Heaven in a Wildflower (35 page)

Yes, those were the moments Anjele allowed herself to dwell upon, for they were all she’d ever have. Why throw them away? Instead, why not cast aside the betrayal and think only of the splendor and glory in his arms? For even now, so many years later, he came to her in dreams, and as she gazed lovingly into his warm, caressing eyes, she saw no doubt, no mendacity, only the adoration and devotion promised. And it was these precious thoughts she clung to in the despair her life had become. It didn’t really matter anymore that he had lied, had never meant a word of anything he said. He gave her joy for a little while that now, sadly, would have to last a lifetime.

The cane found the iron gate. She set the basket down and maneuvered the latch, then took the food and went the last little way.

The air was cool, a soft wind blowing, and she found her way to her favorite spot beneath the tree and sat down. Gathering her shawl about her, she leaned back, hoping it wasn’t too long till dawn, so the soldier would come and go. Then she could breathe easy, for if a Yankee did come by, it would be difficult to explain why she was there at such an hour, especially with such a large quantity of food. It would be obvious what she was up to, and not only would the soldier be captured, but she’d be in serious trouble, as well.

After what seemed forever, Anjele heard sounds coming from the same direction as before. “Tom, I’m here,” she softly called, scrambling to her feet and tapping the basket with the cane. “Wait till you see what I’ve got for you.”

“Mighty nice of you,” he began, but then abruptly cried, “Oh, shit! You were followed—”

She could hear him running in the opposite direction, and she began to beat at the air with her arms, crying, “Wait! What’s wrong? Where are you going? There’s no one here but me—” She jumped as a masculine voice boomed out only a short distance away.

“Wrong, Miss Sinclair. In fact, if you could see, you’d realize you’ve got lots of company.”

With a moan, she sank to the ground, then jerked her head up to recognize Claudia’s voice as she came running up the path.

“Did you catch him? Did he get away?” she was asking of the man who’d spoken.

“My men will get him, but one Reb doesn’t matter. What’s important is we know now who’s been supplying these bushwhackers with supplies.”

“No, no, you’re wrong,” Anjele protested. “He’s no bushwhacker. He’s just a hungry soldier who got separated from his regiment, and he’s on his way back, and I only gave him food. And it’s the first time—”

“And the last,” the man snapped. “Take her away.”

Anjele felt rough hands grabbing her. She dropped the cane, tried to retrieve it, but they dragged her away, ignoring her pleas.

“Where you’re going, you won’t need a cane,” someone said.

Claudia shrieked, “I won’t help you this time, Anjele. You had your chance. I just hope General Butler realizes I had nothing to do with this, or else he’ll have BelleClair burned to the ground. That’s what he said he’d do to plantations giving refuge to bushwhackers, and if he does, it’s all your fault.”

When they reached the house, someone shouted to bring a wagon around. Anjele’s hands were jerked behind her back and tied with a rope. Officers and their wives, awakened by the commotion, gathered on the veranda to see what was happening.

Anjele listened in angry silence as Claudia embellished her tale, saying she’d been noticing Anjele was behaving strangely lately. And, of course, she hadn’t wanted to actually believe her own sister would give refuge to a bushwhacker, but she had started spying on her and was horrified to discover it was true.

“Get her away from here now,” someone shouted. “I hope General Butler has her hanged.”

“Oh, she won’t hang,” an officer spoke up. “But I can guarantee she’ll be in prison a long, long time. She won’t be hiding any more bushwhackers. That’s for sure.”

From a distance, Kesia wrung her hands, tears streaming down her cheeks as she watched the pitiful sight of Miss Anjele being taken away.

