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Chase For An Angel [The Hastings Saga Book 1]
by Christy Poff
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Romance/Historical Fiction

Whiskey Creek Press
www.whiskeycreekpress.com

NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

THE HASTINGS SAGA #1: CHASE FOR AN ANGEL

Christy Poff

WHISKEY CREEK PRESS

www.whiskeycreekpress.com

Published by

WHISKEY CREEK PRESS

Whiskey Creek Press

PO Box 51052

Casper, WY 82605-1052

www.whiskeycreekpress.com

2006 by Karen Morris

Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

ISBN 1-59374-427-7

Credits

Cover Artist: Jinger Heaston

Editor: Chere Gruver

Printed in the United States of America

WHAT THEY ARE SAYING ABOUT

CHASE FOR AN ANGEL

“...Chase is a well written Civil War era romance between two very compelling characters."

~~Reviewed by Kim for Coffee Time Romance

“...A love story that spans across time, miles and a war and will never die. There should be more Andrew Hastings in the world."

~~Reviewed by Louise Riveiro-Mitchell for The Romance Studio

“...Once the story started flowing, I was caught up in it and really became emotionally involved. I think that this novel, set during the Civil War, has historical significance because it describes some of the horrors of war that we sometimes try to ignore because they are too horrendous and degrading to imagine. We know that men and women die during war, but there are also those victims who are brutally tortured and wish for death, but go on living. I think that Jessie is probably the strongest heroine I have ever met and Andrew has to be one of the most loving and determined heroes."

~~Reviewed by Carrye for Romance Reader at Heart

“...Chase for an Angel is about true love's ability to overcome any obstacle. Andrew's determination to find Jessica and save her life is rewarding to read about. Christy Poff has written rich, descriptive detail about the time period in the book.

...if you want to take a walk on the darker side and see what true love means then Chase for an Angel may just be the book for you."

~~Reviewed by Kaleen for Enchanted in Romance

“...Chase for an Angel is a well-written, complex story reminiscent of a Hollywood movie. The setting, the characters and plot leap off the page to provide detailed, and at times, gruesome images for the reader. Ms. Poff is certainly talented at telling a riveting story...

...this is definitely a story of the strength of love and the power of hope. I was amazed at Jessie's tenacity and core strength. Likewise, Andrew's steadfast devotion to his wife and his family are heart melting. Additionally, Ms. Poff sheds light on important realities of the Civil War which are often overlooked. Those who are fans of history, romance, and spicy love scenes will enjoy this very emotional story."

~~Reviewed by Jacqueline for Ecataromance

“...Chase for an Angel is a story of abiding love, heart wrenching loss and the unspeakable monsters wartime creates. This reader very much enjoyed the flowing dialog found in Chase for an Angel. Ms. Poff's narrative style draws a reader into her stories and spins a web of a time gone, yet not forgotten."

~~Reviewed byMichelle for Fallen Angels Reviews

“...While Chase for an Angel takes place during the Civil War and its aftermath, it is a story that can be told for any time and place. It is a character driven tale rather than locale. Fans of any time period will enjoy this story."

~~Reviewed by Gina for Love Romances

“I'm always in the mood for a Civil War romance—not many publishing firms offer books with that setting anymore. Christy Poff's book is packed with action and very detailed, but it is those details that will turn some readers off ... Chase for an Angel is realistic ... While it is a romance, it also shows the horrors of war and the triumph of good versus evil. The love between Andrew and Jessica is refreshing..."

~~Reviewed by Tracy for Roundtable Reviews

Dedication

My biggest thanks of all goes to a man who was a good friend and always there when I needed him. This book and the others to follow owe a lot to him as without his name, there would be no Hastings saga. Thank you, Marvin.

This book is dedicated to the memory of Marvin C. Hastings.

Prologue

The storm raged on, drenching him as he rode toward the city. Rain was soaking through his drover's coat to his skin, but it made no difference. He ignored it. It didn't matter anymore; he was concentrating on only one thought. As lightning showed him the way, he rode while his stomach tightened. Too damn much had changed due to the War Between the States, and it tore everything apart in its wake.

He looked around him sadly as his horse cautiously picked his way on the muddy road. Gone was the beauty he remembered, even though he had only been away a short while. But that, too, felt like an eternity. A great deal had happened in the last several years.

Memories flooded back to him, the same ones that, just a few months before, he believed had saved his life. Having the memories with his hopes and dreams for their future kept him going, especially during times of frustration and despair. Feelings of failure plagued him endlessly.

Colder rain now fell harder. He pulled the collar of his uniform overcoat higher and lowered the brim of his hat over his face. His horse went on, oblivious to the weather, which seemed to worsen as time went on. He had heard about the storms that hit this part of the country and was convinced it was nature's punishment, though not sure if it was meant for the local area, or for him.

The sky darkened with faint streaks of lightning appearing in the distance. He enjoyed the brief respite before the next storm would hit. Hopefully, the storm would pass by but, if it did hit, would it make itself known and at least be brief? He had plans. The storm would not stop him if he had anything to do with it. He knew nature to be unpredictable and held to no schedule except her own.

He ventured further, all the while his heart aching until it was almost unbearable. The knot in his stomach tightened even more. Fear and dread began edging out his dreams. He knew of the destruction from reports he had received along the way, but nothing could prepare him, or anyone, for that matter, for the devastation that now lay before his eyes as he approached New Orleans. What was left of the city? Was any of it worth it?

Lightning flashed, lighting the sky. His horse shuddered a little, but continued. When he reached the street he was searching for, he knew then his life would never be the same again. All the plans he'd put on hold were now shot to hell. He would begin a new chapter in his life, but it would be as if someone else had written the script for him. His dreams, at least for now, were gone. He was terrified to even consider the changes that lay in his future.

He could see that he wouldn't be settling down, at least not for a long while. The feeling of doom he had grew by the second. The one thing he depended on—in fact, the only thing—that had kept him alive for the last two years, would be what would help him find the woman he loved. No matter what else was set in front of him, he would find her and then, hopefully, they would be able to go on and share the life they had planned before it was so rudely interrupted by the war.

He finally located the address he sought, the mansion as dark as the stormy night. A flash of lightning lit the area as the storm once again moved in closer. He caught a quick glimpse of the front of the house where the gates stood open, unlocked. He dismounted and led his horse through the gates into the front courtyard of the once stately home, now dark and brooding. What had happened here? There was only one way to find out. He started up the stairs to the front porch.

He stopped as he reached the front door. Foreboding overpowered him forcing him to sit down in a rocker located off to the side of the porch. The feelings of dread and failure he had battled became more painful as even more memories overwhelmed him. He sat reminiscing. Why has this happened to me? to her? to us?

Chapter 1

Lieutenant Colonel James Andrew Hastings never fit the description of an ordinary soldier, if there ever had been such a thing. Much like his fellow Mainer, Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain, his background did not include the hallowed halls of West Point. After signing up, he fought in the Mexican War, but only because he had been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

His accomplishments with horses sent Hastings straight to cavalry duty. Due to his actions on the battlefield, he quickly worked his way up the ranks. This, even for a man who didn't want to be in command on the battlefront in the first place, his speed in promotions was almost unheard of. Then again, plans were always changing, weren't they? Chamberlain knew all this from their conversations over the years. Hastings trusted him as he did no other.

“Do you remember my original plans? They were very different, weren't they?” he asked his old friend one day.

“If I remember right, it was either the Finger Lakes of New York, or the hills of North Carolina. Both places are beautiful."

“You know my love for the countryside and wide-open spaces?"

His friend nodded as he drew on his pipe. Hastings had planned on finding a woman with his same likes, marrying, and settling down to raise a family. Instead, he made a distinguished cavalry officer standing at six foot four. The handsome, sandy blond-haired man knew he had a good life, although his dreams were gone. He didn't mind his life now. He had friends, but he had also lost many. In essence, Andrew Hastings enjoyed his solitary life, even though the fear of getting close to anyone and then losing them always stayed with him.

Assigned to Washington, he continued his service to the U. S. Army, ordered to the center of all the action at the Capitol. He answered directly to Secretary of War Edwin M. Stanton, who, in turn, reported directly to President Abraham Lincoln.

The War Between the States was imminent. Several states had followed South Carolina's lead and seceded; more would follow. Jefferson Davis had been appointed President of the Confederate States of America, and President Lincoln was fit to be tied. He steadfastly stood behind the illegality of secession, and had begun his plan of strategy to use in order to regain the Union.

Hastings left Washington to begin his work for the War Department. His assignment: check on federal military operations. Stanton ordered him to check on officers, manpower, supplies, and any other important aspects necessary to mount any kind of offensives. With the indication of war looming on the horizon, Stanton insisted on being prepared.

His orders made Hastings his own boss, gave him his own schedule and made him happy. Hastings felt better not having a command. I'm not a leader of men, he had always told Chamberlain, or anyone else who would listen. This assignment definitely made his military service easier. Besides, he enjoyed traveling and seeing different parts of the country.

He had told Chamberlain once about his ride, when he left the Capitol on Satan, his midnight black stallion. “I'm glad his disposition is better than his name implies,” he had told Hastings. They had both laughed.

“It's strange. I look at Washington wondering if or when my life will ever be the same. I mean, I don't have to worry about family..."

“True,” Chamberlain agreed. Hastings grew up an only child, his parents killed in a house fire.

“Have you been in touch with your aunt and uncle?” Chamberlain inquired as they talked one day about the couple who had raised him.

“No. I've never been back to Brunswick, or anywhere else in Maine, except for your wedding. I just couldn't find it in me to stay in contact."

“You don't remember much about your folks, do you?” Hastings shook his head.

“I don't remember much about the fire either, just what I was told. I was what, eleven when it happened?” Chamberlain nodded, as if he were trying to recall the event himself.

Clay Hastings, Andrew's father, had been a hard-working, hard-drinking gambler. His mother lived in her own little world to get away from Clay when he came home from work after downing a few with his buddies.

The night of the fire, young Jimmy as he had been called, went to stay with his mother's sister and her family. He said good-bye, then left his home, never realizing it would be the last time he would ever see his mother alive. He went through the motions of grief at the funeral, still not having any idea or understanding what had happened. Years later, he had learned his father had had a huge gambling problem. His constant need for cards and booze had racked up a huge debt; one he could not hope to repay. That alone made him more enemies than friends. Because of this, as the Hastings slept, some of his debt-holders, who figured they couldn't get their money out of him, decided they would take payment any way they could.

The fire had been set in several places. They watched as flames raced up the walls and ate at the roof. Horror rose from the crowd assembled as a woman stood in an upstairs window, trapped by the flames. She screamed for help to get out of the inferno, but assistance never came. The arsonists had assumed everyone could get out, but they had been wrong, although it became obvious their friend wouldn't run up any more debts.

The people of Brunswick, Maine learned what it felt like to live the rest of their lives with the stark, terrifying memories of what had happened that night. A few ran away from the scene and never looked back. Some in the group could not live with themselves and took their own lives. The others, who looked on and watched the results of their maliciousness, acted as if they had been guilty of nothing.

“He deserved what he got. Who cares about murdering the man's crazy wife? So what if his kid's an orphan?” one man had screamed.

Jimmy learned the truth later when his aunt sat him down and explained what had happened that night. They agreed he would remain with them until he grew old enough to make it on his own. It surprised him that, over the years, his mother had secreted away a small fortune from his father that his aunt later gave him.

Life with Aunt Kate and Uncle Mike had been good, Andrew Hastings had been happier with them than when he had lived at home. He got along well with his three cousins. No one ever made him feel anything but a natural member of the family. He preferred being a loner and didn't get too close to anyone, including those he lived with.

As he got older, his uncle took Andrew to his shop and taught him blacksmithing. A man needs a trade, something to do with his hands. This way, he has something he can depend on later, he remembered his uncle impressing on him. He listened and learned what the man taught him and became extremely good at it. He found he liked working with horses, as the animals all seemed to be comfortable with him.

Preferring to be called Andrew, he turned eighteen, tall and good-looking with a quiet charm. He saved the money he earned working for his uncle as his thoughts turned to leaving Maine. His aunt was already upset and his uncle knew the time had come.

“What are your plans?” he asked Andrew one afternoon.

“I'm not sure,” Andrew answered.

A cavalry detachment rode through Brunswick one afternoon and stopped at the livery to have one of their mounts checked. Impressed with what he saw, Andrew made his decision.

“Uncle Mike, the time has come. I know what I want to do. I'm joining the Army."

“What about your plans?"

“I guess they're changing,” he answered with a shrug.

“Your aunt's been upset about your leaving."

“I know, but I think she understands."

“I'm glad you made your decision. I think it's a good one, even though I was hoping you would stay."

“We'll see,” Andrew said.

“You know we only want the best for you."

Andrew nodded. His aunt understood and supported him. Kate came to his room one evening and tried to hold back her tears as she sat on the side of his bed. She held a small box in her hand.

“I'll miss you. You know where we are if you need us.” She started to cry. “Your mother left this with me. She tried to make a better life for herself and you, but unfortunately ... here, take this, it's yours."

He opened the box to find a small bundle of money. Counting it, he discovered his mother had hidden almost twenty-five hundred dollars from her husband. He turned and looked out the window. For the first time in his life, he wondered what would have happened if the fire had never occurred. He turned around and went to his aunt. He gave her a kiss and held her as she sobbed.

“Thank you for everything all of you have done for me. I'll never forget it."

“Just remember to keep your senses about you and do what's right and you'll succeed in whatever you plan to do. One thing I've always known about you is that you tend to bring out only the best in those around you. That will always be one of your strengths and to your advantage."

As the next few weeks went by, she feared the day would soon come when Andrew would leave and possibly, never return. She did understand, but she couldn't control her emotions. She loved him dearly and, when he would come and go, she would be in tears.

One night, after the family had gone to bed, he quietly packed some things and slipped out of the house. He left a note telling them he hated good-byes and not to worry.

Andrew took off and never looked back. He went to the train station in Portland, where he found that, for one reason or another, he had to go further south to Hartford or Boston, in order to sign up. He boarded another train, all the while taking in everything and every place he passed.

There is a world out there and I will enjoy it!

* * * *

After he joined up, he trained, and his demonstrated skill with horses resulted in his assignment to the cavalry. During this time, he got Satan, a young stallion that needed to be broken to the saddle. The horse had a reputation for being wild and unbreakable. No one had been able to ride him, although many had tried.

“He's yours, if he doesn't throw you,” a weathered sergeant warned him. Andrew rode him and the two seemed to be a matched pair, often functioning as one entity, rather than individually as a horse and rider.

