Dark Stranger sb-4 Page 20

  "Take her, boys."

  "Now, you just wait!" Delilah cried from the porch.

  The captain shook his head. "Take Mrs. Slater, and the young one, too."

  One of the soldiers got down from his horse and tugged at Kristin's arm. She tore it fiercely from his grasp.

  The young man ruefully addressed his captain. "Sir…"

  "My brother is in the Union Army!" Kristin raged. "My father was killed by bushwhackers, and now you're arresting me… for helping Quantrill? No!"

  The soldier reached for her again, and she hit him in the stomach. Shannon started to scream, and Delilah came running down the steps with her rolling pin.

  "God help us, if the Rebs ain't enough, Halleck has to pit us against the womenfolk!" the young captain complained. He dismounted and walked over to Kristin. "Hold her, men."

  Two of them caught her arms. She stared at him.

  "Sorry, ma'am," he said sincerely.

  Then he struck her hard across the chin, and she fell meekly into his arms.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  "Y'all have just the blondest hair! And I do mean the blondest!" Josephine Anderson said as she pulled Shannon's locks into a set of high curls on top of her head. She was a pretty young woman herself, with plump cheeks and a flashing smile and a tendency to blush easily. She never smiled when their Yankee captors were around, though. Josephine was a hard-core Confederate. She and her sister Mary had been brought in a week after Kristin and Shannon, and they all shared a corner of a big room on the second floor of a building in Kansas City. Josephine and Mary were both very sweet, and Kristin liked them well enough, despite their fanaticism. They had both wanted her and Shannon to meet their brother Billy — who turned out to be none other than Bill Anderson, the Bill Anderson who had stopped by the house to make sure that Kristin knew about Cole's position with Quantrill's raiders.

  That was all right. At the very beginning, Kristin had sweetly told the girls that she did know their Billy. She also told them what had happened to her father — and that she wished that she were anything other than what she was: a citizen of a country whose people tore one another to shreds.

  Josephine and Mary had turned away from her in amazement, but then the next day they had been friendly. They respected her right to have a passionate stand — even if it was a strange one.

  And when Cole's name was mentioned, Mary acted just the way Shannon did. "Ooh! You're really married to him?" she gushed.

  It seemed that Cole had been to dinner once at their house with Bill when he had first started out with Quantrill. But they didn't know very much about him, only that there was some deep secret in his past.

  "He can be real quiet like, you know!" Mary said.

  "But, oh, those eyes!" Josephine rolled her own.

  "It's such a pity he left Quantrill!" Mary told her fiercely. "Why, he'd have cleaned out half of Kansas by now; I just know it."

  Kristin assured them that Cole was still with the Confederate Army — in the cavalry, like his brothers. Then Shannon went on to tell them about their brother Matthew and how he had gone off to join up with the Union Army after their father's death.

  Mary and Josephine thought that was a terrible tragedy, but they understood that, too. "I'm surprised he didn't become a jayhawker, because that's how it goes, you know! They say that old John Brown was attacked way back in '55, that one of his sons was killed. So he killed some Missourians, and some Missourians went up and killed some more Kansans. But you two — why, I feel right sorry for you! Missourians, with a brother in blue and your husband in gray. It's a shame, a damned shame, that's all."

  It was a good thing they were able to come to an understanding. All summer long, General Ewing, the local Union commander, had women picked up so that their men couldn't come to them for food or supplies. There were a great many of them living at very close quarters. The authorities holding them weren't cruel, and the women weren't hurt in any way. A number of the young officers were remarkably patient, in fact, for the women could be extraordinarily abusive when they spoke to their captors. But though the men behaved decently toward their prisoners, the living conditions were horrid. The building itself was in terrible shape, with weak and rotting timbers, the food was barely adequate, and the bedding was full of insects.

  Kristin wanted desperately to go home. At first she had been angry. She had fought and argued endlessly with various commanders, and they had all apologized and looked uncomfortable and shuffled their feet, but none of them had been willing to let her go. And finally she had become resigned.

