Surrender (46 page)

“Thanks, Amos,” Jerome said, turning to his own ship’s surgeon. “David, can you take one of the stray horses, head back in, and find my son? I’ll meet you back at the ship.”

“What are you going to do?” David asked warily.

“Find my wife.”

“Jerome,” he said unhappily, “the Yanks have her.”

“They’ve had her before.”

“They’re surely taking her across the river. Back to Yankee territory. She’ll be safe, Jerome. No Yank in his right mind would hurt Magee’s daughter.”

“But what if the Yanks aren’t all in their right minds? Did you hear Julian?” he queried. “She was hit on the
head with a rifle butt, dammit. Besides, there’s something not quite right here, though I don’t know what it is. My wife may have been a Yank taken by Yanks, but come hell or high water, she’s one Yank coming back to a Rebel ship now.”

Her head was spinning. She first became aware of damp earth beneath her, the smell of the river, and moss-laden tree branches dipping overhead. She realized that her eyes were open, the world was still spinning, she could hear people talking. She blinked. The moss still dripped above. The earth remained blanketed in black powder.

“Risa?”

Someone was standing by her. The good Yankee doctor, Thayer Cripped, was at her side. A small boat was drawn up along the embankment; nearby there were several more. Yankees who had crossed the river to skirmish in the woods were returning: some limping, some bleeding. Cripped called them to get to the surgery, and shouted orders to his stewards to help the injured into ambulance wagons. Suddenly, he looked down at her, then dropped to her side. “Risa? You all right?”

She wasn’t sure. She tried to sit up. She’d been cracked pretty good at the back of the head. She could feel a bump, and it throbbed with pain.

“You were rescued,” Thayer told her happily.

She shook her head. “Rescued! That’s what you call a rescue? I was ridden down and knocked out! You didn’t—”

“No! I didn’t knock you out. I thought the Rebs had injured you somehow. Let’s see …” Cripped carefully ran his fingers over her skull. “I don’t think it’s as bad as it feels. A few hours rest, some nice cool water … tomorrow morning, you’ll be right as rain.”

“Risa, are you all right?” she heard.

She twisted, coming up on her elbows. Lieutenant Austin Sage knelt down by her then, looking at her anxiously. “Austin,” she murmured. “No! I’m not all right. I was hit in the head, brought here by force, and I was only tending to injured men. My son is across the river!”

“Come on—let me get you out of the range of fire.
You are here now, with friends. We hope you’ll stay, but if you want to reach your father, we can get you back with him as well.”

“Risa!” Her name was cried with pleasure.

She turned to see that Finn McCullough was hurrying to her side, sandy hair covered by a low slouch hat. “Risa! Thank God you’re safely back!”

“I’m not back! My baby is over there—”

Austin held her hands. “Try to stand,” he suggested.

She tried to stand and stumbled. “What happened? Why was I attacked?” she cried as Austin steadied her.

“I’ve got you, Risa, you’re going to be all right,” he told her gently.

“I appreciate your kindness, but you must let me go. I wasn’t rescued, I was attacked—”

“By our soldiers?” Austin demanded skeptically. “Not my men.”

“Yes, by your men! How do you think I got here—”

“I found you on the shore, left by a cavalryman; I did see that much,” Thayer Cripped admitted.

“Whatever happened, my son is over there, can’t you understand? Really, I have to go back to the Rebels.”

“Risa, we cannot let you do so! Surely, you realize that!” Sage said somberly.

“No, no I don’t—”

“Ah, the general’s daughter!” snapped a thundering voice. Risa turned to see Major Dawson, an annoying man with the New Hampshire officers who saw only black and white in the war, never shades of gray. “Bring her in, Lieutenant. We’ll talk, we’ll see what she knows, then she can go home—or even help Cripped in surgery.”

Austin swept her up in his arms.

“Major, this is ridiculous—” Risa protested.

“Young woman, I haven’t your father’s patience. This is war! Any more trouble from you, and I’ll have you locked in a cell in Fort Marion tonight, lady or no! Though in my book, madam, ladies do not fraternize with the enemy!”

“Major, how dare you? Someone just attacked me, and might have killed me—”

“What’s that?” Cripped demanded suddenly, tensing.

“Where?” Austin Sage asked.

“Speak up, man!” Major Dawson snapped.

“I heard something in the water … that way.”

