Shades of Gray: A Novel of the Civil War in Virginia (55 page)

Hunter remained speechless.

“Did Miss Andrea not tell you? She convinced me
to sell you this beast, though I don’t know quite how or why.” John Paul stared
at Hunter curiously. “I hope you don’t mind, I took the liberty of telling her
it was your birthday. Today
is
the day is it not?”

Without
waiting for an answer, John Paul reached into his coat pocket with great
difficulty and pulled out some papers. “Got the bill of sale right here. Quite
a little negotiator she is. Wouldn’t go a penny higher than what you last offered
me, though I insisted his value has increased substantially since then.”

Hunter continued to stand silently, blinking
like an owl in sunlight. The fact it was his birthday had completely slipped
his mind. What he had said to Andrea after she returned from being with John
Paul had not. He remembered distinctly the moment of callousness that had
started the chain of events that left his world crumbling.

John Paul’s gaze flicked over Hunter’s unshaven
face and puffy red eyes. “It appears you started celebrating the big day a
little early.”

“She
bought
him?” Hunter murmured, his
mind beginning to catch up to what had been said moments previous.

“Well, she signed the bill of sale on your
behalf,” John Paul responded. “Insisted her word and your honor were sufficient
to close the deal.” He paused a moment. “She’s a bit of a funny female if you
ask me. A little standoffish … though she seems to have warmed up to you quite
nicely, judging from the way I had to listen to her constantly singing your
praises.”

He looked Hunter up and down in such a way that
indicated he could not fathom a woman choosing the Colonel over himself. “Here,
take him, he’s all yours.”

Hunter descended the last two steps and grabbed
the skittish horse.

“Will you announce me to Miss Evans?” John Paul
dismounted and brushed the dust from his suit. “Perhaps now that she’s had time
to reflect, she realizes who is the better man.”

He grinned at Hunter’s blank stare and patted
him on the shoulder. “You can’t blame a man for trying, Alex. As you have made
no claim on her, it’s my duty to make her realize she’s much too charming to
spend her life being unnoticed by you.”

Before Hunter could answer, Victoria walked out
the door. “John Paul, how nice to see you!”

“Victoria, I was just asking about you!” John
Paul gave Hunter a sly smile and a wink, before greeting her with a hug and
disappearing into the house.

Hunter stood in the middle of the drive, holding
the horse he had only dreamed of owning, the lineage of which he knew would
transform Hawthorne into the legendary breeding establishment his grandfather
had envisioned. There was no elation as he gazed at the prancing animal. He saw
only a world falling apart around him, and felt a crushing weight of loss and
loneliness that threatened to overcome him.

Dazed, he walked to the barn and handed the
horse over to Zach. Anxious to ride away from the memories, he began saddling
Dixie in the paddock himself, but paused at the sound of a wagon racing down
from the main house at breakneck speed.

“What have you done to Miss Andrea?”

Hunter winced at the sight of Mrs. Fox looking
like a ruffled hen. “Andrea and I were to meet today. The servants told me she
is no longer here. What have you done to her?”

Hunter turned to his horse and continued to
tighten the girth. “As you know, Mrs. Fox, Miss Evans was here to recover from
an injury. She has recovered—and she has thus departed.”

“You did not make her leave.”  Her tone was not
questioning, but the statement seemed to demand an answer nonetheless.

 “It was … a … mutual decision.” Hunter talked
into his saddle, pretending to adjust his stirrups. He guessed it was mutual.
She hadn’t really argued. Hadn’t protested.

“Where did she go?”

“I do not know her intentions. She had a habit
of confiding only in herself.”

The widow shook her head. “She would not just
leave without saying goodbye.”

“Apparently she would,” Hunter answered bluntly,
preparing to mount.

“I hope it wasn’t because of
you
,
Alexander Hunter.” Emma picked up her own reins. “That girl respected you, admired
you. And it wasn’t for your money or your
charm
, I assure you.”

Hunter spun around. “She said that?”

“She didn’t need to say it. I saw it every time
she looked at you. Why, she well nigh worshiped you.”

