Shades of Gray: A Novel of the Civil War in Virginia (67 page)

For the first time, Andrea looked up and met his
gaze, an action that seemed to infuriate him greatly. He twisted her arm behind
her back with savage strength, shoved her face against the side of the small
building, and placed his revolver against her head. Andrea heard the familiar
click
of the hammer being pulled and felt the cold steel press directly behind her
ear.

“What are you doing here?” he asked through
gritted teeth. “I know who you are.”

Andrea would have answered if she could have
drawn a breath. Pierce leaned against her so heavily and bent her arm so far
back that she feared she would pass out from the effect of one or the pain of
the other.

“Do you take me for a fool?” he growled.
“Believe me, I remember well the blasted rider on the black horse. The
resemblance you share is uncanny. I watched you all day.”

Pierce shifted his weight and Andrea grabbed one
quick breath before he leaned into her again.

“It all makes sense now. What better place for a
spy to lodge than with the Colonel? He may have fallen for your treachery, but
I have not.”

Andrea felt the steel of the gun press more
firmly against her neck and had no doubt she would be black and blue as a
result.

“Are you alone?”

The most she could do was nod her head.

“Captain?”

“What is it?” Pierce sounded exasperated at the
intrusion.

“Sorry, sir, I don’t mean to interrupt whatever
is going on, but this here boy did save your life today.”

Andrea closed her eyes tighter.

“What are you talking about?”

“That sharpshooter you shot on the river bank,”
Boz said. “You didn’t kill him right off. He had you dead in his sights.”

Andrea felt Pierce pull off just a little and
she grabbed another breath.

“I seen it with my own two eyes,” Boz added for
emphasis.

“That true?” Pierce apparently felt her
struggling for air and slammed her head against the wall again.

Andrea remained silent, too proud to defend her
life based on the fact that she had saved his.

“That true?” He spun her around and stuck his
gun none to gently under her chin to lift her head. Andrea found herself gazing
into the eyes of a soldier with whom she knew there would be no trifling.
Pierce seemed overly eager to dispatch her to the place from which she had saved
him.

“Will you not take the word of one of your men?”
Andrea’s voice was hoarse, and she gasped for breath. The top of her head began
to throb, while the left side of her face was nothing but numb.

“Show me your weapon,” Pierce said, as if that
would prove the case once and for all.

“He throwed it in the river, right after,” Boz
answered for her. “That ain’t all he throwed,” he added under his breath.

Pierce accepted that with a grin, understood
without further explanation the torment the action had caused her. “Killed one
of your own for me, did you?”

Andrea closed her eyes and swallowed hard to
keep from gagging again. Her legs began to shake at the thought, and she knew
Pierce was standing close enough to feel it.

He let the hammer of his gun back slowly. “This
is a little ironic, is it not?” He laughed. “You save my life, and I threaten
to take yours.”

“Quite a good joke,” Andrea said, her voice
shaky and gravelly.

Pierce fell silent, obviously contemplating what
to do with her.

“I heard you have a way with the ladies,” Andrea
said, opening and closing her jaw to make sure it still worked. “But until now
did not know the extent.”

“In your present attire you are somewhat hard to
conceive as a lady,” Pierce answered defensively. “My reaction was based purely
on beholding a spy in our midst. You cannot blame me for trying to protect the
Colonel.”

Andrea did not know if his words were meant as
an apology and did not really care. The skies had finally opened up, soaking
her hat and dripping off her lashes. Pierce seemed to take no notice of the
drenching, and was, she decided, not even conscious of it.

“Why are you here?” He looked away to return his
gun to its holster.

“My heart demands it.”

Pierce looked up slowly, as if all the other
parts of the puzzle were now falling into place. His gaze drifted down to the
oversized coat she wore. He reached out and roughly fixed the collar she had
turned under, making the three stars visible once again.

 “I see.”

Andrea thought she saw a hint of regret flash
across his eyes.

The rain started coming down even more
furiously, which finally brought it to his attention. Without a word he grabbed
Andrea by the arm, and led her past three sentries to the shelter of the
farmhouse’s back porch. He stopped again. “You believe he will wish to see
you?” He did not try to hide the disgust in his voice.

