Читать книгу Harrigan's Bride - Cheryl Reavis - Страница 10

What’s happening? Abiah kept thinking. She tried to follow the conversation around her, but it made no sense.

“Will you kindly shoot this man, Sergeant La Broie? My hands are full.”

“My pleasure, Cap. Or if you want him skinned alive and roasted over a hot fire with a stick—”

Abiah winced at the specifics.

“—I can do that, too, sir.”

“No. No, a ball between the eyes will do. You’ll have to excuse the sergeant here. He’s just come from the West. They handle things a bit differently out there. You and I are more apt to just kill a man outright when he irks us. But where the sergeant comes from, they like to savor the demise. Who was it you learned that from, Sergeant?”

“Apaches, sir. And, of course, the—”

“All right! I’ll take you across,” a third voice said. “You Yankees are damned attached to your whores, is all I got to say—”

There was scuffling then. Abiah cried out.

“Abby,” Thomas’s voice said close to her ear. She tried to answer him and couldn’t. Then she lost his voice and the others in a wave of soft, white nothingness.

It was raining when she heard voices again. She could feel the raindrops beating down on her face.

“I’ve got no room here, Captain.”

“Well, make room, damn it!”

“Where? We’ve got more wounded men than we can handle! You wouldn’t want to leave her here, even if there was a place for her. Who would take care of her, sick as she is? Look, why don’t you try one of the churches? Maybe there’s somebody there who can take her in.”

And then they were riding through the darkness again.

“I think you better let me take her, Cap,” a man’s voice said. “You go get Major Gibbons satisfied so he don’t have you shot. I’ll see to your lady.”

She heard Thomas swear.

“Ain’t no other way, Cap,” the man said. “I got a notion about what we can do—where I can take her.”

“We’ve been everywhere,” Thomas said.

“I’m thinking Gertie would take care of her—but she’d have to have money to replace what she’d get otherwise. How much have you got?”

“Are you out of your mind? She’s a camp follower. She is not somebody who goes around ministering to the sick with a basket on her arm.”

“We ain’t got much choice, Cap—and Gertie ain’t had much in the way of choices, neither. She’s a good girl, Gertie is. You can’t fault a woman for what’s she’s had to do to keep herself alive. I’m telling you, she’ll take good care of Miss Abiah—if she’s got money enough to do it with. Like you said, we’ve been everywhere. The only thing we ain’t done is break down somebody’s front door and hold a gun on them until they turn into the Good Samaritan. I say we quit going around Robin Hood’s barn here and get Miss Abiah in out of the rain, sir—and I don’t think she’d be very happy if she knew she was the cause of your court-martial.”

Abiah stirred at the last remark, trying to raise up. But she couldn’t manage it, no matter how hard she tried.

“We ain’t far from the Lacey house,” the man said. “You go on there and let Major Gibbons see you. Tell him, if he asks, that I was wrong. Say the colonel didn’t send you no place, you been around here all the time. Say you been trying to account for the wounded and missing out of your company. I’ll take care of Miss Abiah and then I’ll find you.”

“La Broie—”

“Give me your money and your lady, sir.”

“Abby, can you hear me?” Thomas said, his breath warm against her ear. “Abby…?”

She strained toward the sound of his voice, but the harder she tried to hear it, the more it drifted away. The soft whiteness closed over her.

What’s happening?

She tried to focus on her surroundings, but the light was too poor. She could see a candle burning on a table to her right, and a fire burning in the fireplace. It was raining still—it always seemed to rain after a battle. She could distinctly hear the patter of raindrops against the window.

The window.

She wasn’t outside then. She was warm and dry and in bed.

She wasn’t alone in the room; she could hear someone moving around. She turned her head slightly.

“Is she awake?” a man’s voice asked.

“No, I don’t think so,” a woman said. “Is the captain coming? She asks for him sometimes.”

“He’s confined to his quarters until somebody decides how bad he broke rank.”

“How long will that be?”

“No time soon—not the way people are talking. I’ll tell him she’s been asking for him. No, maybe I won’t. He’s liable to come to see about her whether Gibbons says he can or not. You’ve got everything you need?”

