Shades of Gray: A Novel of the Civil War in Virginia (20 page)

“I’m old enough to see the state of affairs,”
she said defiantly. “As for the Federals, it’s their duty to employ every
resource for the suppression, the overthrow, and the punishment of Rebels in
arms. And as for citizens of the United States, of which I am one, it is my
duty to do all that I can in the achievement of those objectives.”

Hunter sat down and leaned back in his chair
with a sigh. “Your story about your cousin can be corroborated?” He asked the
question casually as he drummed his fingers on the desk, but he watched her
face closely.

She bit her cheek and continued to stare at the
floor. “I had no time to send a telegram. I received word in Richmond that my
horse was stolen and I’m returning to—”

Hunter stood. “Your horse? Curious. I seem to
recall you telling me in Richmond that you don’t ride well. Yet you own a
horse, one that is apparently very near and dear to your heart. Very
interesting.”

“How very admirable of you to commit every word
of our conversation to memory,” she said weakly. “I had no idea I was such a
noteworthy acquaintance.”

Hunter laughed. “My dear, did I not tell you
that I believed our meeting would be an unforgettable one? Surely it is not one
you
have forgotten.”

She looked up at him and then away into space,
in what appeared to be a custom of hers when the topic was not pleasing. “No I
do not forget, but I remember with regret. As I told you in Richmond, any
encounter with you is inexorably branded in my mind.”

“Anyway, what might he look like?”

“Who?” she asked, bringing her attention, and
her gaze, back to him.

“Your horse that was stolen!”

“That is not important.”

“I believe
I
will decide what is and is
not important if you don’t mind!”

“Then can we not confine ourselves to the
discussion at hand? Let me see, I believe you were asking me—”

“This
is
the discussion at hand,” Hunter
roared. “Is he a bay? A gray? Chestnut? Dun?” He stood in front of her now, but
she did not answer. “Perhaps a sorrel? A roan? By your silence, I shall assume
none of the above. Hmm, I can think of naught another color—save black. Might
your horse be a large-boned black?”

“If
you
have stolen him, it would do you
well to return him.” She made no effort to control the anger in her voice now.
“No one else will sit him! Least of all a man!”

“Then I’m to
assume we are agreed, your horse is black,” Hunter said. “And if that is the
case, and if indeed he’s been appropriated by my men, he is now the legal
property of the Confederacy and will no doubt serve our cause splendidly.”

“No Rebel will ever ride him!”

“Miss Marlow,” Hunter said, losing his patience.
“Are you aware of the penalties of spying in the Confederate states? And once
again may I suggest the prudence in being more guarded with your speech?”

She looked straight into his eyes, unblinking,
defying his attempts to shake her. “Is the interview over, Captain?” She
turned, as if his silence was a signal for her to leave. “I believe you have
detained me quite long enough.”

“Over? Are you questioning my authority to hold
you here?” Hunter stood and banged his fist on the desk again. “By whose
authority do you operate?”

“I believe I shall pass on the question.” The
girl’s voice indicated that she had no more interest in the conversation than
if they were discussing the weather on the third day of rain.

“What are your orders?”

“Still less can I answer that question
definitely.”

“Miss, you are being charged with a serious
crime. Have you no defense? I don’t believe you realize the character and
extent of my power to deal with such conduct.”

“I would trust my explanation has been
sufficient. I don’t know what other information I can provide you.”

“You have
provided me no reasonable explanation—not for your presence here in my
territory nor for your impudent behavior!” Hunter shouted, losing his temper
again. “I must warn you, I’m finding your manner excessively insolent.”

“And insolence is a crime in the Confederacy? Or
is it just an offense in your jurisdiction?”

Hunter ran his hand through his hair in
agitation and stared at her, trying to understand how a mere girl could show
such courage under the current circumstances. “Every word you speak illustrates
more clearly to me your character,” he said.

She narrowed her eyes in indignation. “I fail to
see the correlation. I have a solemn duty which I will not betray.”

“And I have a solemn duty to see that you pay
for the crimes in which you have been engaged!”