His military service hadn't been extraordinary, but due to his actions during various battles during the Mexican War, Andrew received several promotions. He returned east as Lieutenant Colonel Andrew Hastings, without a command. Having attained a high rank and, due to his reputation and service record, he received orders assigning him to the Secretary of War's office in Washington. Having no ties to anywhere, Stanton felt he could send Hastings wherever he needed him.

His time in Washington had been enjoyable as he went to official parties and social events. He met and dated a few women with no serious results. Escorting daughters of higher-ranking officers and politicians, Andrew knew their fathers were relieved their trust could be put in the right man.

Content with his life, Andrew felt something lacking, though he hadn't figured out what. He felt happiest in the field, assigned to check fortifications or whatever the War Department had interests in or concerns about. As long as he operated on his own, under Stanton's command, or that of the President's office, Andrew Hastings felt content. He had a good excuse not to get close to anyone—the fear one of the demons he constantly fought. Military service had been a good way of triumphing over at least one part of his personality.

In a report to President Lincoln from Alexandria, Virginia, he wrote about Elmer Ellsworth's 1st New York Fire Zouaves. He referred to their attitude:

Mr. Lincoln,

Though I realize that you and the Colonel are close, I cannot help but repeat other's reports on the regiment's unruliness. Their lack of discipline is the opposite of what they had been chosen to do.

Andrew had written this a few days before Ellsworth was murdered at the Marshall House in Alexandria, Virginia. He died in the same city where he ripped down the Confederate flag from the rooftop flagpole. Ellsworth's murder led to the firefighters getting out of control in their grief for their fallen leader—riots ensued.

Lincoln had been displeased with Andrew's assessment of Ellsworth's Zouave's capabilities and disciplinary problems, due to a friendship with Ellsworth dating back to a small law office in Illinois. Because of these personal feelings, Lincoln pushed for a state funeral in the nation's capitol, which led to even more unrest among the firefighters in the streets of Washington. Ellsworth had become a martyr.

Andrew had picked up on this and gave his superiors an on-target report. This was just one example of Andrew Hastings’ uncanny ability to judge federal manpower and was also the reason Stanton wanted Andrew in this position. Lincoln agreed. In time, he, too, came to trust Andrew and held him in very high regard.

* * * *

She lived in New Orleans most of her life, one of two daughters. The family had wealth in its own right as her father came from a long line of successful bankers descended from one of England's oldest families. Her mother's side claimed ties to the crown, even though no one knew for sure where or when, they very definitely had been members of the British aristocracy.

Spring babies, Jessica Amanda Templeton and her twin sister, Caitlyn Ashley, had been born in May. They had a lot in common: their love of reading, music, and the arts, to name a few things, but any similarities ended there. They had two independent personalities, refusing to do the twin thing as they never dressed nor did anything else alike.

Jessie loved riding, though she couldn't share it with her father, Victor Templeton, as much as she wanted to. When she rode, she felt free, and she knew she did her best thinking when in the saddle. Despite this, Jessie was a little jealous of Caitlyn, and her sister's closeness to their father. Caitlyn and her father had always shared things Jessie didn't understand. But as she and Caitlyn grew up, they became closer.

Caitlyn asked Jessie to be her maid-of-honor when she married a lawyer named Jason Davis in June, 1859. A distant relative to the Confederate President, Jason had invited Jefferson Davis to the wedding, but affairs of a national government in turmoil disallowed Davis’ attending.

The newlyweds moved to a home on the outskirts of New Orleans. The bright and airy house reflected the side of Caitlyn that could not wait to escape from the dark woods and heavy furniture preferred by the family. Jessie, on the other hand, enjoyed living in the family home, comfortable and surrounded by the family's strength. This would always be to her advantage, and would bring her closer to her father.

Their mother, Theresa Templeton, passed away in 1860 at Christmas time, after a long bout with pneumonia. Soon after, Victor's life began to crumble. Jessie cared for him, and made sure his affairs were in order. As her father's depression became worse, she consulted with one doctor after another. All of them agreed that no medicines could be given to him; the widower would heal in time. Nothing could be done for him as long as Victor Templeton refused to accept that his wife of thirty years and whom he'd loved very much, was gone.

Jessie took on another new role in her life as the wife of a U. S. Army Lieutenant Colonel, happier than ever before with him. They enjoyed many things together—they were a matched pair in paradise. Her life changed but, with the impending conflict, a much larger change was in the wind and Jessie had no idea of how it would affect her, or those closest to her.

* * * *

As he rode slowly down the street, Andrew felt something he had never experienced before—sadness. For the first time, a sad, empty feeling invaded his heart. He had not felt this emotion when his parents died in the fire, nor when he had left Brunswick to join the army. What are these feelings trying to tell me?

New to him, he didn't know how to handle them. When he first left the city, he desperately wanted to turn around and go back to her, but he knew if he had, it would've been harder to leave her a second time. Turning onto the main street and out of sight of the house, he spurred his horse into a gallop. Andrew headed out of New Orleans and to the North as he left her. It had been the hardest thing he had ever done.

Jessie was more in his thoughts as he rode. They had met only a few months before, when he had arrived in New Orleans on orders from Lincoln and Stanton. The two leaders needed to find out the sentiment of the people, and how they leaned in relation to secession and other issues.

Having ridden continuously from Memphis, he had arrived in the city on an overcast day, and looked for a place to get some sleep. He found a hotel and walked from the livery where he had stabled Satan. It was then that Andrew had seen her—a ray of sunshine on an otherwise dreary day.

He gazed at her. She was a vision in her royal purple gown with a slightly low-cut neckline trimmed in lavender lace that offset her long, beautiful neck. He had heard about southern women being special, knowing how to carry themselves with airs of mystery and beauty—she fit that description perfectly.

She walked into the store next to the hotel as he watched from the livery's doorway. She seemed to float with each step she took as her skirt gently swayed with her movements. He had feelings for her he had felt for no other woman in his life. As she disappeared through the shop's door, he shook his head. He figured, as with any other woman he had ever met or tried to meet, he did not stand a snowball's chance in hell with this remarkable beauty. He'd be amazed if they even said hello to each other in passing.

Hastings remembered his youth, when the girls in town looked at him with either pity, or no feeling at all. He went to school with them, but instead of going home or socializing with them, he went straight to the blacksmith shop to work until eleven or twelve at night. Sometimes, he even skipped school to go to work instead and saved every cent he earned so he could leave one day and see what the world had in store for him.

It felt like that with the women he escorted to parties in Washington. Having no real interest in them, he had only escorted them at the request of his commanding officers. The ladies didn't care. They liked the uniform and Andrew's good looks. This arrangement worked out well for everyone concerned. The ladies relaxed, sure he didn't look for anything outside of an enjoyable evening. Andrew relaxed, knowing there would be no lasting involvement, as he wanted no commitments. That was until he saw her for the first time. He realized he had fallen for her and hard.

He walked across the street to the hotel where he had taken a room. As he passed the shop, she came out and walked into him.

“I am sorry, sir! I didn't see you,” she apologized in a beautiful southern accent.

“That's quite all right, ma'am. I shouldn't have been so close to the storefront.” That was utter nonsense. She probably thinks I'm stupid!

“That's very kind of you, sir. You see, I have this habit of not looking at who may be going by when I leave a store and bang!"

Then their eyes met. Her light blue eyes sparkled in the faint sunlight. He looked at her and wished he could get to know her, but assumed nothing would come of it.

“Can I see you to where you are going?” he asked the beautiful woman in front of him, surprising himself. “I'd like to be able to make sure you don't walk into anything or anyone else.” She surprised him when she accepted his kind offer and told him her name. He introduced himself, then offered his arm to her, a very unfamiliar feeling running up and down his spine.

As they walked, they shared the usual small talk about the weather, the way New Orleans looked, even the beauty of some of the horses passing them on the street.

Jessie adored the attention she received from some of the old biddies on the street as they had made it their missions in life to get young girls married off. She snickered to herself as they eyed her with shock while she walked on the arm of a handsome Union officer.

They came to the wrought iron gate in front of her home and stopped. She led him through the ornate gates, characteristic of older homes in the city, and into an inner courtyard. Andrew couldn't help but notice the blue and violet wisteria that gently cascaded from the trellises and ran along the lower edge of the upper porch, producing a romantic air, and the effect of archways within the courtyard.

Roses and other flowers grew in the gardens on either side of the staircase going up to the porch. Their fragrances and colors blended together to welcome all who came to visit. It struck him that the natural beauty of the flowers offset hers. He thought he was lucky to be able to escort her home like this. Just being with her ... Could she be the one—this angel? Andrew quickly put these thoughts out of his mind. I couldn't be that lucky!

A tall, stately man, slightly agitated by his daughter's late return, met them at the door.

“Jessica, where have you been? Your mother has been worried that something had happened to you."

“Nothing's wrong, Father. In fact, this handsome officer walked me home to make sure I wouldn't bump into anyone else today.” She gave her father a kiss, then turned to the dashing officer in blue. Jessie introduced him to her father, Victor Templeton. They shook hands and, to Andrew's surprise, her father invited him, a total stranger, to stay for a while.

“Would you join us for dinner? It's the least we can do for an officer and a gentleman."

Andrew didn't know what to make of it all. He had been in the city less than twelve hours, met a beautiful woman, and been invited to dinner by her father, definitely a new experience for him.

Victor Templeton, a tall, scholarly type with hair graying from age, handsome with a wicked sense of humor, offered him a drink and motioned in the direction of the living room so they could talk more comfortably, he had said. As they sat on the brocaded couch, Victor took off his glasses, then asked Andrew about the army and his life.

Andrew told him about his military life but not about anything before that. In turn, Victor told him about their family history. As he listened, Andrew experienced even more new emotions. Templeton, a complete stranger, treated him like an old friend. They talked for a while, enjoying some sherry. He glanced around the room and eyed the fancy furnishings of dark woods and the paintings on the walls. All of it caused him some mixed emotions.

Theresa Templeton rushed into the room to meet the tall, handsome young man who had taken care of her daughter. Jessie had told her some of what she knew but Theresa had to see for herself. Both men rose as she entered the room, Jessie behind her, watching Andrew intently.

“It's so very nice and rare to meet a gentleman. There are so many ruffians roaming the streets these days. I thank you for seeing my daughter home."

“It was my pleasure, Mrs. Templeton."

“We're so glad you are staying for dinner. It should be ready soon.” She smiled as she left them to make sure the cook had prepared enough for everyone.

“You're lucky to be here today. It's seldom quiet in this house."

“What do you mean?"

“Our grandchildren are usually running around. Jessie's twin sister, Caitlyn, visits regularly and brings her family with her,” he explained.

“I grew up in a hectic household,” Andrew said as he uttered one of the few statements about his childhood he dared say. He grinned though. As they talked, the cook came in to announce dinner would be served within half an hour.

“Jessica, why don't you take the lieutenant colonel for a walk and show him the gardens?” Victor suggested. They rose, then went through the French doors that opened out to one of the most beautiful gardens he had ever seen—magnolias and dogwoods were just beginning to bloom, gardenias and roses just beginning to bud.

She saw his eyes widen with amazement, something about him was different from any of the other boys she had grown up with, or any of the young men who had come to call. She saw gentleness behind the military hardness and did not think too many others were permitted to see that side of Andrew Hastings.

“You seem surprised?” she asked.

“I am. I mean, this place doesn't look that big when looking at it from the street."

“That's the beauty of these homes. The owners can keep people in or out, see them where they want, show them what they want them to see. It's only certain people who can come in far enough to see the rest of the owner's world."

“It's beautiful!” he commented. In his travels, he had seen rich farmlands, rolling hills and the dry barren wastelands of some of the western states. Never had he seen this kind of beauty, the delicate blooms, the fresh new growth, the new beginning. He could not imagine anything ever happening to change this.

She pointed to a bench at the end of the patio. They sat down and looked over the estate. Andrew wondered about her, her likes and dislikes. Was there someone else, or not? These new emotions amazed him, but he actually liked the way he felt.

On the other hand, Jessie was wondering the same things about him. She figured there had to be a wife or a sweetheart somewhere. He's handsome, no doubt about it. The uniform helped, the man looked good in blue. What colors do you like? She wanted to know everything about him, her thoughts throwing her. This was happening way too fast, or could it be the fabled love at first sight?

Lost in their musings about each other, and without knowing it, they embarked on a life of which they had only dreamed. They enjoyed each other's company easily, a first for both. What would come next?

After dinner, Victor and Andrew left the dining room to retire to the library. Victor's one vice in life had been his cigars that Theresa hated, though they agreed to disagree about it. He offered one to Andrew as they relaxed in the library. Andrew would later have some of his best and worst memories in this room.

Andrew looked at the walls lined with bookshelves. He couldn't help but be amazed. Growing up, there hadn't been any books to read. There were too many other things his aunt and uncle had had to worry about. For him to see this many volumes and so many different authors in one room, awed him. He looked at titles and authors he had never heard of. Victor told him many of them were first editions brought from Europe when his family moved to the States.

“Feel free to take one with you. You know where to bring it back. Who knows? Maybe you'll become a regular visitor to this house."

“Thank you, sir, I appreciate it.” Am I that obvious? This definitely gave him a reason to return so he could get to know Victor's beautiful daughter and the family. He glanced at a book of poetry when a servant knocked on the door. She had a message for Victor that someone waited to see him.

“Make yourself comfortable. I shouldn't be long.” He left. Andrew heard him usher his guest into the living room of the old home that probably had many more stories in its history than he had years in his life. He realized how much he had missed in his thirty-two years.

He heard the maid return with a tray that held a decanter of brandy and glasses. He poured a snifter and then sat down as he opened the book of poems, though he didn't feel like reading. Where is she? Andrew left his cigar in an ashtray, got up and put the book with his empty glass on the desk before he went out onto the patio.

He liked the idea of having doors open to a patio from rooms overlooking the gardens. He looked at the fading sunset as the light of the full moon lit the grounds. He heard a sound and turned. Jessie stood behind him, even more beautiful with the moonlight shining on her dark hair. She came over to him and looked at him. In the same light, he was a handsome sight.

“I realize this may seem strange and a bit forward but, considering the fact we've known each other a whole six hours at most, do you believe in love at first sight?"

He stared at her in disbelief. She saw she had startled him with her straightforwardness and quickly apologized.

“No, don't,” he said. “I've had the same feelings myself from the moment I saw you from the livery. To tell you the truth, I figured it to be one-sided.” Jessie looked at him, having trouble believing what he had just said. Could it be that there wasn't anyone else in his life?

“To be honest, I've never felt this way. I'm glad I'm not imagining this by myself.” They drew closer, gazing at each other.

