Part 6
by Paula B and CJ
5 January 1863
Knoxville, Tennessee
2100 hours
The train ride had been uneventful. They stopped for the night at Knoxville and he managed to hide from Sarah as she made her way to the hotel. He barely avoided Galindez. Only a convenient alley kept the Spanish gambler from running straight into him. As he pressed his back against the wall, Webb tried to rationalize just what he was doing. He couldn’t believe he was acting this way. Not after all these years. He glanced at his watch and groaned. Well, there would be no getting around it. The shopkeeper would be well paid for interrupting his supper to allow Webb to buy clean clothes.
Victor Galindez knew he couldn’t hide from Sarah another day, so instead of slinking around, he strode into the hotel right behind her.
"Victor?" There was shock and anger in her voice. "What the devil are you doing here?"
Galindez ignored her for a moment while he signed the register for his own room, also ignoring the enraged look of the proprietor. "Thank you, senor." He took the key, and in a voice loud enough for the proprietor to hear he said to Sarah, "My dear grandmother lies near death, Senorita."
Sarah barely managed to hide her fear at his statement. «Some spy you are. Merciful heavens. Why is he here?» She gulped. "I didn’t know your grandmother lived in Knoxville, Victor."
"She doesn’t. She lives in Chattanooga. I’m taking the train. Why are you here, senorita?"
She glared up at him, and without another word flounced out of the room, up the staircase to her room. Victor looked back at the owner. "Our mothers were dear friends, but something occurred and now they hold each other a grudge. I am afraid the feud has carried on to their children. Miss MacKenzie and my dear wife used to be best of friends."
The proprietor nodded in approval. "Y’all don’t sound like you’re from around here."
"I don’t?" Victor just smiled, looked at his room key and sighed. «What is it with these people always putting me on the third floor?» Trudging up the stairs he paused at her door – he had heard the manager tell her the room number just before she noticed Victor standing in the doorway. He softly tapped at the door.
She flung it open, and before she could stop him he walked in, closing the door behind him. "What are you doing here, Victor?"
"Trying to find out why you are trying to get yourself killed."
She hissed and turned away. "It’s none of your business, Victor. Get out. Go…go…go to the blazes, damn you."
He stepped up behind her, putting his hand on her shoulder. "You play a dangerous game. Dangerous for a man, doubly dangerous for a woman."
"Life is dangerous for a man, doubly dangerous for a woman, Victor. I live by my own rules." She turned and looked up at him. "Didn’t you know that? Didn’t Clayton tell you that?" She saw the truth in his eyes, knew that he knew exactly what her relationship with Clay was. She also saw he held no rancor for her. She just saw what she always saw in most men. He wanted to protect her. Protect her from herself. But, like Del and the captain of the Dixie Queen, and a few other notable exceptions in her life, she also saw he wanted nothing from her. "I have been taking care of myself for a long time, Victor."
"Si, Sarah. I understand. However, you will forgive me for continuing on my way tomorrow. Dear Grandmother holds on waiting only to see her grandson one last time." He grinned and without another word turned and walked out of the room. She followed him and watched as he climbed the stairs to his room.
"Damn it all!" She huffed and then flopped down on her bed. A smile finally graced her lips. «Perhaps it will be nice to have a friend with me for this. Maybe he understands. Clayton certainly never would.» Her sigh turned into a sob and she threw her body across the bed. She wanted Clay so badly she ached. «Why does it have to be this way, Lord? Why can’t I just let him love me? I know he does. Maybe almost as much as I love him.»
Webb stared at the front of the hotel. Anger boiling to the surface. Quickly he stalked inside and began to demand a room. He carried a small, brand new valise with clean clothes inside of it. He glared down at the register. "S. Mackenzie – 219. Victor Galindez – 322." Something about it made him pause.
"Hey mister, you gonna sign or not?"
Webb shook his head. Turning he ran out of the hotel. If he remembered correctly the Lucky Day saloon had rooms upstairs, and the girls to keep him company. Fueled by anger he pushed open the doors. Before him he saw dozens of Confederate soldiers playing at the roulette wheel and the card tables. He would go upstairs and change. He didn’t need the money, but he wanted to recoup some of what he had spent on the new clothes. They wouldn’t fit like he liked, but they would not be dusty like the clothes he was wearing. Clayton Webb was nothing if not fastidious. He stalked over to the bar, dropping his valise next to him. "You have a room I can rent?" He demanded after downing the bitter whiskey the man put down in front of him.
"One."
"That’s all I need. I want a bath."
"Out back." The bartender jerked his head toward a door. "You stayin’ long?"
"No." Webb didn’t volunteer anything else.
Later, when he was clean and shaved with his new razor and dressed in his new clothes he came down and promptly lost most of what he had won the night before. His anger continued to grow, and he reached out to grab the hand of one of the girls who had been eyeing him. He started to pull her toward the stair when he caught the reflection in the mirror behind the bar. He saw the hard tight face, his lips curled up in a sneer and he saw in himself the bastard from the night before, Daniel Wallace. Shame replaced his anger. Or anger at himself replaced his anger at Victor and Sarah. He reached into his pocket and handed the girl a gold coin. "I changed my mind."
