Surrender (37 page)

Personally, Angus wanted to slap young Miss Sydney McKenzie. Despite his being a Yankee colonel, she could greet her cousin Ian with warm hugs and affection.
Yet she was as cold as ice to Risa throughout the ceremony—although she did seem quite smitten with her new nephew. Risa made no attempts to exonerate herself with Sydney. She was cordial and polite, and when young Jamie was duly baptized, they all went their separate ways, Risa, Angus, Ian, and Jamie back to Washington, and Sydney back behind Rebel lines.

It was hell for Angus to see Risa so tormented, no matter what her facade.

“Daughter, what are your plans now?” he demanded gruffly, on the day he managed to ride home to celebrate his grandchild’s month-old birthday. “I can request a pass for you to see your husband—”

“No, thank you, Father. I understand that he has been able to write to his family. He has not written to me.”

“So … ?”

“Well, I plan to petition until the men from the
Lady Varina
are released. I plan to care for my son and to find work at the hospital. And maybe, since I am continually so accused, I will find work as a Union spy.”

“Risa! I forbid you—such work is dangerous—”

“I wasn’t serious, Father,” she said quickly.

But the sizzle in her aquamarine eyes was frightening, and he wasn’t so certain she was jesting. She was deeply wounded; and, he feared, she was deeply in love with the husband who had so wounded her.

He realized that he’d really yet to meet the man himself. Perhaps that was a matter which should be rectified.

I
t was a bitterly cold day in March when a young soldier walked Angus Magee along the corridor to one of the prison’s holding rooms.

“You’re his first visitor, sir, and I imagine they only let you come because you are General Magee. They’re mighty afraid of this fellow, though he seems a right fine man to me. I’ve seen a few occasions when he could have done some real damage to Yanks—then again, he might well have gotten himself shot for it as well. Anyway, sir, he’s there, waiting,” the young soldier said, indicating a closed door with a small barred opening at eye level.

“Thank you,” Angus said.

“We can arrange a guard to be with you—”

“No, thank you. I wish to see the prisoner alone.”

The young soldier hesitated. Angus felt a moment’s irritation, well aware that the soldier was worried, comparing his age and lesser height and size to that of the prisoner. He wasn’t a short man, and by God, he was still a powerful man—not so far from his prime. But he hadn’t come for a contest of strength. He had come because of Risa.

The soldier opened the locked door for the general. “As you wish, sir. I will, however, be within shouting distance. And I’m armed.”

The door opened and closed. Angus heard the bolt slide as he stared across the empty room at the man who stood with his back to him, staring out the barred window. Broad-shouldered, despite the leanness caused by war and deprivation, Jerome McKenzie was still imposing in the large, worn wool Confederate issue overcoat he wore.

The temperature here was freezing.

Hard on a man accustomed to the year-long heat of the subtropical peninsula of Florida, Angus thought. Then he reflected that he was glad, with only a touch of malice, that McKenzie might be cold.

He deserved the discomfort simply for
being
a stubborn Reb.

McKenzie turned to him impassively, surveying him.

And Angus surveyed his son-in-law in turn.

He was a great deal like Ian; the two were built so similarly that they might be one and the same from a distance. But there was a touch of red to this man’s heavy dark hair, and, admittedly, a touch of the “noble savage” to his cheekbones. He was a striking man, the mixtures of blood in his veins giving him a powerful and unique appearance. But it was still a pity Risa couldn’t have married Ian before the war—that would have avoided this wretched dilemma for all of them. Ian was on the right side of things. He and Risa had so very much in common. It still boggled Angus’s mind. How she had met this man, and conceived a child with him …

“You know who I am?” Angus said gruffly.

McKenzie smiled, a rueful, self-mocking smile. “My father-in-law?” he said, stepping into the room to meet Angus.

Angus wasn’t sure what happened then. Maybe it had just been McKenzie’s tone of voice. Maybe it was the wretched pain Risa had been suffering. Then there was that deep bitterness in the sound of the man’s words! Whatever the reason, when McKenzie stepped forward, Angus took a swing at him.

His fist connected with McKenzie’s face, though just barely. McKenzie was lightning fast, and caught Angus Magee’s wrist, deflecting—but not halting—the blow.