“He will.”

“It is folly to fall in love with the enemy. I
would think one of you would have more sense.” He looked at her in such a way
that Andrea knew he was inferring he expected more self-restraint from his
leader, not from her, though whether because she was a Yankee or a female she
could not tell.

“It is folly to look for logic in the chambers
of the heart.” Andrea spoke as if it was a lesson she had always known—not
learned through months of torturous pain.

Pierce stared at her long and hard with a
mixture, she thought, of curiosity and disbelief. “You have forsaken the Union
cause for this?”

Andrea looked down, closed her eyes, and exhaled
loudly. Hearing the words spoken aloud was a damaging blow. “There are other
sacred claims,” she said, her eyes filling with tears in spite of her best
efforts to stop them, “that touch as deeply as patriotism.”

Pierce’s gaze locked on hers again. Perhaps he
saw the devotion shining there for the Colonel. Perhaps he thought of the peril
and the sacrifice she had made in getting there. Or perhaps he thought of the
bullet from which his life had been spared. In any event, he reached toward her
cheek with the back of his hand, an impulse that appeared to be partly of pity
and partly of apology.

“I hope I did not hurt you overly much,” he
said. “I do apologize.”

Andrea reacted by wincing at the nearness of his
strong hand, causing him to withdraw and drop it dejectedly to his side.

“Wait here,” he ordered. “I need to speak to the
doctor.”

After counting to ten, Andrea let herself in,
just as a burst of thunder shook the house, covering the sound of the creaking
door. She heard muffled voices in a room to her left and noticed stairs off to
her right. Taking them two at a time, she saw an open bedroom door and entered,
ignoring Pierce’s orders from downstairs to halt.

Hunter lay in a bed, seemingly asleep, yet so
pale Andrea barely recognized him as living. Approaching slowly, fearing she
was too late, she tentatively put her hand on his forehead. The soldier who had
appeared just hours earlier the essence of magnificent manhood and muscle, now
appeared drained of all vitality. She gazed at a life hanging by a thread.

Feeling her touch, he opened his eyes. Andrea
watched him try to focus, his gaze moving from her face, down to the stars on
her collar. “Howdy, Kulnel,” he said hoarsely.

Andrea smiled in relief, and knelt beside him.
“It appears I’ve received a promotion.”

“Well deserved,” he said closing his eyes.

Andrea held his hand in both of hers. “I yield,
sir, to your wisdom and authority,” she whispered, leaning near him. “And
accept any orders you are inclined to give.”

“Stay …with me …Andrea.”

“I’ll never leave you, Alex.” She threw her arm
across his chest. “Never, never again!”

Kissing his forehead and then his cheek, Andrea
stared at his strained face. “Alex, how do you feel?”

He was quiet for a long moment, as if trying to
find the energy to speak. “Like I’ve been . . . humbled.” He winced and then
opened his eyes. “You look like—” He paused and licked his lips. “Hell.”

Andrea brought her hand up to her face and felt
the puffiness in her cheek where it had been rammed against the building. “Just
a little disagreement.” She glanced up at Pierce, who now stood in the doorway,
thinking Hunter’s eyes were still closed.

But they were not. When he followed her gaze,
his hands curled into fists. “It is nothing,” Andrea said, looking back down
and seeing she had alarmed him. “The vigilance of your men and the security of
your camp are commendable.”

Alex let out a long, deep sigh as if agitated he
could not come to her defense, could not move, could not find the strength to
keep his eyes open. He gazed vacantly at the ceiling with livid lips and
contorted features as a wave of pain overcame him. And then his eyes glazed
over with agony.

Andrea could see strength was failing him, and
so could the doctor, who walked briskly to the bed. “That’s enough. He needs
rest.”

Andrea nodded in response. Alex did not respond
at all. “Fight, Alex,” she whispered, laying her head on his chest for a brief
moment to soak in the essence of him. “Please fight like you’ve never fought
before. You cannot leave me now.”

There was still no response. His eyes were
slightly open, but they were not seeing. He had fallen back into the darkness
Andrea knew so well.