"Okay." She shrugged and turned to find another companion for the evening.
He rose the next morning, and quickly made his way to the train station. Hanging back, he saw Victor escort Sarah to the train car.
"Well, Mr. Webb, I see you’ve decided to stay with us." The hearty voice made him cringe. He turned around and smiled wanly at one of the men with whom he had spent all of yesterday playing cards. He had spotted the cheater within two deals and had taken the bastard for every penny he could. He could deal with cheaters on their own level. To build good will with the other two, who, as it turned out, were only traveling to Knoxville, he secretly made sure they won enough hands so that they at least broke even. Frankly, he had fun with it simply because he knew it annoyed the man before him.
"Yes, Billy, I have business in Chattanooga." He allowed the other man to lead him to the car behind where Sarah and Galindez were sitting, their backs to them.
"Indeed. You know we were all so busy playing yesterday we didn’t get a chance to talk. What line of work are you in?"
Clay wasn’t ashamed of what he did for a living. Even if he was he was well enough known that lying would do him no good, but something about Billy Jarvis bothered him and he shrugged. "I’m a banker." He didn’t really want to deal with Jarvis today. "A banker who is feeling a bit under the weather. I didn’t sleep well last night." «Well that’s the truth.» "If you will excuse me, I think I’ll try and get some sleep. We get into Chattanooga around 6:00 tonight, right?"
"Well, if those filthy Yankees haven’t sent saboteurs to blow up the railroads tracks."
Webb noted the smile on Jarvis’ lips never reached his eyes. "Well, let's hope for the best." Webb moved away from Jarvis and plopped down onto one of the benches halfway up the car, making sure to stretch across both seats. He pushed his hat over his face.
6 January 1863
Between Knoxville &
Chattanooga, Tennessee
1100 hours
Sarah wasn’t happy. She had hoped that Galindez would sleep through the train leaving, though why she thought he would was beyond her. He had been waiting for her in the little dining room of the hotel. "Good morning."
"Victor!" she hissed. "I can’t have you with me."
"Why not? Does this man you are meeting, what is his name? Farrow? Does he expect you to come alone? Why do you do something so dangerous?"
She sat down and ordered breakfast. The innkeeper glared at Galindez, but Victor just grinned and ordered, "What the lady is having."
After she had drank her first cup of coffee she sighed. "Victor, I do what I do because I believe in it. I’m not asking you to protect me. I’m not asking you to believe in what I do. I am asking you to GO AWAY."
His look made her feel guilty. "I have known you for many years, Sarah. You are my friend. I will help you."
She sighed. "Victor, you cannot believe that you can gain from this." As soon as she said it and saw the anger darken his face she quickly reached out and touched his hand. "I’m sorry. You’re right. You are a friend and didn’t deserve that awful comment. You are the one true gentleman that I know."
He sandwiched her fingers between his two dark muscular hands. "One of two gentlemen you know, Sarah. What will Webb say…"
She pulled her hand free and began to quickly eat her food. Her glare forced him to follow suit, in silence. When they were done she pulled out a coin and paid for her meal, daring him to say anything. They walked to the train in silence. They didn’t speak a word until they were almost outside of Chattanooga. It was Sarah who finally broke the silence. Keeping her face turned toward the darkening countryside, she began softly. "Webb wouldn’t understand, Victor. He grew up in the lap of Southern gentility. His father owned slaves, though I have heard Clay voice contempt for the concept. He doesn’t give a fig about the war, except how it affects the way he makes his living. He doesn’t care about anything but himself."
Victor’s hand on her chin forced her to look at him. "You really believe that Sarah? Really? Then you don’t know anything."
As the train began to slow she twisted away from him and stood up. "I can’t believe anything else right now, Victor. Not and continue with what I have to do."
He stood and let her get out into the aisle. "Sarah. Why do you have to continue?"
"Because I gave my word." She walked to wait at the doors of the car. They were just pulling into the station. She had it planned out already. The return train to Knoxville and then to Perryville would leave first thing tomorrow morning. Tonight she would go to the granary storage yards to meet with Farrow. Chegwidden had told her that Farrow would go there each night at 8:00 and wait for exactly twenty minutes. It was 7:30 now. She would have just enough time – if she could find a carriage.
Victor followed her to the stables near the end of the station. She was arguing with the owner. "Why? I have the money!"
"Lookee here, little lady, money or no. You ain’t got enough to buy them, and it’s late at night. I can jest see some of these boys here in town seeing a lady like you in a carriage alone. Next thing I knows, you’re dead and I’m out a horse and carriage."
"Will you rent it to me, senor?"
The old man looked Galindez up and down and cackled. "Sure. You want the responsibility, I’ll rent to ya." Galindez ignored the low angry growl from Sarah. The man seemed to break out into a sweat, but Victor urged him on.
