the skirt red on white on red on white. The lower skirt has a single puff of tarletane around the edge. "Clay?" Mac whispered as Mrs. Helen Jackson, who had proudly told them her husband was General Butler’s aide de camp, made a few alterations on the gown as Mac stood on the small raised platform.
Webb had a look of pure awe on his face. He had always known she was beautiful, but she looked stately and regal in that gown. A wave of sadness and longing washed over him as he remembered parties at Neville’s Landing. But then cold practicality took over. «If I had stayed there I would have never met her and I would rather be a down on his luck gambler with her by my side than back home married to some cold bitch like Sydney Walden.»
"Clay." Sarah repeated.
"You’ll be the hit of Mr. Lowne’s party my dear." Webb said.
"Oh. Are you invited too? How wonderful. We’ll be there, of course." The owner simpered. It hadn’t been easy being a Yankee in this accursed town. It wasn’t what she had expected when she married the young West Point cadet all those years ago.
"Of course." Webb agreed not taking his eyes off the vision in front of him. "It will be ready tonight." It wasn’t a question.
"Yes, sir."
After Mrs. Jackson assured them the dress and all the necessary hoops and stays would be delivered to the hotel at the appointed time, they went in search of a haberdasher for Clay. They found him acceptable evening clothes and once again the proprietor promised that the suit would be delivered in time.
"Now, we have that out of the way, I want to have lunch, Mrs. Webb."
"We can go back to the hotel," she supplied hopefully. But she knew, after the glare he had given the haberdasher, what he planned. She didn’t like it one bit. "Clay."
"I think," he interrupted, "that since we were denied dinner at Antoine’s last night, we should eat there today. Don’t you agree?"
She sighed, "No, I don’t." She smiled sadly. "But you are a stubborn man, Mr. Webb." She sighed again. "Well, let’s get this over with. Just please, no fights defending the honor of…"
"Sarah!" he growled and spun her around right on the sidewalk on Decatur Street. "You are not Deanne MacKenzie. You are prettier than she ever was."
"You don’t know that Clay. You couldn’t have met her too long before she died. Her life was so hard." Sarah whispered. "She didn’t have the chance that Del’s $500.00 gave me."
"No. She did the only thing she could think of to raise her daughter." Webb cupped her cheek in his hand. "And from where I’m standing, she did a pretty damn good job."
"Yes, but from where they," she motioned with her head at the people walking around them, few of them bothering to even look their way, "are standing, I’m no better than I should be."
Webb exhaled a deep breath of air. He didn’t know what to say. Instead he placed her hand in the crook of his arm and led her back toward the hotel. They strolled in silence, but Webb didn’t need to hear her sighs to know that she was plunging herself into a deep depression. They were less than a block from the hotel when he spied a shop across the street. "You know, we aren’t officially married, not really."
He said softly as he led her toward the store.
So engrossed in her own misery, she didn’t answer him. Not until he pushed open the door to the shop did she even look up from the ground. But when he began to speak her head jerked up.
"Yes, my wife and I were married in a brief ceremony recently, and I never had an opportunity to purchase an appropriate wedding ring. Might I see that one please?" He pointed to a simple gold band in the jewelry case.
"Clay!" She jerked at his arm but he simply held her wrist tight against his body. She would have to cause a scene to pull free from him.
"Oh. An excellent choice sir." The jeweler practically fawned over the obvious southern gentleman and his young lady. The bell over the door announced the arrival of another customer, quite an occurrence in this time of war. "You’ll excuse me for a moment. Mrs. Carter, what a surprise." «Dear lord, please don’t want to buy anything, please tell me you’ve come to pay part of your bill.» The proprietor kept one eye on the two strangers and went to tend to one of his oldest and slowest paying customers.
Sarah had stiffened at the sound of the woman’s name but didn’t turn around. Clay looked at her curiously then grinned. "Well, well. Who would have thought that a town this large would have gossip spread so fast?"
"Please, Clayton. I’m surprised someone didn’t notice me when we checked in last night."
Clay put the ring on her finger. "It fits you perfectly, darling. I’m just sorry I didn’t think of it last night."
Tears welled in Sarah’s eyes. "Oh Clay, it’s beautiful. But completely…"
"Necessary. I know that these days many folks don’t wear rings, but I can afford it." He grimaced dramatically. "At least I think I can."
"Oh, it looks lovely miss." The owner said.
Webb looked at the man sharply. "Missus, sir."
"Of course. Forgive me I thought I heard you say you were going to get married." There was a smirk on the man’s face and he glanced quickly behind Webb and Sarah as if seeking approval from someone behind them.
"No. Father Anthony married us in the Cathedral actually. However, I’m not sure I like this one. What do you think, Mrs. Webb?"
Sarah smiled sadly at the proprietor who suddenly realized that he was on the verge of losing a sale for the sake of winning points with a woman who owed him more than he could afford. "Oh, it is very nice, but if you would just wait a moment, I have a very nice one over here." Sarah heard the hiss of anger from one of the women behind her.
The man came forward with a tray holding a gold band with seven stones circling it.
"Oh my God." Sarah gasped. "It’s beautiful."
The owner smiled encouragingly, "You have excellent taste my dear."
The three of them jumped as the door was thrown open and then slammed shut. "You’ll have to forgive Mrs. Carter. I’ve had this ring since before the war. I bought it thinking that her daughter, Miss Hermione would finally get that lag-about of a boyfriend to marry her." The man leaned forward conspiratorially even though they were alone in the small shop. "You’ll hear he died at Shiloh." He looked both ways, "But I know for a fact that he is living in Natchez with a very nice woman."
Webb liked this man even less than he had liked Miss Annalee, however something about the ring struck a nerve. Before he could ask the question though the man continued.
"This ring is from England. Like I said, I got it before the war. It’s a message ring."
"What message?" Webb demanded.
"Well see, he pointed to each stone: This is a fire-opal - F, opal - O, ruby - R, emerald – E. This stone here is a vermielle for V, essonite - E, and finally rubellite – R. Forever."
Webb wanted the ring, but he also knew the man was desperate. He had no compulsion against anyone making a living, but he didn’t like the man. "How much for the plain gold band?"
"Ah. Ten dollars."
"And the one with all the stones?"
"Well, they are precious stones."
"All but the ruby and emerald are semi-precious, and the ruby, emerald and opal are the smallest. How much?"
"Two hundred dollars."
"Clay, you mustn’t."
"One hundred and fifty."
The man took a deep breath but then nodded his head. "Sold. Shall we see if it fits?" The jeweler started to hold out the ring to Sarah, but Webb took it and gently took her hand in his. "I should have done this right, Sarah, last night I mean. Forever."
Sarah cried softly, fingering the ring, as Webb counted out the bills into the man’s hand. Taking her by the arm he led her outside. Clouds were pushing in from the Gulf and the air was so humid their clothes clung to their bodies. Hurrying they made their way to the hotel. He stopped at the desk and told the manager to send a tray up to their room.
She picked at her food and finally Webb sighed, "Sarah, darling, please. Talk to me."
She finally met his gaze. "You don’t know how hard this is for me."
"Don’t I?" He set down his coffee cup and put the starched white napkin to his lips. "How did you think I felt in Perryville, Sarah? I knew those people. I knew Rabb and Cordelia Wallace and that conniving witch Sydney Walden. She managed to steal my land and my heritage from me, Sarah. But I needed to be there and I was. We need to be here. You are better than any woman in this town and frankly my dear, I’m beginning to be just a little put out with you over your attitude. Forget that you are my wife and that I love you. Forget that you are the most beautiful woman in this town. Remember this. You are the woman who faced down Jack Parsons with a pair of treys and took that pot in Tuscaloosa."
Sarah pursed her lips, tears warred with laughter and Webb was relieved when laughter won. Sarah MacKenzie was not a giggler. She threw back her head and laughed out right. "Oh lord, Mr. Webb, you do make me see the silliness of things."
"Thank you, Mrs. Webb. Now, if you don’t mind, I would like to get some rest before the clothes arrive and we have to get ready."
"Rest, huh? Okay we’ll rest."
Clay dressed quickly and then left the young black girl to help Sarah with her corset. Frankly he didn’t understand why anyone would wear such a thing. Walking down the stairs he once again turned his thoughts to their pursuer. Clay was pretty sure they had lost him in Mobile but it had been close. If Sarah hadn’t been with him, he would have stayed and waited the bastard out. He just couldn’t figure out who was following them. There had been too many close calls. He walked into the bar and carefully looked around. He saw dozens of Union officers of varying ranks. Ordering a drink he gravitated to the card table. He wouldn’t have minded sitting in, but he knew instantly that this wasn’t a game he could play a few hands and then get up. And he could still afford not to play tonight. As much as he personally liked New Orleans, he knew that Sarah hated it. Leaning against the wall he watched the card game and after a while spotted the cheat. «For God’s sake, it’s a penny ante game.» He had almost decided to sit in and teach the man a lesson when the man facing the doorway gasped out loud and ignored the card table.