She didn’t dare open her mouth to intervene, because she was at Miss Claudia’s mercy now, like all the other slaves. Master Sinclair wasn’t around to protect them, and Miss Anjele wasn’t able to do anything. Still, Kesia felt guilty over not disputing Miss Claudia’s lies. She had seen Miss Anjele when she left struggling with that basket, because she’d got up earlier than usual. She’d delivered a baby during the night, and the mother had been too weak to nurse it, so she’d gone to the kitchen to boil some sugar water to feed it. She was about to go after Miss Anjele and ask her what she was doing, but just then she had seen Miss Claudia on the side veranda talking to a Yankee soldier. So Kesia had stepped back so they wouldn’t see her. But she had kept on watching and witnessed everything.

And Lord, how she wished she could tell the truth.

That soldier wasn’t a Rebel bushwhacker.

He wasn’t even a Rebel soldier.

Kesia knew, because she had seen him when he came running down from the cemetery, laughing as he passed the other men on their way up.

He was the same Yankee soldier she’d seen Miss Claudia talking to on the veranda.

Miss Anjele had been tricked.

Chapter Twenty-Three

“You didn’t have to come all the way down here to apologize for your sister again, Claudia,” Major Hembree said as he sat behind his desk, wishing she’d hurry up and leave. He had been reading the confidential correspondence from General Walbridge of the Secret Service when she’d arrived and was most anxious to get back to it. “I really am busy this morning,” he added.

Oblivious to his haste to end the visit, Claudia admitted, “Elisabeth said the same thing, but I felt I had to come. Really, Major, you just can’t know how much this has upset me. I’ve tried so hard to have a good relationship with the army, because heaven knows, I never wanted to go to war in the first place. I was always trying to get Daddy to free all his slaves and offer to pay them wages. They would’ve stayed, because the working conditions at BelleClair are far superior to any other plantation in the Delta, and—”

“Yes, yes, I know that,” he said impatiently. “Now I really am busy—”

“But there’s something you need to know. Something I have to tell you.” She smiled, as confident of his sudden interest as she was of the outfit she’d so carefully chosen to wear that morning. The dress was lovely, pink cotton with a dainty shawl collar, fitted bodice, with double puff sleeves and flounced skirt. As a finishing touch, she wore a batiste cap trimmed with ribbon rosettes and lace over her golden curls, with kid gloves and a parasol to accessorize.

Major Hembree hoped she might have the information he was after. “Go on,” he urged.

She looked at him demurely through lowered lashes, feigning embarrassment to broach such a delicate subject. Making her voice soft, timid, she began, “I’m afraid this isn’t the first time Anjele has brought disgrace to the family. Four years ago, I had the horrible misfortune of happening upon her and one of the Acadian workers, a disreputable man known only as Gator. He didn’t even have a proper name, for heaven’s sake. Anyway, they were in one of the sugarhouses, and decorum, of course, doesn’t permit me as a lady to put what they were doing into words, but I’m sure you know what I’m talking about. Naturally, I had to tell my parents, and it broke their hearts.”

Major Hembree noticed how her eyes were glittering, her mouth twitching with a suppressed smile. He knew she was enjoying herself immensely, despite the attempt to appear ashamed to divulge family secrets.

“And,” she continued, “to avoid all the shame and disgrace, they sent her away to school in Europe. They didn’t intend for her to ever return, wanton and wild as she is, and that’s why you caught her sneaking in like she did.”

She paused, disconcerted by how he was looking at her sharply, eyes narrowed as though in deep thought, yet his lips were twitching as if he were trying to keep from smiling. Nervously she asked, “Is there something wrong, Major? I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable talking like this, but I thought you should know. I wanted to make my position clear, because I simply can’t allow her to continue causing trouble. Frankly, I’m hoping General Butler will do something about her, despite her blindness, especially since it’s obvious she’s using it to her advantage, pretending to be helpless, expecting everyone to feel sorry for her, and—”

“Yes, yes, that’s right.” Major Hembree bolted to his feet and swiftly moved from behind his desk to cross the room and open the door as an indication the meeting was over. “You’ve nothing to worry about.”

“Did I embarrass you by speaking of something so despicable?”

“Not at all, not at all. Quite the contrary. I needed to know all that, but as I said, you needn’t worry. Your sister had a warning, and now she must pay the price. I’m sure General Butler will agree with me the safest place for her now is prison.”