"Come on, Sarah. Lets go find Grammy, shall we?"
Webb watched them ride off toward south end of town. There wasn’t much out there. «Where the hell?» He quickly rented a horse and rode out after them.
5 January 1863
Perryville, Kentucky
Perryville prosecutor's office
1830 hours
Harmon Rabb sat in silence in the darkness of his office. Dusk had fallen more than an hour ago, but he hadn't noticed. He sighed discontentedly. «Nothing good will come from this prosecution. Miss Cori has never done anything wrong, the community respects her. No, they love her. If she would just say something, tell me what happened, but she won't say a word. That given, I have to treat this like a murder.» His thoughts were as dark as the night.
The tall man sighed. Rabb knew he was lucky to have a career to come home to, one that he could still practice. He had just finished law school when the war began and he answered the Union's call. «There were plenty of people in Perryville who didn't like that.» But a freak accident had blinded him, keeping him from most of the action.
When he had gone off to fight a war, he was the happiest of men. He knew that Tess Coulter waited for him at home, wearing his ring. But then he had come back broken, blind. «I couldn't hold her to her promise. I had to break things off. She deserves more than I could give her now.» Tess had been angry with him, then hurt. «Knowing Tess, she's had time to get angry again.» Rabb laughed bitterly to himself.
Thinking of Tess, Rabb could see her in his mind's eye. «She is so beautiful. Tall, blond, her eyes expressing the emotion she holds back in words. I could always tell exactly what she was thinking from one glance.»While he admired her beauty, it was her intellect that held his attention. As a writer for her father's newspaper, Tess angered some people. They didn't see it as a woman's place. «It never bothered Tess. She used to say that they made her as mad as she made them.» He could remember her, see her in his head, smoking one of his cigars as she talked. «Never met another woman who liked cigars.»
The memories were bittersweet, his greatest happiness and his most painful torment. Tess had followed them to the Wallace farm the day before. «I heard her voice, even though she didn't talk to me.» Rabb knew she must have written a story for her father's paper. «Her father won't like it, but he'll print it. He wouldn't miss a story, even if it was unseemly for a woman to be there at such a time. Even if that woman is his daughter.»
«And now I have this case. Lindsey is a sorry investigator, so there will be no more evidence either to prove or to disprove Miss Cori's guilt or innocence. If I could see, perhaps there might be something I could do to find the truth. Why won't she talk? I can't imagine her killing a man, any man, not even Daniel Wallace, in cold blood. But her silence is quite damning.»
5 January 1863
Perryville, Kentucky
The publisher's office of the Perryville Sentinel
1900 hours
"But Daddy, I found the story. I followed the leads. Why won't you let me cover it? If any other reporter for this newspaper brought in something like this, you'd let them cover it!" Tess was angry. She didn't care who heard, although not many people were around the offices of the newspaper at this time of night. «Only the printers, and they're too far away to hear anything.»
Her father sat calmly at his desk. "You aren't any reporter, Tess. You're my daughter. If you weren't my daughter, you wouldn't be writing for the paper at all. The murder and the trial are not the sort of story I want you covering. It's inappropriate for a woman. I'll hear no more of this," he rumbled forcefully. "Go home. Eat dinner. Read a book." «Why couldn't she have taken that job as a school teacher? But no, she doesn't want to teach. She wants to write for my newspaper. Who ever heard of such a thing? A woman reporter? She turned down that job and we had to hire that Rice girl out of St. Louis. What will I do with this child? For a while there, it looked like Rabb might tame her, but the fool had to go off to war and come back blind before the fighting had barely started. It was noble of him to call things off with Tess, but you'd think she was the one who was blind. She hasn't so much as looked at another man.»
Tess glared at her father, then turned and stormed out of the office, through the bullpen, and out of the building. «It's hopeless! He'll never take me seriously. I'll get the story anyway. I'll sell it to one of his competitors if I must.» What she really wanted was to find Harmon Rabb and smoke a cigar with him while she complained about her father. «Harm always knew what to say when Daddy made me angry like this. Talking to him always made me feel better.» She glanced at his office. There was no light, but somehow, she knew that he was still there. She sighed quietly before walking slowly and dejectedly home.
5 January 1863
Chattanooga, Tennessee
Chattanooga RR Granary
2010 hours
Sarah strained to see in the cold night air. Tall silos rose in the dark sky; clouds obliterated what little light the quarter moon shed. Beside her, at the reins, Victor Galindez panted softly. This was a different man than the one who played cards with such stoic ease. She had heard the rumors of his background and was suddenly very glad to have a soldier next to her. "There," she hissed quietly.
Victor barely made out the shadow in the shadows and was further impressed with Sarah’s skill. "Wait," he started to caution her, but she was already out of the carriage, making her way toward the hiding place.
John Farrow stepped out to meet her. "Ma’am." He tipped his hat.