  She grew more and more wretched. She had often been sick in the first weeks of her captivity and she had thought it must be the food. She was still queasy much of the time, but, though she hadn't told anyone, she knew why now. She was pregnant. Sometime in February of the following year she was going to have Cole's baby. She had been stunned at first, but then she had taunted herself endlessly. Why should she be surprised, after all? Children were the result of a man being with a woman.

  She wasn't sure how she felt. Sometimes she lay there and railed against a God that could let her have a baby in a world where its blood relations were destined to be its mortal enemies, in a world where murder and bloodshed were the order of the day.

  Then there were nights when she touched her still-flat belly and dreamed, and wondered what the baby would look like. And then, even if she was furious with Cole, even if she had convinced herself that he was as evil as Zeke, she knew she loved him. And she did want his child. A little boy with his shimmering silver eyes. Or a girl. Or maybe the child would be light, with her hair and eyes. Whoever the child took after, it was destined to be beautiful, she was certain. Cole's baby. She longed to hold it in her arms. She dreamed about seeing him again, about telling him.

  And then there were times when she sank into depression. Cole probably wouldn't be the least bit pleased. He probably intended to divorce her as soon as the war was over, she thought bitterly. She was imprisoned for being the wife of a man who intended to divorce her.

  Then not even that mattered. She wanted the baby. She wanted the baby to hold and to love, and she wanted it to be born to peace. The war could not go on forever. She didn't care who won. She just wanted it to be over. She wanted her baby to be able to run laughing through the cornfields, to look up at the sun and feel its warmth. She wanted peace for her child.

  And most of all, she wanted it to be born at home. She did not want to bear her baby here, in this awful, crowded place of degradation.

  Kristin looked up from the letter she was writing to her brother asking if there was anything he could do to get the authorities to free Shannon and herself. The three other women in the room looked as if they were preparing for a ball.

  Josephine stepped back. "Oh, Shannon, that just looks lovely, really lovely."

  "Why, thank you, ma'am," Shannon said sweetly. Then she sighed. "I wish I could see it better."

  Mary dug under her pillow and found her little hand mirror. "Here, Shannon."

  Suddenly the room fell silent. One of the young Federal officers, a Captain Ellsworth, had come in. The women looked at him suspiciously.

  His dark brown eyes fell on Kristin. "Mrs. Slater, would you come with me, please?"

  She quickly set aside her paper and pen and rose, nervously folding her fingers in front of her and winding them tightly together.

  A middle-aged woman called out to the captain, "Don't walk too hard on this here floor, sonny! Those Yankee boots will make you come right through it!"

  He nodded sadly to the woman. "Sorry, Mrs. Todd. The place is awful, I know. I'm working on it."

  "Don't work on it!" Mary Anderson called out gaily. "You tell them to let us go home. You tell them that my brother will come after them, and that he'll kill them all."

  "Yes, miss," Captain Ellsworth said, staring straight at her. "That's the problem, Miss Anderson. Your brother already does come to murder us all." He bowed to her politely. Then he took
Kristin's elbow and led her out of the room. He preceded her down the groaning staircase to the doorway of the office below. Kristin looked at him nervously.

  "It's all right, Mrs. Slater. Major Emery is in there. He wants to talk to you."

  He opened the door for her, and Kristin walked in. She had never seen Major Emery before. He was a tall, heavyset man, with thick, wavy, iron-gray hair and great drooping mustache to match. His eyebrows were wild and of the same gray, and beneath them his eyes were a soft flower blue. He seemed a kind man, Kristin thought instantly, a gentleman.

  "Mrs. Slater, sit, please." Kristin silently did so. The major dismissed Captain Ellsworth, then smiled at Kristin. "Can I get you some tea, Mrs. Slater?"

  "No, thank you." She sat very straight, reminding herself that, no matter how kindly he looked, he was still her captor. He smiled again and leaned back in his chair.

  "Mrs. Slater, I'm trying very hard to get an order to have you and your sister released."

  A gasp of surprise escaped Kristin. Major Emery's smile deepened, and he leaned forward again. "It will take a few days, I'm afraid."

  Kristin and Shannon had been here almost three months. A few more days meant nothing.