She sighed then, like a child tiring of a game,
and began removing her gloves in an exasperated sort of way. “May I remind you,
sir, that you have found no treasonable correspondence on me and that I wear no
insignia of the Confederacy. According to the Articles of War, I cannot be
charged as a spy, at most a courier.” Her eyes never wavered nor changed
expression. “I presume you have some acquaintance with the existence of that
code, Captain Hunter?”

She then turned her gaze to her fingernails, as
if contemplating whether they needed a cleaning, indicating by her actions that
she felt the subject had garnered more than enough of her time and attention.

Hunter
raised his eyebrows in surprise, both at her revelation and the sudden
recollection of where he’d the heard the name Sinclair before. “Your knowledge
concerning the usual handling of such affairs is correct, Miss Marlow.
Unfortunately, your prediction of how I shall handle yours is not equally
reliable.”

He watched her grow alert, like someone who
senses the presence of an unseen gun.

“It is indeed unfortunate,” he continued,
crossing his arms in satisfaction, “but I can prove you are, or have been,
within our lines for the purpose of securing information. You can indeed be
arrested as a spy on my word.”

She stood quietly as if weighing his words, then
with her green eyes glaring, leaned forward and placed both hands on his desk.
“I don’t believe you. Where is your warrant for doing so?”

Hunter
reached down and pulled the crumpled piece of paper from his desk drawer that
had been found along the stream the night he had been rendered unconscious.
“Does this look familiar?” He threw it onto the desk in front of her.

As her gaze dropped from his face to the piece
of paper, Hunter thought he saw her flinch. In any event, she swallowed hard
before she spoke. “It is unknown to me how attempting to save the Union from
destruction is committing a grave offense.”

“Then you are admitting you are a spy.”

“It appears
to me, I have responded neither affirmatively nor negatively to any of your
statements or insinuations by expression, words, conduct, or deeds.”

Hunter stared at her incredulously. “I ask you
again. Do you understand how much trouble you are in?”

Her eyes did not waver. She crossed her arms and
sighed deeply. “I suppose I’ll have to be content knowing there are worse fates
than being
suspected
of providing service in defense of country.”

“If you believe that you must be unaware of the
conditions in Confederate prisons.” For the first time Hunter saw fear flash in
her eyes, thought he even saw a shudder.

“You would send me to prison?” She looked
straight up at him, as if it was the first time the thought had occurred to
her.

Hunter noticed she had a little more trouble
keeping the fear out her voice now too. “What do you think the penalty is for
the crimes you’ve perpetrated? A blasted picnic?

“But how can I be faulted if your superiors
indulge themselves with wine and then divulge all manner of things to me?”

She fluttered her eyelashes innocently, yet now
it was clear to Hunter she only pretended a calmness she did not feel. Beads of
sweat gathered on her forehead and a nerve twitched near her eye.

“You can be faulted for seeing that the
information they so graciously bestowed upon you made it across enemy lines.”

“You have no proof of such a thing. You rely on
nothing but your memory to link Maryann Marlow with Andrew Sinclair, and
nothing but suspicion to connect me with information crossing the lines.”

“Unfortunately again you are wrong, Miss
Marlow.” He walked around his desk to stand in front of her. “The evidence
against you is ponderous.”

Hunter pulled her hand out of her pocket and held
it in front of her face. “For instance, this,” he said, pointing to Daniel’s
ring. “I believe I misinterpreted its significance and owe you an apology. You
are undeniably linked to a Federal officer.”

Hunter’s last comment brought prolonged silence.
In fact, once he released her hand, his prisoner did not move. She stared at
the wall behind him so intensely she seemed unaware of his presence.

“Surely you understand that the Union that once
existed may be lost forever, and the Union you seek to repair may never be
restored,” he said to see if she was listening.

She blinked twice in rapid succession at his
words, but otherwise appeared to be deep in thought. Something about her rigid
stance told of a heart beating wildly.