“I’ve got more than I need.”

“You don’t mind the room being down here with the servants?”

“Now, why would I mind that? The kitchen is close. I can get her the things she needs to eat. And there’s people I can talk to, so I’m not lonesome. But I’m wanting to know something, La Broie. How did you get Zachariah Wilson to give up a room in his house, even if it is below stairs?”

“He’s being paid well for it, Gertie.”

“He doesn’t need the money.”

“He’s a greedy man, Gertie, darling. Greedy men always need the money.”

“I’m thinking maybe you asked this greedy man in a way he couldn’t refuse.”

He laughed softly.

“Maybe.”

“What did you do, Pete?”

“Nothing much. I only mentioned that I knew he’d been a…acquaintance of yours. And being such a pillar of the church and everything—well, now he had the opportunity to help you change your ways and give shelter to the sick.”

“And why would you do that?”

“Why?”

“You heard me.”

“Well, because I could see you didn’t have the heart for the business you was in.”

“Since when do men care what’s in a woman’s heart?”

“Some of us do, depending on the man—and the woman.”

“And the rest of you are like Zachariah Wilson.”

“You ain’t had no trouble with Wilson, have you?”

“No. He’s not here. He’s gone off someplace on business. Nobody knows when he’ll get back.”

“If he bothers you, you let me know. I mean it. I wouldn’t have put you here if I could’ve done better—”

“How long?” Abiah said abruptly.

“My God, she is awake,” the man said.

“How long have I been here?” Abiah asked.

“Well, let’s see,” the woman said, coming closer to the bed. “It must be eight days now.”

Eight? Abiah thought in alarm. She couldn’t remember any of them—at all. How could she completely lose track of eight days?

“Who are you?” she asked the man.

“Sergeant Peter La Broie,” he said.

“You’re not in Lee’s army.”

“No, ma’am. I’m not.” He pulled a ladder-back chair around and sat down where she could see him. “And this here is Gertie. Captain Thomas Harrigan and me—we brought you across the river on a raft. Do you remember that?”

“No,” she said. But then she suddenly recalled something about Apaches. Whatever it was, however, slipped away. “I don’t understand,” she said after a moment. “Why are people talking?”

“Talking?”

“You said people were talking. Why? Tell me. I want to know.”

“It’s on account of you being a Reb girl and Cap being in the Union army and stealing you back across the river the way he did. Some think the captain ruined your reputation when he did that—maybe his, too, because he wasn’t supposed to be over there in the first place, much less coming back with you on his saddle. But you’d be dead if he hadn’t, and that’s for damn sure.”

Abiah closed her eyes. She was so tired. Too tired to try to sort this out. She did know that she hadn’t been stolen. She’d been…

She didn’t know what she’d been. She opened her eyes again as one particular memory suddenly came to her.

“Oh…”

“What is it, Miss Abiah?” the man said kindly.

He knows my name, she thought. He must have something to do with Thomas. She gave a wavering sigh.

“What is it?” he asked again.

“Where is…my mother…?”

“The captain said I should tell you everything straightaway, if you asked, because you’re not a person who likes the truth hid from them no matter how bad it is.”

“She’s dead…isn’t she?”

“Yes, ma’am. Your mother—Miss Emma—died. You’re remembering that now, I guess.”

Abiah nodded, wiping furtively at the tears that ran down her face.

“We buried her in that little herb garden near the house—where the ground was soft enough. And words was said over her, so you don’t have to fret yourself on that account. Cap says to tell you he did the best he could by her.”

Abiah believed that without question, but the tears came anyway, tears and then finally the welcome refuge of sleep. She woke from time to time, wondering if the sergeant would be there. He never was, and she began to wonder if he’d actually sat in the chair by her bed or if she’d been dreaming. There was only Gertie, who seemed to know exactly what to do to make her more comfortable and who, more often than not, insisted that Abiah drink a hot, salty chicken broth and then take some bitter tasting medicine, after which she fell into yet another dream-ridden sleep. It was so hard to think clearly, to know what was real and what wasn’t. But conversation took far too much effort, regardless of Abiah’s growing curiosity.