  "Because of my brother?" Kristin said. "Did Matthew find out that we were here? I didn't want to tell him at first because I didn't want him going into battle worrying, but I was just writing to him —"

  "No, no, Mrs. Slater. I haven't heard anything from your brother at all."

  "Oh, I see," Kristin murmured bitterly. "You've finally decided that a woman who had her father killed by some of Quant rill's men is not likely to give aid and comfort to the enemy, is that it?"

  Major Emery shook his head. "No. Because of your husband," he said quietly.

  "What?" Kristin demanded suspiciously. "Major, I'm in here because I'm married to Cole Slater. No one seems to believe me when I say that he isn't with Quantrill anymore."

  Major Emery stood and looked out the window. Then he turned back to Kristin. "Do you believe it yourself, young lady?"

  "What?" She was certain she was blushing, certain her face had turned a flaming red.

  "Do you believe in him yourself, Mrs. Slater?"

  "Why… of course!" she said, though she was not at all sure she did.

  Emery took his seat again and smiled. "I'm not sure, Mrs. Slater, I'm not sure. But that doesn't really matter. You see, I do have faith in your husband. Complete faith."

  Kristin stared at him blankly. She lifted a hand in the air. "Do go on, major. Please, do go on."

  "I'm willing to bet I know your husband better than you do, Mrs. Slater. In certain ways, at least."

  She tightened her jaw against his mischievous grin. He was a nice man, she decided, a gentle, fatherly type, but he seemed to be having a good time at her expense at the moment.

  "Major…"

  His smile faded. He looked a little sad. "He was a military man, you know. He went to West Point. He was in the same class as Jeb Stuart. Did you know that?"

  Yes, he had said something to Shannon about it. To Shannon. Not to her.

  "I know that he was in the military, yes."

  Major Emery nodded. "Cole Slater was one of the most promising young cavalrymen I ever knew. He fought in Mexico, and he was with me in the West. He's good with the Indians —

  fighting them and, more importantly, talking with them, making truces. Keeping truces. Then the war came."

  "And he resigned," Kristin murmured.

  "No, not right away. He didn't resign until they burned down his house and killed his wife."

  "Killed? His wife?" She didn't realize that she had gotten to her feet until Major Emery came around the desk and gently pushed her back into her chair. Then he leaned against the desk and crossed his arms over his chest, smiling down at her kindly. "I reckoned you might not know everything. Cole is a closemouthed man. Tight-lipped, yes sirree. He was an officer in the Union Army when South Carolina seceded from the Union. That didn't matter none to the jayhawkers. He was a Missourian. And Jim Lane had sent out an order that anybody who was disloyal to the Union was to be killed. The boys got pretty carried away. They rode to his place and they set it on fire. Cole was out riding the range. I imagine he was giving his position some pretty grave thought. Anyway, Jim Lane's jayhawkers rode in and set fire to his place. His wife was a pretty thing, real pretty. Sweet, gentle girl from New Orleans. She came running out, and the boys grabbed hold of her. Seems she learned something about gunfire from Cole, though. She shot up a few of them when they tried to get their hands on her. Cole came riding in, and by then she was running to him. Only some fool had already put a bullet in her back, and when Cole reached her, she was dying. She was expecting their first child right then, too. She was about five months along, so they tell me. Of course, after killing his pregnant wife, none of the men was willing to let him live, either. Someone shot Cole, too, and left him for dead. But he's a tough customer. He lived."

  "And he joined up with Quantrill," Kristin whispered. She swallowed. She could almost see the fire, could almost smell the smoke, could almost hear the screams. She suddenly felt ill. As if she were going to throw up.

  "Oh, my God!" she whispered, jumping to her feet. Major Emery, too, was on his feet in an instant, yelling for a pail and some water.

  To her horror, she was sick. Major Emery was a perfect gentleman, cooling her forehead with a damp cloth and then insisting that she have tea with lots of milk to settle her stomach. When it was over and they were alone again, he said to her, "You are expecting a child, Mrs. Slater?"

  She nodded bleakly.