Clay turned in time to see a Union Colonel walk up to Sarah. "Ma’am?"
Sarah didn’t even bother to look at him. Clay reached her side immediately. "Darling. That didn’t take long at all." He offered her his arm and nodded to the Colonel. "Good evening, sir."
"Oh, Clayton, isn’t it beautiful."
"What? Oh, you mean the dress? I didn’t notice. I couldn’t take my eyes off you."
She hit his arm with her fan. "Stop it." But her beaming smile took away the slight sting of her words.
The carriage was waiting for them. The horse had been brushed and someone had even taken care to clean the mud off the sides and wheels. He drove through the Quarter and passed the business district. Offices and warehouses gave way to neat small homes and row houses and finally, after passing Second Street, huge mansions, most of them done in Greek Revival style, sat side by side like sentries daring these two to enter. He found the address and pulled under the covered portico. Jumping down he helped her alight. "Don’t let go of me, Sarah."
"Promise." She whispered.
Candles flickered from every surface. High overhead crystal chandeliers sparkled in the candlelight. Clay, Sarah’s hand resting gently on his forearm led her up to the butler who asked for their invitation and then announced, Mr. and Mrs. Clayton Webb. Together they scanned the crowd, Sarah boldly meeting the eyes of men who thought they recognized her at first. Several older women huffed at their husbands and quite a few began to whisper behind fans.
A man, perhaps Webb’s age came up to them. "Ah Mr. Webb, Mr. Chegwidden said you would be here. I’m Dalton Lowne." He held out his hand to Webb, who shook it.
"May I present my wife? Sarah, Mr. Dalton Lowne."
Sarah tilted her head forward and held out her hand. Lowne took it by the fingers and kissed her wrist. "Your servant ma’am."
"Thank you Mr. Lowne." Sarah saw several older women bear down on a young woman who, though talking to several of her guests was keeping an eye on her husband. She took a deep breath and started to say something but she saw the man they had come to see. "Oh, look, darling, isn’t that your friend now?"
Webb visibly relaxed. He hadn’t realized how much he was looking forward to seeing the General again.
Lowne cleared his throat. "Yes, well I’ve arranged for a little card game later. Perhaps, Webb, after dinner, you and I can sit in on it."
Sarah saw Mrs. Lowne stiffen and narrow her eyes as their gazed met. "Oh, Mr. Lowne, don’t forget little ole’ me."
"You ma’am? You play cards?" He was clearly shocked.
Sarah smiled bitterly and finally looked at him. "Yes, Mr. Lowne. Now go assure your wife that’s all I play."
Together Webb and Sarah walked through the crowd. A few of the Union officers made their acquaintance but no one from New Orleans society approached them.
"Oh dear, Clayton. I do believe we are being snubbed." Sarah almost felt relief at the rudeness. She wasn’t sure what she would say to her dinner companions. She took great delight in watching Mrs. Lowne gesture and almost harangue her poor husband. "Clayton?"
"Yes, Sarah?"
"Why ever did Lowne agree to invite us?"
"I suppose because General Butler told him to invite us. Chegwidden probably set it up. Ah-oh."
"What?"
"Mrs. Jackson is bringing her husband over to meet us."
"Why ever for?"
"Well, my guess would be that someone put a bee in her bonnet and, being from the North she wants to know if it were true."
"She wouldn’t dare." Sarah had heard a few ‘whispered’ remarks spoken just loud enough for her to be sure to hear, but no one had said anything to her directly. Now it looked like Mrs. Jackson was going to forever go down in the annals of New Orleans lore. She just wondered how she was going to handle it.
She never got the chance. Webb deftly handled the entire encounter and managed to get Major Jackson to tell them everything about the store they had to sell back home and how slow business was in the middle of the war.
"Frankly, from what Helen was telling me, your gown is the newest one here."
Mrs. Jackson who had planned on getting the full story on Sarah’s mother suddenly decided that talking about the women who routinely snubbed her and her shop was more inviting. "Yes, dear. Jonathon wouldn’t notice, but I remember seeing every one of these dresses before. Oh, a bow has been replaced with a bit of lace. But these women…."
Sarah tuned the woman out and let the soft light of the mansion draw her attention. She began to notice certain things and she realized that while the Lownes had a very nice house it was rather the worse for wear. Where a painting hung she saw the hint of an outline suggesting that another painting had hung there, perhaps one that needed to be sold. The material on the settee by the window, while not threadbare, had seen better days; the colors in the flowers were rather faded. Sarah brought her attention back to Mrs. Jackson just as the woman finished, "I’m so glad that Mrs. Simmons daughter never came in for that dress, dear. It really does look so much better on you."
"Thank you Mrs. Jackson."
They were spared the need to listen to any more when the butler announced dinner.
Dinner went more smoothly than she had expected. She was seated between a Colonel and a judge whose name she didn’t remember. But that was okay, because the judge had refused to even acknowledge her sitting next to him. «Do you remember my mama, sir? Were you one of her customers? With a wife like that, I can well imagine you did.» The Colonel was well schooled in the art of dinner conversation and while the matron on his other side tried hard to keep him in conversation, the woman was not only preponderantly fat, but almost ugly in her homeliness. Colonel Bishop would turn and answer her question then immediately return to regaling Sarah with some silly behind the lines bit of humor.
Finally dinner was over and the ladies rose to leave the gentlemen; all the ladies except Sarah. Mrs. Lowne stood at the door leading into the parlor glaring at her, but Sarah just smiled sweetly and went over to her husband who was talking with Lowne. "Now y’all know I’m not that brave. I’ll just stay right here, quite as a mouse."
Webb took her hand and said to Lowne. "We are just married, sir. I’m sure you can understand."
"Well. I mean." Lowne took a deep breath, blushed to the roots of his hair and then nodded for his wife to go join the other ladies. Sarah grinned brightly and vapidly. The door closed with just a little more force than was necessary.
The men talked and Sarah watched and listened. If she had been a spy for the South she would have got nothing for her efforts. Butler must have schooled his officers well. She watched Chegwidden, dressed in civilian black evening dress move amongst the men, chatting, nodding and looking her way just the right amount of times to not draw attention to the fact that he was the only one in the room ignoring her. When the cigars were passed around the room, the servant paused at her side. "Go on Rufus, I’m sure Mrs. Webb would be insulted if we didn’t ask her to join us in a smoke."
"Now Mr. Lowne, how kind of you to give me the choice, but I don’t smoke. I can’t abide by women who pretend to be men and do what the men do."
"But you want to be with men, Mrs. Webb?" A new voice joined the group. Sarah saw Webb stiffen and she looked at the newcomer.
"I want to be with my husband, sir." She stared at the man for a long time. Something about him was familiar. "Do I know you, sir?"
"Come now Sarah." He slapped Webb on the back. "Well Clayton, old man. You finally tied the knot I see. Of course, I’m rather surprised that Sarah would accept your hand after all these years."
Sarah gasped. She finally recognized him. "Clark Palmer. I didn’t recognize you without the beard."
He ran his hand over his face. "Do you like it?" He purred seductively.
For some reason she happened to look up and she saw Chegwidden standing behind Palmer and without any overt signal from him she realized that Palmer was the man who had been following them. She squeezed Webb’s arm but he didn’t look at her. She could feel the muscles in his arm tighten. For the first time since she had refused to leave the dining room with the other ladies, she let go of his arm. "Well I have to say, when you were gamblin’ on the Dixie Queen the beard was always so neat and trimmed. I didn’t like it one bit in Greenville. It was all ragged and dirty. Was something wrong, Mr. Palmer? Are you down on your luck?"
Clay just stood there, processing what she was telling him. He almost groaned out loud as he finally understood. He remembered seeing the old rebel soldier in a tattered uniform, with a greasy dirty beard outside the saloon in Greenville and he remembered the old vagrant who had begged him for money in Mobile. This was their adversary, the man who had tormented him throughout his life. He never took his eyes off Palmer. Even when he felt the change in climate in the room, which had suddenly grown very quiet, he just stood there meeting the hatred in Palmer’s eyes.
Palmer grinned wickedly; his large ears seemed to wiggle with emotion. "Not nearly as down on my luck as you are going to be Sarah."
"Oh? Why, pray tell?"
"Well it took you twenty years of whoring with this man before you finally got him to marry you last night and now you’re going to be the widow of a dirty Northern spy."
Fifty years later Sarah Webb would still be able to recount exactly what happened. Chegwidden was pushing several startled guests, soldier and civilian alike, out of the way to get to them. Palmer reached out and grabbed her to pull her in front of him, but she twisted away trying to knock the Colt revolver from his hand. Several men were shouting, but the only sound she heard the blast of a gun followed closely by another shot, followed by a dozen women screaming in terror.