She was shocked and a little frightened to see Confederate gray. The captain’s bars picked up what little light glowed from the fires placed strategically to warm the guards. There was enough grain here to feed much of Chattanooga and several of Tennessee’s armies so she wasn’t surprised to see the guards.
"Sir?" She gasped looking around. She was doubly glad that Victor, gun in hand was behind her.
"You are well to bring protection, Ma’am. The sky is bright and the hawk flies low."
Sarah sighed in relief at the recognition code. "The hawk flies low to protect its young." When she had first started spying she had felt silly using the stilted codes. But now she understood their import. "What do you have for me? We don’t have much time."
"Come, stand close to the fire over here. I have much to tell you. Will you remember it all?"
"I have an excellent memory, sir." She looked back and wasn’t surprised to see Victor get down from the wagon and walk toward them. He was looking around carefully. «Yes, it is rather nice to have a partner for this.»
The small fire sent shadows dancing against the silos protecting them like sentinels. The night was silent except for the wind beginning to pick up and the crackling of the logs as they fell into the fire. She hugged her shoulders, wishing for her shawl back in her valise. She looked up into Galindez’s face and thanked him as he encircled her with his coat. It smelled of warmth and cigars and a faint hint of sweat.
Farrow took a deep breath and began. Sarah listened intently closing her eyes, trying hard to remember the details of the next big Confederate movements that were planned. When Farrow was done she sighed and quickly repeated back to him every word he had said.
"Excellent, ma’am. May you remember everything when you return to Kentucky."
"What she doesn’t remember, I will." Galindez sighed and glared at her. She blushed but then lifted her chin as if saying, ‘you’re here because you want to be.’
Sarah sighed. "I will return on the morning train."
"No. Haven’t you heard? We are confiscating the train for troops. The next train north won’t be for two days."
"Damn." Sarah sighed. "Well, perhaps we will keep the carriage." She grinned wryly at Galindez. "Looks like you weren’t any better at keeping men from robbing you than I would have been, sir."
"I paid him enough that I’m not that guilty, though from the look of it, the horse won’t make it back."
"We’ll figure out a way."
"One last thing, ma’am." Farrow rubbed his hand over his mouth. "Something I heard at headquarters yesterday."
"Yes?" She saw the look of distaste on his face. "What’s wrong?"
"There’s a woman, in Perryville." Sarah waited while he worked it out for himself. "I dislike passing on gossip, particularly when it comes to what we do, but it may be important."
"What?" She was beginning to get a funny feeling, almost like they were being watched. She looked around, but saw nothing that she didn’t expect to see.
"Sydney Walden. Do you know her?"
Sarah shrugged. "No…I…wait…Walden? Not a woman…no wait…her son. I played cards against a boy named Walden and yes, Sydney Walden was mentioned. Why?"
"She’s actively spying for the South."
Sarah shrugged again, her anxiety decreasing somewhat. "Half of Kentucky is actively spying for the South."
"But she’s in a position to do so, Ma’am." Farrow insisted. "Her house is being…"
Suddenly, an explosion shattered the calm night air. Farrow pitched forward, blood gushing from his shoulder. Sarah and Victor spun around to find a man they had never seen before pointing a revolver at them. "Well now, this ain’t nice at all. Traitor!" The man pointed his gun at Victor. "Drop it mister."
"Who are you?" Victor demanded, not moving a muscle.
"Why, I’m Captain William Jarvis. I work for Jeff Davis himself. I find traitors like this fool." He kicked the boot of the recumbent Farrow who groaned in pain. "And, I find spies like you, my dear." He moved his gun off Galindez to cover Sarah. He pulled back the hammer. "Now, I said drop your gun, Mister. I’ll take you to headquarters and I’m quite sure you’ll all be summarily hanged until dead." He laughed sourly.
Sarah swallowed. She could hear shouts coming from far away. Soldiers who had heard the shot would be coming soon. She always knew that this could very well be the way she ended up. A tear tracked down her cheek as she realized she would never see Webb again.
"Now, Billy, I really can’t let that happen now can I?" Webb’s soft voice called from behind Jarvis. The man spun around, but the shot drove him back against one of the silos. He slowly slumped to the ground, dead. Webb hurried forward and knelt next to Jarvis, feeling for a pulse. "I never liked cheats." Standing, he walked over and knelt next to Farrow. "You’ll live."
"You need to get out of here." Farrow gasped, not caring who his savior was. "Go. No, wait, give me your gun; take mine."
Webb immediately understood what was going through the Captain’s mind. "Good idea." Without a word they exchanged guns. Webb stood and without looking at Sarah commanded Galindez, "Get her in the carriage and get the hell out of here. Head north on the Knoxville Pike. I’ll meet you at the tavern in Athens tomorrow morning. Stop at Cleveland for a fresh horse. Do you need money?"
"No. What will you be doing?"
"Why, what I’ve done since you two sneaked out of Perryville like two teenaged lovers," he spat angrily. "Watching your backs. Now get out of here." He turned without so much as a glance at her.