“Miss Abiah, look who’s here,” Gertie said one afternoon, and Abiah opened her eyes to see another enemy soldier, who after a moment turned into a very awkward Thomas, standing at the foot of the bed. She stared at him, not at all sure if he really was here or not. There had always been a sadness in Thomas Harrigan; it was one of the things that had drawn her to him from the very first time Guire brought him home. But at this particular moment, he looked so lost.

“What’s wrong?” she asked him, and he looked at Gertie instead of answering.

“Tell me,” Abiah said. “What’s wrong with you?”

“That is my question, I believe, Abby,” he said, and she smiled.

“Oh, well, then. If that’s the case, the answer is ‘nothing’—if you don’t count the fever…and being out of my head most of the time.”

“So how is your head at the moment?”

“I don’t know,” she said truthfully. “Sometimes I think Gertie is Mother. Sometimes I think Guire’s here—or you. You are here, aren’t you, Thomas? I’m not talking to the bedpost, am I?”

“Most definitely I am here,” he said.

“Say ‘heart,’ then. So I’ll know.”

“Heart?” he asked, clearly puzzled.

She immediately gave a soft laugh. “Yes, it’s you. H-a-t—‘heart.’”

He smiled in return. “You are so very bad for my masculine certitude, Abiah. You are the only female I know who always makes fun of me.”

“I have to. You’d be insufferable if I didn’t.”

Gertie laughed in the background.

“I see you agree with her, Gertie,” Thomas said.

“I can’t help it, Captain,” Gertie said.

“Well,” he said, still forcing himself to be cheerful. This was a Thomas Abiah had never met before. “The doctor tells me you’re doing better.”

“Does he? He doesn’t tell me anything.”

“He says you mustn’t get overly confident. You must continue to play the invalid even if you feel like dancing.”

“Dancing? I’m having trouble knowing the day of the week.”

He smiled again, but this smile quickly faded. He stood there with his hands behind his back, tall and handsome, once her brother’s greatest friend and then his sworn enemy—and hers.

“I need to ask you something, Abiah,” he said.

She waited while he looked around the room as if it were of great interest to him, and then just to her left—everywhere but at her.

“I was wondering if you would consider something,” he said, now looking at the floor. He abruptly pulled around that same ladder-back chair and sat down. Then he cleared his throat and noisily slid the chair closer to the side of the bed. He brought the fresh smell of the cold outdoors with him. Damp wool and wood smoke. Soap and tobacco. Horse and leather. She longed to be closer to him still.

“If you intend to catch me…while I’m still lucid, I think you’ll want to hurry this along, Thomas,” she said.

“All right. Abiah, I was wondering if you would marry me.”

He finally looked at her, met her eyes briefly and glanced away.

“Too late,” she said, in spite of her astonishment. Even at her most mentally confused, even if she’d been in a room full of fever-spawned Thomases, she would not have expected that question.

“I beg your pardon?” he said.

She smiled slightly, because once again his Boston accent had determined that he leave out an R. As a Southerner, she had a bit of a problem with that letter of the alphabet herself—only she didn’t leave it quite so blatantly out of the middle of words or add it onto the end where it didn’t belong. The years he had lived in Maryland with his grandfather hadn’t erased his accent at all. Knowing even so little of the relationship between the two men as she did, she wouldn’t have been surprised if Judge Winthrop hadn’t made an effort to weed out that particular reminder of his daughter’s failed marriage, just as Abiah wouldn’t have been surprised if that was a reason Thomas might have tenaciously retained it.

Guire had told her once that Thomas looked very much like his father—who being the only son of a wealthy shipowner, had enough inherited money and enough favors owed him to open at least some of the doors kept firmly closed to those with an Irish surname. But there the similarity ended. Unlike his father, Thomas Harrigan clearly didn’t abandon a woman who needed him.

“I said ‘too late,’ Thomas.”

“You mean your lucid moment is going?”

“No, I mean someone else…has already asked for…my hand in marriage.”

He looked startled. “May I ask who?”

“John William Miller,” she said.