She looked into his magnificent dark sapphire blue eyes, then shook her head but she could not look away from him. Taking her face in his hands and gazing deeper into her eyes, he lightly kissed her on the lips. Jessie knew she should pull away, but she couldn't. Her mind raced as her emotions went wild with feelings she had only imagined.

One kiss and she felt warmth throughout her body. He felt the same warmth rush through him and wanted more, but feared she would push him away for being too forward, too soon. They stared at each other, afraid to lose the moment. Andrew kissed her again as Jessie trembled.

“Are you all right?"

“Yes, I just felt a little chill, that's all."

“Here, take my jacket.” He took off his uniform jacket and put it around her shoulders. She sank to the bench, her legs weak. She felt faint, leery of saying anything. Andrew wanted to be near her. He wanted to hold her and kiss her more.

At the same time, Jessie felt identical feelings, although a nagging question sat in the back of her mind. She had never felt this way before, especially with a man she hardly knew. Could this really be love, and not infatuation? She found him gazing at her and hoped he felt the same things she did. It shouldn't be happening this fast. Love affairs happened gradually. They did not start with a bang as this one seemed to be doing.

They sat on the bench and gazed at the stars. Andrew caught himself staring at her again rather than the stars. In the moonlight, her hair glistened. Her tumbling curls reminded him of a waterfall in Brunswick. He wanted her even more.

She caught him looking at her as chills ran up and down her spine. She realized she had fallen head over heels in love with a man she had only just met that day. She always wondered what love felt like since she had never experienced any of the feelings with the other “boys"; now she feared she would lose it forever. It can happen!

Looking into each other's eyes, they kissed again in the moonlight, enjoying a long, passionate kiss. He held her, his warmth filling her and taking away the chills. She felt her legs weaken each time he touched her, a wonderful new feeling.

“I think I'm in love!” he said to her.

“Me, too!” she gasped. She saw the surprise on his face. Have I spoken too quickly? It came from my heart, though. That was all that mattered.

“I guess you realize the next step is marriage?” he asked lightly.

“When?"

“What?” he asked, surprised by the turn of their conversation.

“I said when? I don't think I could handle a long courtship."

“That's what I thought you said. Are you serious?"

She nodded.

“Are you really? I guess I am, too,” he replied.

“Do you realize how long we've known each other?"

He grinned.

“I've never been one for going the long route, straight and direct, they tell me. Yes, I do know how long it's been. Marry me, Jessica Templeton."

“Yes. Oh, yes, I will, Colonel Hastings,” she answered without hesitation. They went back into the library, hugging each other as Victor came in. He grinned the grin of a knowing father about to be told of an impending wedding. When they did tell him, he gave Andrew a hearty handshake and his daughter one of his bear hugs.

Theresa walked in on a sight she had waited a long time to see, her daughter happily in love. She personally didn't care if their courtship hadn't been a day's time or that a wedding would be in their near future. Theresa was a good judge of character, rarely, if ever, wrong. She liked Andrew from the start. In her heart, she knew this match was perfect.

She hugged her daughter, then the man about to join their family. Victor gave Andrew a fatherly warning. If Andrew ever hurt his daughter, he would have to deal with a very angry father. He then told Andrew to forget staying at the hotel. He would be more comfortable at the house. Andrew had no choice but to say yes. He honestly did not want to refuse this very generous offer. Andrew did not want to be separated from Jessie one minute more than he had to be. He had fallen for her in a huge way, happier than he had ever been in his life.

Victor called Geoffrey, the butler, and told him to take Marcus, the groomsman, into town to the hotel and the livery. They were to bring back the colonel's belongings and his horse. They left and returned within the hour. Andrew went to stable Satan and thanked both men for bringing his things back, but especially for their care of his horse.

They nodded and quietly went about their business. He finished moving the hay around in the stall and felt her presence in the barn. He turned to stand face-to-face with the beautiful vision he had first laid eyes on earlier. Is it possible that she's more beautiful now than when we met earlier?

“Let me introduce you to my friend. He's been with me for a long time. Jessie, this is Satan."

“Why Satan?” she asked as she ran her hand along his neck.

“Because he's black as hell—I don't know. Maybe it was because he was mean as anything when I broke him.” Satan nuzzled her hand, craving more attention. The black stallion took to her immediately.

“Now I know everything's all right. Satan even likes you."

“You're gauging our life together on whether Satan here likes me?” He looked at her and waited for the other shoe to drop.

“Well, it'll help. Won't it?” They laughed as he took her in her arms and held her. They looked into each other's eyes. He bent down to kiss her, another long, passionate kiss. He could not believe all that had happened in such a short time. But, as he had learned earlier, life was too short to wait around for what he wanted, and he wanted Jessie more than ever. He had never felt such blissful happiness. What a wonderful feeling!

Chapter 2

The next day, Andrew Hastings did something that surprised his commanding officers in Washington. He requested a leave or, if he couldn't have one, orders cut for him to remain in and around New Orleans. Secretary Stanton sent the approval for local duty. He realized, in the coming months, having a trusted agent in New Orleans would be a major benefit. As the naval battle headed toward the city, the President's office and Stanton needed intelligence. Hastings’ request turned out to be extremely opportune.

Once a week, Andrew received a dispatch bag with orders as to what the United States leaders wanted him to do or they needed to know. This worked out well, although Victor constantly tried to get him to quit the military and go into banking, even knowing full well it would never happen.

During this time, Jessie, Caitlyn, and Theresa worked on the wedding plans. They planned a simple service at St. Louis Cathedral in town and a reception at the house. Jason, Caitlyn's husband, would stand as best man since Andrew did not have any close friends in the area. Caitlyn would be matron-of-honor as Jessie had stood for her.

Their wedding day came on a beautiful, warm day in late August. Jessie awoke and went downstairs for breakfast. There he sat, the most handsome man in the world, who, in a few hours, would be hers—all hers.

“You realize you're not supposed to see your bride until she walks down the aisle? Something about bad luck?"

“I'm not superstitious,” he answered. “Besides, how can my looking at the most beautiful woman on the face of the earth possibly be bad luck? It's misfortune when I'm not with you.” Taking her in his arms, he kissed her.

Caitlyn came in and chased him out of the kitchen with the same warning about bad luck. They smiled at each other as he left the room. He walked around the house and found himself in the library, where it all began.

“Good morning, Andrew. Brandy?"

“It's a little early, isn't it?"

“It's a special day. Besides, it'll calm those jitters."

“That obvious?"

“You're marrying a Templeton. Of course, it's obvious."

Andrew enjoyed the warmth of the brandy. He talked with Victor a bit longer before he went upstairs to dress.

When he finished dressing, he looked in the mirror and took a last check to make sure nothing had been forgotten. He had on the dress blue uniform he had not worn for quite awhile. If he remembered right, the last time he had needed to dress formally had been to escort a senator's daughter to a Washington affair honoring a foreign dignitary or ambassador.

He snickered at the memory of the young woman who made overtures to him that night. It seemed, as she told the story, she and a few of her girlfriends wondered about the dashing officer. They had a bet as to which one would get the farthest with him. Needless to say, after this admission from her, none of the girls won the bet as Andrew had put a stop to the whole situation then and there.

His thoughts went back to Jessie. He couldn't wait to see her later. Once ready, Andrew, Jason, and Victor left for the church to wait for the rest of the bridal party. The brandy had helped calm his nerves—another new feeling, being nervous. They waited about an hour before the ceremony would start. Waiting had always been one thing Andrew had never been good at.

Jason had been a tremendous help in calming the butterflies down, being a quiet, comfortable type of man. Of average height, he stood five foot eight inches, with light blond hair and hazel eyes—this for a man with a devilish personality, and as much of a match for Caitlyn as any opponent in the courtroom. He told Andrew tales of time spent with his cousin, Jefferson Davis, at Beauvoir near Biloxi, Mississippi before they grew up and went their separate ways due to career choices.

The priest sent word the service would begin soon. They took their places at the altar, where Andrew nervously waited for his bride. In the back part of his mind, he dreaded that she might back out. He feared all of this had been a dream, one he might have to wake up from. The music started as he watched Victor escort her down the aisle to where he stood. Radiant, Jessie became all the love-struck officer saw. God, she's a beauty.

The ceremony took about an hour. Andrew wore his dress blues, the long, dark blue coat, long trousers with uniform shoes, hat and gloves, saber hanging at his side, and all the frills that went along with his rank. The wool of the outfit made him hot and even more nervous.

Being naturally slim, Jessie stood, beautiful in a white gown with crinoline and petticoat. Theresa and Caitlyn had designed a beautiful dress with beadwork and lacing on the bodice and the skirt. The neckline had a low cut design that crossed just above her cleavage giving just a hint of her feminine charms. Over this, they had put a very sheer lacing to give a hint of her beauty and what would be revealed to the man she loved. The lacing was attached to thicker, more ornate lace and formed the collar of the gown.

A long white veil trailed behind her, handled by her nieces, who had been asked to be the flower girls. In gloved hands, she carried a bouquet they had created using various flowers from the gardens at the estate.

Victor escorted his daughter to her future husband, the newest member to join their family. He couldn't have been happier for them. When the vows had been taken and rings exchanged, Andrew lifted her veil. As they looked into each other's eyes and smiled, they kissed. Archbishop Michael raised his arms to speak to those gathered.

“Please allow me to introduce to you Lieutenant Colonel and Mrs. James Andrew Hastings."

The newly married couple turned to their guests and kissed once more as everyone applauded their happiness. They went down the aisle and out to the waiting carriages. Getting into the first one, the driver took them to the reception at the house. The newlyweds melted into each other's arms, and were swept away by a long, loving kiss and blissful happiness.

Their carriage ride took a little bit longer than everyone else's so the bride and groom could make an entrance. Andrew and Jessie took advantage of every joyful, romantic moment.

Andrew had been dumbfounded when they entered the house. The spread of foods including shrimp, crab cakes, and other seafood delicacies, meats, vegetables, fruits, their wedding cake, plus wedding gifts, and everyone who had attended to share this day with them took him aback. The only gala he had seen this big had been in Washington and events like that never honored him. Jessie noticed his expression.

“Are you all right?” He nodded, a little choked up.

“What could be wrong? I've just married the most beautiful woman in the entire world, and we've just shared our love and happiness with family and friends. That's something special."

“What do you mean?"

“Someday, I'll tell you about my childhood."

Jessie didn't ask any more and figured she could wait until he told her. Besides, it really didn't matter. She loved him, no matter what.

They enjoyed the remainder of the reception as they danced together, rapt in the moment and each other. Everyone shared their happiness at this celebration and could see how much in love this special couple had become.

Victor pulled them aside as Theresa joined them. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a key.

“This is to the lock of a door at the hotel on St. Charles Avenue. You will have the evening all to yourselves. Your wedding night is supposed to be, and will be, special. Enjoy it.” Andrew and Jessie thanked them. They looked at each other as Andrew winked at her.

Jessie went upstairs. When she returned, she wore a blue dress over a floral underskirt. Andrew fell deeper in love with her, seeing her in this beautiful outfit. The lacy, low-cut neckline showed off her phenomenal beauty. She couldn't wait to begin the rest of her life as the wife of an officer of the United States Army, but more importantly, the man she deeply loved. They went outside where she threw her bouquet, caught by Lauren, a friend from down the street. They got into the carriage and went to the hotel. The groomsman said he would return in the morning.

“Make that around noontime,” Andrew said.

“Very good, sir,” he replied. Tipping his hat, the man left.

They climbed the long, winding staircase of the grand hotel and found the door the key opened. He unlocked it. They opened it to discover the lamps lit and the bed turned down. He held his hand out to her. She shook her head. He looked at her, unknowing if he had done something wrong or not. She started to laugh as his heart sank.

“For a man of the traditional sort, you don't know a whole lot, do you?"

“What don't I know?"

“Why, Lieutenant Colonel Hastings, I never ... Haven't you ever heard about carrying the bride over the threshold?"

“I have now,” he said as he went to her. He picked her up and while he kissed her, he carried her into the room. After he kicked the door shut, he took her to the bed where he gently put her down in the center of it. They heard a knock at the door.

“Lieutenant Colonel Hastings, I have your bags out here."

“Just put them down, I'll get them later.” They heard the man drop the bags on the floor outside the door, then his fading footsteps.

Andrew turned to Jessie. She lay in front of him on the bed looking like an angel—his Angel. He took off his sword, then his jacket and lay down beside her. She caressed his face, and warmth built within him. He pulled out a small box and handed it to her. In the folds of the velvet lining, sparkling in the light, rested a pair of diamond earrings with a matching diamond necklace. Her mouth dropped at the sight of the gift in her hand. She put the earrings on and as he clasped the necklace, he gently kissed her neck.

“My God, Andrew. They're beautiful."

They hugged before she reached to her purse and slid out a small, black box. He opened it and gaped. Resting in the black velvet lining was the most handsome, gold pocket watch he had ever laid eyes on. He opened it and noticed the inscription on the inside: To Andrew, my love on our wedding day—may we never part! Love, Jessie. He looked at the ornate etchings in the case, then back at her. Andrew took her in his arms and kissed her, holding her tightly.

He stared into her eyes as he cautiously unbuttoned the bodice of her dress, then unlaced the camisole. She took off his uniform blouse. She gasped at the sight of his muscular build. She felt every part of his body. He stood up to take off his boots, followed by his trousers. He turned to her and she gasped. Andrew stood before her, handsome in every way and all hers. She watched his every movement as he put out the lamps, except the one by the bed.

Andrew left this one on so he could see his wife. He didn't want to miss any bit of her radiance. She got off the bed and stood beside him. He helped her out of the skirt, the petticoats and the rest of her outfit. She stood before him wearing only the necklace and earrings he had given to her. The sight of her took his breath away. He ran his hand down her side as he touched her hip, then her leg. She ran her fingers through his hair. They stood, wrapped in each other's arms as they kissed, felt each other, and loved. Falling onto the bed, he lay on top of her and traced the curve of her breasts as he caressed her, sending chills through her.

He spent more time, slowly, carefully, lovingly exploring every inch of her body. He committed every curve, every mark, every aspect of what he touched to memory. He kissed her as he moved back toward her chest. He lingered a bit at her breasts as he licked the very tip of each nipple and excited her to no end. She pushed herself closer to him so he could continue his wonderful lovemaking.

Andrew came back to her lips, then kissed them lightly before gazing into her eyes. He brushed the hair out of her face, put his hands on each cheek and kissed her long and hard. She was real. She returned his kiss with the same passion, as every emotion in her body flowed into her husband as his came into her.

He worked his way back down the curves of her body and excited her more as he kissed her on the very tip of each nipple. Andrew found pleasure at the sight of the firm, inviting buds. He caused feelings in her body she never knew existed—wonderful, sensual feelings. He had taken her to heights she never wanted to come down from.