"Clay?" she whispered as Galindez propelled her toward the carriage. "Oh, God, what have I done? Surely he doesn’t think…"
"Later, Sarah. They’re getting closer." Quickly, Galindez maneuvered the carriage through the maze of silos. He skirted the edge of the train station. "What possessed us to think we could go back that way?" He pointed to the troops of soldiers beginning to gather. "Farrow was right. This will be the last time you will be able to do this."
"No it isn’t!" She said furiously. «What else do I have now? Clay hates me. He despises me for betraying the South. I saw it on his face.» She kept the tears at bay and sat silent through the long miles north. Galindez found a small livery stable in Cleveland willing to take his horse and 50 dollars for another. It was outrageous of course, but they had no choice. He bought her a cold sandwich from the man. Again he paid too much for it, but she couldn’t bring herself to eat more than a few bites. She spent most of the journey looking over her shoulder through the small window in the back. When it started raining she whimpered thinking of Clay out there with not even the little protection afforded by the heavy cloth surrounding the three sides of the carriage. "He’ll catch his death of cold." She closed her eyes and felt the tears track down her cheeks. "Why did he follow us, Victor?"
"You ask that now, Sarah? I’m surprised he hasn’t followed you these past ten years. Foolish woman. Stupid man. I would like to spank you both. Like teenaged lovers, indeed." Victor kept warm by letting his anger at his two friends grow with each passing mile. He played out several scenes in his head, none of them ending well for the gambler supposedly watching their backs.
It was dawn before they reached the outskirts of the bustling little town. Troops were everywhere and Sarah huddled back into the carriage. Galindez looked at her. They were both tired and freezing. He just hoped that Webb would arrive soon. He found the tavern and helped Sarah alight. Taking her hand, he pulled her through the small garden in front and up to the front door. A young black woman opened the door and stared at them a moment. Galindez started coughing. She ran and got her mistress.
A tall woman came immediately. "Yes?"
Galindez, his voice hoarse from coughing and the cold gasped. "You’re pardon, ma’am. My sister and I need rooms. Her husband is joining us a bit later. He mentioned that you might have accommodations?"
"And who is her husband?" The cool blond demanded.
"Uhm…A Mister Clayton Webb, ma’am."
"Ah. Clayton. Of course. Come in. Clayton married? Finally. Well my dear, you look
rather the worse for wear, but I imagine a hot bath will cure that. Come along." She
led them up the stairs at the back of the common room. "I’ll have Jacob bring up
the tub and Bessie will bring up hot water and towels. Your bags?"
"Mrs. Webb’s is in the back of the carriage. I’m afraid there was an accident by the river. I will need to buy some more. Do you know of a place?"
"Don’t worry." Victor thought the woman’s smile was quite predatory. "I can help with that." He felt like a bug under a child’s intent stare just before it was squashed. "I think I know what size to get for you."
"Uhm…thank you, se…ma’am." Galindez had learned to moderate his accent a bit in the years he had traveled through the south. When he did, people would look at him strangely, and he always told them he was from California.
"Mrs. Krennick, Mister…?"
"MacKenzie, Ma’am." He glared at Sarah who was trying hard to decide whether to laugh or to cry at the entire situation.
"Odd," was Mrs. Krennick’s only response.
After the slave brought up the tub and the other slave filled it with hot water and left the thick towel, Sarah sank gratefully down and rested her head against the back of the high tin tub. She let the fear and worry of the past twenty-four hours overtake her and sobs ripped through her. Sitting forward, she wrapped her arms around her bent legs and buried her face in her knees. She didn’t hear the door open, nor did she feel the change in temperature. She did jump up at his voice. "It’s a little late for tears, don’t you think, Miss MacKenzie."
"Clay!" She tripped getting out of the tub, only his strong hands on her arms kept her from falling to the floor. But he didn’t embrace her. Didn’t hold her.
Instead he firmly set her on her feet and walked to the tub. "Is the water still hot?"
"Yes, Clay."
"Good." Without another word he stripped off his clothes. "You’ll have to get dressed and go ask Allison to find me some clean clothes. Her brother owns the general store. She’ll know my size."
It was like he has slapped her face. Anger replaced relief and she snapped, "Don’t be too impressed if she does. Evidently, she figured out Victor’s size too."
He didn’t even bat a lash. "I’m sure she did. Allison as a good eye – and a fine ear. So," his voice dropped to a whispered hiss, "if you don’t want her telling the Confederate commander that there are three Union spies staying at her tavern, then I would suggest you keep your voice down." He sank into the water and began to vigorously soap his skin.
Sarah stared at him for a moment before dressing quickly. As she opened the door she spared him one hard look. "Bastard," she hissed before running down the stairs.
Webb left the water, now cold and filthy, and grabbed up the towel with which she had dried off. He inhaled her scent and groaned in agony. "Why didn’t you trust me? Why did you trust Galindez but not me?" He rubbed his body dry, tears of exhaustion threatening to fall. When she didn’t return, he stretched out on the bed. He had no fear that she would flee. Sarah was many aggravating things, but he had never met a smarter woman. He doubted that the train would be any more of an option here than it had been in Chattanooga. As exhaustion overtook him, he was already planning on how to get them out of this.