* * *

Doctor Hobbs
stood in the hallway with Pierce, eyeing Andrea from head to toe with a
disapproving look. “You are a mess,” he said gruffly, squinting at her. “I
don’t know why you are dressed like that and what you are doing here, but you
cannot be permitted to continue this charade any longer.”

Andrea looked at him defiantly. “I’m not—” But
catching a look at herself in a hall mirror made her lose her train of thought.
Black, sooty streaks marred her face, but did not conceal the red, swollen
cheek or dirty, stringy hair. She could barely even recognize herself. She
wondered how Pierce had.

“I need to get back to my duties.” Pierce gave
Andrea one more backward glance of disgust or bewilderment, then hobbled down
the stairs, his leg obviously causing him great pain.

Hobbs did not even wait for his footsteps to
fade away. “I shall order a bath drawn for you. There is a lady in the house
about your size. You should be able to find something appropriate to wear.”

Andrea stared at him, her eyes blank. Exhaustion
and worry left her too tired to argue—almost. She gathered her strength for one
final skirmish. “I have ridden all night to find out the Colonel’s condition,
not to take a bath and change my clothes.

Hobbs led her by the arm a short way down the
hall, but still spoke in a whisper as if someone might hear. “He’s got a good
chance.” He gazed down the stairs, avoiding Andrea’s eyes.

“That’s all? A good chance?” When he did not
respond, Andrea grabbed him by the arm. “In mercy, speak! Tell me the truth!”

“He was hit in the lower abdomen,” Hobbs
answered in a low voice. “I took the bullet out of his back. We have no way of
knowing what damage was done in—”

Andrea swayed and grasped the banister for
support. It was worse than she had expected. “Like Stuart,” she said in a
whispered voice.

“The fact that he’s still alive is encouraging.”
Hobbs ignored her reference to the fatal wound. “That makes it appear the
bullet missed all his organs.”

Andrea nodded, but her mind was miles away,
stuck on that night in the cabin. She thought of all the terrible things she
had said—and all the heartfelt things she had not. Her hand and her eyes
dropped to the torn fabric of the coat she still wore. Running her fingers over
the wool, she found it was no longer damp. But a dark stain around the gaping
hole showed where the bullet had penetrated.

Feeling that cavernous hole was more than Andrea
could take. She felt sick, like she was going to faint or vomit, or both. Her
legs began to tremble. She looked helplessly into the eyes of the physician and
tried to speak, but could find no words.

He grabbed her by the arms and shook her.
“You’ve got to be strong. Do you understand me? And that is an order!”

Andrea blinked back tears that hopelessness and
fatigue forced into her eyes. She nodded, and in a quivering voice responded in
a way that Hunter would not have believed if he had heard it. “Yes, sir … I’ll
do whatever you say.”

* * *

A warm bath and clean clothes served only to
make Andrea’s eyes heavy as she sat by Alex’s side, fighting to stay awake.

“Go get some sleep,” Hobbs said with a
commanding hand on her shoulder. “I’ll stay with him the rest of the night.”

When Andrea started to protest, Hobbs pointed
his finger in her face. “I’m not prepared to handle two patients. Go to bed.
And that’s an order.”

Andrea came close to reminding the cantankerous
doctor in no certain terms that she did not take orders. But upon reflection,
she bent down and kissed Alex on the cheek instead. After exiting the room, she
ran into Pierce talking in low tones to a private at the head of the stairs.

“Captain.” She nodded curtly.

“Miss Evans.”

Pierce quickly removed his hat and elbowed the
private beside him to do the same.

“The apology I offered yesterday was most
sincere,” he said, his eyes cast on the floor.

 “In that case,” Andrea said, holding out her
hand, “it is sincerely accepted.”

Pierce looked into her eyes to test her
sincerity, then grasped her hand firmly.

“No hard feelings I hope.” Andrea stared
straight up at him, conveying her desire for reconciliation.

“None here, Miss Evans.” Pierce finally released
her hand, but did not unlock his gaze from hers. “Boz told me again what you
did yesterday. Words cannot express—”

Andrea held both hands in the air to stop him
and closed her eyes to shut out the memory. “I beg of you, if you value the
service, do not pain me with mention of it again, Captain Pierce. Ever.”