Angus saw the man’s eyes. Pure blue fury. He tensed, thinking it might well be time to call on the soldier outside to come shoot the prisoner before McKenzie decided to break his neck in return. But McKenzie merely straightened, a pulse thundering at his throat, that fire of fury still burning so fiercely in his eyes.

“Why didn’t you hit me back?” Angus demanded.

“Because you’re Risa’s father.”

“You could have sent me to the floor, son.”

“I could have killed you, sir,” he said smoothly. “But you’re my wife’s father. And a Union general. And I intend to live—and get out of here.”

“Good reasons,” Angus muttered.

“Tell me, sir, how is my son?”

Angus smiled. “Fine. Now, you tell me this—did you ever force yourself on her?”

“Is that what she said?” he inquired bitterly.

Angus shook his head slowly. “No.”

“Then, why don’t you believe your own daughter?”

He hesitated, surprised, arching a brow. “I’m asking you.”

“I never forced your daughter into anything, sir. It pains me to admit that she has thus far been much more apt at maneuvering situations her way,” he said flatly. But then he hesitated. “I did force the marriage.”

“You forced her to marry you?”

Again, Jerome McKenzie offered Angus his dry, mocking smile. “It seemed the right thing to do—under the circumstances. Especially, after Ian told me he’d taken one in the jaw over the situation—from you—when he’d known damned well he wasn’t guilty. Naturally, you may rest assured, General, that he passed on your violent sentiments to me. I wasn’t fast enough to block Ian that day—a right to the jaw from him was the last thing I was expecting—so I was duly tendered your paternal opinion of what had happened.”

“You deserved it.”

“No, sir, not really. The lady had neglected to inform me of the situation; indeed, she had made it quite plain that I did not dress in the proper color to meet her standards. She had stated that she wanted nothing more to do with me. She was seeking a man in blue.”

“My daughter didn’t betray you, Captain.”

McKenzie inclined his head. “That, sir, is your opinion.”

“Captain McKenzie, I’m telling you, not even I knew anything about what happened at St. Augustine until after it was over…. And as to the other—”

“She deliberately went to my brother to find out the
plans regarding my ship. Amazingly, she was aboard when it was taken, just days later.”

“Sir, that doesn’t mean—”

“Sir, I beg to differ. Look,” McKenzie said impatiently, “you are a Union general, sir. Your daughter is back in the bosom of your love. This is not a matter that should distress you.”

“What distresses me is that I think my fool daughter is in love with you.”

McKenzie arched a brow. “Well, sir, I think you should set your mind at ease regarding that thought!”

“Young man, you stand there disparaging my daughter—”

“I’m sorry, General. But do consider the fact that I am standing here in prison.” He hesitated, and Angus thought he saw at last a flicker of something in the man’s eyes. “She is well?”

“Extremely.”

He nodded. Angus realized that he was carefully controlling his emotions—and that he was concerned. “Childbirth can be a trying time. I had always imagined—in a different life, before the war, of course—that I’d be present at the birth of my children, with my wife. She managed with no real difficulty? She is honestly well?”

“I’d not lie about my daughter’s health, sir.”

McKenzie nodded, eyes downcast. “Well, General, I’m not sure why you came, but—” he broke off. “Sir, I must say that, whatever arguments you have against me, I am deeply disappointed that you used them against my family.”

“What, sir, are you talking about?”

“Well, I received your letter—that which came through my brother Brent and threatened my life—but before that, I received a communication in Richmond as well, threatening all my family. Soon after, an absurd kidnapping attempt was made against my sister.”

Angus drew himself to his full height. “How dare you, sir!”

“General, I’m telling you—”

“Indeed, sir, I do not doubt the veracity of such a happening, but how you could imagine that a soldier of
my record and status would bring the war against a young girl—”

“Sir, your own daughter had been involved,” McKenzie reminded him.

But Angus shook his head furiously. “My argument was always against you, and no one else.”

McKenzie, studying him, obviously accepted that as the truth. “I wonder then …”

“You’ve enemies elsewhere, young man. Despicable, dishonorable enemies, it would seem.”

“Indeed, so it would seem.”

“I’d not harm a hair on your sister’s head unless she were dressed in Southern gray and firing at me from across a battlefield.”

“I believe that, General Magee.”

“Good.”

