Rebel (44 page)

“Why? He married Elsie Fitch, didn’t he?”

“Yes, of course, but… he’s an arrogant young fool, and always has been, and he’s taken his father’s money and made himself captain of a cavalry unit.”

“So Peter is out to destroy Cimarron—to somehow even a score!” Ian exclaimed angrily, slamming a fist on the table.

“Nothing is going to happen to Cimarron,” James said firmly. “With Julian McKenzie officially attached to Southern forces, no one would touch Cimarron. Julian is already acquiring quite a reputation—as a magician, as well as a doctor. They had a measles outbreak and all his patients survived. And he hasn’t lost a man to injury yet—” Looking at Ian, his uncle sighed with exasperation. “We shouldn’t have told you.”

Ian smiled wryly. “I don’t mind taking a few chances,
Uncle James, but I think I’d be certifiably insane if I went riding off through the interior to find Peter O’Neill and call him out for a private duel. Damn him, though! The man is such an idiot!”

“Ian,” Jerome said, “Peter O’Neill isn’t worth your anger. Nothing is going to happen. We’ve still got laws in this state!” Jerome faced Ian squarely, and Ian saw a countenance very much like his own. Jerome was darker, his complexion more bronze, and in the light, his hair carried a hint of his mother’s red. But even the contours of their faces were similar, and in facing Jerome, Ian felt that he faced other forces within himself.

“If they took Cimarron, my father would—”

“Don’t underestimate your father,” Teela interrupted. “No matter what happens, he’s a strong man.”

“My mother—”

“May even be stronger,” James mused with a touch of humor. “Hell, it’s war. It’s bloody war. And there’s not a damned thing you can do here, Ian, fighting for the Union the way you are.” James stood and paused before Ian. “I’ll pray for you.” He left the kitchen. Teela rose, paused, kissed Ian on the head, and followed her husband.

Jerome picked up a brandy bottle, indicating the porch. “I’ve got some good Cuban cigars,” he said.

Outside they sat, passing the brandy bottle back and forth. “We’ve all known our feelings for a long time,” Ian began. “Your family has known I would stay with the Union, even if trouble came. Yet tonight, somehow…”

“There’s blood between the North and the South now, and that changes things,” Jerome reminded him.

“Yeah, I suppose. Jesus, Jerome, don’t let that bastard O’Neill get to Cimarron.”

“O’Neill won’t get to Cimarron. He may have bought himself a captaincy in the state militia, but he’s still a braggart, and most men will pay him no heed. And trust in this: Your brother is as much a part of Cimarron as you are. And there are too many men who respect your father too much to threaten him. Cimarron will be safe. But there’s something else I should tell you.” Jerome exhaled after a long moment, then stared at Ian again. “I’ve accepted a commission into the Confederate navy.”

“As…”

“Captain of the
Mercy.
”

“The
Mercy
… the schooner you designed that was built out of Richmond.”

“That would be the ship,” Jerome said lightly. He puffed on the cigar, watching the smoke rise in the night. “I pray to God that we don’t meet in battle,” he said simply.

“Pray to God!” Ian concurred, lifting the brandy bottle. He consumed a long swallow and passed it to his cousin.

They drank until it was late.

That night, Ian slept in Alaina’s bed. He remembered holding her, stroking her, and he missed her…

Ached for her. Longed for her.

Prayed for her.

For his family.

And for himself.

He left Belamar at the first hint of light, embracing each member of his family.

In the days that followed, he built his camp. He’d selected eight men as his company, and he was pleased with each of them, especially a man named Sam Jones, who had served at Key West a very long time and was familiar with both Florida history and terrain.

They constructed their cabins well off the ground, a lesson learned from the Indians, to discourage snakes and other predators. They used pine that matched the trees hiding the camp.

“No one will ever find you here,” Jake said admiringly when the camp was half finished. “Hell, Osceola couldn’t have found this place!”

Ian, staring at his camp, silently agreed. He hunched down, plucking out a blade of grass to gnaw on. “There’s only one person who could possibly stalk me here,” he murmured quietly.

“Who?”

He looked up at Jake with a rueful smile. “My cousin Jerome McKenzie. But then, he doesn’t know yet that he should be looking for me. Maybe we can avoid one another for the duration of this war.”