Jessie soared higher and moaned with contentment as he gently entered her. Together, they became one, swimming in their passion. She wanted to scream but couldn't as he entered her. His mouth covered hers. He had gone to the same depth of passion he had brought her to. As far as he had been concerned, there would be no return. Nothing could tell them that their decision to marry so quickly had been wrong. It had definitely been right!

He awoke before her and watched her sleep. She had an aura about her that he felt safe in. His Angel had become his haven. He knew she would never let him down and vowed to himself he wouldn't fail her. He'd always protect her. She had given him the chance to see a side of his personality that played on the edge, but never showed itself. Thank you, Angel.

She stirred as Andrew brushed the hair from her face. He would never have believed it if someone had told him he could be this happy and sated in every way. He prayed he could give her what she had freely and unknowingly given him. Unconditional love filled them from the moment they met. He wanted to give her everything he could, even if it cost him his life. He had never felt commitment like this and swore he would never let it die.

He leaned to kiss her as a purring sound came from her when she curled into him.

“If you plan to wake me up like this every day, I'm all for it."

“Anything my angel desires."

“I really like it when you call me that.” She smiled as she nudged her nose into his chest.

“You are one. You will always be my guardian angel. I love you."

During the first hours of their new life together, Andrew and Jessie loved each other and discovered new things. He found she loved to be kissed on the inside of her leg and would push herself to him as her body reacted to his touches. As he explored her, she moaned with desire for more. He teased her and she shuddered, the movement of her body driving him crazy.

He would nip at her and she would crave more. He moved to her side and gazed at her. He had a devilish idea and as he began kissing her lips, his tongue explored every bit of her mouth he could. She melted and returned his kiss with the exact same desire. He moved down her neck and to her shoulders, while his tongue tasted every inch it could as she moaned and wanted more.

She gasped when he touched the firm nipples waiting for him. He nipped at them and she trembled, the sensations sending heat coursing through her body, something she had never felt before. The growing fire between them amazed her. Would their life together really be this perfect?

“Andrew, please, my God, don't stop.” She wanted to scream but held back, not wanting the other hotel guests to hear them. He grinned back at her as he continued to make slow, lazy love to his wife. As he kissed the valley between her breasts, his fingertips played more with her nipples. Harder now, they aroused him more. He felt her hands grab at his hair as his breath on her skin excited her. She felt a sensation in her lower body that caught her by surprise, a cross between trepidation and sheer desire. She hoped she would not let him down.

“My wife need never beg for what she wants,” he told her as if he had read her mind. He looked at her as he continued his path down to her stomach. She moaned again, content with feeling the heat building between them. His reaction to her was all she needed to hear. She cried out when she felt his tongue begin to love her, quickly pinching at the sensitive folds of her skin. She heard him taste her essence as he enjoyed her like a glass of fine wine.

Andrew found heaven as he took her with him. Slowly, he made his way back to her lips. She felt his arousal and smiled. His lips met hers as he pushed himself into her waiting body and they moved together in a harmony only they could have found. She screamed when he came inside her as his kiss took her screams into his body and his emotions went over the edge.

“Angel, you are amazing."

* * * *

They awoke the next morning in each other's arms. They had made love several times, each one better than the last. Was that possible? They found they shared a unique intimacy that would be theirs alone.

She stirred slightly as he kissed her, a tingling sensation traveling through her. She turned to him and smiled again. They began another loving journey when they heard a knock on the door.

“I have your breakfast, sir,” the bellman announced.

“One moment.” Andrew got out of bed, dashed to find a towel or anything to throw around him. He had a robe but it was in the bag that sat outside the door. He grabbed the towel from the washstand and wrapped it around his waist. Jessie giggled while she thought this couldn't be a leader of men in the U. S. Army.

Andrew opened the door for the bellman to enter. The man came in and put their breakfast on the table by the window. Andrew tipped him. He brought their bags in and placed them at the foot of the bed. Andrew thanked him as he left. As the door closed, they broke out laughing.

Jessie pulled herself up, wrapped in the sheet, to lean against a pile of pillows. She could not believe his generosity and how lucky she was. She looked at every magnificent inch of his body, silently rejoicing at her good fortune. He turned to see her eyeing him.

“You had better be happy with it ‘cause you're stuck with me."

She grinned as she smiled the same winning smile that won him over the moment they had met, the one he would see every day for the rest of his life. Andrew felt happier than he had imagined one man could be and he thanked God for his good fortune.

She held out her hand to him...

* * * *

The next few months had been complete heaven for them both. They celebrated their first Christmas together. Andrew's life took a huge turn-around as he experienced new feelings. There had never been any large celebrations at his aunt and uncle's home, due to his uncle's finances. Some years, they enjoyed a Christmas with all the trimmings, if the livery did well, but some winters weren't as good as others. The one thing the family did have though was love.

“This is...” Andrew began as his eyes widened while he looked around him at the house.

“What?"

“I have never seen such extravagance as this before. This is the first time, well, except maybe in Washington.” She could sense the hesitation about his past but refused to push him. He would tell her sooner or later. Besides, it hadn't been important to her. She had him and their life together. That concerned her the most.

The tree in the front entry hall had to be the tallest he had ever seen, decorated with homemade ornaments and garland. They had decided the main color scheme for this one would be white while the tree in the living room would be decorated with multi-colored glass balls and gold garland. They put small candles, carefully placed to keep the danger of fire minimal, on each tree.

Christmas Eve, they spent wrapping presents for Caitlyn's children and others. Andrew gave Jessie a pearl necklace that he had wrapped at the jewelers. She bought him a gold chain for the pocket watch she had given him for their wedding.

With everything finished, Victor and Theresa retired. The newlyweds remained behind to enjoy the remnants of the fire. They finished their brandies, then placed their glasses on the tray Jessie would take back to the kitchen. As she moved toward the door, she felt him come up behind her. He took the tray and put it down on the table by one of the armchairs.

He spun her around and gazed into her eyes to see the twinkle of the fire as it danced in the reflection. It made the fire in her eyes sparkle even more. She looked at him and loved her husband, still in disbelief she had met him and he was hers. She gazed into his dark sapphire blue eyes, the very first things that had caught her attention, and he smiled back at her.

He took her face in his hands and kissed her before moving to her neck, then down her back as he embraced her. She put her arms around him, not wanting the moment to end. He pulled back a little, still gazing into her eyes.

“Thank you, my angel,” he whispered.

“For what?"

“You have given me the most beautiful and wonderful gift I could ever have received in my entire life. I can't believe how lucky I am that I have you."

“But, Andrew, what have I given to you? You've given me even more by just being here, in my arms.” Looking at the ceiling, he knew the words came out wrong and feared he'd make a fool out of himself. How can I explain to her she gave me life by coming into it that day in town? How can I tell her I'm afraid of what my life would be like without her, or if I were to lose her?

“Andrew?"

He looked back at her and grinned. He knew how he would tell her. He grabbed her hand and led her upstairs to the room they shared. Entering the room, he quietly locked the door and turned to her. She stood by the bed and lit a lamp to flood the room with a very romantic glow.

He crossed the room to the fireplace and stoked the fire. It roared a little with the kindling he fed it, sending flames to dance up and down. The warmth that came from the fire added to the heat building between them. She snuffed the lamp out so they had only the firelight to light the room.

Andrew took her in his arms kissing her in front of the hearth. She returned his love and, as he gently kissed her neck, she leaned back. Her long hair tumbled down her back as she enjoyed his every move. He pulled her back and kissed her again. They sank to their knees as they frantically loved each other.

Her hands went to his shirt. Her fingers fumbled with the buttons as she tried to undo them. He undid each button with care, then pushed the top of her dress off her shoulders while kissing her neck and working his way down her body. She became impatient and started to pull at his shirt. He finished taking it off for her, then gently pushed her down to the floor before lying on top of her.

Andrew grabbed her hands, held them over her head and kissed her some more. She felt safe underneath him as he continued, slowly and lovingly as his lips traveled down her chest. She felt as if the room had caught fire, his warmth surged through her. He let go of her hands, untied the ribbons of her camisole, then pushed the garment open. He gazed at her before he went on.

Jessie ran her fingers through his hair, then she grabbed it with a firm grip. He found those special spots that always sent her off to the beginning of their unique world. She pushed herself closer to him, afraid to let any distance come between them.

His hands moved down her sides as he sent fire through her. He loved her and she took his love as she returned it with everything she had in her. At this point, they became one as they enjoyed each other while the love between them increased. Their love grew more each day, or so they thought. Could it get any better than this?

Andrew looked at her and helped her to stand. He picked her up, then carried her to the bed before he removed the remainder of her clothes. He took his boots off, followed by his trousers. He stood before her, his magnificent body silhouetted by the fire. Her breath caught in her throat a little, as it always did when she admired him. How did I ever get so fortunate?

Picking her up, he laid her in the middle of their bed. She sat up and met him as he came back to her. Their kisses became more intense. He went back to her neck, then down her shoulder and straight to her chest. Slowly, he kissed her before moving just a little bit further down to her breasts. He nibbled at her and she gasped. He grinned as he continued to bring her more pleasure.

He knew she loved it when he touched her, especially when he played with her nipples with either his fingertips or his tongue. She moaned with contentment as he continued down her body to her legs. She ran her fingers through his hair as he kissed the inside of her legs. She let go and grabbed the sheets as he found her.

“What would my wife desire for Christmas?” he asked with devilment in his eyes.

“Need you ask? Andrew, love me, please."

“No begging, Angel.” He smiled as he reminded her she would never want for his attention. His tongue played with her nipples as his fingers easily entered her. She gasped at this new sensation and enjoyed it. He felt her body wrap around them, not wanting to release them. He moved his fingers within her, his hand drenched as her body told him she was ready for him once more.

Shaking uncontrollably, her body's grip on his fingers tightened. She felt him as he slowly drew himself over her before he entered her and sent her to heaven. They moved together as they found their rhythm and soared to the ends of their universe. He kissed her as he lay on top of her, exhausted. He laid his head on her chest and dozed. She held him and gently brushed his hair back from his face. She moved a little, the slight movement waking him. He looked at her and smiled.

“Merry Christmas, Angel,” he whispered.

“Merry Christmas, my love!” she said, then they fell asleep in each other's arms.

* * * *

A few months later, Andrew got another lesson in his education of New Orleans tradition. He had been drinking coffee in the kitchen when Jessie came in excited over a piece of paper she had in her hand.

“What's that?” he asked, curious about what had her distracted.

“What? Oh, I'm sorry. I have our invitation to the ball following Mardi Gras."

“What is Mardi Gras?"

“You're joking?"

“No. What is it?” She explained that each year before Lent began, the city enjoyed a week of celebrations and all-out craziness with parades and lavish feasts for several days before Ash Wednesday. The whole celebration came to a conclusion at one of the city's biggest balls of the year, the one they had been invited to.

“I have to get our outfits,” she enthused.

“Outfits?” he asked, totally dumbfounded.

“Don't worry. I'll make sure you look presentable.” She turned, left the room and ran upstairs. She returned a few minutes later, dressed and ready to go out.

“I'll be back in a little while, sweetheart. I know exactly what I want and I've got to get it now before someone else does. I love you."

“I love you, too,” he called after her as he saw the last bit of her skirt disappear from his view.

“Don't worry, you'll enjoy yourself, son,” Victor said, overhearing them as he entered and then saw his daughter fly out of the house and into the carriage waiting out front.

“I'm sure I will, sir. How are you this morning?"

“I'm the best that can be expected, I guess. I feel empty, you know?” Victor had been like this since shortly after Christmas when Theresa had suddenly contracted pneumonia and died. The shock of her passing hit everyone in the family hard, but especially her husband. Having Andrew around made him feel better. Victor knew Andrew would be someone he could trust to take care of things, as he didn't really care anymore.

Jessie returned a few hours later with more bags, bundles and boxes than Andrew could count. His mouth dropped when she had it all put in the entry hall by the stairs.

“What's all this?” he asked.

“You'll see,” she said as she bubbled over with excitement of the coming gala. She took her cape off and laid it over the bottom of the banister. She went from one box to the next, opening them all and showing him what she had bought.

He saw emotions in her he hadn't seen before as she showed him everything. He enjoyed it because she was having such fun. Then she showed him what he would wear for the festivities and she smiled.

“You may be from up north somewhere, but for one night, you'll be the most handsome gentleman in the south and the best thing of it all..."

“What's that?"

“You're all mine,” she said, going over to him, sliding her arms around him and hugging him.

Andrew basked in her love as he put his around her and drew her to him to kiss her deeply.

* * * *

A few nights later, they came down the winding stairway to the front hall where Victor awaited them. Dressed in one of his finer suits, he looked as handsome as ever. Jessie could tell his heart wasn't in the mood to celebrate but, as she had told him earlier when she picked out the suit, he needed to get out, even for just one evening.

“You look wonderful, my dear. Andrew, my boy, you are finally a Southern gentleman. You look very dapper, son."

“Thank you, Victor.” Andrew smiled. He looked at himself in the mirror and saw a different man from the one he was accustomed to. The one staring back at him did indeed look handsome. He wore a black mourning coat that fell longer than any he had ever worn before, the length coming down almost to his knees. He wore black trousers, a white shirt with a thin tie, and accented by a red satin brocaded vest that, with his black hat added, made the look complete.

Jessie came up behind him and made the picture he was looking at perfect. She wore a very bright red velvet gown that fell gracefully over the hoop petticoat underneath. Gold braiding accented the gown, along with some beadwork and lace around the neckline, the dress seductively low-cut. The entire outfit, including the hat she wore, made her look even more beautiful. The color of her dress brought out the shade of her eyes as they sparkled from the light of the chandelier.

“You make a magnificent-looking couple. There's only one couple I can think of that you are very close to outshining, but I don't think you will,” Victor said as he smiled.

“Your wife was very beautiful, Victor. I consider it an honor to have known her but especially because she accepted me, as you did, right from the start.” He shook Victor's hand, then Jessie kissed her father.

“I have something for you, sweet daughter of mine,” he said as he took a familiar box from his pocket. The last time she had seen the box, her mother had opened it to take out a garnet necklace and earring set so she could wear it for a costume ball they attended at the end of October.

“Father, what are you doing?"

“Before she died, your mother asked me to give you this when I thought the time was right. She always wanted you to have it, and I think you're wearing the perfect dress to go with it.” He held the box for Andrew as he took the necklace out and put it on his wife. The necklace design had a chain of gold with a huge spray of deep red garnets falling from it. Andrew put it on her and, as Victor knew it would, the collar fell just right to accent his daughter, who had grown into a beautiful woman. Andrew looked at her as she placed the garnet studs on the delicate lobes of her ears. Standing back, he gazed at his beautiful wife.