“For a long time?” Claudia’s pretense of charm disappeared. It was time to make her intentions known once and for all. “The fact is, I don’t want her ever to come back to BelleClair. I want her declared incompetent and title to all the lands held by my father’s estate given to me.”

“Rest assured…” He gave her a gentle push through the door, nodding to the soldier in the foyer to speed her on her way. “Anjele will probably spend the rest of her life in jail.”

Claudia felt like singing. “Well, that’s best. I mean, she is helpless, and—”

With a murmured “Good day,” he gently closed the door in her face.

Returning to his desk, Major Hembree snatched up the folder containing General Walbridge’s report. He read again how the Secret Service had learned, from a traitor to the South, the identity of the person believed to have stolen the engraving plates during the takeover of the Mint.

Elton Sinclair.

Smiling, Hembree folded his arms behind his head and leaned back in the leather chair. He had already decided Sinclair’s murder had to do with the plates. Somebody else knew about them and had tried to get him to talk but failed. However, he was certain Sinclair would have made sure somebody knew where he hid them. It hadn’t been Claudia, for sure.

So it was logical, despite the ugly little story he’d just heard, that Anjele had managed to redeem herself in her father’s eyes, resulting in his confiding in her, if only during his final moments of life.

And now she needed assistance in locating them for the Confederacy.

Hembree smiled.

He knew just the person to help her.

By helping her, he’d be helping himself as well—to a promotion to lieutenant colonel.

He went to the door and told the soldier outside to have the prisoner brought to his office. “Keep her hands tied behind her back,” he reminded. “She’s a feisty one.”

“Don’t worry about that.” The soldier laughed. “I saw ‘em bring her in. She landed her foot right between Bailey’s legs. He’s still cryin’ when he pisses.”

Hembree wiped away the soldier’s grin with a glare of reproach for his crudeness.

The man scurried to obey his order.

A few moments later, Anjele was brought in, defiant, face tight with anger. “What am I being charged with this time?” she asked, as one of the two men with her pushed her down in a chair. “Murder?”

He waved the soldiers out, waited till the door was closed to respond. And when he spoke, she sharply turned her head in the direction of his voice, for she’d been staring at the wall without realizing it. “Not murder, Miss Sinclair, but something quite serious, I can assure you.”

“All I did was give a hungry man food,” she fired back, stung with fury. “If that’s a crime, then shoot me, hang me. I’ll not beg for mercy.”

“You are being charged with receiving stolen goods. If you cooperate and tell me where they’re hidden, I can promise you leniency in your sentence for providing shelter to a bushwhacker, and—”

“That’s a lie,” she blazed. “I told you—I was giving him food. And I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know anything about stolen goods, for heaven’s sake.

“What I’d like to know,” she hurried on, “is how you Yankees can even put up a good fight against the South, as stupid as you are! Stolen goods, indeed.” She gave an unladylike snort and settled back in the chair.

“We’re talking about engraving plates, Miss Sinclair.” He had expected her to deny knowing anything but proceeded to refresh her memory to let her know he wasn’t making wild guesses but knew what he was talking about.

Anjele listened, incredulous, then told him, “The truth is, I don’t know what you’re talking about. My father never told me he was involved in the takeover, and he certainly never told me about any engraving plates. But even if he had, you can be sure I’d die before I’d tell you.”

“Have it your way,” he said with pretended resolve, “but as I said, if you cooperate, we’ll go easy on you. Maybe you’ll only be in prison for the duration of the war. If you refuse, I can promise you will die there.”

Anjele was quiet for a moment, deliberately trying to make him think she was actually considering giving in. Finally, she sneered, “You bastard! Do you think it really matters to me now where I go? My parents are dead, and my home has been turned into a haven for you dirty Yankees. I’ve lost my eyesight and probably won’t ever get it back. Do you really think I give a damn what happens to me? My life is over, anyway, so why should I care where I spend my final days?