Webb just stood there, the small derringer gripped in one hand staring at Palmer. For a moment Sarah wasn’t sure that Clay had even hit the other man until the bright red blossom of blood began to spread across the white shirt, staining the dark evening dress. Palmer’s gun slowly dropped to the ground, its charged expended. Finally, triumphant grin still in place, Clark Palmer toppled to the ground. Chegwidden reached them and took her by the arm. "Ma’am, are you all right? Did he hurt you?"
Sarah shook her head. She turned to Clay who was still just standing there staring down at the body. "Clay? Darling? Are you hurt? Did he shoot you?"
Clay turned to her and nodded. "Yeah." And then collapsed.
10 April 1865
Perryville, Kentucky
Perryville Mercantile
1430 hours
Cordelia fretted as she looked at the cotton material. «Thomas will need something cool this summer, but god knows how much cloth I should get. He seems to grow an inch every time I glance in the other direction.» She smiled down at her son, asleep in his basket. The ringing of the church bells startled her and woke the baby, but he calmed immediately at the sound of her voice.
Stepping outside, Cordelia followed the growing crowd to the church. Inside, people were smiling. One of the children ran down the center aisle shouting, "The war is over! The war is over! My daddy's coming home!" No one bothered to tell him not to run inside the church.
The Roberts found Cordelia and hugged her. "Is it true?" she asked.
Bud nodded. "The telegram just came through. I thought this was the quickest way for everyone to know." He looked over the crowd, filled with families who had people in one army or the other, and sometimes both. "Did you notice they don't seem to care who won? All I've told anyone is that the war is over." Bud smiled.
Cordelia met his eyes. "I care, Bud. Who won the war? Which side surrendered?" «I haven't heard from AJ since early March. He wrote me after Chattanooga and after the Siege of Knoxville. He wrote all during the time he and General Thomas joined Sherman in Atlanta, and afterward, to tell me about how he was happy to be away from Sherman and the Atlanta Campaign. He wrote after Nashville. But I've never gone this long without hearing from him.»
"The Confederate Army surrendered at Appomattox yesterday, Miss Cori. The General will be home soon." Bud waited for her response. He was surprised to hear her cry. "Miss Cori, what's wrong?"
"If he's coming home. I haven't heard from him in nearly a month. He's never gone that long without getting some word to me. I am afraid that he's been killed, or captured," Cordelia sobbed.
Harriet soothed her, "Miss Cori, he's a General. If he'd been killed, we would have heard. If he was captured, then he'll be returned, now that the war is over."
"Where ever he may be, I'm happy that the war is over," Cordelia stated with a smile. But she couldn't quiet her doubts. «Come home to me, AJ. Come home to your son.»
10 May 1865
Perryville, Kentucky
The Wallace horse farm
0430 hours
"Lucy, who can that be at the door at this hour? Let me take a gun. You open the door and I'll make sure it's safe." Cordelia directed as she climbed out of the bed and slipped on a robe. She used a key to unlock a drawer from which she drew a small pistol. She glanced out the window, trying to see onto the porch below, but it was too dark. "Of course, in this weather, it's certainly easy to understand why someone would want to come inside. It's been raining for two weeks straight. Could you see anyone?" Cordelia picked up a small oil lamp from the bedside table to light their way.
"Nary a soul, Miss Cori. It's pitch black out there. But whoever it is, they jist keep knocking." Lucy was scared. "You reckon it might be a ghost? One of them Union soldiers what died here after Perryville?" She shivered as she followed Cordelia down the stairs.
Cordelia laughed, "What use would a ghost have of knocking? I am sure it is a living soul. The better question is whether or not it is a dangerous soul." She gave the lamp to Lucy and took her mark to the left of the door. She waited for Lucy to open it.
The man at the door was drenched to the bone. In the flickering lamplight, Cordelia could see how the mud covered his uniform and boots. Water dripped off his hat onto the porch. Two week's worth of beard covered his face. It didn't matter. When Cordelia looked into his eyes, she ran forward. "AJ, you're home!" He dropped his rucksack and his rifle as she leapt into his arms, still holding her pistol. She knocked his hat off as she covered his face with kisses.
When AJ finally pried her loose, Cordelia was crying. "What's wrong, Cori?" he whispered, taking the pistol out of her hands. Lucy had managed to light another lamp in the foyer.
"I thought you were dead. I hadn't heard from you since March. It was all I could think about." Cordelia took a deep breath. She turned to Lucy, "Could you draw a hot bath? And then something to eat?"
"I hear you, Miss Cori. You relax, Mr. AJ, ole Lucy will have you taken care of in no time. I'll fix you some ham and biscuit now, but don't eat too much. I'll fix you some fried chicken before the day is out." With that, Lucy turned dramatically and disappeared into the darkness except for the light bobbing up the stairs.
"Look at you. You're soaked to the bone. And knocking on the door to enter your own home." Cordelia peeled off AJ's jacket then stopped to tug off his boots. She tossed them into a pile on the floor and dragged his rucksack inside. AJ followed her to retrieve his rifle and close the door.
Once inside, AJ stepped into the study and placed the rifle and the pistol on top of a bookshelf. "I was afraid I'd scare you if I just came inside. I knew someone would hear me."
Cordelia laughed, "You nearly scared Lucy to death as it was. She thought you were a ghost." She gazed at him, tears welling once more. "I haven't heard from you in so long," her voice quivered.
"I sent a letter, but I suspect that I arrived before it. I would have sent a telegram, but I could only afford the one requesting permission to return home. My troops were assigned to another General while I retrieved some important information from our spies. If I had still been with them, I'd be in Washington now. But as I alone, they saw fit to allow my request." AJ lowered his head and grinned sheepishly. "Of course, I'm sure it helped when I pointed out that my wife, who ran a station for the Underground Railroad in an area with strong Confederate sympathies, might be in particular danger if someone stirred up trouble in the wake of the surrender. They must have agreed. I could still be sent out, but at least for now, I'm home. I'd much rather enjoy your welcome than a victory parade."
Cordelia tugged at his hand, touching his face, then his chest, and finally led him upstairs to their bedroom. Lucy had already managed to bring the tub in and place it near the fireplace with some lukewarm water in it. Cordelia knew that Lucy would return at any moment with hot water. "Take off the rest of those wet clothes," she instructed, watching AJ as he followed her directions. Then she found a large blanket and held it out for him, drying him gently. "Sit, sit." She pointed to the chair. AJ made no move toward it. Crying again, she took a deep breath and said, "Let me bring Thomas in."
Taking her hands in his, AJ pulled her into his arms. "There's no need to wake the child and frighten him. I'll take a bath and you can introduce me to my son when he wakes up." He carried her to the chair and placed her in it, then turned, found his wet pants and reached into the pocket. He walked back to the chair and knelt before it. "When I asked you to marry me, I wasn't properly prepared. To be honest, I never dreamed you'd say yes. I had hoped to arrive yesterday to give you this for your birthday, but there were floods and I had to come a different route." He took her left hand in his and slipped a ring on her finger. "This one is your wedding band. It is made of alexandrite, emerald and indicolite. They spell out AEI. It's Greek."
"I know. It means forever." Cordelia kissed him. "It's beautiful, AJ."
Slipping a second ring on her finger, AJ continued, "The other ring is an engagement ring. It has a central diamond and each of the other five stones has special meaning. The garnet is for January, the month in which we were married. The sapphire is the stone for the hour in which we were married. The onyx is the stone of the Archangel Gabriel, who is the guardian angel of January. The amethyst is for my Christian name and this violet-blue stone is called cordierite, for your Christian name. The shape of ring itself is a symbol of constancy and strength, the balance of the creative power and stability of love and marriage. The jeweler in New Orleans says these are quite the fashion."
The door to the bedroom opened and Lucy stepped inside carrying two more buckets of water. "Lause, Mr. AJ. You done married her, are you proposin' again?"
AJ pulled the blanket more tightly around him and stood. "I'm doing it right this time, Lucy."
"The first time sounded good enough to me. I was there, remember," Lucy teased, pouring the water into the tub.
Grinning, AJ nodded, "I remember. But this time, I have a ring."
"A ring," Lucy repeated. "Did she say yes, Mr. AJ?"
"She hasn't given me her answer yet," AJ laughed and glanced at Cordelia.
Cordelia looked from one to the other and shook her head.
"You sayin' you not gwanna' marry him again, Miss Cori?" Lucy asked.
Cordelia stood and kissed AJ. "I'd marry him a million times over. But the two of you going at it like that makes me shake my head, just the same."
"I'll be right back with some hot water for you, Mr. AJ. You just hold on." Again, Lucy bustled busily away.
"She loves you almost as much as I do, AJ," Cordelia kissed him again. "Almost."
After the kiss, AJ held her at arm's length. "I just want to look at you. It has been so long." He gazed at her, drawing a blush. «Even covered with the mud from my uniform, she's beautiful. So beautiful.»