“My God! You're a beautiful sight."

“Why, thank you, kind sir,” she replied as she knelt down in a little curtsy of appreciation. He helped her up, then kissed her.

“I'm not letting you out of my sight, Angel. You can count on that.” Then he winked at Victor, who just smiled.

“I already had, my love.” They got their wraps and left. They entered the handsome black brougham Victor owned, then traveled uptown to the hotel on St. Charles Avenue where they had spent their honeymoon. On their arrival, a footman opened the door and helped them out.

They went up to the room Victor had reserved for them. When they entered, Andrew took their wraps and put them over the chair in the corner. Jessie opened the French doors, then went out onto the balcony the room opened onto. Andrew joined her.

“Father gets this room every year so we can watch the parade and the goings-on from up here without getting crushed in the crowd below. You'll like it, I promise."

“I know I will if you say so. It's just so overwhelming. I've never seen anything that comes close to this and it hasn't even begun yet."

She kissed him lightly on his cheek, then giggled.

“You don't even know the half of what's coming tonight."

She had been right. They enjoyed the parade as it went by the hotel. People from various floats threw things into the crowd as people rushed to pick up the trinkets. It lasted for several hours and ended shortly before midnight.

When the parade had ended, they went to the hotel's huge ballroom. Three sets of doors opened into the room where three very large chandeliers hung from the ceiling in the center of the room. Sconces lined the outside walls and a small group of musicians sat in an alcove off to the side.

Andrew, Jessie, and Victor entered and found a table off to the side. Andrew took the chair by the wall so he could get a good look at the gala in front of him. Victor sat next to him on his left, Jessie on his right. She glowed in the surroundings as she received compliments from those who stopped by to greet them.

Several former suitors asked her for dances, which she politely refused.

“I'm sorry, but my dance card is full. Thank you,” she said. Andrew smiled to himself as she flashed a smile at the man who had filled it for her.

“What do you think?” she asked as she waited to hear his thoughts.

“I'll let you know."

They danced every dance that night except the one she had saved for Victor. While father and daughter danced, Andrew talked with several gentlemen at the bar. He found out the military officers had been scouting the area for possible federal use.

“What does the Federal Government want with area around New Orleans?” he asked, curious of their answer.

“The War Department wants to know about any area that may be advantageous to us in the ensuing conflict. They are very interested in the Mississippi region and blocking any waterways, if need be."

“What else do you know, Major?” Andrew asked as his military side instinctively took over.

“It's like this, Colonel. If the southern states secede, as it's being rumored up north, then war is definite."

“How soon?"

“Could be a few months, or a few weeks,” the other officer answered.

Jessie sought Andrew out and joined them. Andrew introduced her and each complimented her on her beauty while they congratulated him on his taste in women. She blushed at the comments.

They excused themselves and walked back onto the ballroom floor. Before the end of the evening's festivities, there came an announcement as to the winners of the king and queen of the ball. To his surprise, Andrew and Jessie were chosen to receive this honor. The revelers opened up the floor for the traditional royal dance and the two of them proceeded to the dance floor. Andrew took Jessie in his arms, both having eyes for each other and no one else, happy as the day they wed.

They danced into the wee hours of the morning. Shortly after sun-up, they returned to their room and found a note from Victor.

To the both of you—

I have returned home leaving the room to you. Enjoy yourselves and don't come home until this afternoon.

Congratulations to the king and queen—long may you rule!

My love—

Victor

Jessie finished reading the note, then looked at her husband.

“I wonder what we can do with a hotel room all to ourselves?"

Andrew went to her and gazed at her.

“I can think of one thing we can do."

Jessie looked at him and smiled as she felt his arms surround her. He put his hand to her cheek, and brushed her delicate skin with his fingertips. She started to feel herself reacting to his touch. He took the hatpin from its place on her hat, releasing her long tumbling curls. Tossing the hat on a chair, his hand returned to the side of her face. Andrew kissed his wife, strange, unsettling feelings arising in him.

What the officers said worried him. He feared he would be ordered away from her to do the government's bidding. He looked at her, sadness in his eyes.

“What's wrong, my love?” she asked, concerned at the change in him.

“Nothing,” he lied, the first time he had ever done so. “I am still overwhelmed by how lucky I am."

Jessie felt too happy to notice his sadness and accepted his explanation. She pushed the coat off his shoulders and let it drop to the floor, followed by the vest, tie, and shirt. She ran her hands up and down the front of his body.

She backed up a little and removed her gloves before she slowly began taking off her dress making him watch. She walked toward the bed the entire time she was seductively removing the rest of her clothes. She turned around. Andrew found the only thing she wore was the garnet necklace as she stood in front of him, beautiful, naked.

His heart raced as he went to her but she stopped him. He looked at her, questions in his eyes. She took his hand, led him to the bed where she had him sit down, then asked him to take off his boots and pants. When he did her bidding, she looked at his magnificent muscular body, the strength in his arms, firmness of his chest. She went to him, sat on his lap and wrapped her legs around him.

He kissed the softness of her breasts as he ran his fingertips down her sides and back to the tip of her nipples. Her body reacted to his touch. They held each other and, after he kissed her, he entered her and drove them to the peace that only they knew. When he was to the point where he would satisfy her again, he rolled her over and lay on top of her, as he easily loved her again.

She tightened her legs around him and moaned as he found her and again when he came. He wanted to scream at the top of his lungs as they found this little corner of paradise, but didn't. Instead, he kissed her long, hard, and passionately.

Jessie moaned again. He knew exactly what to do to make her body further react in the way they both liked it to in the special way he touched her. Selfishly, she wanted more and he unselfishly gave her what she craved. He looked deep into her eyes and began kissing her again passionately. She stopped him as she got up.

She walked to the middle of the floor and turned to him. He came to her, picked her up and kissed her. She wrapped her legs around him and this time, Andrew surprised her. He kissed her and sank his tongue deep into her mouth as he gently rubbed her bottom. He moved his hands toward the middle of her thighs as his fingertips found that special spot between her legs.

Jessie trembled uncontrollably as she tightened her legs around him. He found her while he licked first one breast, then the other. She dug her nails into his skin as he touched her again, the heat between them intense. She moaned as erotic pain shot through her, of which she wanted more. In the meantime, he moved across the room and sandwiched her between his body and the wall. He rejoiced that he had driven her body out of control, her reactions very telling. She panted and gasped his name out in quick breaths. She squeezed her eyes shut, fearing she would be blinded by the ecstasy.

He watched her. When she opened her eyes, they pleaded for more, which he gladly gave her. She took his face in her hands and kissed him, moaning at the same time. He turned and took his trembling wife back to their bed and laying her down, he entered her once again, losing themselves in passion before they fell asleep in each other's arms.

He awoke first and looked at his wife, beauty personified. He watched as her chest gently rose and fell with each breath she took. He loved her more than life itself and, if what he heard at the gala came true, he would have to leave her. How could he leave the only love he had ever known? Why did this have to happen and why now?

He awakened her by making love to her like never before. He wanted her, her love, and her body. He explored her body, committing every inch of it to memory, along with the way she responded to him, just in case his orders forced him to leave her. He had feelings he didn't understand but he would soon—very soon—understand better.

He kissed her again.

Chapter 3

Andrew rode away, handsome in his U. S. Army uniform, sitting tall in the saddle on his majestic black stallion. Jessie knew this would be how she would remember him in the months to come. Her husband of only a few months would return to her, but nothing would be the same after the upcoming war.

She watched him and waved, tears streaming down her face. She had promised herself she wouldn't let him see her cry. She desperately held the tears back until they kissed. The minute his lips touched hers, she fell to pieces. She knew Andrew had to leave her to go to war. She hadn't questioned his leaving because she knew he had no choice. The Secretary of War, Edwin McMasters Stanton, had issued his orders—Andrew would finish in New Orleans, and then start to assess the Union's strengths and weaknesses.

The war had begun.

They heard the talk on the streets of the city. Secession would come if Lincoln, the tall, lanky attorney from Illinois, won the election. The southern leaders did not like his politics and they had already speculated on who would lead the new government.

The election of Abraham Lincoln to the highest office in the land, President of the United States of America, had become the cause of major speculation on both sides. Within days of his election, South Carolina led other southern states and seceded from the Union. It was only a matter of time until war broke out, then it did. Everyone knew the country would never be the same.

Andrew smiled as he dabbed her tears away with his yellow uniform scarf. She grabbed it and refused to give it back. Looking into his dark blue eyes, she saw he, too, had tears in his eyes.

“I don't want you to leave. I know I can't change things, but I don't have to like them."

“These have been the best days of my life. I don't want to lose you. I'll be back as soon as I can so, somehow, our lives will be what we want.” He looked at her and wished time could stand still so they wouldn't have to be parted.

“That had better be a promise you intend to keep, Lieutenant Colonel James Andrew Hastings.” They stared into each other's eyes and kissed.

“I hate saying good-bye like this,” he told her, holding her close to him. She felt the scabbard of his sword in her side, but she didn't care.

“I don't know if I can be the perfect military wife."

“You're an angel—my Angel. You have nothing to worry about on that front."

“You're talking as if we are at war, my love,” she said, her body overwhelmed by his breath on her neck.

“We are at war. It's you and me against the rest of them. I see that it could be a long time we'll be apart. I don't want this any more than you do, but..."

“I know. You have your orders. I have made peace with that fact. It's the truth you're leaving in a few minutes and I might never see you again."

“What? You don't trust me to stay alive?” he asked, his sapphire blue eyes sparkling.

“It's not you, it's the war. You're wearing the wrong color in some parts of this country. What will I do if you are captured?"

“I won't be. That's the beauty of my orders. I'm on my own, so I can go whatever way I choose. I've done this before and I enjoy scouting."

“What if you're caught as a spy?"

“I've always gotten out of any scrape. I promise you, I'll be safe, and I will come home to you. I swear it, Angel.” He kissed her, a deep, lingering kiss that seemed to make time stop.

“I promise, Mrs. Jessica Templeton Hastings. I promise,” he whispered breathlessly. Together, they walked down the steps of the porch to the courtyard where Satan was tethered.

Jessie watched her husband mount the majestic animal as she held his bridle, patting the side of his head. He turned the horse toward the gates before he bent down and took her hand in his, kissing it. Then Andrew slowly rode away.

She followed him out to the sidewalk, watching him ride off until he disappeared out of sight. Jessie stood holding her shawl and his yellow scarf tightly, hoping against hope he would turn around and come back.

When she couldn't see him any longer, she turned and went back into the courtyard, then carefully closed the gates. She walked over to the stairs and slowly climbed the winding staircase to the upper porch. Her father met her and put his arms out before she walked into them and he held her. As he wrapped his strong but comforting arms around her, she melted and sobbed uncontrollably, already missing Andrew.

Victor held his daughter, feeling her pain and sadness. He realized he hadn't been much of a father to her lately. He knew her heart was broken, much as his own had been when his beloved Theresa had died. At least her love would return, even if it took time. His pain would not be that easy to heal, but he realized he needed to be strong for his daughter. He had to take care of her until the man in his daughter's life returned to her.

He thought back. When his wife had passed away just after Christmas, he died, too—inside. He had lost the desire to live, and had not cared about anything or anyone else, until now. The crumpled young woman he held would need him to help her cope with the loneliness that had quickly taken her over. Her husband, one-half of an inseparable couple from the minute they met, would return. He would do everything he could to make the time pass easier for her.

As they stood on the porch, she felt strength in her father that had been gone for months. She felt better, safer, more secure here in her father's arms, much like she had when she was a child. He would help her survive this separation any way he could while she waited for Andrew to return. Jessie knew it would not be easy, but her father would help her, as her unhappiness seemed to have brought him out of his depression. They became two lost souls who needed help and they would take care of each other.

She had someone else to think about, having found out a few days before Andrew received his orders that she was with child. She had decided not to tell Andrew, fearing he might do something silly, like disobey his orders and not leave. She wanted to wait to tell him about this until she could be sure the baby would be all right.

Jessie had seen her mother go through the loss of two children after she and her sister had been born, and it scared her. One thing she didn't need was Andrew worrying when he found himself off in some dangerous area. Besides, what better homecoming gift could there be?

* * * *

The afternoon had been warm and sunny, a good day to play with her daughter. Jessie sat on a blanket on the grassy lawn in front of her sister's home on the outskirts of New Orleans. She held her baby on her lap. The child, only a year and a half old, had a personality that mirrored both her parents.

Her eyes had the dark, sapphire blue color of her father and hair like Jessie's. When she smiled, Jessie saw Andrew in her face. She missed him desperately, but Sarah helped make the long months bearable.

As she thought back, she realized many things had happened since just before Andrew had left New Orleans. She had become pregnant about the time his orders had come through, but every time she had tried to tell him that he was going to be a father, something seemed to happen to put it off. She had been leery of telling him.

Jessie wanted to tell him the good news the day he left, but thought better of it. She feared he wouldn't leave, which would have meant trouble with his superiors. She knew how important the military was to him and she had promised she would support him in every way. This was all despite the fact they had wound up on two different sides of the oncoming fight—brother against brother, father against son, husband against wife. She told him she would never make him choose between her and the military.

He realized her heart lay in her Southern home, accepted it, and loved her even more. They promised each other they would not allow the war to come between them. She understood him and his loyalty to the federal army, but knew his loyalty to her planted far stronger roots in his soul.

She didn't want him to worry about the two of them to the point he put his own life in danger. Jessie had always been superstitious that something would happen during her pregnancy. Desperately afraid of losing the baby, she remembered how her father reacted and dealt with the loss of her sister and brother when Theresa had lost them in the later stages of her pregnancies. She could wait and give him their precious bundle of joy when he returned home to her.

Sarah helped that time go by a little quicker than she thought it would. Andrew wrote letters to her that she read and reread to the baby. He wrote about his duty, where it had taken him, but mostly, about how much he loved and missed her. He tried to get leave to come home and see her, but he told her Stanton's office kept refusing his request. He promised to come back as soon as he could. When she read to her daughter, Sarah would smile. Jessie didn't know why, but to see her happy meant everything.

As Jessie sat with the baby, she reflected on the other change in her life. A month or so before Sarah was born, Victor had taken ill. Their physician, Dr. William Egan, came immediately after Jessie sent their maid Molly to get him. He examined Victor and took her out in the hallway to tell her what he thought.

When he told Jessie he thought her father had suffered a heart seizure, she became lightheaded. This could not be happening! The doctor caught her as she started to faint and got her to the window seat. The cool air from the slightly open window brought the color back to her face and feeling back into her drained body.