* * *

As they passed through August, Alaina grew alarmed when Captain Lewes began to make more frequent visits to her oak tree. She was still committed to helping the South win the war as quickly as possible, but she also wanted to do it with her marriage intact—if that was humanly possible.

“My husband could return,” she informed the captain.

“Well, no one ever said there is no danger in being a spy.” He smiled. “But Mrs. McKenzie, I don’t think you need fear anything. Surely you could charm your way out of any situation.”

Alaina refrained from telling him that he obviously didn’t know her husband.

“Just like a snake!” he added admiringly.

“I beg your pardon?” Alaina said indignantly.

“A moccasin!” he told her. “A Southern moccasin, so very beautiful and yet so deadly.” With a strange smile he turned and left her.

Two nights later, Alaina was awakened by the sound of stones crashing against her window again. She leaped up, expecting to see Captain Lewes. She gasped to see that Risa Magee, dressed in black, was standing by the oak, motioning to her wildly.

Alaina rushed down the stairs and outside as quickly as she possibly could. “Risa, my God, what—”

“You have to get out of here.”

“But what—”

“They’ve arrested Mrs. Greenhow. They’re searching through her house and papers now.”

“Why—why have you come here?” Alaina asked, feeling a tightening in her throat.

“Oh, Alaina, I’m not an idiot! I’ve suspected both of you for quite some time—”

“Did you turn Rose in?” Alaina demanded.

“Alaina, Allan Pinkerton, the detective Lincoln hired, has been on her trail nearly from the beginning. Men can be such idiots! A few of Lincoln’s own Cabinet members were giving her information, along with Scott’s own staff! They are still so appalled to take action against ladies!” Risa said scornfully, then added, “No, Alaina, I never did anything about any of my suspicions. If I had, I might have prevented the deaths of some of our men who died at Manassas.”

“Risa, you’ve got to understand,” Alaina said, suddenly anxious that Risa should see things from her point of view. “You might have prevented Union deaths, but thousands more Southern soldiers would have died. Risa, I can’t change what I am, or the way that I believe. People have the right to self-government. I am a Southerner. My country is foreign to me now.”

“You’ve got to get out of here, Alaina, before they associate you with Rose and come to arrest you. I pray to God they won’t do anything but just hold women and try to keep them from dangerous activities, but… there has been discussion that spies should be hanged. Even female spies. For the love of God, Alaina, pay attention to me tonight. Hurry. Get yourself and the babe dressed and ready. I have a friend—Captain Murdock—who is sailing down the Potomac tonight. He has just recently resigned his commission and has a pass through the Union lines. You and Sean can go with him as his wife and child.”

Stunned, Alaina hesitated. She’d never been a fool; she had known what she risked. She had believed deeply in the Cause of the South, and she still did. But the very thought of hanging…

“My God—Ian…” she murmured.

“Alaina,” Risa told her bluntly, “if they decide to hang you, there won’t be a damned thing Ian will be able to do—assuming that he got the news before the deed was done!” Then she added softly, “If I see Ian before you do, I’ll explain to him that I urged you to leave. Any friendship with Rose is cause for concern right now; Ian will understand that. And you can’t be faulted for befriending her; Ian has known and liked Rose for years.”

Alaina lowered her head, wincing. She believed that Risa would actually defend her to Ian. But still, neither was Ian a fool, and when he found out about her activities…

He would think that anything she had ever said to him was a lie, that she had come to him, seduced him, only for information. Which was true… and not true. It was such a fine line there! And it didn’t matter. When Ian discovered what she had been doing, he might well want to hang her himself.

Risa threw up her hands. “Alaina, for the love of God, I didn’t want to tell you this, but if it will cause you to hurry, then it’s news you must know. Captain Lewes is dead.”

“What?” Alaina gasped.

“So the man
was
0 your contact!” Risa mused.

Alaina ignored her blunder, feeling absolutely ill. Lewes had been so young, so brave. He’d had so much life ahead of him. “He was… hanged?”

“No, no—he was shot; he refused to respond when a picket demanded to know his purpose. He tried to run. He was killed.”