Lucy interrupted them once more, carrying two buckets of steaming hot water. "I'll bring one more bucket up in a while so that Mr. AJ can shave. Never could stand a man with a beard." She gave AJ a disapproving look then slipped her hand into the pocket of the apron she had donned when she left the room. She handed him an awkwardly tied napkin.
"And to think that I rode straight through in all that rain, not stopping overnight at any decent inns where I could shave and eating hard tack for two weeks so that I could get back here for some of your fried chicken." AJ gave Lucy a grin.
"Was you thinkin' of Miss Cori or my fried chicken?" Lucy asked.
Cordelia laughed and raised her eyebrows, waiting for AJ to answer.
AJ looked from one woman to the other and answered with diplomacy. "I thought of Cori most of the time, but when I was eating that hard tack, I thought of your fried chicken."
Lucy shook her head. "He is a fine gentleman, Miss Cori. And a smart one, too. It's good to have you back, Mr. AJ. You eat them ham biscuits. They should tide you over until I fix up some fried chicken for you."
"It's good to be back, Lucy," AJ ducked his head sheepishly and opened the warm napkin to find two ham biscuits. He ate them greedily while Lucy and Cordelia watched.
"You git on in that water. It's gittin' cold while we talk." Lucy turned with a flourish and left the room.
AJ looked at Cordelia. "You first. I muddied you at the door. Once I step in that water, it will be filthy, and once I get out, there is nothing that could keep my hands off you."
Without a word, Cordelia pinned up her hair and pulled her gown over her head. AJ watched as she stepped into the tub long enough to wash the mud off the front of her body. She hurried, wanting the water to be hot for him. She laughed as she stepped out of the tub because she had forgotten to lay out something with which to dry her body. A fire warmed the room and she stood near it, letting the heat dry her skin. From the tub, AJ stared appreciatively at her, drops of water glistening on her gleaming skin.
A knock at the door was followed by Lucy's voice. "Hot water for Mr. AJ's shave."
"Just leave it at the door, Lucy. I'll get it," Cordelia called. She heard Lucy chuckle in response.
When Cordelia heard Lucy heading down the stairs, she cracked the door and brought in the hot water, the poured it into the basin. Lucy had left a bowl filled with lather and a razor as well, and Cordelia stepped behind AJ, looking forward to this casual intimacy. "Are you ready to lose your beard?" she asked.
AJ leaned back in the tub and muttered, "I'd better be. Lucy says she doesn't like unshaven men. She may not make me that fried chicken if I don't shave." He gave Cordelia a sly glance. "Unless, of course, you prefer unshaven men."
"I prefer you, shaven or not," Cordelia kissed him. "It tickles a bit."
"Then I will shave it." AJ reached for the razor.
Cordelia shook her head. "No, I will shave it. Lean back."
With a sigh, AJ leaned against the sloped back of the tub. Cordelia, still naked, lathered his face. With firm, gentle strokes, she guided the razor along the beard, adding new lather as she revealed his face a row of hair at a time. When the beard was gone, she lathered his face again and shaved him clean, removing even the tiniest bit of stubble. When she was finished, he stood in the tub and she poured the last of the hot water over him to rinse the dirty water from his skin. Like Cordelia, he stepped out and stood by the fire, but she met him with a fresh blanket to dry him. He let it fall around his shoulders, then wrapped Cordelia in his arms and carried her to the bed.
As AJ placed her on the mattress, Cordelia gripped his torso with her legs, pulling him on top of her. "Love me like the night before you left, AJ," she whispered. "I've dreamed of that night over and over." She kissed him, gently rolling with him until she straddled him as he lay supine on the mattress. Her lips left a burning trail over his body. She touched his abdominal muscles and watched as they rippled under her hand. She smiled when he caught his breath as she stroked his shaft. He was not prepared for her to bend to kiss his sex.
"Cori," AJ whispered with a shudder that shook his whole body. "You don't --"
Cordelia raised her head briefly, interrupting him, "Have you not done the same for me many times, your lips to my sex? Why is this different?" He started to speak, but she didn't allow him time to answer. "If you're going to tell me that ladies don't do this, don't waste your breath."
"I've never known of ladies doing this," AJ mumbled hastily. "You don't have to."
"That's because gentlemen don't talk about what ladies do, my love. I have missed your body, hard and warm beside mine. I have missed your loving, warm inside of me. I have missed your smile and your eyes following me with love. I have missed your voice, your scent and the spicy, salty taste of your skin." Tears welled in her eyes at the same time a smile crossed her face. Cordelia whispered, "I thought I should never know them again; perhaps not even know where you lay buried. But you have returned to me, home from the war, home from the dead, and I would love you in every way."
AJ could feel her hot breath blowing over his balls as she spoke. Then her lips enveloped him. Cordelia paid close attention to his responses, letting her lips linger, allowing her tongue to glide more often over the tip and along the vein on the underside of his cock as he moaned softly. To touch him, to smell and taste him, to hear his voice; it made her wet with anticipation.
When he could take no more, AJ lifted Cordelia and brought his knees up behind her, leaning her back against them. He stroked her thighs as he made his way gently to her sex. Parting her lips, he slipped one finger inside her and smiled as her wetness covered him. He circled her nub with his thumb until she threw back her head and moaned. At the peak of her cry, he entered her, drawing his finger out to meet his thumb as he teased her clit. Cordelia rode him, gasping as she ground her body into his, gripping him tightly as the heat and friction fused their bodies into one. The long months apart melted in the heat of their climactic explosion of ecstasy and they lay, sated, beside each other, breathing raggedly without speaking.
When she caught her breath, Cordelia whispered, "I love you." She snuggled in his arms where she felt safe and warm and fell into a deep sleep.
AJ rested, unable even in his weariness to sleep. He listened to Cordelia, breathing steadily beside him. He felt the rise and fall of each breath. He inhaled the scent from her hair and kissed her forehead gently. She pressed into him for warmth as the dwindling fire let the cool of the morning overtake the room. He reached for the blankets to cover her, reluctantly hiding her body from his eyes. His body was tired, and he rested even though he did not sleep. He watched the fire dwindle and the morning light creep into the room, creating glints of red highlights in Cordelia's hair. He heard the stirrings below; Lucy fixing breakfast. He chuckled when heard the stable boy run into the house shouting 'Ares and Hercules are in the stable. They come outta nowhere!' He could barely make out Lucy's response as she shushed the boy and told him that 'Mister AJ is sleepin' upstairs right now, if'n you ain't woke him with all that hollerin'!'
In response, AJ heard a wail in the bedroom that joined to theirs. «My son.» He grinned proudly. Beside him, Cordelia stretched. She seemed unwilling to wake. "You stay here in bed. I'll get him," AJ whispered.
At the sound of his voice, Cordelia jumped, sitting up in the bed immediately. A smile covered her face. "You stay in the bed, let me bring him to you." She gave him no time to answer as she climbed out of the bed and pulled a robe out of the wardrobe.
AJ watched her disappear into the room that had once been his. The child's wailing stopped. He could hear her talking to the baby in a sing-song voice, 'Daddy's home. Are you ready to meet your father? He'll be so proud of his big boy.' AJ laughed as the baby blurted out 'Ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma.' Cordelia had drowned out the sound by saying, 'Say Da-da-da-da-da-da,' and Thomas had finally joined her so that he was laughing and shouting 'Da-da-da-da-da-da,' as Cordelia carried him into the room. AJ held his breath as he looked upon his almost year-old son for the first time.
The babe took one look at AJ and began wailing again, until Cordelia jostled him on her hip as she kissed AJ, then kissed Thomas. "Daddy," she said, starting Thomas on his repetitious babbling of 'Da-da-da-da-da-da,' once more. "Don't you want to hold him?" Cordelia asked.
AJ nodded, "But he's scared of me."
"Nonsense. Just because he'd never seen you before, he was shocked. Surprised, that's all." Cordelia grinned. "Now if he'd seen you last night, he might have been scared. Hold out your arms. Let him come to you." AJ lifted his hands and the baby lunged for him, shouting, 'Da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da,' the whole time.
Cordelia climbed in the bed beside them. She rested her head on AJ's shoulder and whispered, "I didn't want to wake up this morning. I thought it was all a dream." She kissed his cheek, then the top of Thomas' head, and added, "But you're home. You're alive and you're home."
4 March 1875
San Francisco, California
The home of Sarah and Clayton Webb
Late afternoon
Clayton Webb finished shaving. He grinned at his reflection and proudly surveyed the tile-lined room behind him. The architect had argued that it was a ridiculous waste of money. Webb insisted, and now their apartment above "Sarah’s Dream" boasted one of the few indoor bathrooms in the rough and tumble metropolis of San Francisco. He had become enthralled with the latest technological advancements and the house he was now building on Nob Hill was a testament to an obsession that had started nearly ten years ago when he accepted that he wasn’t going to die from Clark Palmer’s gunshot to his gut.