“What can we do for him? He'll get over this, won't he? Things will be all right, won't they, Dr. Egan?” It was at this point, when he looked into her eyes, he realized if he didn't do something, she could lose the baby.

“Jessie—Jessie! Calm down. Think of the baby. You have to calm down. You aren't helping either one of you. There's nothing you can do for Victor now except try and make him as comfortable as possible. You have to worry about that little life inside you.” He found himself screaming at her, totally against his professional ethics.

She looked at him. How can he be talking to me like this? My father is dying! I can't—no, won't—let this happen. My father can't leave me, not before the baby is born! He can't leave me before Andrew returns.

She slowly got up, went to her father's door, and pushed it open. He lay in his bed, sleeping peacefully. She crossed the room to his bedside, sat next to him, and took his hand in hers.

After a little while, he opened his eyes and looked at her. He saw her eyes, red from crying. She squeezed his hand, cold to the touch.

“How do you feel? Can I get you anything?"

“I need to tell you this—it's important."

“Don't talk,” she said as she tried to quiet him.

“No, you need to know this. If I don't make it, you need to know the house, everything is yours."

“But what about my sister?"

“Caitlyn has her home and family. You need a home for your family when your baby is born and Andrew comes home after this God-awful war is over."

“But, Father..."

“No buts. Your sister knows of my wishes and she agrees this is the right thing to do."

“But you can't be dying. You have to see the baby. I need you!” she screamed at him, crying harder, holding his hand, begging him to live, for her, for the baby. “What about when Andrew comes home?"

Victor looked at his distraught daughter, proud of her. She had pulled both of their lives together. After Theresa had died, he had slipped into depression. Jessie had taken care of him, and her new husband, and had never complained. She had always been strong.

It had not been easy for his newly married daughter. He watched as she and Andrew had grown closer together, only to be separated by the coming of the War Between the States. He realized the day his son-in-law had left, he had to take care of his daughter, and the life she was carrying.

Victor knew she hadn't been able to tell her husband the news. He had been elated when Jessie told him he'd be a grandfather. He had hoped everything would finally come to her. It was time Jessie Hastings found the happiness she had searched for.

He remembered the evening Andrew had asked her to marry him. She had said “yes” to him immediately, after only knowing him a few hours. Jessie became a woman right in front of his eyes. There had been no question he would give the couple his blessing.

Now his grown-up daughter hugged him as she had when she was a little girl. He knew he didn't have long to live and realized he would be leaving her just when she needed him the most.

She took his hand in hers and placed it on her stomach. She knew feeling the baby kick meant a great deal to him. Victor smiled when he felt the little one move, saddened Andrew could not enjoy every father's right to this experience.

“You'll take care of this precious little bundle so that when your husband returns, he'll be surprised with a wonderful gift?” She had promised.

Victor died within the week. She had him buried in the family cemetery next to his wife, finally together. Jessie took care of the house and dealt with her father's estate. She kept busy until a letter from Andrew was delivered, then everything stopped while she read it, two or three times.

Jessie thought more about her father, her sister Caitlyn, her brother-in-law Jason, and their family. She gazed at Sarah, always seeing Andrew in her daughter's face and missing her husband even more. She thought back to the day Sarah had been born in this house. Jessie had been visiting when she felt the labor pains start. Dr. Egan had been summoned and, after several hours, Sarah Mary Hastings had been born.

Sarah fell asleep in her arms. As she slept, Jessie sat on the lawn watching the afternoon slowly turn into evening. Caitlyn always had her big Sunday meal around three o'clock in the afternoon. They ate a delicious meal and Jessie enjoyed it. Afterwards, she and Sarah went outside to spend more time together. She remembered the few weeks she and Andrew had shared before he was ordered to leave, just over two long years ago. Those times had been so magical.

They felt at ease with each other from the beginning, and enjoyed their life together. As she sat with her daughter, it felt as if they had crammed a whole lifetime into not even twelve short months. They shared their birthdays and their first Christmas together, but their first anniversary saw them separated by many miles.

When his letters did not arrive within a few weeks after she had written to him, she feared for his life and their marriage. The day-to-day constant of not knowing what was going on bothered her. When the time between letters grew longer, she worried more. She feared he might be in some hospital somewhere or even worse, a Southern prison. She feared him dead once or twice, though her instincts told her otherwise, and she had always been able to trust them. She wished Andrew would trust his as well.

The baby slept in her arms. She got up and took her inside the house. As she put Sarah down, Caitlyn walked into the room.

“Thank you for taking her."

“You know I'd do anything for you, just like you've done for me."

“But this is more than anything you have ever asked me to do for you."

“Don't worry, the main thing is her safety."

* * * *

As the federal troops neared New Orleans, Jessie feared more for her safety, but even more so for little Sarah's. Even though the house had always been secure and she felt safe behind the gates, she remained a Confederate woman alone, with a small child and some servants, in a city about to be occupied by Yankees. She thought long and hard about what needed to be done to keep her family safe and out of harm's way.

Rumors and stories flew throughout the city. If the federals took it, they had renegades and deserters in their ranks. Stories of unspeakable acts committed by these men ran rampant in the streets. Jessie's blood ran cold. She'd heard one band of raiding soldiers had looted homes and property. They'd raped women, one of their victims murdered.

She thought about her daughter, needing to protect her. She would take no chances with Sarah's life, especially if anything happened to her in the meantime. Andrew had to see his daughter when he returned home. After all, Sarah was the best of both of them and the reason why she must be protected. Jessie felt if she couldn't be there, for some reason or another, then Andrew would have Sarah to go on with. She couldn't explain the reasoning for her feelings. That's the way it would be.

She had written to him, in care of the War Department, and told him about her father's death, though she did not tell him about Sarah. She feared her letter would not get to him. She had not heard back from him. Did he even receive the letter to begin with? It bothered her that letters took months to get to their destination. She prayed nothing had happened to him, a daily ritual with her.

Jessie had to make sure Sarah remained safe. It had been a few days after New Year's of 1862 during a visit that Jessie broached the subject with Caitlyn and Jason. They said they would take the baby if she was absolutely positive she wanted this separation.

“Caitlyn, I trust you to make the right decisions by her. I'll be in touch with you as much as I can, but I cannot keep her in the house here with me and feel that we're both safe. This is best for her."

Caitlyn wanted her to come too, but Jessie feared if she did, Andrew wouldn't find her when he returned. Even though she tried, Caitlyn could not get through her sister's stubbornness.

A week later, Jessie packed up her daughter's things and took Sarah to her sister's. Every Sunday, she spent the day with her daughter. Sometimes, she would go over in the middle of the week just to be with Sarah. She wasn't thrilled with this situation, but Sarah's safety stayed foremost in her thoughts. She had done what she truly thought best.

Jessie watched as Sarah slept, then turned and left the room. She went down the grand staircase to the living room where her sister sat with her husband.

“It's getting harder to leave her."

“Why don't you close up the house and come live here until everything gets better?” Caitlyn thought she would try again.

“That would be nice, but I can't leave the place, you know that."

“Oh, I get it. Keep Sarah away from you where it's safe and then put yourself into the same danger you're protecting her from. Jessie, you can't keep doing this."

“And what if Andrew comes home and there is no one there?"

“He'll find you. He's not stupid."

“No!” she argued. “This is the way it will be."

Caitlyn knew better than to fight Jessie when her mind was made up like this.

* * * *

Jessie felt dread for a while. She did not like being away from her baby, in fact, she hated it. Her father had left her the house for her and her family and she would take care of it. But she had been stubborn enough to do it on her own terms, instead of listening to reason.

Asking a servant to have her carriage readied, she turned to Caitlyn and apologized. The sisters held each other as they walked to the front door. Jason said good-bye to her, then left the two of them alone. He now understood their relationship and wished he had had that same closeness with his family. This was a unique family and one only special people could get close to. He and Andrew had definitely been the lucky ones.

Jessie climbed into the carriage as Marcus, her groomsman, urged the horse to move. She waved to Caitlyn as the carriage pulled away. Sitting back for the long ride, she went over the last few days’ events. Because of the nastiness of the federal occupation, she had taken other precautions at home also.

Some of the more valuable pieces of art and other items had been hidden in several built-in hiding places in the attic, or sent to Caitlyn's. The family jewelry had been put away. She even took her wedding band off. She had packed away some of the things that meant a great deal to them, like the outfits they had worn at Mardi Gras, the silver service, and some other things.

Jessie put her wedding ring in an envelope with a letter to Andrew, carefully placed in the book of poetry he had borrowed the first night they had met. After he had finished reading it, they would read the poetry together. The book became their favorite. Jessie prayed he would remember that when he came back and if, for some reason, she was gone. She placed it on her bureau with the scarf she had taken from him the day he left. Each night, she read a poem before turning in.

The carriage pulled in through the gates. Marcus helped her out of it and saw her to the door. He unhitched the horses, then led them to the stables. Afterwards, he closed the gates behind him, locked them, and walked to a backstreet bar to have a few rounds with some of his friends. Working for the Templetons, and now Mrs. Hastings, had been easy, and he was well paid.

Jessie entered the house. Just dusk, the lamps had not yet been lit. She closed the door and locked it behind her. Until recently, there had been no need to lock the doors, but with the Union occupation of the city, she felt it a necessity. Farragut's ships shelled the city from the river and from the two forts downriver that were supposed to keep and protect everyone from that very thing happening. They had been under Union control for nearly a year.

Everywhere one looked, there had been bluecoats. Strange restrictions had been set down by General Benjamin Franklin Butler, Beast Butler as he had been named, due to the protest of the Southern ladies. Their idea had been to be rude to the Union officers, among other things.

As she went into the hallway, she took off her hat and gloves and placed them by the vase on the table by the stairs. She saw her reflection in the mirror. Still in mourning black to honor her father, she promised herself she would wear black until Andrew came home and the war had ended. As she moved, the material in the full skirt swished back and forth with the petticoat underneath.

She opened a drawer in the table and took out a match to light an oil lamp before she went upstairs. She had plans to turn in early, tired from all the beautiful fresh air she had enjoyed with her daughter.

Then she heard it. A noise came from the library, the noise that forever changed her life.

“Who's there?” she called out. She had let the servants off for the evening, as she did every Sunday. The only time she did not was if she entertained, something she hadn't done since Victor had died. Now, she stood alone to face who-knew-what.

She didn't hear anything more. Gathering her things from the table, she picked up the lamp and started toward the stairway. She heard it a second time. She turned and listened. Again, the sound came from the direction of the library. She put her things on the table and took the lamp with her. She cautiously went to the door.

The hairs on the back of her neck started to stand up from apprehension of something bad about to happen, her stomach feeling queasy. The women in her family had always been able to trust their feelings when it came to things like this. She paused a moment as she remembered how she had to convince her husband to trust his instincts. Jessie prayed he remembered this just as she tried to convince herself to do the same.

She looked in the room, saw nothing amiss, and walked over to the desk. She noticed the right half of the French door slightly ajar. Jessie put the lamp on the desk and went to close the door. As soon as the latch clicked, she heard the other door from the hallway close, and that lock clicked also.

Jessie reeled around to come face-to-face with a blue-coated soldier who put a leather-gloved hand over her mouth before he shoved her hard against the doorjamb.

Chapter 4

Jessie tried to get away from him. Stronger, he had the advantage of surprise. Her mind raced as her worst fears came true. She fought, but to no avail. The smell of leather filled her nose and she had trouble breathing. Why was this happening?

“The harder you fight, the worse it will be for you!” the man snarled, but she would not stop. No way would she give in to him. Jessie figured if she was going to die, she would go out fighting. She tried to pull his hand from her mouth. She had to breathe. She finally pried his hand away from her face only to feel a blow to the side of her head.

She slammed against the door, blood oozing from a cut on her face. As she slid to the floor, her body went numb and pain shot through her head. The coolness of the hardwood floor was the last thing she remembered before losing consciousness. She lay in an apparently lifeless heap, feeling nothing. A tiny puddle of blood stained the polished floor.

“Why'd ya do that, Bake? Is she dead?” a timid voice asked.

“Nah, the bitch'll be fine. Besides, this wouldn't have happened if she hadn't fought. It's the whore's fault if she's dead!"

“Let's get out of here before somebody comes back!"

“Nobody'll be back. She lives alone, and the servants have been gone every Sunday since we came to this hellhole."

After he went through the upstairs of the house, the third man returned to find the woman's body slumped on the floor by the French doors. He went over to her, then looked at the one they called Bake.

“What the hell did you do this time?"

“She wouldn't stop fighting me. I had to teach her who was boss."

“Is she dead?” the meek one asked, afraid of everything, including his own shadow.

“Nah, all whores fake it. Makes ‘em get sympathy."

“Hey, Bake. Why don't you shut the hell up? Don't you ever do anything wrong? Face it, you probably went too far this time."

“Nah, the bitch is fakin’ it, I tell you."

They heard a groan come from the direction of the doors. The one who entered the room last went over to the woman, picked her up and put her on her father's leather couch. He looked around the room, went to the window and pulled the drapery cords down. Returning to where she laid, he took her hands and bound them tightly together in front of her, then her feet.

He went back to the window and ripped off a long strip of the lacy, white curtain. He used this as a gag to keep their latest victim quiet when and if, she finally came to. After all, they couldn't have an out-of-control hostage, now could they?

While he ransacked, Stanley Gordon ignored what Baker did to the women of the house. He didn't want to know anything about what went on, even though he knew if and when caught, he'd be as guilty as Baker. He knew the list of charges got longer by the moment. At this point, he figured—What the hell? If Baker could have his fun, I might as well, too. Besides, why should Baker be the only one satisfied? Just as much a man as the next guy, he decided he would enjoy the woman as well. After all, she would be coming with them. Why not?

The hall clock chimed midnight. They had gone through the upstairs with disappointing results. Gordon had gone through the rooms, one by one, and came up with almost nothing. He found the master bedroom, which should have had something, empty of any valuables. He picked up one or two things but they didn't seem to have much value at all. The other bedrooms looked more like guestrooms, except for the third one.

This must be the woman's room. He went through this room more carefully than the others as he overturned furniture, pulled out drawers, looked anywhere he could to find the valuables that, by now, he knew had been hidden away. The dressing table yielded nothing as he knocked everything off it. A book of poetry and the yellow scarf it rested on fell to the floor, along with her perfume bottles and some other vanity items that broke as they hit. Something lying on the rug sparkled. He picked up a diamond necklace and smiled, having found something at last. He picked the scarf up, military, he noticed, and wiped his face off before he shoved it in his pocket. Little did he know of the hidden treasure in the fallen book.

