Surrender (41 page)

“Writing the lady of the house.”

“How do you know there is a lady?”

“I found a letter, informing her that her family had been killed.”

He turned to her, arching a brow. “So what have you said to her?”

“I told her that I borrowed some of her things, and that I will repay them as soon as I can.”

He looked back to Jamie. “That wasn’t necessary. Sometime soon, either Rebel or Yankee troops will find this place, and it will be stripped clean.”

“But if they do not,” Risa insisted, “she may come home one day. And she should know that not all the world is cruel and vicious.”

“But
war
is cruel and vicious, and unfortunately, that’s the simple truth,” he said, but his words were far more weary than mocking or angry. He rose. “Leave your note if you wish. Gather what you want, and get something to eat. I want to make some real distance by nightfall, and that will entail some long, hard riding.”

He left the room. Risa set her letter beneath the clock on the mantel, and began to gather up her things when Anthony Hawkins arrived at her door to give her a hand. He was an expert at carrying a child, tucking Jamie comfortably beneath his arm while warning Risa that she really needed to get something to eat; they wouldn’t be stopping for a long while.

“You’re good at that,” she commented, indicating the way he held Jamie.

He grinned. “I’ve got a wife and two little ones back in Corinth, Mississippi, Mrs. McKenzie. And I miss them sorely. Holding this boy touches my heart just fine.”

Risa nodded. “I hope you get to see your wife and children now.”

“That will depend on the Southern war department, once we report back,” he said. There was no rancor in his voice. He was a soldier, and he would follow orders. And he was a Southerner, she thought; he would do what was needed for his cause.

She followed him downstairs and into the dining room. Only one plate remained, piled with bacon and grits, a cup of steaming coffee at its side. “Better hurry now,” he warned.

She sat down, well aware that she needed to eat. If
Jerome had warned that it would be a long day, it would be so. She needed nourishment herself to nourish Jamie. But as she sat, she looked curiously at Anthony Hawkins, who had chosen to settle upon a boxed window seat with Jamie, and wait for her.

“Ahem,” she murmured. “It might have been safer for you all had you just headed straight south.”

“The captain hadn’t seen his child, Mrs. McKenzie.”

She stiffened. “He asked not to. He told my father that he had no desire to see me or the child.”

“No man wants to meet his son in prison, ma’am.”

“Or his wife?” she inquired curtly, wondering if she was damned by any man who had befriended Jerome.

“This war is a hard thing. A man has to follow his heart, and what’s right in his soul. It’s tough on a fellow, when he’s got to make such a decision, when his wife follows a different path.”

She inhaled deeply, taking a sip of coffee, and looking at him. “I was a Unionist long before I ever met the captain, sir.”

“No one has accused you of being a traitor, Mrs. McKenzie.”

“Ah. I see. I wasn’t actually being a traitor when I brought about Captain McKenzie’s arrest—because I have been a Unionist all along.”

Hawkins seemed puzzled. “Well, I s’pose that would be the way of it.”

She wanted to scream.

And then she felt again that strange tremor along her back. She jumped up and turned. And indeed, Jerome was lounging in the doorway, listening to what had surely sounded like a confession.

She stared at him angrily for a long moment. He returned her stare.

“Well, I assume you’re ready,” she said briskly.

“You assume right.”

“Then, let’s go,” she said, and started past him.

He caught her arm. “I don’t want any trouble today, Risa.”

“I don’t intend to give you any trouble, Captain McKenzie.”

“No matter where I take you?” he inquired, his voice suddenly an amused drawl, his brow arched.

“No matter where you take me, Captain. You do have my son.”

She walked out. Robert Gray and Ricky Boyle had the horses in front of the mansion already. Robert came forward to help her roll her carpetbag, and attach it to the back of the black’s saddle. Jerome mounted and reached down for her. When she was seated before him, Anthony handed her Jamie, and they started south.

They stayed off the major trails, not knowing who was controlling what areas in Northern Virginia. At one point Jerome quizzed her about troop movements here, but she could honestly tell him very little, other than that Hooker was planning a major horse battle.

So they rode, she and Jerome ahead of the company. The miles were long and wearying. After several hours Jamie awoke and grew restless, and when she hesitated in feeding him, Jerome impatiently demanded to know what was wrong.

“He’s hungry.”