“Oh, God!” Alaina breathed, reaching for the tree to steady herself. Poor Captain Lewes!

“Alaina, please understand. I’m sorry, but I am telling you this so that you will realize the seriousness of this situation.”

Alaina inhaled sharply, studying Risa. “Why did you come? Why are you helping me?”

“I—” Risa hesitated. “I don’t know. Maybe I respect your loyalty to the South. Maybe I’ve acquired a certain affection for you.” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “And maybe I still care about Ian, and know that your death or incarceration would wound him beyond measure. What difference does it make? I’ve got a carriage down the next road. I can’t be seen here. Get the baby—and Lilly. You can travel with a maid. Keep her quiet, though, and
hurry.
”

Alaina briefly bowed her head; she had never known so great a misery. It was war; it was no game of flirting and spying. Ian had probably been right that it would last a very long time and they would all be bathed in blood.

“Alaina!”

She raised her head, squared her shoulders, and nodded. Impulsively, she hugged Risa, and Risa hugged her tightly in return.

Alaina hurried into Ian’s bedroom, pulling writing paper, pen, and ink from his desk drawers. She agonized in the seconds she dared take, wishing there were words that could explain how she could love him—and the
Confederacy as well. There were no words that could begin to suffice. She wrote simply:

She left the note on his desk.

She turned and studied the room. She hadn’t wanted to come here. But now, she didn’t want to leave. She’d learned here just how much she loved her husband. Her baby had been born here. It had become their home.

She closed her eyes, fighting the threat of hysterical tears.

She hurried back to her own room, gently cradled her son in her arms, and, with Lilly silently at her side, left her home.

Left the North.

And her husband.

B
y the end of September, Risa received a letter from Alaina assuring her that she and the baby had made it safely from Washington to Richmond. She went from there, via the railroad, to Charleston, where she was welcomed by the cream of Confederate society. She wrote with enthusiasm regarding the kindness of those she met—and with renewed patriotic fever for the Confederacy. Alaina had actually come out of the situation quite well and Risa could assure herself wryly that she had been a good friend to both Alaina and Ian.

Risa had suspected that Alaina might stay in Charleston for quite some time. Although Brent had so far refused to accept a commission with either a Florida or South Carolina volunteer unit or the Confederacy itself, he and Sydney could certainly be construed as Rebels— but they were McKenzies. However, Alaina didn’t stay with them. In the last letter she had managed to get friends to smuggle through Union lines, she told Risa that, after stopping in St. Augustine, she was going home. She wanted to be with Jennifer, at Belamar.

It was November when Ian finally returned to Washington. Risa had been out at the home of a friend, working on a flag for a newly formed Maryland home guard— and feeling absolutely restless with her mundane part in the events shaping the country.

She rarely saw her father now; he was with the Army of the Potomac under the man Lincoln had brought in from a previous acquaintanceship in Illinois—McClellan. McClellan was dashing and charismatic, inspiring to the troops, but Risa had already heard from her father— who complained privately, but with great aggravation— that McClellan was like an old woman in many ways, exaggerating the number of enemy troops, no matter
what the intelligence reports. He would wage far too careful a war, a defensive war, when he was supposed to be bringing ambivalent Southerners back into the fold of the Union.

More men were dying. There had been action at Ball’s Bluff, Virginia, and skirmishes east and west. Risa prayed that winter might stem the flow of blood—and cool down some very hot heads.

As she came back to her house that early evening in November, her maid, Nelly, came rushing out to meet her. “Major McKenzie, ma’am, Major McKenzie is here!”

Risa stared at Nelly, then quickened her footsteps.

Ian’s back was to her when she hurried into her parlor. His shoulders were very broad, trimming to the leanness of his hips, and with his dark hair, he wore his uniform very handsomely. His hands were on the mantel; his head was just slightly bowed in thought. She was so very tempted to run to him, to put her arms around him and lay her head against his back, to whisper some gentle words to ease the strain of war. A war in which he fought his own kin, his own wife.

She opened her mouth to say his name, but no sound came. She gently placed a hand upon his shoulder. He didn’t turn immediately, and she realized he had known that she was in the room from the time she had first entered it. He turned at last, eyes very dark, face leaner, sharper than ever.