He padded, naked, to the huge claw foot tub already full of steaming hot water. "Now if I could just figure out a way to get the hot water from the boiler up here, like I get the cold water from the cistern on the roof, Sing Li wouldn’t have to lug it up two flights of stairs. Oh well, he sees it as job security." Webb sank into the deep, hot water and rested his head against the cool porcelain. He had plenty of time before he was due to meet with Victor to discuss the day’s receipts from the gambling hall and their newest scheme: Neville’s Landing, a high priced restaurant complete with Mssr. Dupree as the chef. «If everyone wants to assume the Cajun is French, that’s their lookout. Charlie is the best damn cook anywhere. Besides Charlie is a member of the family.»
Webb let memories overtake him as he reached up to find the glass of fine scotch that Sing Li always left for him.
He had almost died that night in Dalton Lowne’s fine mansion in New Orleans’ Garden District, surrounded by Southern sympathizers and Union officers. It had required two Union surgeons nearly five hours to dig out the bullet that rested far too close to his spine. Afterward, one of the surgeons came to visit him. "You know son, you’re the first patient I had with that kind of gunshot wound who lived. Course, Doc Granger has some funny ideas. Says if cleanliness is next godliness then by god it should be clean in the surgery. Mizz Lowen’s spare room is a damn sight cleaner than most field hospitals though." Sarah told him that they wanted to stop several times, but Chegwidden threatened them with duty on the front lines if they didn’t continue. Webb lived, and Sarah nursed him back to health in the small suite of rooms he had once occupied years before on Decatur Street. They had bickered during his convalescence as Sarah made late night forays into the gambling dens of the French Quarter where she did well enough to support them both. It was on one of these evenings that she found the ragtag itinerant cook whose constant presence and care had eased their arguing.
Charlie Dupree became their maid, cook, Webb’s nursemaid during Sarah’s naps and her bodyguard about the city. They looked upon him as the kid brother neither had realized they missed. And, if Charlie was just a little happier to see Clay return from a trip than Sarah, neither let it bother them. Never overt in his obvious affection for Clay, Charlie worked hard to make Sarah’s Dream a success. Clay’s reward to him was to make him chef and part owner of Neville’s Landing. From all indications, it had been an excellent choice.
It was nearly six months before Clay felt well enough to make love to her again, and he still smiled as he remembered that sweet reawakening of passion for the only woman he had ever loved. He was able to return to the tables shortly after only to find that while his skill and luck were still with him, he had lost the hunger to get to the next game in the next city down the line.
"I’m forty-one this year, Sarah. I want a home, that place of our own." That admission began long discussions of how and where, and one night she shyly brought him a small wooden casket and placed it on the table in front of him. Inside he found greenbacks, gold coins and what appeared to be several pieces of expensive jewelry.
"Without the jewelry there’s 850 dollars," she said quietly. "I haven’t touched anything once I put it in there. Sometimes it’s been hard, but because we’ve been in one place and Charlie is such a wizard with our food budget, our expenses are nowhere near what they were when we were traveling from game to game. Even though the games here are not as profitable as some of the games on the boats and some of the river towns. But Clay, I hate it here. I can’t stand the memories. I can’t stand the way the men…" She stood and turned away from him and he knew she was fighting her tears.
Instead of comforting her, he stood up and went to their bedroom. By the time he returned, she was sitting calmly, waiting for him. He handed her the roll of bills. "You remember last Saturday when you managed to lose your stake?"
"Yes," she gritted out, shocked that he would bring it up. They never dwelled on each other’s losses.
"And I said don’t worry about it?"
Her eyes flashed in growing anger. "Yes."
"And I gave you…"
"Clayton Webb!"
He sipped his drink and remembered how good it felt to see the look on her face as he counted out the bills. "I didn’t want to crow darling, particularly after your loss, but I did very well at the card game at Lowne’s. I think the bastard thought I would be too weak to play well. I was going to save this for your birthday, but I think now is better."
And so, with a money belt containing a little over two thousand dollars and Charlie Dupree in tow, they left New Orleans for good. Webb insisted on returning to Perryville one last time. "Sweetheart, I doubt if I will ever make the trip back. Besides, you want to say good-bye to Victor, don’t you?"
Only it hadn’t been good-bye. Victor met them at the station, his demeanor as dark as either of them could remember. "Gloria lost the baby last month and yesterday she found out that Carolyn Imes found a new school teacher, not even bothering to ask if she wanted to return. It’s a mess and Gloria is beside herself and frankly, thirty-five dollars a month just isn’t enough. Because we were living on our salaries, the few times I’ve played cards, I put my winnings in the bank. But…oh, I just think we both need a change."
They went to the Galindez home and while Sarah comforted a woman she had never met, Clay filled Victor in on their plans to go west. "I don’t know what kind of life it would be for a school teacher from St. Louis…"
He hadn’t heard them come out of the bedroom but Gloria answered him in a strong, firm voice. "If my husband is nearby it will be quite a perfect life, Mr. Webb."
"Mister Webb?"
Webb opened his eyes to see Sing Li standing there with another kettle of water. Sing Li was another member of the family, along with his wife and two daughters. They had met the Chinaman when they stepped off the train in downtown San Francisco. It was early and they were amazed by the hand-drawn rickshaws at the station. A burly carriage driver tried to bully Sing Li out of the way, but Webb insisted that they would take the rickshaws instead. The carriage driver called Webb a Chink lover, and while Webb had never heard the term before, he cold-cocked the bastard on general principals. Gloria discovered that the other two drivers, dressed much the same as Sing Li, were women; Sing Li’s wife and one of his daughters. Webb tipped them generously, especially after they had labored up the steep hill to the hotel. He mentioned in passing that they were looking for a suitable location to buy and set up a business. "I’ll drive you, boss. You just tell Sing Li what time. I be here." And he had been. He seemed to know where every available building was and he pointed out the very best ones. "I listen boss, that’s why I speak English good. You see." Even though they contacted a realtor, it was Sing Li who found the building that would become the flagship of the Webb-Galindez Empire.
The building had a huge lower space perfect for a gambling and drinking establishment and it had five spacious apartments overhead. The down payment took half of their cash. But they had offered Sing Li one of the apartments and the man continued to be a godsend. Chinese workers did most of the work on Sarah’s Dream. Most of them had been related to Sing Li or his wife. Li ran the building like a general and things always ran smoothly. And now half the payroll that he and Victor paid out every week was to Sing Li’s relatives. However, the old man never let anyone but he or his daughters take care of the family residences; Mrs. Sing having died three years ago. Webb wasn’t sure if the old man would come with them to Nob Hill or not; neither was Sing Li. Victor and Gloria had already moved their brood to Russian Hill and Webb insisted that Sing Li take over that apartment for his ever growing family – both daughters had married and each had three children so far. "I won’t be here that long, Li." He rather suspected that in time, only the Sing family and Charlie Dupree would live above the business that had made Clayton Webb and Victor Galindez two of the wealthier men in San Francisco.
"Thank you Sing Li." Webb sighed as the man who didn’t look like he weighed as much as Sarah, easily lifted the kettle to warm on the fire. "Is Mrs. Webb awake yet?"
"Me go see, boss." Sing Li hurried out of the bathroom only to return moments later. "Missy Sarah up. She say you remember you have dinner at Chalie’s place."
"I remember, Sing Li. I will try and bring General and Mrs. Chegwidden back tonight. I’m not sure how they are liking the new management at the Mark." It had been a small scandal when the rat problem at the nicest hotel in San Francisco became so rampant that several guests had been bitten. "Make up the spare bedroom in case I can talk them into staying here."
"Missy Sarah already told me to boss. She say send Chiang go get and bring back. Hotel very bad." Sing Li hurried out of the room leaving Webb to consider the most unusual friendship to have sprung from the War Between the States.
When the Webbs and Dupree had arrived in Perryville for Clay's last trip "home," Gloria insisted that Clay and Sarah, along with Charlie, stay with them. The Galindez home only had two small bedrooms, so Charlie had slept on the couch in the front room and things were a little cramped all around. The following morning Webb suggested that a trip to the bathhouse followed by the barbershop was in order and the three men left the women to the small kitchen and cast tin tub.
It had been a homecoming of sorts at the barbershop. Rabb was there for his morning shave and Webb learned of his recent marriage to the daughter of the Sentinel’s owner and editor. He learned that carpetbaggers had bought Neville’s Landing. While it saddened him that his family farm was even further removed from him, he found that he was ready to move on. What had surprised him to no end was running into General AJ Chegwidden, now retired.
"So, General, how are you taking to horse breeding?"