“Which is the main reason you are with us,” he told her irritably, which instantly caused a stiffening in her spin. “Well, feed him,” Jerome advised her.

“It is awkward, to say the least.”

“Is it? Well, it needn’t be. The others are far behind, and I promise not to fall into a fit of uncontrollable lust at the sight of your bared breast, my love. I’m far too aware of the danger.”

Her back went rigid against his chest. “I didn’t cause what happened, McKenzie, and I won’t say it again. But since you insist on being such a self-righteous ass, you can bet that I’ll be a danger to you in the future!”

He was quiet for a long moment, and she was suddenly sorry that she had spoken in anger. He held the cards right now. If he set her down and left her in the middle of the road, there would be little she could do.

“Well, then,” he murmured, “the battle lines are drawn.”

Jamie chose that moment to set up a ferocious howl, and Risa knew that she had little choice but to feed him. But as she balanced Jamie and tugged at her buttons,
Jerome reined in and took off his greatcoat, setting it over her shoulder and affording her a certain privacy.

Later, as the day grew dark, she dozed. She awoke in a panic, only to discover that Anthony was carrying the baby, and she had been sleeping against Jerome’s chest. They were deep into Virginia.

Jerome had found his way to the picket lines for Lee’s troops, and they were being given a military escort into the Confederate camp.

Cheers went up among the men who were at ease and preparing their suppers at various campfires. They lined up to welcome and applaud the men who had escaped Old Capitol—especially since they were being led by the ship’s captain who had defied the blockade to provide many of them with shoes, medicine, weapons, and ammunition. They were taken first to the tent of a Colonel Blount, who provided the men with corn whiskey and Risa with chicory coffee. Then, as Jerome and the others departed to meet with the officers in charge, Risa and Jamie were escorted to a tent that had been vacated for her by one of the officers. It had a bunk, washstand, folding chairs, and a small desk.

She sat on the bunk with Jamie, grateful for the consideration shown her, yet nervously aware that she was surrounded by the Army of Northern Virginia. A guard was posted just outside. She wondered if he was supposed to keep her from escaping, or keep some angry Reb from doing her harm.

She had not been there more than thirty minutes when she heard her name being called. “Risa McKenzie? Hello? May I come in?”

Startled, she jumped up, holding Jamie close to her thundering heart. She didn’t know why she was so afraid; she didn’t know who had called so politely to her. She swallowed hard. “Yes?”

The tent flap opened and a man stepped in. He was unmistakably a McKenzie, green-eyed, dark-haired, very handsome. His features bore the same strong lines that hinted of the Indian blood in both Jerome and Sydney.

“Brent?” she murmured.

He grinned, smiling, reaching out for the baby. “Yes, I’m Brent. And this is my nephew?”

She nodded, hesitated only briefly, and handed the baby over. He sat on the camp bunk, inspecting his nephew. As he had been when meeting his father, Jamie was an angel. Smiling and cooing at his uncle.

“He’s a handsome fellow!” Brent declared. His military jacket was threadbare in spots; his boots were heavily worn, she saw. He looked up at her, eyes assessing. He smiled. “So the would-be-perfect bride for my Yank cousin has become the scourge of the South!” he said, but his voice was light, teasing. “I see why. You’re a beautiful woman—it’s easy to understand the havoc you’ve caused in my family.”

Deeply irritated, she sighed. “I tried to help Alaina McKenzie, and have been in hell ever since!” she told him, speaking evenly in an attempt to control her anger. “As to—”

“You look well,” he interrupted. “No problems with the labor?”

He was a physician, she knew. She flushed anyway. “No, everything was fine.”

He looked at the baby again, testing Jamie’s grip. “I’m glad. My brother was probably sick with worry—no matter what you had done. After my mother—”

“But your mother is well, isn’t she?”

“Very, the last I heard. She had such a difficult time with our baby sister Mary. Well, I am delighted to get the chance to meet this little fellow. Naturally, I pray we all survive this war, but my brother is a man who tempts the Devil. It’s good to know that my father’s line of the McKenzie name will continue now, whatever befalls us.”

“Please, don’t talk so morbidly—”

“I’m not morbid; I’m realistic,” he told her, smiling at the baby, then looking at her again. “Quite frankly, I’ve heard mixed reports regarding you, Risa McKenzie.”