Risa pushed against Austin. “Austin, thank you kindly, you are a good man, but I think I can stand. Now—”

“Don’t you see that—down there! Something moved in from the black mist on the water … one or two hundred feet down. By the horses … listen!” Thayer Cripped insisted.

The horses had indeed started whinnying nervously. Finn McCullough moved instinctively to guard their backs. Cripped looked uneasily around them. Dawson reached for his pistol. “Damn the black powder, the smoke in the air!” Dawson swore. “You can’t see a bloody thing!”

“There! A horse and rider,” Thayer said.

Risa saw them.

Out of the haze …

A horse and rider, moving like one. Riding her down again, she thought, panicking. Did someone mean to kill her?

She wasn’t going to be struck, not again. She couldn’t be killed, she had to live, she had Jamie.

“Let go!” she cried in panic, slamming her fist against Sage’s chest. His hold eased as he grunted; she landed on her feet, and she started running. The rider was coming for her, and she ran, terrified, feeling the earth shudder as the rider bore down upon her a second time.

“Bastard!” she heard Dawson shouting; and a gun was fired, but then Dawson was crying out, and threw himself toward the bushes beyond the embankment. Risa shrieked, running harder, aware that the horse was gaining. She could almost feel the creature’s breath on her neck.

“Risa!”

She nearly stumbled.
Jerome’s
voice. Oh, God! This side of the river, the enemy’s side of the river, alone on horseback, riding out of smoke and twilight. For her.

She turned just as he reached her, sweeping her up, throwing her over his mount. They spun on the wet earth; she feared that the horse would pitch over, that
they would both be killed. But the animal found its footing; and they raced down the embankment in the other direction. She grasped to the animal for dear life.

He rode the horse hard out into the water. Jerome’s men were waiting in a small boat. Yankee soldiers were pounding after them. “Give me Risa!” someone cried, and in a small boat, she saw Michael. She was handed down from the horse to the boat. The boat shot across the river. Still mounted, Jerome turned toward the east shore, firing his Colt pistols. He leapt from the horse, tossing his guns to the boat, hitting the water himself and swimming until he could hike himself on board the longboat. He landed, barefoot, bare-chested, soaked and dripping. Keeping low, he moved to Risa’s side. His eyes touched hers with customary blue fire.

She was worn, bruised, bumped, soaked—and still shaking. She tried to sit up, tried to glare back at him. “I did not cause the Yankees to attack you!” she cried angrily as Michael’s strong powerful oar strokes sent them ripping through the water and black powder haze. “I …”

The blue of his eyes seemed suddenly to cover the landscape and darken. She wanted to fight; she wanted to say more. But everything was going dark. She tried to rise against him, but she couldn’t. She pitched forward into his arms.

“We need to get her to the ship, to Doc Stewart, and quickly,” Jerome said. Michael nodded, rowed harder still, as Jerome held his wife. They reached the
Lady Varina
. Jerome heaved his wife over his shoulder, and climbed the ladder to the deck. “Is Dr. Stewart back aboard?” he barked.

“Aye, sir!” Hamlin cried.

“Send him to my cabin, now. Then take us out, Mr. Douglas, take us out!”

“Our heading, sir?”

“South, Mr. Douglas. South. Homeward.”

Risa did not know how long she was unconscious; when she awoke, she felt rested, and her head didn’t pound at all.

She was in familiar surroundings—Jerome’s cabin on
board the
Lady Varina
. The Yankees hadn’t changed anything. The desk remained where it had been, along with the captain’s chair.

The only thing different, was the little makeshift crib, fashioned out of a drawer, with the squawling baby in it.

“Jamie!” she cried out delightedly.

“Easy, easy now, sitting up!” she was warned. She saw that David Stewart sat in a chair by her side, catching up on a variety of Northern newspapers left behind by the Yanks.

She flashed him a smile, reaching for Jamie. “David, how good to see you. Honest, I’m fine. My head isn’t spinning … it doesn’t hurt. I can’t even feel the ship moving.”

“It’s not moving.”

“Oh?” She glanced at him worriedly, but then Jamie occupied her attention again, and she cuddled him to her chest. He continued to howl hungrily. She discovered that she was dressed now in a chaste white nightgown, but most of the tiny buttons had never been done up. She flushed slightly at David Stewart, but then remembered his vocation in life, and allowed Jamie to nurse. “I love you so much!” she whispered to her son, cradling him tenderly before looking back to David. “If we’re not moving—”

“We’re between Castle by the Sea, Jerome’s home, and Belamar. A secluded harbor, known to very few. The men can give the ship a good going over here. Naturally, there’s no shipyard, so we’ll have to bring her north soon, but for now, this is a good place to get our bearings and do what repairs we can.”