Sarah insisted upon going with Allison Krennick to her brother’s dry goods store. She allowed Allison to pick out clothing for Victor, but insisted upon picking out her husband’s clothes. As the brother figured out the cost Sarah finally gave into her curiosity. "So, where did you meet Mr. Webb?"
"Oh, lands, honey. I’ve known Clayton most all my life. At least from the time I was a teen. We lived in Lexington back then. Clayton and my brother went to Transylvania together. My maiden name is Breckenridge." She added with pride, "Major General John Breckenridge is my brother. My own dear husband, Walter died at the battle of Bull Run. I moved here because Walter’s family is from this area. I won’t stay here after the war. I can assure you of that." She sniffed haughtily. "So tell me, Mrs. Webb, however did you manage to convince Clayton to wed? Frankly, I never thought he would. He did tell you want he did for a living, didn’t he?"
Sarah ignored the jab but felt her cheeks glow a bright red. "We need to be getting back. Mr. Webb will want his clothes."
Krennick snorted. "Mr. Webb, indeed. You are a delicate blossom aren’t you, dear?"
Sarah fumed. She wanted very much to give this stuck up widow a piece of her mind but she knew they were on dangerous ground. «Well, my girl, it’s all your own fault. You’ve really messed this assignment up something terrible. You would have thought you were quite new at this.» In demure silence she followed the tavern owner back to the pleasant house at the end of town. She watched as Mrs. Krennick knocked at the door where Victor waited and thought, «Poor Victor. Well my friend, you are on your own there.»
Quietly, she opened the door. He was sprawled across the bed, snoring. She stepped up and gazed down at him. Even in sleep he looked worried, angry. She sighed. «I should have bought him a razor.» She turned to the door only to find a small valise, mud splattered, resting next to it. Crouching down next to it, she opened it to find a small shaving kit and a clean pair of socks. Except for the mud, it looked new and she realized he must have bought it in Knoxville. She studied the clothes piled up next to the tub. «Those are new.» Clarity at what had occurred hit her hard and she sat down on the small chair next to the window. «Was it jealously, Clayton? Have I driven you to that? Dear God.» She felt her head nod against her chest and jerked awake. Sighing she pulled off her cloths and went to the bed. Easing around to the wall side, she crawled in next to him, shoving him, none-to-gently, out of the way. There still wasn’t much room, but she turned and rested her head on his shoulder and immediately fell asleep.
When she awoke, it was dark outside and she was alone. She sat up groggily trying to remember where she was. His scent was all around her. The tub was gone and she blushed, wondering how it had been removed. She knew that slaves were considered less than human, but she didn’t like the idea of having any man, other than Clayton, stare at her while she slept naked under the warm comforter. Carefully, she made her way to the small washstand and washed the sleep from her face. She pulled on clean clothes, fixed her hair and left the room. As she made her way downstairs, she heard laughter floating up to meet her.
The common room was full of Confederate soldiers. She looked around, trying to find Mrs. Krennick, Galindez or Webb, but she recognized no one. Finally, the girl who had brought her hot water came up to her. "Mizz Webb? Mistress said to take you to her private room, ma’am. They all be there."
"Thank you…Bessie, isn’t it?"
"Yass, ma’am." The girl looked pleased that Sarah had remembered.
She led Sarah through the crowd of soldiers, some of whom nodded pleasantly. Others made crude remarks, only to be rebuffed by friends. Sarah plastered a smile on her face; one that was friendly yet distant, one that had worked with men all her life.
The room she entered was small, warm and comfortable. Webb sat, smoking a cheroot. Galindez, a bright blush of embarrassment on his face was trying hard to keep the glass of scotch in his hand and Krennick’s hands off him. "Well, darling, wife. I see you’ve finally decided to wake up." Though Webb’s voice was warm, the look in his eye was cold. "Allison, have the girl bring Sarah something to eat. She is always cranky before she’s eaten."
"Oh, posh, Clayton. Tell Bessie yourself." Allison stroked the sleeve of Galindez’s shirt.
"Now, Allison." The warmth was gone from Webb’s voice. Krennick thought to argue but something in his look made her rise from the sofa and flounce out of the room, her head held high.
"So nice that someone obeys you without complaint, Clayton." Sarah sneered.
"She fears I will tell the boys out front how her ‘dear’ husband died." He looked out the window at the rain pelting down.
"Oh, not at Bull Run?"
"Yes. From a bullet to the back."
"His own men? Surely it was an accident?"
"He was running away to the rear, Sarah. The Union Troops were a mile away."
"And you know this how?"
Webb shrugged and ignored her. She could see he was still angry with her, but she didn’t dare argue with him. "I need to leave tonight."
Webb snorted. "Tomorrow morning."
"Tonight."