"I've taken well to running a horse farm, just not here. Things are too unsettled and…" Chegwidden looked around and motioned for Webb to stand with him in a corner. Victor already knew what was going to be said so he took the next chair and left the two men alone. "There been trouble with nightriders and…"
"And because she was involved with the railroad you want her away from here before anyone discovers what she did before and during the war." At AJ’s startled look he just shrugged. "Why does everyone think that because I was born and bred in the South and had parents who owned slaves, it necessarily falls that I approved or condoned the practice. I suspected what was going on after I heard two Negroes whispering on the Dixie Queen one night right after the war broke out. I learned for sure later on a rare trip to Chicago when I helped a boy whom Cordelia had hidden from a bounty hunter. Can’t stand those vultures. So you’re getting her out of the South. Where are you heading?"
"We thought California."
"Indeed. We’re heading that way too. How are you getting there?"
And so, the three couples, along with Lucy, Cordelia’s life-long servant, watching young Thomas Chegwidden, and Charlie, rode the newly completed Union Pacific Railroad from St. Louis. Galindez and Webb helped with the six horses that Cordelia and Chegwidden had picked to start their ranch out west and were transporting in a special car.
They said goodbye at the station in San Francisco, but every summer for the past nine years, the men had taken turns running the business while the other slipped away with their family for a week or two on the Chegwidden ranch, just south of Stockton. During the winter months when things were a little calmer for the rancher, the Chegwiddens would come down to San Francisco to shop, dine and visit. Several times throughout the year, Chegwidden would come down alone and tend to his business affairs. On those occasions he didn’t bother to stay at a hotel, but would stay in the spare two-room apartment that no one else had needed, not even when the Galindez brood welcomed the fifth and sixth member to their family.
"Hey. Did you drown in here?" Her soft voice roused him from his reverie and he arched back his head to watch her enter the bathroom.
"You know I really like that on you?" He had found the red silk dressing gown in a shop in Chinatown two months ago. He had bought it for her for no particular reason and she wore it every chance she found.
"You sir, are a hog. I swear if you could get a table up here you would play cards sitting in that thing," she teased him softly.
He sighed. "You’re right. I’ll get out and let you have your turn."
"No need." She began to open the corded tabs at her collar and he finally realized that the other closures were hanging open. "The damn thing is big enough for two."
"Sarah!" he gasped as the robe fell around her feet and she stood before him naked.
"Oh, Clayton. You’ve turned into such an old fuddy-duddy," she whispered as she stepped into the tub with him.
He just stared at her in wonder and she lowered herself down into the water, facing him, leaning against the other side of the tub.
"See, plenty of room." Her hair was pinned high on her head, but stray tendrils kissed her cheekbones still prominent and firm at forty-six. If her breasts sagged just a little and her stomach wasn’t a firm as it had been ten years ago, he didn’t see it. All he saw was the sixteen year old with whom he had fallen in love.
"Mrs. Webb, you never cease to amaze me."
"Indeed, Mr. Webb?" She arched her leg and caressed her foot up his thigh until her toes tickled his growing erection. "I must be losing my touch."
"Never, madame. Why do you think such a thing?" Webb reached down and grabbed her other foot and boldly brought it to his lips. Keeping his eyes on hers, he bit the instep, then soothed the bite with his tongue.
"Mmmmmmm. What? Oh, why do I think that? Because sir, the man I married would have thought of this the day he built it."
"I did think of it the day I built it, but you were still upset at the cost. Remember? You refused to use it for a whole month once it was done. Then you had other things on your mind."
"Clayton Webb. You didn’t think that…when I was…I can’t believe you came near me then."
He looked at her in stunned silence. Even after eight years, her admission that he could have ever found her unattractive or undesirable was too incredible to answer. Instead he dropped her foot and leaned forward causing her other foot to drop away from his crotch. Crawling forward until his lips were inches from her he whispered, "I could make love to you every morning, noon and night. I wanted you when you were sixteen and too young to know what you wanted, twenty-six when you knew what you wanted, thirty-six when you had no idea how much I wanted you and thirty-eight when you were radiant beyond words. When I couldn’t touch you all those years, for whatever reason, I felt empty. I’ve always wanted you, young and trim or," he shrugged and kissed her quickly, "not so young and eight months pregnant. But mostly I just want you right now." He quirked his eyebrow. "Can I have you now, Sarah?"
She threw back her head and offered herself to him. She moaned softly as he nibbled on her neck. She growled when he stopped. "Clay?"
Pulling her with him, he sat back against the far side of the tub. "You will never age. I, on the other hand am too old to be kneeling in the tub kissing you. Particularly, when I can sit with you in my lap and kiss you." He claimed her lips in a heated kiss and she turned to straddle his hips.
"Well then, I guess I’ll have to be the one who kneels," and without another word she plunged down on his shaft driving him deep within her. "Oh God! Yes!" She cried as he filled her.
Water splashed over the sides of the tub as she moved on him, riding his cock watching the emotions flit across his face. She loved the power she had over him. She loved the freedom that he gave her and she had never betrayed that trust since the night they declared their love for each other. She suddenly realized that she really didn’t tell him often enough and she stopped her movement on an upstroke and gazed into his eyes. "You do know how much I love you, don’t you Clayton?"
He closed his eyes as if in pain, as if the admission meant more to him than anything in the world. He just nodded and gripped her hips, pulling her back down on him. As they joined together, his pubic hair grinding into her clit their orgasms took them and she lowered her lips to his so that they swallowed each other’s shouted release. Laying there, still joined holding each other, Webb finally answered her, "I know Sarah, but I love hearing you say it."
"I love you, Clay."
He sighed contentedly and kissed her skin where he could. "Miss Emily will be returning from school soon, won’t she?"
"No. Don’t you remember?"
"Oh, yeah. I did forget. She’s spending the night with Anna Maria."
"Yes, and Sing Mei is not happy about it." Mei was the oldest Sing daughter and had watched Emily Webb from the day she was born. Mei would always travel with the Webbs when they went north to Stockton for the summer visit with AJ and Cordelia. But there was no extra room and no need for her to go across town for one night while Emily played with the middle Galindez daughter, Anna Maria. "What time are you meeting with Victor?"
"At five-thirty. Want to come?"
"Yes. That would be nice. I want to know how well we are doing."
"Why?" He asked, the worry evident in his voice.
"Oh, you. You can spend whatever you want on marble bathtubs and waterclosets."
"Hey. You like this water closet when it’s raining and your neighbors have to run out to their outhouses." He bickered right back. "What is that you want for the new house?"
"Well, I saw these wonderful stained glass windows on a house on Russian Hill the other day. I don’t know whose house."
"Carl Atwater. I like them too.
They carefully got out of the tub and Sarah grabbed up several towels to clean up the water. "Sarah. Li will do that."
"Oh? And wonder how it happened too," she insisted.
He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her against his chest. "I think he’ll know anyway." He pulled the sodden towels from her hands and dropped them on the floor. "Now. Let me dry you off."
"If you dry me off then we’ll be late."
"Then he’ll wait," he whispered as he began to run the towel over her body.
4 March 1875
San Francisco, California
The Mark Hotel
Late afternoon
Cordelia rested quietly on the bed in her petticoats as AJ read the newspaper, his waistcoat hanging over the back of the chair. He had finally learned not to mistake her fatigue for illness when they travelled. «She'll eat a big dinner and feel better until nap time tomorrow.» He grinned as he watched her sleep. «She's as beautiful as ever.»
The years had been good to them. They had chosen six horses, three mares and three studs, in order to start their horse farm in California. Cordelia had chosen two males and a female from the horses bred on the farm as well as two females and a male sired by his horse, Admiral. Ares and Hercules, the horse that had served him so well during the war, had made fine studs and Nereus was making quite a name for himself as well. Circe, Nautica and Eurynome had produced strong foals each year. Cordelia had named their farm Olympia. AJ learned the industry from Cordelia, who must have memorized every word about raising and breeding that Sturgis had uttered over the years. Cordelia read with eagerness about the races being run in the east, the Belmont, the Preakness, and in Kentucky, a new race, the Kentucky Derby to be run at Churchill Downs in May. «Does she miss Kentucky? Perhaps we could visit for the race.» Even people in California were talking about building tracks. E. J. Baldwin down near Los Angeles was determined to bring racing to California.
Cordelia was pregnant when they arrived in San Francisco. Finding the right land had been difficult, and since at the time, Cordelia knew more of what they needed, she could not avoid travelling about the countryside evaluating the possibilities. Along the way they had picked up "family."
Lucy had caught Ruby stealing from their kitchen supplies. When she learned the girl was living on the streets, she had taken her in and taught her to cook. Ruby never developed the ease with Cordelia that Lucy had, but she teased and flirted with "Mr. AJ" as much, if not more, than Lucy. Ruby married five years ago and her husband, Jorge Garcia, came to work on the farm. He had a way with horses and was quite valuable in training the young colts and fillies. Another Civil War veteran, Samuel Ryan, joined them and became the farm manager and blacksmith. Ryan brought a daughter with him; his wife had died in a cholera epidemic. There was room for them all on the farm, the Ryans living in a gatehouse near the entrance, the Garcias in a small frame house near the horses and the Chegwiddens in the main house.
