Ashes in the Wind (3 page)

“Since you were little, huh?”

With a start of surprise, Al felt a broad hand beneath his buttocks, hoisting him up. The gray eyes widened considerably, and some distress showed in his face as he was settled on the back of the steed. Angrily he jerked around to snap at the Yankee, but the captain was already lifting the case. He set it before the youth with an offhand remark. “I would guess that you’ve had an easy life until now, Al. You’re as soft as a woman.”

The captain placed the reins without further comment and swung onto the horse, throwing his leg over the horn of the saddle. For a moment, they adjusted things, then the captain asked over his shoulder, “All set?”

At the answering, “Yup,” Cole reined the beast around and rode away from the dock. The roan was magnificent and well trained but unaccustomed to the extra load, slight though it was. The youth was proud but had to fight the large case in his arms, the slippery back of the animal, and a reluctance to touch the captain. His efforts made the steed more
skittish. Finally Cole lost his patience and snapped curtly over his shoulder, “Al, get your butt settled and be still back there, or we’ll both end up in the street.” Reaching around, he caught the smaller hand in his and pressed it firmly against his side. “Here, grab a handful of my jacket. Now hang on with both hands and sit still.”

Gingerly the youth took hold of the proffered garment and adjusted himself. The horse quieted some, and the ride was easier. The wicker case sat on end between them and was held in place by the boy’s arms. The lad was satisfied. At least he didn’t have to rub against that hated blue coat.

T
HE
city had been relatively untouched by battle. Along the river the scars of strife were visible, but as they moved away from the dock, life appeared to go on much as it had before, unhindered by the presence of Union soldiers. Shops and narrow houses, adorned with iron lace-trimmed balconies, huddled close against each other. Well-tended gardens were visible in courtyards behind exquisitely wrought iron gates, and trees grew in odd places. As the boy’s directions led them away from the Vieux Carré, the avenues grew wider, then small lawns became evident. Magnolia trees laden with large, waxy blooms mixed their heady fragrance with that of jasmine, sweet shrub, and crepe myrtle. Further on, the lawns grew wide and spacious, and great houses spread their galleries beneath towering, moss-festooned oak trees.

Cole peered over his shoulder and spoke with some doubt. “Are you sure you know where you’re leading us, Al? This is where the wealthy live.”

“Huh. What little wealth you Yankees leave.” The boy shrugged and pointed. “I’ve been here before. It’s just a little ways further. Down there.”

A few moments later he gestured to a lane that led through a tall hedge behind which loomed a
brick house of considerable proportions. Brick arches shaded the first floor gallery, and near one end of the porch, a curving wrought iron staircase led to an upper filigree-adorned balcony that stretched across the face of the manor. Massive live oaks shielded the whole from the hot sun, and beneath their spreading limbs, the carriage house could be seen beyond the intricate iron gate that led into the grounds.

Cole sensed the boy’s rising eagerness as he turned his steed onto the curving brick path. Halting the animal before the wide gallery, Cole swung down and looped the reins through the iron ring of the hitching post, then reached up to take the case. As he set it down, Al bounced to the ground and fairly flew to the front door to pull vigorously upon the bell. Like any good servant, the captain was left to heft the bag and follow behind.

Al cast an apprehensive glance over his shoulder as Cole joined him and impatiently rang the bell again. A sound of footsteps came from within and the door was opened by a striking young woman, slightly taller than the boy. As she looked at them in confusion, Cole swept his hat from his head and tucked it beneath his arm. A Yankee officer’s presence on the gallery was bewildering, but not half as much as the pleading grimace she saw on the lad’s face.

“Ma’m.” Cole had seen nothing that resembled recognition in the beautiful visage and began to suspect the urchin’s credibility. “This boy says he knows you. Is that true?”

The woman returned her astonished gaze to the youth and appeared repulsed by what she saw. She
wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Gracious me, I surely should hope n—” Suddenly she gasped. “Al—Al—”

At the boy’s startled expression, she choked off the name but was obviously flustered. She glanced nervously toward the captain then back to the lad.

“Al?” She tried out the name gingerly and was encouraged by the boy’s responsive smile. “Why, Al, it is you! We hadn’t—ah—expected you. My goodness! Won’t Mama be surprised. I declare, she’ll simply be aflutter when she sees you!”

The raven-haired beauty faced Cole again and gave him a charming smile. “I hope Al hasn’t done anything too terrible, Colonel. Mama always said Al had a mind of his own. Why, there’s just no telling what he’ll do next.”

“Captain, ma’m,” Cole corrected politely. “Captain Cole Latimer.”

The boy threw a thumb over his shoulder and explained gruffly, “The doc, here, give me a ride from the boat.”