As he went downstairs, he decided the only thing of value in the house was the woman in the library, so they would take her with them. When he reached the library, he found Baker already doing his thing. Deep inside him, he wished the idiot would stop, while on the other hand, he couldn't wait to get in on the action. He knew they were bound for the hangman's noose if and when the law caught them. He thought about his decision. To hell with everything, he might as well go for broke.

* * * *

Shortly after she had been put on the couch, Jessie regained consciousness. Her head and back ached as terror held onto her. She sensed she had been moved, since she no longer lay in a huddled mass on the cool, hardwood floor.

She couldn't move, unable to understand why. She tried to move her hands so she could feel her head, but for some reason, if she tried to move one hand, the other one came with it. She had the same feeling with her feet. What had happened to her that she was unable to do anything for herself? The cording hurt her when she moved and she slowly came to her senses as she realized what had happened.

Her mouth felt numb and dry from the dry piece of cloth shoved into it, though she still could not figure it out. What was on her face? What was happening to her? Why had all of her fears come true? Thank God, she had taken the measures she had. If she died, she knew Sarah would be safe, and prayed her husband would find their daughter. She trusted Caitlyn.

She groaned with the pain radiating through her body from the beating. Her back felt like it had been run over after she had been slammed against the wall. While she felt that, her wrists and ankles had gone completely numb from the cording Gordon used to tie her up. Jessie felt a sticky dampness where the cording lay on her skin. Had it cut through her skin when he bound her?

The next thing she knew, the foul-mouthed Yankee who had thrown her into the door pounced on her again. She fought him but the cord around her wrists and ankles held her back, cutting deeper into her skin. He took her wrists and shoved them up over her head. As he held her hands with one hand, the other ripped the front of her dress open. She struggled with him as he groped her. She had to fight him off. She could not let him overwhelm her in any way but he proved too strong for her. Why? What had she done to them to deserve this? Help me, please! Andrew! Her mind raced as she whimpered from the Yank's attack. Her stomach tightened, Jessie was nauseous from the smell of the ogre on top of her.

Squeezing her breast hard while still holding her hands above her head, he slobbered over her neck, as he licked her face, her ear, and back to her throat. Her skin crawled from his touch. He worked his way down her chest, her breast hurting from the strength in the hand that pinched her. She fought more but could not get him off her.

Her eyes widened in horror when she felt his coarse skin on her leg as he ran his hand up under her clothes. She fought him as he shoved the skirt over her hips. He held her down as he released himself from his pants. She screamed as agonizing pain shot through her, the sound of her misery silenced by the cloth tied in her mouth. Jessie felt the shock of him touching her where only her husband should, and feared what he had his mind set on doing. No, not this.

Suddenly, her body went limp and, as she looked away from the monster on top of her, her mind went off to somewhere earlier in her life, when she had been happy and safe. She had her family and her husband. Where are you, Andrew? Please, come save me from this! She prayed it would be over quickly.

Her prayers seemed to be answered when she felt the weight on her body forcibly removed. She heard the crack of a blow making contact with another being. She relaxed some as she tried to lower her arms down in front of her. She turned on her side and curled up as the fight went on. Jessie opened her eyes to see the three men as they brawled on the library floor. They knocked over furniture and broke many of the glass treasures her mother had collected. Thank God, her parents were gone—for their sakes.

“You can't stop, can you? Always another attack and this to a woman who's tied up, no less. No fight, no screams. Softening up some?"

“Go to hell, Stan. You've got the riches. Let me get mine."

“Why don't we stop this and leave?” Samuels whined. “It's getting toward sunup when the servants..."

The grandfather's clock in the hallway chimed four o'clock in the morning.

“For once, he's right,” Baker said as he turned to his victim. “You're lucky, bitch, for now."

As he turned to the woman on the couch, Gordon said, “She had a warning of some sort. There's nothing here. What did you do with it all, Princess?"

She looked at him, her body shaking, feeling cold in the hot room. Wasn't it enough that his cohort had just attacked her, wanting more before he stopped the other man? Gordon took the gag from her mouth as Jessie, shaking and crying, looked at him with malice. No way would she let him know. She'd rather be dead! Dawn was coming. Maybe the servant's return would help her. Maybe these monsters would leave her.

Her eyes closed to shut out the intruders. She felt her feet being untied. What was going on? Gordon grabbed her wrists by the cord. It caused the skin to further rip and bleed as he pulled her off the couch. She started to fall but he caught her and yanked her up. As he dragged her up the stairs to her room, she felt one of her earrings fall off as it slid down her neck and off her shoulder. She thought it had fallen on the step and hoped it would become buried in the stair tread. Shoved into the room, she sailed across the floor and landed at the side of her bed. Looking around, she saw her room had been ransacked. She felt violated, raped for a second time.

Her hands untied, Gordon ordered her to change clothes and pack a bag. They would make it look like she had gone away for a few days. He saw the look of shock on her face.

“You're going with us as insurance."

Jessie felt faint. The worst was happening! With all of her plans, she had never considered this. Why hadn't she taken her sister up on her offer? Now Andrew would never find her. He would return to an empty house with no one there. How would he ever know how much I love him? Would he ever find Sarah?

As she regained some of her composure, she glared at her captor. She began to understand what he wanted and she couldn't abide this. She turned and tried to get to the door, but he stopped her. For all his weight, he'd been quick enough to beat her across the room and pin her against the wall. But this time, Gordon held a gun at her temple. He pressed the unforgiving cold metal against her damp skin.

“Go pack a bag, we're taking you with us, and don't try anything. You'll do as you're told if you know what's good for you.” How could this be good for me? She looked at him in horror as she slid away from him and the gun aimed at her. She slowly got her valise from the closet, then tried to pack the bag as she started losing it again. Tears ran down her cheeks. She heard him pull the gun's hammer back and knew she no longer had control of her destiny.

After she had packed the bag, she glared at him. He looked at her and wanted her to hurry up and finish what he had told her to do. He motioned with the gun to her dress. She realized her ripped clothes hung from her shoulders, exposing her to the three of them. She quickly pulled the front of her dress together and heard him laugh.

“Get dressed, Miss Prissy. You women are all alike."

As she chose one of her less fancy outfits, she heard footsteps in the hallway. She went to change behind the screen near her bureau, but Gordon told her to do it right in front of him.

“You can't be trusted—not as feisty as you are."

Baker came to the door, saw what had happened and went for her again. She thought Gordon would stop him as he had done before, but this time he didn't. All over her, Baker's hands ripped what remained of her clothes off her body. He threw her to the floor and, as Gordon watched, he attacked her again. How many more times would they do this to her?

She fought him as best she could, but each time she hit him, he returned the favor twofold. She tried to scream but his clammy hand went over her mouth. He shoved himself into her and hurt her with a pain she had never felt before. He squeezed her breasts hard as he let loose while he roughly kissed her to keep her quiet. Then she heard him call Samuals. The other man came in and tried to protest, but all he saw was Gordon's cocked revolver waving.

Samuals mounted her and, as he looked at her with sorrow in his eyes for what he was about to do, repeated what Baker had done. He wasn't as rough, but what difference did it make? Her life was ruined. How could she ever look anyone, especially Andrew and Sarah, straight in the eye without the shame of this night haunting her?

Samuals did as ordered because he feared Baker and Gordon, needing their attention. He had grown up with a domineering father and should have been a teacher or the like. He left Boston to get away from his father only to hook up with two domineering men. At twenty-seven, he had hooked up with his father again, only this time, it had double the pain. He followed orders, but it sickened him.

She averted her eyes from her attacker, and spied the book as it lay safely by the chest of drawers, its contents undiscovered. She noticed his scarf missing. Good-bye, my love! She closed her eyes.

At least her wedding band remained safe, for now.

When Samuals finished, Jessie felt her hands tied again, this time to the foot of the bedstead. Gordon gagged her. The other two had orders to raid the pantry for supplies, then fill the wagon for the trip out of New Orleans. Jessie found herself alone with this overweight monster and dreaded the next few moments with him.

Gordon dropped his pants as he slowly got down on the floor. She tried to wriggle away. He slapped her hard as he pulled her back to him. She felt the cold barrel of the revolver on her body, the iciness of the steel as he moved it up toward her neck. He shoved the sight at the end of the barrel into the base of her neck, as he laid the length of the gun on her chest, the hammer still cocked.

“After those two, you should be ready for me. What's this?” he asked as he stole the other earring from her and put it in his pocket. Her body shook uncontrollably. She wanted to scream as he moved the end of the barrel down the center of her body, but any sound she tried to make had been muffled. Stopping below her waist, Jessie looked at him in horror, shaking her head while trying to scream again. He played with it between her legs after he forced them apart so she laid spread eagle by his large, fat body. He laughed maniacally as she sobbed, and still she tried to scream. A little voice inside her told her to fight, she had to survive this somehow.

She prayed this would be the end of this terror. How could any man live with himself after brutalizing a woman like he was doing now? She tried to scream but the gag silenced her agony. No one would hear her. She felt the cold steel against her skin. She didn't remember what happened after that as she passed out from terror. What she remembered was the feeling of gasping for air from his heavy weight on her as he entered her and satisfied himself.

He released her hands, ripped the gag from her mouth, and brought her back to life. He caused her mouth to bleed as he roughly kissed her. He grabbed her by a handful of her thick hair, then wrenched her neck back toward him so they were face-to-face. Pulling her head back a little, he kissed her. She tried to pull away but his mouth covered hers and her nose as he caused her to try to gasp for air. She tried to fight him as she hit him about his ugly head. He left her just enough cording to let her bring her arms close to him. Letting go of her hair, he shoved her back to the floor. He laughed as he decided he wanted more.

He went after her again and sated his desire while he hit her each time she protested his advances. He liked the fight in her, knowing he was up to her challenge. This time, just before he was satisfied, he roughly grabbed her by the back of her neck, dug his nails into her skin, and delighted in the shrieking scream of pain that his victim let out.

Discovering he loved torturing his victim, he ran the barrel of the gun up and down her body, enjoying its uncontrollable shaking and the terror on her face and in her eyes. He decided to have some more fun with her. He untied her hands after he locked her bedroom door and dropped the key in his pocket. Her heart sank even deeper.

He chased her around the room and enjoyed the woman's fear as she tried to protect herself from him. She fought to open the door but he caught her and threw her to the floor. She grabbed the quilt on her bed as she attempted to wrap it around her. He went over to her and grabbed her by the hair. As he ripped the quilt from her, he proceeded to beat her.

“By the time I'm done, you will know who the boss is.” He hit her on her back, stomach and in the face. As she cowered and shook in a corner of the room, he came at her once more, yanked her up and shoved her toward the closet. Then, as he sat and watched, he forced her at gunpoint to dress in front of him.

When she turned around to button her dark printed dress, he yelled at her.

“There will be no hiding. Get used to it, since this will be your life from now on. You are ours to do with what we want, when we want, and we will."

Hearing this, tears rushed down her cheeks as despair set in. Just kill me and get it over! She looked at him with a hatred she had never felt before, her life ruined in one short evening. She had been beaten, molested, and gang-raped. She noticed her wrists were swollen, bloody, and bruised from the drapery cord that cut into her skin. She could feel her face swell, feeling ugly and used. She glimpsed into what was left of her mirror and felt sick. Her face looked as bad as her wrists, bruised, bloody, and swollen. She never felt so much hatred in all her life.

Gordon watched her. She had a wild side to her. No one else in their past assaults had put up the fight she had. How had no man tried to tame her, or had they? He opened the door, ordered her not to move while he pointed the revolver directly at her heart.

Please get it over with!

Samuals appeared at the door. He refused to look at her as he told Gordon the wagon was packed with everything they could take with them.

“Good. Let's get out of here.” Samuals turned then and went downstairs. Gordon turned to Jessie. Pointing the gun at her, he ordered her to her knees. She looked at him, scared he would repeat what he had done once already. As she tried to back away from him, he slapped her. The force of the blow sent her into the wall, where she slid down to the floor, another small trail of blood on the woodwork. Her eye swollen shut, she had trouble seeing what came next out of the other one.

He bent down, grabbed her by a handful of her long, thick hair and pulled her to the center of the room. He kicked over the small table by her favorite chair and forced her to kneel there. She shrieked as she felt more of her hair ripped out of her head as he made her look at him. By this time, Baker had made his way back upstairs as he heard the scuffle.

“I'm gonna take you, woman. You'll learn to do what you're told, when I tell you. Now, on your knees,” he yelled as he forced her to kneel.

She sobbed. Her head hurt from the blows. She felt nauseous and dizzy. She looked at him as she came face-to-face with the end of the gun. He put the barrel to her lips and ordered her to behave. Gordon told her to open her mouth and put her hands above her head like she was praying.

“No, please. Don't kill me this way. Please.” she begged as she sobbed hysterically.

“That's it. Beg. Plead for your life. The life I have control over. You'd whore yourself to save your life, wouldn't you? Well, woman, give me pleasure and you might live.” He laughed as he grabbed her chin, forced her mouth open and shoved the end of the gun's barrel in. She closed her eyes and waited for the worst to happen. He had Baker tie her hands, this time, tighter than before. He lifted the gun as he made her follow him wherever he decided to go. They had fun leading her around and torturing her more. Gordon found he liked playing with his victim's emotions.

“You want to live, you'll do anything. All you women are alike. Maybe you're right, Bake. Maybe all women are whores. Look at this.” They laughed as he led her around like a dog on a leash.

“When I take this out of your mouth, you'll keep it open or I'll do it again. Do you understand? Do you hear me?” Jessie became hysterical. As he took the cold steel away from her, she started to scream. He slapped her again and knocked her down to the floor. She screamed again, feeling the barrel of the gun at the side of her head, pointed next to her eye.

“What did I tell you, bitch?” he growled as she slowly did as he demanded. Her eyes swollen shut, she prayed he would get it over with and put her out of her misery. This time, instead of the gun, he shoved a cloth in her mouth to gag her once more. Baker tied her feet and the cording bit into her skin. Her ankles bled so much, she felt the blood as it ran down her skin.

Baker picked her up and threw her over his shoulder. He carried her downstairs, out into the night and tossed her onto the floor of her brougham. He pulled her hands over her head and tied them to the upright post of the door to her father's carriage. She barely heard the valise being thrown into the other wagon. She lay in the darkness on the carriage floor, able only to see the starlit night. She tried to pull herself up but the last thing she remembered of that awful night was the butt of the gun, as Gordon pistol-whipped her.

She fell back, unconscious. As they rode along, every once in awhile, she would hear something, laughs, words, curses. She would lapse back into the darkness of the hell she came to know as her life. The little voice returned telling her to get away and save herself.

Her life! The one that was perfect until last night. A few hours later, when she did come out of it, her head ached. She dreaded what her face looked like, it felt so swollen. If she made it through this, would Andrew know her, even want her again?