Jorge found a valley on the farm that he thought would make a fine vineyard and had written to his grandfather in Spain asking for some vines. A cousin had shown up a few months later with some straggly-looking roots and one large potted vine. The cousin, Manuel, stayed and in a short time married Ryan's daughter, Mariel and moved into the gatehouse. The vines had grown nicely, and in time Jorge hoped to start making wine for Olympia Vineyards. «The wine he makes for our use is good. If the vineyard is as successful as Jorge thinks it will be, we'll need to renegotiate and make it a partnership, since he brought the vines. God knows, if the area is as fertile for grapevines as it is for people and horses, there's no telling what we might come to.» Already, both Garcia families had two children to add to the Chegwidden brood.
All of the families were close, and for most meals, everyone ate together in the main house. Ruby picked up some recipes from Jorge, some things with a Spanish flair, and their meals included an odd mix of Spanish and southern cooking.
Cordelia loved their life here, but she missed Sturgis and Bobbi. Over the years, AJ began to realize just how much Cordelia considered the Negro couple family; why she had been willing to risk her life to protect Sturgis. As she taught him about the farm and the fine art of breeding horses, she often referred to Sturgis. It was clear that as a young widow, she had been quite dependent on him, not having the slightest idea how to manage the farm she'd been left to run. The former slave's guidance had given her the time to learn and to find her place. «I'm lucky there was someone to look out for her.»
They visited the ocean and AJ taught Cordelia and the children to swim. They enjoyed the beach, even though Cordelia complained that the bathing suits for women were actually designed to drown them instead. She preferred swimming on their farm, skinny dipping in the moonlight with him when no one was near. It surprised him, that first night she woke him. "AJ, it's a beautiful, warm night. The moon is full. I loved the ocean, but I'd like to swim without all that cloth weighing me down. Let's go out to the pond." She took his hand and led him quietly down the stairs and out the door. Outside, she giggled like a mischievous child, dropping her robe and nightgown by the pond and pulling his robe off his body.
Oh, they swam, but not much. The pond wasn't deep, and AJ could stand in the center of it. Cordelia climbed onto him and wrapped her body around his in the moonlight. The image of her pressed against him, the water glistening as it rolled over her breasts, would stay with him always. Garrett had been born nine months to the day later. AJ always thought of Garrett, who had his Grandmother Chegwidden's blue eyes and the white blond hair his father had had as a child, as their moonchild. When he told Cordelia, she laughed, saying that this baby had swum inside her from the moment he was conceived and that he was born to swim. Garrett had proven her right, swimming before he could walk.
When AJ dreamed of the war, he worried it would frighten Cordelia, but she had seen the death at Perryville and had some understanding of his nightmares. He was ashamed, a grown man afraid of his dreams, but Cordelia just whispered, "You survived the war, the dreams cannot hurt you," and held him until he slept peacefully. He glanced at her sleeping on the bed nearby. Her lips moved as she slept, mouthing unintelligible words. AJ wanted to kiss them. He smiled. «I always want to kiss her. To touch her. To love her. I always have.» He remembered when he met her, those first months when he thought she was a slave owner, fighting his feelings, his physical reaction to her. He felt his hardness growing. «A man could expect his ardor to lesson with age. But I love her more…I want her more each day.» He toed off his shoes and lay beside her on the bed. Cordelia curled into his body and turned her face up as if waiting for a kiss. AJ cupped her cheek gently and his lips grazed her cheek then met her lips. She kissed him fiercely, and only then did he realize that she was awake.
"Finish what you started, my love," Cordelia grinned, playing with the buttons of his shirt. Needing no further encouragement, AJ eagerly began to loosen the buttons at the back of her petticoats. AJ watched the lace and frills fall from her breasts, staring as if he had never seen her before. He peeled the layers away from her body, exposing her legs and her sex and attending to them with the same fascination. She, too, enjoyed removing his clothes, seeing his muscular body naked before her. They eyed each other’s bodies and passed their hands over one another tenderly as if they were new lovers touching for the first time. She felt his hand part her thighs and explore the velvet folds of her sex. She sighed as his lips covered her nipple and his hand caressed her other breast.
«What is that at my back?» Cordelia turned her head and stared into two beady eyes. She let out a blood-curdling scream and dove over AJ's body. "It touched me! It brushed against my back!"
AJ stared into the eyes of the rat across from him on the bed. Cordelia inspected the floor beside the bed, and finding it free of rodents, stood and made her way to the chair where AJ had been sitting. She climbed into the chair and stood on it, carefully checking the floor of the room for more rats. AJ backed of the bed, reached for his shoe and hit the beast. When it jumped off the bed, he threw the shoe at the rat. It was a direct hit, and the rat twitched for a moment, then lay still.
"It touched me!" Cordelia cried. AJ inspected her back, and after assuring her that there were no marks, began to hand Cordelia her clothes. He was putting on his trousers when someone knocked on the door.
A tentative voice called out, "Is everything all right in there?"
"It most certainly is not," AJ growled as he buttoned his shirt. "There's a dead rat in here."
"A dead rat? Oh, my, surely our cleaning staff would notice such a thing!" the voice replied.
AJ glanced at Cordelia to make sure that she was dressed. She pressed her hands over her dress to smooth it and shook her head. AJ opened the door and allowed the man to enter before pointing out, "The rat wasn't dead earlier. It was quite alive when it accosted my wife. I killed it." AJ retrieved his shoe and made a face at he looked at the blood on the sole.
The hotel employee stammered, "Oh, my. So it seems. Quite alive. I'll get the manager." He pulled the duvet back and grabbed the sheet then handed it to AJ to wipe the blood off his shoe.
"Just wait, you can take me to him," AJ grumbled as he wiped the shoe and put it on.
"You're not leaving me in here alone," Cordelia said, her voice trembling. She hadn't moved from her perch on the chair and refused to step on the floor. AJ approached the chair and took her in his arms. She laid her head on his shoulder and held on as AJ followed the hotel employee to see the manager.
4 March 1875
San Francisco, California
The Mark Hotel
Early Evening
"Can’t believe how badly they let the place go." AJ grumbled as Webb’s man carried their suitcases down to the lobby.
"Mr. and Mrs. Chegwidden!" The hotel manager came running up, ringing his hands. "I’m so…"
"Save it Mr. Elliot, I’m just thankful that I have friends with whom I can stay. I understand that every hotel in town is booked. You can ill afford to lose the business that the cattlemen and the railroad men are bringing in. But a damn rat accosted my wife!"
"Sir, I’m sure we can make some kind of arrangement?"
"They’re RATS!" Chegwidden bellowed. "What are you going to do? Have a boy in there with a hammer to kill them?"
"Ah. AJ, ever the diplomat." Webb reached out his hand in greeting. He glared at the hotel manager, "David, I suggest you do something about this, and soon."
"Yes, Mr. Webb. Sorry, Mr. Chegwidden. There will, of course, be no charge on your bill."
"Damn right, there won’t be." AJ muttered as Cordelia led him out of the hotel.
His sixtieth birthday was in three months and she hated when he worked himself up into a temper. «But really, it was such a large rat.» Once outside she presented her cheek to Webb. "Hello, Clayton."
"Cordelia, you’re looking well." He led her over to the carriage and helped her inside. "After you, AJ."
"Where’s Victor?"
"He and Gloria are meeting us at the Opera House. Evidently one of the boys suffered a domestic accident and Gloria wants to stay with him until the last minute. They will dine at home."
"I see. Well how is Charlie doing?"
"You’ll see for yourself tonight, we’re dining at Neville’s Landing."
Cordelia and Sarah quietly talked of the children, their homes and their husbands. Neither had that much opportunity to gossip. Cordelia spent much of her day with the children and the horses and Sarah still took an active part in managing the business that bore her name, though she seldom gambled unless it was a game among friends where the stakes were pennies and the conversation the main draw.
"How are you feeling, dearest?" Cordelia patted her hand.
Sarah sighed but refused to let the pain engulf her again. "I’m fine." She glanced at the two men who were talking about the latest invention, a steam carriage that could replace horse drawn carriage. "Clayton doesn’t seem to mind really. At least we have Emily." Sarah stared out the window. She had never had regular periods and she had always been rather surprised when she never became pregnant after the many liaisons of her youth. Of course, she was happy about that, but once she and Clay were married, she had always been so disappointed when the blood would flow. She was nearly five months pregnant with Emily before she even realized she was going to have a baby. Clay had been on top of the world and had immediately made plans to move them into a small house. But, something always came up and Emily was nearly six before he started talking seriously about buying land on Nob Hill. Then she found out she was pregnant again. But this time, even from the beginning she knew something was different, something was wrong. She was seven months along when she lost the child and nearly died in the process. Cordelia came down from Stockton for a week afterwards and Gloria stayed with her whenever Clay wasn’t by her side. The doctor told her that she couldn’t have any more babies. «Though how he knows is beyond me.»