“Aren’t you afraid I’ll share that information with my Yankee friends?” she inquired tartly.

He grinned. “Do you have any idea of where we actually are?”

“No,” she admitted. “But then, I did find Belamar once.”

His grin deepened. “Anyone who wants to can find Castle by the Sea. But the Yankees would have to want to pretty damned badly. It could mean another Indian war, attacking the place, with all the men James has working the property.”

“But we’re not at Castle by the Sea?”

“Close enough. In fact, I’m to take you there today.”

“Are you sure it’s safe?” she murmured, looking back to Jamie.

“
I’ve
been sure for a long time. But then, I’m afraid that I don’t count much in this. Finish with Jamie; I’ll bring you some coffee. If you’re sure you’re feeling well enough, we’ll take a boat in.”

David hadn’t just brought Jamie to the ship, she learned, he had brought Minea and her two little toddlers as well. Her husband had been killed by shrapnel, and she had decided to come along and help out with Jamie, and find out what life was like in the deep swamps where so many Seminoles lived. Risa was glad to have her, and glad that her son had been with Minea, tended and loved, when she had been unable to care for him. She’d been so afraid—of dying!—or that she’d be separated from her baby, she couldn’t help but be glad now. And excited, too. This was her husband’s home.

As the boat took them down the deep dockage that fronted Castle by the Sea, Risa looked around with awe. It was like coming to Eden. The foliage was dense and riotously diverse. They traveled from salt to brackish water, surrounded by low-swaying palms and mangroves. Sea grapes dotted a sandy shoreline, the water was dark blue here, turquoise there. The land was a rich green, rimmed in sandy beaches.

The house suddenly appeared, beautifully sprawling and huge, yet blending in with the environment.

As the longboat pulled to the dock, she was further amazed to see the number of men with rifles who suddenly emerged from the trees. Indians, whites, blacks, men of mixed blood. One stepped forward. “Dr. Stewart!”

“Billy!” Stewart leapt to the dock, then reached down for Risa. “Mrs. McKenzie, Billy Bones—Jamie’s distant kin,” he said cheerfully.

Billy nodded courteously to Risa, studying her. “Welcome,” he said.

“Thank you.” Billy
Bones
? How unusual, and yet it was an unusual place.

David turned to help Minea and her little ones, but
Billy had already stepped to the task, offering Minea a broad, pleased smile.

“Come on, I’ll take you to the house,” David said.

She followed David’s warm invitation. As they approached the porch, the door burst open and a woman appeared. She hurried out, smiling.

She was beautiful. Her hair auburn, long, waving down her back. Her eyes were emerald. She was slim and lithe and at a distance, might have been twenty. As they came closer, Risa saw that she was older. “Risa, dear, we’re so pleased to see you. I’m Teela, Jerome’s mother. Come in, bring my grandson. Better yet, let me have my grandson!”

She swept the baby from Risa, and turned, moving on into the house. “Come on, dear, come in. Oh, David, I’m sorry, it’s wonderful to see you, too!” She swirled about again, kissing David on the cheek. “James, dear, she’s here!”

Jerome’s father walked into the breezeway, grinning, arching a brow as he looked from his wife, to Risa, to David, to the baby. “Welcome,” he said, his eyes on her, then falling to Jamie as he took his grandson from his wife. “Dear—your daughter is upstairs screaming for something I’m afraid I can’t give her. You’ll have time for your grandson later. David! You’ve brought my daughter-in-law. What do you think?”

“She’s very lovely, sir, and I try not to blame her too much for being a Yank.”

“Well, we have to take that as it comes,” James murmured, winking at Risa. He was a handsome man, and she knew where her husband had gotten his unusual and striking looks—if not his easy charm. “Risa McKenzie, you are welcome here, no matter what your political leanings. As the mother of my first grandchild, I could certainly offer you no less. Have you eaten? Come along, we’ve ham and biscuits and gravy, and you look as if you could use the nourishment.”

Risa smiled. The elder McKenzies were charming, warm, and welcoming. They were Jerome’s parents, and she was shamefully fascinated to meet people so close to her husband. And she was famished as well. “Thank you, sir.”