  "Well, my point exactly. I just don't think you should be here anymore. And I don't think Cole is still with Quantrill, because it just isn't his style. Ma'am, I want you to know that I find our jayhawkers every bit as loathsome as the bushwhackers. They're all murderers, pure and simple. Cole isn't a murderer. I think he went with Quantrill to try to get the man who led the attack on his ranch, and only for that reason. Only he wasn't easy to find, because he retired along with Lane. Hell, Lane is a U.S. senator! But the man who attacked Cole's place is back in the center of Kansas, and like Lane, he owns a lot of things, and a lot of people. Cole knew he couldn't get to him, not with Quantrill. And he knew that what Quantrill was up to was murder. He's regular army now, all right."

  Kristin swallowed some of her tea and nodded painfully. She hurt all over, inside and out. She had despised Cole, despite everything that he had done for her, just because Bill Anderson had told her that Cole had ridden with Quantrill. She desperately wanted to see him again. She wanted to hold him. She wanted to make him forget, if only for a moment, what had been done to him.

  It made men hard, this war did. It had made her hard, she knew, and it had made him harder. She realized anew that he did not love her, and now, she thought, he never would. He had loved his first wife.

  "Mrs. Slater?"

  Kristin looked at the major. "Yes… yes, I think that he's in the regular army. That's — that's what he said."

  The major frowned suddenly, his hands flat on his desk. He looked up at the ceiling.

  Then Kristin felt it. There was a trembling in the floor beneath her, in the very air around her.

  "Hellfire and damnation!" Major Emery shouted. He leaped to his feet, hopped over his desk and pulled her out of her chair. He dragged her over to the door and kicked it open, then

  huddled with her beneath the frame, shielding her with his bulk.

  Suddenly floorboards and nails were flying everywhere and great clouds of dust filled the room. Dirt flew into Kristin's mouth and into her eyes, and she heard screams, terrible screams, agonized screams.

  The whole building was caving in. The awful place had been faulty structurally and decaying and now it was actually caving in.

  "Shannon!" Kristin screamed. "Shannon!" She tried to pull away from the major, but she couldn't. He was holding her too tightly. The rumbling continued, and inside was chaos. Boar
ds were falling and breaking and clattering on the floor. A woman's body fell right next to Kristin, who was able to pull away from the major at last to kneel down by the girl.

  It was Josephine Anderson, and Kristin knew instantly that she was dead. Her eyes were wide open, glazed as only death could glaze them. "Jo!" she cried out, falling to her knees. She touched the still-warm body and closed the pathetic, staring eyes. Then she looked up from the body to the gaping hole above her. "Shannon!" she screamed. She twisted around to look at what had been the hallway and the stairs. Only the banister was left. Everywhere, the floor had crumbled. Tears and screams filled the air. "Shannon!"

  "Mrs. Slater! You must remember your child!" the major urged her, grabbing her arm.

  "Please!" She shook herself free and stumbled through the wreckage that littered the floor. She found Mary, her body grotesquely twisted beneath a pile of boards. "Mary!" After clawing away the debris, Kristin knelt and felt for the other woman's pulse. Mary was alive. She opened her eyes. "Jo?"

  "It's Kristin, Mary. Everything… everything is going to be all right." She squeezed the girl's hand and turned around, searching for someone, anyone. "Get help here!" Kristin shouted, suddenly choking back tears. Where was Shannon? The girls had all been together.

  Several young medics rushed in. Kristin moved away as they knelt over Mary. There were clanging bells sounding from outside, and the sound of horses' hooves was loud as a fire hose was brought around.

  "Mrs. Slater!"

  The major was still trying to get her out.

  "Shannon!"

  An arm was protruding from a pile of lumber. Kristin began to tear away the planks. This was the worst of it. The woman beneath was dead. Kristin inhaled on a sob and turned away.

  "Kristin!"

  She looked up. Shannon, deathly pale, was clinging to a board that looked as if it were just about to give way.

  "Shannon! Hold on! Just hold on a little longer —"

  There was a cracking sound. The board began to break. Shannon's toes dangled ten feet over Kristin's head. "Hold on!"