“I’m surprised that they are even mixed,” she murmured wearily. “Most of what I’ve heard simply condemns me.”

He smiled, displaying a deep dimple in one cheek. “Soldiers trade across battle lines, and generals, North and South, who went to school together still send one another gifts—before commencing with artillery fire. I’ve
exchanged injured Yankee soldiers with Union doctors who claim you are better than a dozen male stewards in the operating tent, that you are remarkably poised, calm, and efficient. Which is saying something, when you consider that Mrs. Dorothea Dix, who heads the Union hospitals, is so strict on hiring nurses. Nurses are supposed to be over thirty, plain as pumpkin pie, and dress like old Puritan widows. How did you manage to make it to the field?”

Risa laughed. “I’m a military child. I’ve been a dozen places with my father. Trust me, women do get by Dorothea Dix, usually by applying directly to the surgeon general. Then women have come into service to care for their relatives, and stayed for other soldiers. It is unusual for me to have become so experienced on the field. I thank my father for that. But,” she reminded him, “Alaina has worked frequently with surgeons, and I understand your sister Sydney worked in several of the Richmond hospitals.”

“Confederates quickly discovered we were more desperate,” he told her. “So—among other reports on you, I heard from my cousin Julian. If he thinks you’re good, you’re good. Want to assist me?”

She frowned. “Now? In the darkness?”

“Tomorrow morning. I want to do excisms on a few patients, see if I can save some limbs—before we wind up in battle again and I find myself cutting people like a butcher,” he added with a touch of bitterness.

She nodded slowly. “Naturally, I’d like to help you. I mean, if …”

“My brother allows it?” he inquired, and she was certain that he baited her.

“If I’m still here,” she said.

“Good.” He stood, reluctantly returning Jamie to her. “I look forward to your help. Good night.”

He left the tent. Worn from lack of sleep and hard riding, Risa dozed lying with Jamie at her breast in the camp bed. She slept restlessly that night. She could hear the drone of conversation from a nearby tent, and she was certain she heard her husband’s voice, and those of his brothers. And from somewhere, she heard feminine laughter as well. Camp followers. They came with the
North and the South. She prayed that her husband wasn’t with a whore, and she realized that no matter what battle lines she had drawn, she was deeply hurt by his rejection of her. Despair plagued her, cutting like a knife.

She barely swallowed back a startled scream when she realized there was a tall figure standing in the tent. She managed not to make a sound, and she realized it was Jerome. He stood, head bowed in pensive thought for a long time. She made no move.

After a while he came over to her. She kept her eyes closed, feigning sleep. When she opened them, he was gone.

In the morning it was Brent McKenzie who came for her, accompanied by a heavyset hospital steward and a stout, big-chested woman. “This is Maisie Darden, and she’ll watch Jamie for you,” Brent told her.

Jamie had eaten and was sleeping, but the smile that lit up Maisie Darden’s face when she saw the child assured Risa that she could safely leave her child with the woman. As they went out, Brent asked her, “Sure you’re up to this?”

“Do you mean, am I sure that I want to help save the lives of Rebels?” she inquired matter-of-factly.

Brent stopped, looking at her squarely. “Yes.”

“Yes, I’m sure,” she said.

Soon after they began, she was startled to realize that they had been joined by another assistant. Jerome.

Watching the brothers work in unison, she began to wonder if they needed her at all. Despite the wall of frigid ice that had arisen between the two of them, she discovered that she worked well enough with her husband. She was experienced. Jerome had a great strength, she had dexterity.

As the day went by, she became impressed with her brother-in-law. He described his intentions to everyone assisting, and despite the speed with which it was necessary to operate, he remained calm and courteous throughout, carefully rationing the little anesthesia they had, and clearly indicating the instruments he needed when he needed them. Jerome and Brent’s competent steward made the work much easier than what Risa was
accustomed to, and she sometimes forgot the amount of help they had. At one point, when a clamp didn’t stop the patient’s bleeding quickly enough, she swiftly crawled atop the table to use her weight as the necessary pressure until the clamp could be adjusted. They finished working when the light began to fade. Risa was very tired. She sat out on the grass as the sun set, and was startled when her husband came and sat beside her, offering her a silver flask. She looked at him warily. “Brandy,” he told her.