“Johnny Miller wants to marry you?”

“Well, you needn’t make it sound so…incredible, Thomas. I believe he has been of a mind to since I was fourteen.”

“This is the same Johnny Miller who was at your mother’s house practically every time I came to visit.”

“Yes.”

“I suppose he’s in the other army?”

“Yes.”

“He’s an officer, no doubt?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re making plans to marry him?”

“No.”

“No?”

“I didn’t give him an answer.”

“Why not?”

She looked into his eyes. “You know why not,” she said.

He flushed slightly.

So, she thought. She had told him precisely where her heart lay. She was very much afraid that that particular memory was real.

“You don’t have to do anything else for me, Thomas,” she said. “I know you have saved me by bringing me here, and I shall try my very best to get well. But you don’t have to save my reputation, too.”

“You’ve got it the wrong way around, Abby. I was asking so you could save mine.”

“I would think stealing me out of my mother’s house and bringing me here would only enhance yours.”

“Alas, no. The story has reached General Sumner’s attention, and he doesn’t approve of such audacious conduct in his officers. At all.”

“I’m afraid I don’t much care whether Yankee generals approve or not, Thomas.”

He leaned forward so that he could look into her eyes. “The truth is a marriage to you would help my military career, Abby.”

“I don’t see how. I support the Confederacy in every way I can.”

“If I can forgive you for that, then I’m sure General Sumner will. Will you marry me, Abby? For my sake. I know you have a kind heart.”

“No,” she whispered.

“Yes,” he said, taking her hand. His fingers were still cold from his ride here and he slid them in between hers.

“No,” she said again. “I will not.”

“I need you to let me me explain, at least. Let me try to tell you the way things are.”

“Then tell me.”

He took a deep breath. “The Union army didn’t have a chance at Fredericksburg because there were serious tactical errors made. The general who made them—Burnside—knows he is in danger of being relieved of his command. He is an incredibly arrogant man. He’s going to try to save face now, and he’s going to sacrifice his Grand Divisions to do it. I will do my duty when the time comes, but I need…” He stopped, holding her hand in both of his for a moment. “Guire was my friend. You are all that is left of his family. I need to know that you’ll be taken care of. Do you understand? I need to be sure. As my wife—or my widow—”

“Don’t,” she interrupted, trying not to cry. “Guire would never have expected you to do this.”

“I want to do it, Abby. I haven’t much time for persuasion. I can’t make pretty speeches to convince you. I can only tell you the truth.”

“Look at me, Thomas. What good am I to you like this? I’m an invalid. I may stay an invalid.” She couldn’t bring herself to speak the real truth—that she might not survive this illness, just as her mother hadn’t survived.

“You are my sweet Abiah. You are all I have left of the one truly happy time in my life. I’m asking you to let me go into this folly of Burnside’s with my mind at ease.”

She closed her eyes to keep from crying. She couldn’t waste her strength on tears. She had to save it, so that she could do the right thing.

“Abby, answer me.”

She looked at him. Marrying Thomas Harrigan was all she had ever wanted, but her heart was breaking—and for his sake, not hers. She loved him too much to ever want to hurt him. In the naive and reckless plan she had once contemplated to trap him into becoming her husband, she would have at least been a healthy wife and not a sickly burden. It would be wrong for her to say yes to him now. She knew that, just as she knew that she hadn’t the will to refuse him.

“We have some major political differences, Thomas,” she said.

“I think they would make for very lively discussions at the dinner table,” he countered easily.

She smiled slightly at the idea, even knowing that it was improbable that they would share a dinner table ever again.

“Won’t your engagement get in the way?” she asked.

“That arrangement no longer exists.”

“Does she know that?”

“She does. And she has nothing to do with this.”

Abiah looked into his eyes, believing him because she wanted to. What did it matter that this was only a gallant gesture on his part?. An attempt to give her her heart’s desire, because he was fond of her and because he thought she wouldn’t recover?

So be it, she thought. She would take the only chance for happiness she would ever have, however fleeting it might be.

“All right,” she said. “You bring the minister—and I’ll try to remember who you are.”