The young woman’s eyes widened in amazement as she shifted her gaze from the Union officer to the roan tethered to the hitching post. “My goodness, you don’t mean to say you rode together—”

Al coughed loudly and half turned to the Yankee. “This here’s my cousin, Roberta. Roberta Craighugh.”

Cole had already taken in the black hair and dark eyes, the summer gown of flowered peach muslin cut daringly low across a full bosom, and responded in the gallant fashion of a gentleman, clicking his heels as he bowed. “I’m honored to make your acquaintance, Miss Craighugh.”

Roberta’s mother was French, and that amorous blood now rose under the manly perusal of this handsome Yankee officer. The war had curtailed many of the pleasures in her life, and she was approaching the spinsterish age of twenty-two. She had become convinced that without male companionship a girl could waste away to nothing. It seemed like ages had passed since she last received a gentleman caller, and she was hopelessly bored with her existence. But her spirits steadily revived as her prospects of making another conquest loomed brighter. What made it more intriguing was that he was in the ranks of the forbidden harvest, the hated Yankees.

“I can’t say I’ve entertained too many Northern soldiers, Captain,” she stated brightly. “I’ve heard so many disturbin’ stories about y’all. Still”—she nibbled pensively at her fingertip— “y’all don’t look like the sort of man who would go about the countryside frightening poor, defenseless women.”

White teeth gleamed in a reckless smile as Cole responded. “I try hard not to, ma’m.”

Roberta blushed with excitement, and her thoughts ran rampant. He seemed far more manly and self-assured than those silly boys who had feverishly plied her with proposals before marching off to war for the Confederacy. She had found no challenge in winning their hearts, but this Yankee might prove better sport.

As if suddenly reminded of her cousin, Roberta faced him. “Al, why don’t you run along in. Dulcie will be glad to see you, I’m sure.”

Dismissed but reluctant to go, Al glanced worriedly from his cousin to the Yankee. Al had seen
that certain look come into Roberta’s eyes before on prior visits and he knew it boded ill for himself, if not for the captain. To have the enemy pay court to Roberta was like looking down the wrong end of a rifle. He’d just as soon not be on the dangerous end when it went off.

Wiping a grubby hand on his dingy trousers, Al extended it toward the man. “Thank ya kindly for the ride, Cap’n. I ‘spect you can find your own way back jes’ fine.” Al nodded toward the sun shining through the trees. “Looks a bit like rain, though. Guess you’d best be gettin’ back befo’—”

“Nonsense, Al,” interrupted Roberta. “The least we can do is repay this nice gentleman for his kindness. I’m sure he would enjoy some refreshments after that long, hot ride.” She smiled warmly at Cole. “Won’t y’all come inside where it’s cooler, Captain?” Ignoring her cousin’s distress, she opened the door wider and beckoned sweetly, “This way, Captain.”

Al stared after the two as they entered the house, his teeth clenched in rage, his gray eyes flaring. He hefted the heavy case and wrestled it through the door, but in the process banged his elbow and mumbled several words the captain would not have approved of had he heard. Fortunately, that one’s attention was well occupied as Roberta led him into the sparsely furnished parlor.

“You must forgive the appearance of this room, Captain. Before the war it was much more grand.” Demurely she spread her wide, hooped skirts before Cole’s chair and perched with ladylike poise on the edge of the faded silk settee. “Why, my father has been left with only a little bitty store to make ends
meet after we had so much. And who can afford to pay such exorbitant prices as he must charge. Imagine paying a whole dollar for a bar of soap, and I grew so fond of Parisian scents. I can’t bear to even look at those rough ol’ cakes Dulcie makes.”

“War seems to get the best of everybody, ma’m,” Cole commented with irony.

“The war wasn’t so hard to bear until that dreadful General Butler descended upon us. Excuse me for being blunt, Captain, but I hated that man.”

“Most Southerners did, Miss Craighugh.”

“Yes, but few had to endure what we were put through. My father’s warehouses were seized by that beastly man. Why, he even had our furniture and valuables confiscated just because Daddy wouldn’t sign that miserable ol’ loyalty oath. They were even going to take away this very house, if you can imagine but Daddy gave in—just to keep me and Mama safe. Then, there was that awful affront to all of us when Butler issued orders that the womenfolk of the city should be treated less politely by his men. I just can’t imagine a gentleman like yourself, sir, following such a command.”

Cole knew General Order Twenty-Eight by heart, for it had caused a great furor among the civilians. Butler had issued it to protect his men from the insults of the women of New Orleans, but his actions had backfired and eventually won more sympathy for the South. “And I, Miss Craighugh, cannot envision you deserving such treatment.”

“I must confess that I was afraid to set foot outside this house for fear of being accosted. I was most relieved when the Union Army decided to replace
General Butler, and now they have that other nice general in command. I’ve heard that Banks gives the most lavish balls and is far more cordial. Have you ever been to any of those affairs, Captain?”