A completely
uncharacteristic feeling of pity welled up inside Hunter, and he offered her
another chance. “Do you understand what you are doing?”

“It appears my fate lies in your hands,” she
said softly. “Therefore I have a request.”

Hunter laughed aloud as he forgot instantly his
thoughts of compassion. “A request? I hardly believe you are in the position to
make a request.” He crossed his arms and spread his legs. “What is it you would
like? Breakfast in bed? A new pair of shoes?”

“No.” Her eyebrows came together in a look of
unyielding resolve. “I would favor, that is to say, I would like to make it
clear that I prefer losing my life to losing my liberty.”

Hunter
noticed the slightest falter to her voice now, as if one part of her mind was
convinced of the fact and another was not quite sure. She still appeared
defiant. Yet, she was unable to meet his eyes and her breathing was labored.

“You prefer death to prison,” he repeated,
certain she must be jesting. “You value your life so little that you will not
plead for it?”

Her head went up and her eyes sparked with
anger.  “Beg? Beg for my life from you?” She forced a laugh. “I am quite
willing to accept death. To do otherwise would be to die in another way.”

“Surely you have loved ones that would wish you
to reconsider.”

“I have no love but that of country.” She
glanced down at the ring on her hand. “And I would value the honor of dying for
it.”

Hunter swallowed hard at the thought of his
brother’s sacrifice, but he suppressed any feelings of pity. “And which would
you prefer? A rope or a firing squad?”  He sat down on the edge of his desk,
his tone indifferent, as if giving her the choice between red or white wine at
dinner.

“It is not for me to decide my fate,” she said
solemnly. “That is for you and God.”

“I know nothing of God except that He did not
commit treason against the Confederacy.” Hunter pointed his finger at her. “
You
did!”

“And since you are my legal captor, you are at
liberty to shoot, hang, or quarter me,” she quipped with equal verve. “Whether
you like it or not, the responsibility of choice shall be bestowed on
you
.”

“Do you believe me of the character that would
send a woman to a hanging tree?” Hunter asked curiously.

“I can assure
you I have no thoughts on which I wish to expound relative to your character.”
Her voice was full of disdain as her determined green eyes met his resolute
gray ones. For a few long moments neither one blinked.

“Perhaps the sacrifice of your life will not be
necessary.” Hunter went back to his chair and sat down. “I have the authority
to offer you a parole.” He began digging through some papers in a drawer. “You
have only to sign an oath that you will not give information, countenance, aid,
or support to the enemy . . .”

Hunter saw
out of the corner of his eye that she too
k a step back as if being hit
quite squarely by a block of wood. Her heels hit the floor in quick succession,
making a distinctive
kerplunk
. He had never seen a face s
o indignant.

“How dare you
insult me!” She held her hands over her ears as if to block out the sound of
his voice. “I shall die a thousand deaths before I forfeit my soul and declare
allegiance to your country of traitors. God in heaven strike me down should I
give my word not to do something my conscience says is right. I’ll not make any
such humiliating concession to you or any power on this earth!”

Hunter’s lips curled into sardonic smile at her
outburst. “I beg your pardon,” he said, not sounding sorry at all. “I had no
idea I was dealing with such a prodigy of patriotic devotion. I was simply
attempting to give you an opportunity to preserve your life.”

“I will
choose to preserve my honor if you do not mind!” The color in her cheeks made
her practically glow. “I would rather meet death at the end of a blunt bayonet
doing my duty for country than be saved by abandoning it.”

Hunter stood blinking in frustration, staring at
her in silent wonder. Walking over to the door, he signaled with a commanding
gesture for Private Malone to enter. “Hold this one separate from the others.”

As they began to exit, Hunter obeyed an impulse
to give her another chance. “Have you nothing else you wish to say? You must
know you’ve placed me in a most regrettable position.”

When she turned around, her expression seemed
one of sympathy and concern. “If it helps, you are at liberty to disregard any
promises made in the past,” she said, at last referring to his vow to Daniel.
“I did not request, nor do I wish to be, anyone’s sacred obligation.”