He strode up to her and finally met her glare, "The roads are too muddy."
"I didn’t ask you to come along. Either of you." She started to turn away but his fingers bit into her arm. Raising his voice a little he spat out, "Understand me, wife. I do not care for your insistence at running to your Grandmother’s deathbed, but if we have to, we will travel by train. The next train will leave tomorrow morning. It is a troop train, but I called in a favor from a friend, General Bragg." He plastered a smile on his face and greeted Allison as she returned with the slave carrying a tray. "Eat, Sarah. We will sit and talk of pleasant things and perhaps, after you have retired, I will play some cards with the men outside."
Sarah ate, and fumed. «How dare he. He has no right.» All the generous thoughts and worries she had felt the night before were deeply buried now. She finished then stood. "Thank you for the dinner, Mrs. Krennick." Repeating Clay’s performance at the granary, she left the cozy room without even looking at him.
Webb finished his after dinner drink. Allison left to make sure that the men were well cared for out front. He shook his head at Galindez. "She’s going to be the death of me, old friend."
"You’ll be the death of each other if you don’t stop it, Webb. What is the matter with you? Did you honestly think that I…"
"Careful, dear brother-in-law." Webb warned Galindez, but his gaze told the Spaniard they would talk later. "Let’s go play some cards." They walked together down the hall to the common room.
Victor nearly laughed out loud. Webb cursed fervently if quietly, "Damn her!"
Sarah was dealing poker and every man in the room had his eyes riveted on her.
"Dang, I ain’t never seen a pretty woman play so well."
"Oh, Mrs. Webb, my daddy done warned me bout women like you. He jess never said they was so pretty."
"Now Captain Beaumont, sir, whatever do you mean." Sarah simpered.
"Gentlemen," Webb ground out. One of the soldiers quickly threw down his hand and gave Webb his place. Galindez just stood off to the side and watched.
Money flowed back and forth. Men lost and left; others took their places. It was late and Galindez was yawning. Finally, Krennick came and demanded. "Gentlemen, ya’ll want to get me in trouble with General Bragg? All ya’ll go home now." Her voice was icy and no one not staying upstairs remained after a few minutes. Allison glared from Sarah to Webb, "Well I guess I know how you met this dainty flower, Clayton. How nice to find a woman who shares your skills. Who won?"
Sarah gasped at tavern owner’s words, but Clay just shrugged. "I do believe it was Major Donaldson. Wouldn’t you say, sweetheart?"
"Yes. Yes, I believe it was. Dear me. I had no idea how late it was. Goodnight all." She quickly left them and hurried up the stairs. She had just reached their door when she heard Webb and Galindez following her. They were quietly arguing about something, and she was sure it was about her.
"Damn it, let it rest, Webb."
"She nearly died, Victor."
"She is…goodnight." She heard the door to Victor’s room slam and closed her eyes in pain. «Now they are mad at each other. How will I get through this night?» She knew that the dynamics between them had changed forever. She wondered what she would do now that he would be out of her life. Because she had little doubt that he while he would get her to safety he would never forgive her for betraying his beloved South. She sat in the chair at the window and watched the lights flickering from the fires outside the troop tents.
"Why aren’t you in bed?" he snapped as he shut the door.
"You take it. I’m not sleepy."
"You didn’t seem to mind sleeping with me this afternoon." She could feel the heat from his body but she didn’t turn around.
"You were already asleep and I was so tired. I won’t bother you tonight."
His finger traced down her cheek. "You’ve never been a bother to me – in bed - Sarah."
She should have been angry; instead, an intense sadness overtook her. "No. You’re right. In bed we are fine. Isn’t it a pity we can’t stay in bed all the time, Clayton? Isn’t it a pity you so hate me and what I think while we are dressed and among people."
"Hate you." She had never heard such desperation in any voice. "Hate you. You cut me to the quick, Sarah. How can you think I hate you?" His voice was barely above a whisper but she didn’t need to strain because he was kneeling next to her, his lips scant inches from her ear. "Its you who hate everything that I am."
"Yes. The true Southern Gentleman. Smoke your cigars, play your cards, own your slaves and own your women." She spoke bitterly to the window, now frosted from her breath. She gasped as he reared up and brought her with him.
Holding her close, forcing her to look into his eyes he whispered, "Never have I owned slaves. I thought it was stupid when Papa owned them and I think it is stupid that people want to own other people. I have never tried to own you Sarah. No. It has always been you who owned my soul. Yes, I wanted you to stay in New Orleans and wait for me all those years ago. But that was because that’s what I thought you would want. I thought you would like to play the gentlewoman. Ha! It’s been you who has run through men up and down the Mississippi."
"And what of you and your whores, Clayton?" She threw back at him. He let her go and walked to the bed, his head bent. "Oh, please. Do tell me. You are a man and that’s different, isn’t it?"
He shook his head. His fear and anger spent for the night. There would be room for fear tomorrow when they boarded the train to Perryville. "No Sarah, it's not different."