“I’m afraid I’ve been too busy at the hospital, Miss Craighugh. It’s a rare day I have to myself, but I’ve been most fortunate today. After the general’s inspection of the hospital this morning, I was able to take the afternoon off. I shall hereafter consider it as my good fortune.”

Al stood through Roberta’s chatter and the captain’s replies, attempting to catch her eye while at the same time trying to stay out of the man’s range of vision. But the lad realized his cousin was totally engrossed with entertaining the Union officer and refused to be interrupted. Forcing the woman to remember her manners, Al dropped the valise on the marble floor with a disrupting clatter.

Roberta started. “Oh, Al! You must be starving, child, and supper won’t be for ages yet. Go tell Dulcie to find you something to tide you over.” She smiled brightly at Cole. “Gracious, it’s been so long since we’ve entertained, I’ve nearly forgotten my upbringin’. Captain Latimer, won’t you stay and join us for dinner? Dulcie is just about the best cook in New Orleans.”

Al rolled his eyes in total incredulity. How could Roberta do such a thing?

Surprised by the invitation, Cole was slow to reply. Usually it was only the women of the back streets who would lower themselves to consort with the enemy, and even they were not always the most congenial. Though it had meant long months of
celibacy, he had not been inclined to indulge himself with some pretty, knife-wielding Confederate sympathizer. Nor, for that matter, had he been tempted to crawl into bed with those proven safe by countless numbers in the Union ranks. He was not uneager to be in the company of such a beauteous lady, but there were things to be considered. Her father, for instance. He would just as soon refrain from getting himself into a forced marriage.

“I just won’t hear of you rejecting my invitation, Captain,” Roberta pouted winsomely, confident that he would accept. After all, she had never been refused before. “I suspect that you’ve been shown very little hospitality here in New Orleans.”

“One can hardly expect it under the circumstances,” Cole smiled.

“Well, it’s settled then,” Roberta replied happily. “You must stay. After all, you did bring Al home, and we are indebted to you.”

Unable to regain Roberta’s attention, Al gave a subdued snort and made his way toward the back of the house. The oversize boots clumped noisily against the floor, marking his passage through the mansion. The sound of his stride was like a death toll echoing through the stripped rooms, and he softened his steps. The house was hardly more than a shadow of its former splendor, and it was painful to look about at the bare walls and empty nooks and crannies where once treasured pieces had been displayed. Absent, too, was the usual bustle of servants. Al could surmise that except for Dulcie’s family, all the slaves had gone.

He swung open the kitchen door and found the black woman busy preparing a stew for the evening
meal. Dulcie was a large-boned woman, broad but not fat, and stood a good head taller than the slight youth. She paused in scraping a carrot and wiped her brow with the back of her hand. From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of the unkempt lad and frowned heavily in displeasure as she looked him over.

“Whad yo’ doing here, boy?” she questioned suspiciously. She threw down the carrot and rose to her feet, wiping her hands angrily on the large white apron. “If’n yo’ wants some vittles, yo’ comes to de back do’. Doan come traipsin’ through Mastah Angus’s house like some lord almighty Yankee.”

Fearful that her voice might carry to the parlor, Al tried to shush the Negress and gestured toward the front of the house. But seeing the open bemusement on the servant’s face, he stepped closer and laid a hand on the woman’s arm.

“Dulcie, it’s me—Al—”

“
Law-w-w-sy
!” The screech of recognition seemed to ring through the whole manse before it ended abruptly as the wide-eyed youth clapped an anxious hand over the old woman’s mouth.

In the parlor Roberta glanced worriedly toward the direction of the kitchen before meeting Cole’s wondering gaze. Coyly she murmured behind her fan, “Al always did have a way with Dulcie.”

Avoiding any further inquiries, she engaged him in bubbling conversation. The color of his uniform she had already discarded as irrelevant. He was a man, completely and totally. It showed in his walk, his speech, his gestures. The easy rich timbre of his voice sent delightful shivers down her spine.
His manners were smooth and polished, yet she sensed in him that which brooked no impertinence. He was at ease with her. Still, she surmised that he would be equally relaxed in a group of men. She had barely met him, yet her blood was warmed by his presence, and she thrilled with the idea of being actively courted again.

Cole had resigned himself to a wasted day when the misplaced waif became his responsibility. It was rare enough that his duties at the hospital permitted his absence for even an afternoon. And he found it difficult to resolve this splendid turn of events. To be here in a cool parlor enjoying a pleasant repartee with a desirable woman was a greater reward than he might have expected from giving aid to an orphan whelp. He relaxed as he listened to Roberta’s light and animated chatter until a few moments later a carriage rattled to a halt before the house, immediately silencing the effervescent woman. Concern creased her brow, and she came to her feet, at once nervous and more than a trifle distraught.