“I think perhaps you saw what you wanted to see,
not what was really there.” Hunter mounted stiffly, though he tried to appear
calm. “Miss Evans did her best to endure her time at Hawthorne, nothing more.
She made it quite clear to me she would rather be anywhere but in my company.”

The widow leaned forward and pointed her finger.
“You may be well respected within military circles,” she said, staring so
deeply into Hunter’s eyes that he almost flinched. “But you, sir, are a darned
fool!”

Slapping the reins, she left him without a
backward glance.

Chapter
54

“Look back at man’s struggle for freedom,

Trace his present day strength to its source,

And you’ll find that his pathway to glory

Is strewn with the bones of the horse.”

– Anonymous

A cold front had moved in overnight, sending
Andrea deeper under the single blanket she had managed to scavenge from the
trail. The action was futile, as she knew it would be. Yet shivering kept her
from sleeping and not sleeping kept her from dreaming.

Andrea stared glassy-eyed with fatigue at the
darkness above her. Although the first shards of light had not yet illuminated
the eastern sky, an over-anxious bird had started its morning ritual overhead.
She took a deep breath and listened to the music she had been anticipating for
hours. Its chorus was blissful to her ears. She had made it through another
night.

Soon the sun would spread its glorious rays, and
she would no longer have to fear the heart-wrenching scenes that caused her to
wake during the night in a feverish sweat, those scenes from a nightmare that
had made her wake every night since her departure from Hawthorne.

Although she tried to push it from her mind, the
dream replayed itself, even now before her open eyes. She saw herself walking
side by side with Alex through the meadow by the stream. At a steep incline
that appeared out of nowhere, the landscape changed from colorful and distinct
to foggy and gray. Still, as happens in dreams, Andrea saw herself smiling and
pulling her way up the rocky hill, even as the ground at her feet began to
crumble.

Andrea squeezed her eyes closed in an effort to
stop the vision, but it continued in vivid detail. She watched herself reach up
through the fog in an attempt to grab Hunter’s strong hand, but what she found
in her grasp was never his hand at all. It was always the cold, steel barrel of
his gun, its muzzle staring her in the face.

What came next tore her heart apart in both
sleep and waking hours.

“Let go, Andrea.” His voice was always pitiless
in its tone.

“You deceived me. Let go.” He cocked the gun.
“Or I will make you.”

As if watching the scene from a distance, Andrea
saw herself look into the barrel of the gun, then at her hand wrapped around
its steel shaft, then straight up into Hunter’s savage eyes.

And then she let go.

In her dream, she would fall endlessly through
time and space, yet never hit bottom or die. She simply awoke, sweating and
crying and gasping for breath, and praying fervently, and as never before, that
today God would take mercy upon her and make it her last on earth.

Andrea shivered a final time, more from the
memory of her dream than the chill, and rose when the faintest promise of a new
day broke through the darkness. The frosty nights had been hard on her, the
cold air finding little resistance in blasting its way through her empty heart.
Having grown accustomed to a warm bed, she now found the hard ground acutely
painful.

When
it grew a little lighter, A
ndrea took an overgrown path up the side of a
hill to get her bearings and the layout of the land. Dismounting and securing
Justus to a tree, she crept along the ground, keeping to the shadows of a small
ridge. She was not prepared for the great panorama that opened before her at
its peak, and felt a surge of adrenalin pulse through her body.

Below lay the white tents of the enemy, thousands
of campfires reflecting eerily off the glass-like waters of the river. Men and
horses, mere shadows in the early morning light, appeared to be scurrying to
and fro, preparing for a major action. A long gray blur, already in motion
behind them, portended something of dreadful significance.

From her
position, Andrea continued to study the scene. Why would they leave their fires
burning if they were moving out? She held her breath and listened. The distinct
sound of a large army on the move assaulted her ears.

The war monster is hungry, she thought to
herself. But they have decided to skip breakfast.