"But it’s all right?" She demanded.
"I wouldn’t know."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean I haven’t slept with another woman since that night on the Dixie Queen."
All the air rushed from her lungs. She sat down on the floor with a thump. "Oh, God. Tell me you’re lying. Tell me you’re just saying that to make me feel…"
He turned and looked down at her. "All I’ve ever wanted was a place to call my own and you Sarah. I guess I get neither. Goodnight."
He walked over to the lamp and turned down the flame until it sputtered and went out. The room was thrown into darkness and not even the light from the campfires reached there. She listened to him pull off his clothes and heard him fold them over a chair. She stood and began to undress. She threw her dress on the chair behind her. Her corset and knickers came next. She had just kicked off her second boot when she heard the bedsprings creak and it was as if every genteel manner she had ever learned fled from her. She hissed. "Damn you!" She flew at him with her fists, striking him wherever she could. "Damn you! You had no right! I never asked…"
He reached out and held her wrists, but still she struggled, kicking out at him. Finally, out of sheer self-preservation, he pushed her onto the bed and covered her his body. By now she was crying, her chest heaving. "Stop it!" he demanded.
"Get off me…You don’t…you can’t…"
"I don’t and I can’t what Sarah?" he groaned at the feel of her but he steeled his thoughts away from what she was doing to him.
"You can’t want me. You can’t love me that way."
"Dear God, woman. What way? How many ways can a man love a woman? Why do you think I stay in this accursed part of the country? Do you have any idea how many drinks I buy just to find out if someone has seen and talked with you? Do you know how it made me feel listening to men extol your charms? I wanted to kill them all, Sarah. I’ve wanted you since you were sixteen, but I know it would have been disastrous. I was a selfish cocky kid then. But life managed to kick me half to death, Sarah." She had stopped struggling and was just lying there under him. Her breasts were crushed against his chest and his cock, only half hard, was pressed against her thigh. With a groan he rolled off her and lay on his back beside her. "You don’t know that you saved my life that night do you, Sarah. No, really. I was ready to literally chuck it all and jump off that damn boat into the depths of the Mississippi. You gave me a reason to fight one more fight. And then you gave me your maidenhead. You know you are the only virgin I ever had. Do you have a clue on how precious a gift that was?" He sighed. "Obviously not. I’m sorry, Sarah." He sat up and walked to the window. "Go to sleep. I’ll…"
She rose and padded over to him. Looking up into his eyes she could see the tiny flames reflected in the tears threatening to fall. Her own tears were falling unstopped down her cheeks. "What a pair we are, Clayton Webb. The daughter of a whore who never knew her father and the son of the South who threw everything away on a deck of cards; my salvation from a life of prostitution and your downfall. What are we to do? We really are too old to start over – aren’t we?"
For the first time in nearly ten years he stared into her eyes looking for something other than what he wanted to see. "Tell me what you want to do, Sarah." He took her by the shoulders and whispered, "Not ‘find the next good game’ either. What do you really want to do – if we get out of this mess?"
It loomed before her like a gaping maw. She had been able to ignore the need for so long. "What I want?" She took a deep breath and looked him right in the eye. "I want a place of my…" she gulped in a deep swallow of air "…a place of our own. Something fancy with roulette wheels and a dice table and a couple of poker tables. Good food, maybe even a music hall. When I know we can make it and not loose it on the roll of the dice, I would like a baby."
"Our own? You mean that Sarah?"
She sagged against him, her tears wetting his chest. "Yes. I only dream that dream when you’ve been gone so long I think that you are never coming back to me. But you always do."
"Oh, God, Sarah." He held her tight and began raining soft kisses down her face. He gently moved her back to the bed and lay down next to her. Softly he touched her, exploring her as if it were the first time. Almost shyly she reached up to stoke his hair making sure his eyes never left hers except when he bent to kiss her mouth. Gently he explored her sex, stroking her until her eyes fluttered and she arched into his touch gasping out his name. But when he started to roll between her legs, her hand on his chest stopped him. She straddled his thighs and placing her hands on his shoulders stared into his eyes until she impaled herself upon his shaft. "Sarah!" he cried as she enveloped him.
She rocked back and forth and then rose and fell. His hands on her hips supported her and she began to moan softly as the feelings began again. But she never closed her eyes. She wanted him to see the love that had always been there, buried deep inside.
It had never been this good for him, and sex with Sarah was always good. He felt a burning deep inside that had little to do with his impending release. A knot tied nearly fifteen years ago, retied and twisted and tied again over each successive year until he thought it would finally choke him, began to unravel. As he thrust up into her, her love for him apparent in her murmurs and her eyes, he suddenly felt freer than he had since that first year he went away to school. Tears that began as he professed his undying loved now welled up and as he came great racking sobs spilled forth and he pulled her to him, holding her as she rode out her orgasm. He felt but couldn’t respond to the soothing kisses or her, "There, there, darling, let it out, baby," with which she entreated him. Finally, he fell asleep, still buried deep inside her.