Pulling herself out of her funk, she smiled at Cordelia. "It’s not like he could spoil Emily anymore than he already does. The man dotes on her. I should be quite jealous."
"Jealous of whom, darling?" Webb asked softly.
"Oh. You old eavesdropper you."
"Of course. How did you think I always knew where the good card games were in the old days? Jealous of whom?"
"Oh, Clayton, Sarah was just telling me how much you dote on Emily."
Clay studied his wife for a moment. "Well naturally. She’s the spitting image of her mother. I dote on both my girls."
Sarah snorted, but a pleased look crossed her face. "So tell me, AJ, are the boys any help at all yet?"
AJ launched into his own bragging session, extolling the virtues of young Thomas, thirteen this year. "No one rides as well as he does. But Brian and Garrett make a good showing."
"And Adele?" Sarah asked after the Chegwidden’s youngest child.
Cordelia sighed. "We all spoil her. AJ most of all. As proud as he is of the boys, he loves having a daughter. Of course, she may end up a spinster because any beaux must pass muster with AJ and her brothers."
The conversation continued on the same vein even after they were seated in the private dining room at the restaurant. "Now tell me, Webb, what this I hear?"
"Hear about what, AJ?"
"That you are leading the fight to reform the police force. Rather a unique position for the owner of a gambling hall."
Webb sat back. They hadn’t bothered to place their order with the waiter who seemed to hover nearby. They knew Charlie would have something special planned. "Oh, I don’t know, AJ. If the public is too afraid to come out at night then all I get is the ruffians and drunks, neither of whom have the necessary money to keep my wife in the style of living to which she has become accustomed."
Cordelia quirked an eyebrow at Sarah who just shook her head and slapped Webb’s arm rather sharply with her fan. "He’s just as concerned about improving the fire department. I swear the man is haunting city council meetings so much, I know he’s going to end up running for office. Can you imagine?"
"Never happen, darling. I prefer to work behind the scenes."
"Of course, dear."
AJ and Cordelia exchanged wicked grins but said nothing as the soup course was put in front of each of them. "Green turtle soup," the waiter informed them.
"But I could certainly support a strong candidate. You know, the state legislature has an opening. Stockton and San Francisco are in the same district." Webb mused. "I understand that former military officers have done well in the polls for other districts." He stared at AJ.
Cordelia glanced at Webb, then arched her eyebrows as she turned to stare at her husband. AJ didn't speak.
"None of them have the kind of leadership skills you have, AJ. Your men were very loyal. They would have followed you anywhere." Webb glanced at Sarah and winked before he added, "Even Sarah. She went to New Orleans on your orders. There aren't many people who could have managed that."
Sarah coughed uncomfortably, then said, "He's right, you know. Not just about me going to New Orleans. About your leadership. We need people like you in the statehouse. Even those Confederate sympathizers in Perryville recognized your leadership."
"We need a new attorney general as well, AJ. It's a statewide office. I think with your background, you could pull it off, even without having held a political office before." Webb left the challenge hanging in the air.
AJ glanced at Cordelia, " I haven't practiced law in years, with the exception of some deeds and wills. I don't know that breeding horses is something that qualifies me for public office. And what about Cordelia and the children? I have a family to see to."
"What better way to protect them and other families? You should at least consider it, AJ. When," Webb paused and after a glare from AJ said, "If you decide to run, I know the right people to contact. Talk to Cordelia. Think about it. Then let me know."
AJ caught Cordelia's eyes, then nodded to Webb. "I'll take it under advisement."
The waiters appeared with more food this time serving the fish course, Northern Pacific Salmon in Lobster sauce, followed by a Loin of Pork with Applesauce. Cordelia commented on the green beans. "Excellent. Just perfect. I do wish I could get Ruby to not cook them to death."
"Darlin’ I love Ruby’s green beans." AJ chided his wife.
"Which is why I can’t get her to not cook them for four hours with fatback. She's just like Lucy." Cordelia raised her eyebrows. "Both of them worship the ground you walk on, AJ."
"As it should be." Both men agreed, earning them glares from both wives.
After desert they took the carriage across town. The opera house was already surrounded by lines of carriages dropping off patrons.
"I hear that after San Francisco she’s going to Paris." Cordelia whispered to Sarah as they made their way up the staircase leading to the private box Webb had reserved. Waiting for them were Gloria and Victor. Once more, the couples exchanged greetings then settled in to enjoy the opera.
Emma Albani was singing the role of Amina in La Sonnambula, an opera by Bellini. It told the story of a wedding festival in a small town with a phantom who walked the streets each night. A rival exposes the bride-to-be in the bedroom of another man who defends the innocent woman, who suffers from somnambulism. No one believes this claim and the town ridicules her and the marriage is called off until they see Amina sleepwalking through the town.
At the end of the performance, the lights came on. Cordelia gasped and held AJ's arm. "What is it, Cori?" AJ whispered.
Cordelia shook her head, "Nothing. It couldn't be."
"Couldn't be what?" AJ waited for her to answer.
With a sigh, Cordelia murmured, "There was a couple…but it couldn't be. It's been so long. I'm seeing things. It's nothing. Really."
"Is everything all right?" Webb asked.
Cordelia nodded and AJ shook his head. "She saw someone, but she won't say who it was."
"It's nothing," Cordelia insisted.
They hear the usher outside the door to the box raise his voice, "I'm sorry, sir, ma'am, but you can't go in there."
"Then I'll wait right here for them to come out," another voice said.
Cordelia turned her head at the sound. She stood and rushed to the door, throwing it open.
"Miss Cori! It is you! I thought these old eyes might be playing tricks on me," the tall black man smiled broadly.
"Sturgis, you are a sight for sore eyes," Cordelia exclaimed. She hugged the big man and then the woman standing next to him. "Bobbi, I thought I'd never see either of you again."
"We thought we'd never see you again, either," Bobbi said. "Sturgis would see someone he thought might be you, or I would, but then we'd realize it was just the way the woman held her head, or walked. I never thought you'd leave Kentucky and the horse farm."
"I left Kentucky, but I brought the horse farm with me," Cordelia grinned.
AJ stood behind her now, "Olympia Farm is our horse farm. We may have a working vineyard soon, as well."
Sturgis stared, trying to place the big man who placed his arm around Cordelia, but it was Bobbi who recognized him first. "General Chegwidden!"
Opening his eyes wide, Sturgis asked, "You have taken to horse breeding, General?"
"I'd say that I've taken to Cori, and she's taught me a great deal about horse breeding; most of it prefaced by 'Sturgis told me,' " AJ laughed and held out his hand.
Sturgis smiled and shook AJ's hand. He glanced at Cordelia. "Looks like you're takin' good care of Miss Cori, sir."
By now, Webb had joined AJ and Cordelia and greeted Sturgis, who recognized him immediately. "Mr. Clayton Webb. It has been a long time. I saw the restaurant, Neville's Landing. That must be yours."
Webb nodded. "And Sarah's Dream is my establishment as well, along with my wife, Sarah, and Victor and Gloria Galindez here." Webb gestured and Sarah joined him as Victor and Gloria stood. Webb introduced the new couple, "Sturgis and Bobbi --" He stopped abruptly, unsure of what name Sturgis had chosen to use.
"Turner," Sturgis provided without a pause. "I took the name Turner because we were turned free." He offered his hand, "Nice to meet you Mr. Galindez."
"What have you done all this time, Sturgis? You seem to have done well," Cordelia smiled.
"Thanks to you, Miss Cori. The money you sent with us allowed us to purchase a small piece of property and keep some money in the bank. Bobbi worked as a ladies maid while I went to school. I studied medicine and for a while worked mostly on animals. There wasn't much call for a Negro doctor. But here in California, I have a small clinic. The money in the bank grew over the years and we can offer medical care to those who would otherwise go without. Bobbi took nursing classes." Sturgis glanced at AJ, "Her experience with the wounded in Perryville served her well, General. There are three other doctors who work with us, another black man and a young married couple."
"Sturgis, that's wonderful." Cordelia caught Bobbi's eye, "And children?"
Bobbi beamed. "We have two, a girl and a boy. They're both doing well in school and want to enter medicine as well. And you?"
"We have four." Cordelia blushed. "Three boys and a girl."
"My, a houseful," Bobbi grinned.
"We were about to stop by Sarah's Dream for a drink and a visit. Won't you join us?" Webb asked.
Sturgis glanced at Bobbi, then at Cordelia. He nodded, "We'd like that very much, Mr. Webb."
"Sturgis, it was always Clay when we were growing up. There's no reason for that to change, is there?" Webb raised his eyebrows and waited for an answer.
"No reason at all, Clay. None at all," Sturgis smiled as the four couples left the opera house together.