Running, sliding and tumbling down the incline,
she mounted Justus, hoping beyond hope that she may be in time to stop the
feast. Even with Justus at a gallop, she fancied she heard the rumble of the
great army and likened it in her mind to the growl of a mighty stomach. She
knew this monster’s appetite and determination, could picture it in its tens of
thousands of unwavering eyes. This was a monster insensible to fear and numb to
death. And it was apparently intent on destruction.

From a distant place to the south Andrea began
to hear gunfire, a light spattering at first, but growing more intense as
daylight began spreading. She looked back in the direction of the Confederate
army. She had to hurry.

* * *

 “Pardon me, sirs, there’s a scout outside.
Sinclair, I think he said his name was, to see you.”

In the midst of a conversation with another
officer, General Jonathan Jordan stopped in mid-sentence and stared. “Did you
say
Sinclair
?”

“Send him
in,” General Bowden, said gruffly. “I need to hear what he has.”

When Andrea
entered, a breathless moment passed as her eyes met J.J.’s from beneath the
broad-rimmed hat. He took a step toward her in jubilant surprise, but she
remained all business. “Sir, I have the honor to report—” She spoke
nonchalantly as if returning after a lapse of three days, not more than a year.

“Well, go on with it,” General Bowden snapped.

“If that’s you I hear skirmishing to the south,
it’s just a feint.” Andrea nodded toward the sound of gunfire. “The main body
is on the move to flank you. And they’re preparing for business.”

The generals
looked at each other. They had been discussing the enemy’s movements and this
is exactly what they both suspected and feared. “Chrissakes,” Bowden said.
“Take this to Colonel Scott. Do you know where he is?”

Andrea looked at him blankly and he pointed at
the map. “He’s here!” His finger hit the table violently. “Tell him to move up
to Colonel Smith’s right flank, holding Lawson in reserve. Do you understand?
See that it is done forthwith. And tell him I said to proceed without delay and
without counting the probable cost.”

“Yes, sir.” Andrea turned to leave.

“Wait!” J.J. held up his hand. “He’s not a
regular scout, sir.” He looked from Andrea to General Bowden with a look of
grave concern. “And Colonel Scott is directly in the enemy’s first line of
fire.”

Andrea stopped and turned. “I understand,
General Jordan, and I am willing.” 

Her eyes seemed morose and remote and fearless.
The combination made J.J. cringe. She turned to go back outside and he followed
her onto the porch. “Land’s sakes, Andrea, it’s good to see you! I received
word you were safe with friends, but still I—”

Andrea’s gaze jerked up to meet his. “Received
word?”

“Yes. I was wounded,” he said, regarding the
look on her face intently, “and received a message while recovering. I assumed
you knew.” J.J. watched her gaze shift to a place over his shoulder without
commenting one way or the other. “You
were
safe with friends, were you
not?”

Andrea came out of her trance and glanced up at
him. “There’s a fine line between friends and enemies,” she murmured.

“Andrea.” He took a hesitant step toward her,
then grabbed both her arms and shook her. “Haven’t you given enough?”

She looked back at him defiantly. He had her
attention now. “Hasn’t everyone?”

 J.J. sighed and shook his head. “Report to me
upon your return,” he said, knowing it was useless to argue and dangerous to
delay. Nothing he could do or say would change her mind once it was set. That
much, he saw, had obviously not changed.

Andrea turned to leave, an expression of grit
and determination evident in her mournful eyes.

“Sinclair.”

“Yes, sir?” She turned back to face him.

Grabbing her
arm, J.J. swept her to him in a manly bear hug. “It’s good to have you back.”
He felt Andrea swallow hard against him, revealing the depth of emotion she
tried to suppress. “We’ll talk when you return. Really talk.”

Andrea nodded against him, though he sensed she
wanted nothing more than to lay her head on his shoulder and cry. He let her go
and walked back into the house, listening to the sound of hoofbeats fade in the
distance. “Godspeed,” he muttered.

* * *

Andrea’s heart throbbed in wild anticipation.
Destiny had set her on a perilous journey, and she could barely control the
excitement that flowed through her veins. All around her men galloped hastily
to and fro, rushing to obey orders shouted at them by officers, and hurrying to
make final preparations for the impending conflict.