McKenzie hesitated then, watching him. “Would you tell me about my son?” he asked quietly.

Again, there was a tear in the man’s eye, and a yearning sound in his voice.

“You would be proud and delighted, Captain McKenzie. Young Jamie is a strapping fellow—I’d say he already weighs more than ten pounds. He is a beautiful child, lots of dark red hair—and your eyes. I can definitely see it now. He thrives. Perhaps I can manage to bring him—”

“No,” McKenzie said harshly. “No—thank you, sir. I do not want my son in this prison.”

“As you wish. And as to Risa—”

“I would not see her here, either, sir,” he said coldly.

Angus hesitated. “What if … what if you remain throughout the war?”

“I will not. It may take several more months, but I will be exchanged…. I believe an exchange is being arranged.”

“Truthfully, sir, with no malice intended, I pray that your stay here is long. There is no chance for the South to win this war—we are far stronger, and I do believe that God’s right is on our side. I offer you no insult, sir. The tragedy of this war is that so many Southern soldiers are so fine, so brilliant with strategy, and so brave! They prolong the inevitable, and add to the death. But I
understand that every man has his sense of honor, Captain McKenzie. And so, I pray you remain in prison.”

“General Magee,” Jerome McKenzie said evenly, “you must bear in mind, sir, that we are fighting different wars. Ours has always been a war of defending our home property. Yours is a war of invasion. If the South had intended to take Washington, we might well have ended this long ago. Sadly, one of our functions is to prolong the pain we all endure—and exhaust the Northern citizens. If the people rise against the politicians, we may both go our separate ways, and find a new peace. Just as the colonies left Britain, sir, the South desires to leave the North.”

Magee shook his head. “It won’t happen, Captain. I’m an old warhorse, and I can see the future. Lincoln is an unusual man, battling the hail of arrows that come his way. God knows, he is a strange man, but one up to this task! He believes passionately in the Union, and he will prevail.”

“That remains to be seen.”

“I am afraid so.”

McKenzie studied Magee. He offered the older man his hand. “Thank you for coming, sir. It has been a pleasure to meet you, after all this time.”

“I wish you were on our side, son.”

“In all honor, I cannot be.” He smiled suddenly, and his striking face came alight with the charisma that had surely swayed his daughter. “And, yet, if you will allow me, sir, it is an honor to call you father-in-law.”

Magee nodded gravely. “There is no one quite as surprised as I at this moment to find it an honor indeed to call you my son-in-law as well.” He saluted. “Take care of yourself, Captain. There may yet be an end to this war.”

McKenzie saluted in return. “Keep your head down, General. And look after my son until I can do so myself.”

“That is a request with which I can gladly comply,” Angus agreed. Then he turned to the door, and knocked on it. “Guard!” he called.

He left the cell without looking back.

But when he exited the prison, he went to see an old
friend who was involved with prisoner exchanges. He discovered that his son-in-law was indeed scheduled to be exchanged. “He’s a special case, but then, they have one of our real important fellows that’s been kept at Libby for some time now.”

“I want McKenzie kept in prison,” Magee declared.

“Ah—the fellow had the nerve to elope with your daughter, eh, General?”

Angus shook his head. “No. I want the fellow alive to raise my grandson, sir, and that’s the way it is.”

Jerome had been oddly touched by the visit from his father-in-law. Magee was an old martinet, but he seemed to be a man with tremendous strength of mind and heart.

He longed to hold his son. To see the baby’s face. And he was—even if he still believed she belonged locked in a high tower—relieved to know Risa was well. His mother’s ordeal after his baby sister’s birth had left him shaken.

Soon after Magee’s visit, he was startled to be taken back to the room where he had met with the general. He was surprised to see that a bench had been brought into the room—and that his sister Sydney was seated there. With a glad little cry, she jumped up to greet him, and he hugged her fiercely, rocking with her, incredulous that she should be there.

“I don’t know what’s going on, Jerome!” she told him, pulling away and pouting at the soldier who stood guard within the door, as if he were suspicious of what might take place between the two. “It was all set. I had come just below the battle lines with Jesse—Colonel Halston, you know, the Yank you met at the hospital. He’d been transferred to Libby, and then he was going to be exchanged for you—but then we got here, and everything went wrong! It’s been just absurd.”