And what about her little girl—what about Sarah? Thank God! She was safe!

Chapter 5

Later that morning, the servants returned to the house to start their usual early chores.

“Have you seen Miss Jessica?” Molly asked, unconcerned as their mistress always took an early morning ride.

“Not yet,” Geoffrey answered. Molly gasped when she went into the kitchen.

“Geoffrey, come quick,” she called to him.

“What's wrong?” he asked as he stopped.

“Everything's gone,” she told him as they looked around the ransacked pantry and bare cabinets.

“Start checking the rest of the house,” Geoffrey, the butler who remained after Victor's passing, told her.

They went into the library to find the oil lamp still burning where Jessie had left it on the desk. Molly looked at the door and screamed.

“Look!"

She pointed at the traces of blood on the doorjamb and the stains on the boards of the hardwood floor. They looked at each other. What had happened?

Geoffrey went upstairs, Molly close on his heels. They opened the door to the master bedroom and found the room in a shambles. Some of Mr. Victor's personal things, that had been kept after he died, had disappeared. The other two rooms looked the same. When they opened the door to Miss Jessica's room, Molly gasped.

“Oh, my Lord.” Molly began to lose control. She babbled incoherently about Miss Jessica, the times and the doings in the city, the war, and anything else that came to mind. Geoffrey tried to calm her but the more they found as they looked for the lady of the house, the more dread took over.

Furniture thrown around and broken, her mirror smashed, draperies torn down as the ones in the library had been, the room had suffered a complete ransacking. Molly found her mistress’ shredded, black dress in a pile on the floor by her bed, along with the remnants of her petticoats. She found more bloodstains on the floor and the wall. They looked at each other and quickly left the room to go back downstairs. Geoffrey looked out the kitchen window and saw the carriage gone.

“They must have taken the wagon and the carriage when they left,” he guessed.

Afraid the intruders might return, for what reason they could not even contemplate, Geoffrey and Molly ran out of the house to their quarters at the rear of the property. They had never been called slaves, Victor would not allow it. For their loyal service, they received a roof over their heads, food, and other things. This continued after Victor's death when Jessie asked them all to stay on.

The two of them stayed in the house behind the mansion and watched it, afraid to go back. The following Wednesday, two days after their discovery, Jason Davis came over to pick-up their mistress. They explained what they had found inside the house when they met him on the porch. They apologized for not coming to tell Miss Jessica's family, but they had no idea where Miss Caitlyn lived. Jessie had never asked them to run any errands to her sister's, preferring to go herself.

“There was one other thing you should know, Mister Jason. Marcus hasn't been seen at all since Sunday."

“Let's take a look out back.” They found his body in back of the carriage house, a large bruise on his head from being beaten to death by intruders. The investigation determined he had walked in on the intruders raiding downstairs while another attacked Jessie. One killed Marcus as he tried to get past them to go upstairs to help her.

Jason told them to pack their things, saying he would take them to his home. When they arrived, he told Caitlyn about what Geoffrey and Molly had showed him at her sister's home.

“Jessie was right. Her fears became reality,” Jason told her.

“What are we going to do? We leave for Charleston in the morning,” she said.

“We have to get word to Andrew somehow."

“But where is he?"

“We'll try to reach him through the Secretary of War's office."

“But how? He's a federal officer. We're Confederates. They won't get word to him for us. You know that, Jason."

“We'll have to try. He needs to know what's happened to his wife."

* * * *

Later in the day, they attempted to speak with a federal officer in New Orleans. He refused to give them the time of day. They tried to speak to another officer who, after he heard their story, said he couldn't do much.

“Trying to get any type of communications from a Southerner to a Yankee is highly discouraged."

“This could mean my sister's life. Her husband's name is Lieutenant Colonel James Andrew Hastings and he's working for the Secretary of War in Washington,” Caitlyn screamed at the officer.

“Now, wait a minute. You're expecting me to believe an officer of the United States Army married a Southern Belle? No Northern officer in his right mind would do that. Now get out of my sight."

Jason looked at the officer in anger.

“My sister-in-law feared something like this may happen. She was terrified these marauding Union soldiers would do this to her. She was right to be afraid. Now, if you don't help us get word to her husband, you'll be as guilty as they are, for anything that happens to her."

“As I said, get out of my sight,” he repeated, unflinching, uncaring. The officer hated this couple, who, he felt, blackened the great name of the United States Army. He had no time for these people and their petty problems.

They left the officer and tried to think of their next step. Caitlyn feared the worst for her sister. The last time she had seen Jessie, she had a strange feeling, though she wouldn't say anything to her. Caitlyn had been upset by this, knowing Jessie had not been, until lately, the type to go crazy like this. But she had and now she was missing.

The next morning, the Davis family and their servants boarded an eastbound train to Charleston, South Carolina. They had heard it wasn't as harsh there as it was in New Orleans. They figured, due to the information they could get from the office of Jefferson Davis, they would be safer there. After what had happened to Jessie, they had to take care of little Sarah. They had to get word to Andrew about his wife. Somehow, there had to be a way and it had to be soon, before something dire happened to Caitlyn's twin.

Jason attempted to go through the office of Jefferson Davis, but his staff did not consider it important enough to worry about. Davis had gone off on one of his tours and that was what they were concerned with. In her anger, Caitlyn wrote Andrew a letter and mailed it. All she could do was pray the letter would get to him and soon.

* * * *

After he had left her and rode from New Orleans, Andrew tried not to look back at the woman he loved more than life itself. He headed up the Mississippi River to the federal fortifications and outposts. Cautiously, he followed the river north, unsure if any of the surviving Confederate guns remained intact and active.

Andrew had orders to check the encampments and report to the Secretary the status of the military readiness in the area. Stanton received reports from his officers, but he wanted someone who would give him an honest opinion on the situation. Andrew had done this for the better part of a year and a half, having been throughout the Louisiana, Mississippi, and Tennessee areas without a break or leave time.

Andrew evaluated sites throughout the country. He found himself in various states with absolutely no chance of getting leave time to go home to his wife. He hadn't even found the opportunity to have an assignment that would take him close enough to sneak home for a few hours. He desperately needed to see her, be with her, love her, but, in the back of his mind, he knew if he did indeed go home, he would find it even harder going back to duty.

As for the orders he received from Stanton's office, he rode toward Virginia first and took care to avoid any hostilities. Upon his arrival at Manassas in mid-July 1861, he reported to General Irwin McDowell. His evaluation of the general's actions, the Confederate victory and the comments of other officers, led to McDowell being relieved of his command in May and replaced by General George B. McClellan.

Continuing on, Andrew traveled throughout the upper Trans-Mississippi region in early April 1862. Andrew had been assigned to Major General Don Carlos Buell at Shiloh. Before he settled in, Buell had orders for him to join in the fight against the Confederate troops from the Army of the Mississippi. He joined a cavalry unit from Ohio, and once again, he and Satan distinguished themselves in battle.

When he returned, he sent a full report detailing the federal victory and praised Buell's gifts of organization and administration. Andrew included some of the comments from the troops and officers regarding another general, Ulysses S. Grant. He hoped someday to have the honor of meeting him, even if for a brief time.

Andrew traveled between battlefields when the city of New Orleans fell to Farragut's shelling from the harbor. He tried to get any information he could about his wife's home, but news was slow in coming. He requested emergency leave, which, again, was refused. It angered him and drove him crazy, not knowing how Jessica and Victor had fared. Her letters had a hard time catching up with him due to his constantly changing positions. He wrote her and tried to let her know what he could about his involvement, but all that became secondary to his longing for her.

He heard about General Benjamin Beast Butler's occupation of the city. Please, let things be as well as they can be. He feared for her safety. Why are these feelings different? That concerned and confused him. Then again, not being able to get home made matters worse.

By the end of May, Andrew found himself at Hanover Court House, back in Virginia. This time, he had orders to report to Brigadier General Fitz John Porter, commander of the V Corps. Porter cut the railroad and opened up Telegraph Road for McDowell's reinforcements. He found himself fighting in a battle against the Confederacy, as they were defeated south of the courthouse.

Later that night as the evening meal wound down, a corpsman came to Andrew's tent with an invitation to join the general for a brief meeting before camp was struck for the next day's march.

“Tell him I'll be with him shortly."

The young man saluted and left the tent. Andrew finished packing his saddlebags, planning to ride out early for Shelby County, Tennessee. He finished by putting the portrait of Jessie in last, then left to meet with Porter. He came up to the general's tent and announced himself.

“Come.” Andrew entered and stood at attention.

“Stand easy, Lieutenant Colonel. Have a seat."

“Thank you, sir.” Andrew felt a little nervous, unsure why. He had met many high-ranking officers, but none of them caused him to feel this way. He sat and waited.

“I called this meeting for several reasons, Hastings. First, you did very well today and I'm very impressed. I'm proud and grateful to have had your services. You may rest assured that it will not go unnoticed with the high command."

“Thank you, sir,” he replied with a nod.

“Second, I was leery of having you come here, sir.” Porter sounded reproachful. “I don't like the fact that Stanton's nosing around. I know Grant feels the same way."

“Yes, sir, I understand. Please be advised, I try to be as objective as I possibly can."

“McDowell didn't quite see it that way."

“Mine was not the only evaluation."

“He finally understood you are only doing as ordered. Now, how can I help you with mine?"

“Actually, it's done and off. I finished it after we came back to camp and it's been sent. I assure you, I wrote nothing that was not true or, for that fact, bad."

“I'll take your word for it, Hastings. For your information, you've impressed many of the officers, as well as the men. They like your attitude. So do I."

“Thank you, sir."

“Where to next?"

“Shelby County by June fifth, if I can make it."

“Good riding then. Oh, before I forget..."

“Yes, sir?"

“This came for you from down South.” He handed Andrew an envelope, addressed in Jessie's hand. His hands shook a little as he tried to open and read it. Porter quietly left him alone.

Dear Andrew,

I hope this finds you well and safe. I seem to have made it through the siege without a scratch. Others weren't so lucky. The city is nothing like it was a year ago before you left. Everyone sends their best wishes and prayers for your safety.

I miss you terribly, wishing you were here with me.

I look forward to your homecoming.

Love,

Jessie

P.S. My undying love to you.

He folded the paper, then carefully put it into his coat pocket. Turning, he left Porter's tent, and saw the general speaking to another officer. He waited until they finished and thanked him for getting the letter to him.

“I take it from the look on your face that it was good news?"

“Yes, sir. My wife and her family are in New Orleans. She got word to me the family made it through the siege—no worse for wear, so to speak."

“Good, I'm glad. We get enough bad news these days.” After talking a bit longer, Andrew returned to his quarters and went directly to his saddlebags and her portrait. Although extremely relieved to hear she was safe, he had the feeling she had held something back and he wondered why.

* * * *

He thought back to the autumn when he traveled throughout Kentucky and Virginia. He did reconnaissance work for various generals operating in Grant's command. He had been ordered, since he was on his own, to scout enemy positions and report back to his command what he found.

In Virginia, he found himself with a day of travel he could call his own. He happened upon a small creek, hidden from the world, it seemed.

Andrew set up a quick camp and decided a swim was in order. The water felt icy but he didn't notice. It felt good just to relax, the chill of the water even made his aching back feel better. When he finally came out of the water and dried off, he dressed. He left his uniform coat off and enjoyed the warmth of the remaining day.

He folded his coat inside out and put it behind his neck against a log. While he enjoyed a cup of coffee, he started to doze off, comfortable against his makeshift bed. The cup dropped out of his hand as he fell into a deep, restful sleep. A few hours later, a swift pain in his stomach startled him awake. He curled up in pain on his side though he did not understand why.

Andrew heard a rustle. Still in pain, he took hold of his pearl-handled Colt and cocked it, ready to shoot if need be.

“In camp?” An accent, Southern in sound, came to him.

“What?” Andrew answered as he tried to ignore the pain that engulfed him.

“Cordell Devlin, 1st Georgia Volunteers. Can I come in?"

“Sure.” The man came in to see Andrew doubled in pain, his back to him.

“Sir? Are you all right?"

Andrew told him he felt ill, then tried turning over.

“What do you want?” he asked the Confederate soldier while he tried to cover his accent.

“There have been reports of a bluecoat running along the lines, we think spying. Have you seen any Unions?"

“No, I haven't,” he answered as he desperately tried to cover his fear.

“Excuse me, sir, but aren't those Northern trousers you're wearing?"

“Yeah, took them off a dead colonel. You know how it is."

“I sure do. Well, I'll leave you then. Hope you feel better, sir."

“Thanks,” Andrew replied as the soldier left him. When Andrew felt sure he was alone, he cautiously breathed a sigh of relief as he put the hammer gently back on the Colt. Meanwhile, the pain in his side had all but gone away. He figured being as close as he ever intended to become a guest of the Confederacy had all but chased the other pains away. Whatever had happened to cause the pain had virtually saved his life.

* * * *

Andrew should have been in Memphis around June fifth, but he'd been delayed by skirmishes in the region he had to cross. He decided to skirt the outer lines of the battles and travel further south. At one point, he boarded a Northern ironclad headed toward the city. He watched the Union victory from the deck of the Louisiana.

Being on board this ship had been a bit of a relief, especially after he heard the Confederate forces in the area he had just come from were searching for him. They wanted him in one of their prisons. He definitely did not want or need that.

After he checked on Satan, he wrote a summary of what he witnessed and included the latest wish of the Southern officership. Once the ship tied off, he led Satan off and to the dock. After he made sure Satan had suffered no ill effects from the voyage upriver, Andrew mounted and rode through Memphis. He made mental notes of the city's layout, feeling he would be back in the area in the future.

The end of August saw him back in Virginia for Second Bull Run with more orders to evaluate the enemy. While not ordered to join in the fighting, Andrew intently observed the attempt by Pope to gain Manassas from Confederate hands. Between the defeat on the Warrenton Pike and the failed attempt to secure an unfinished rail-bed, Andrew felt the Union would not be successful. He wrote his thoughts on this and commented on the military strength of General Robert E. Lee, his command, and his Devil's Advocate, James Longstreet.

Andrew came to admire both men. He had read papers on strategy and tactics Lee had written. He listened to Longstreet's military logic through officers he had met up with. Both generals would be forces to be reckoned with.

He'd been able to observe Lee on several occasions, Antietam one. While he observed Lee's strength and tenacity, he saw the Federals advance without backup, to follow through on the initial assaults. One thing Andrew picked up on had been one fact. Among McClellan's troops, they'd had extremely low morale that led to a high amount of desertions along the line. Andrew noted this to Lincoln and Stanton in a late dispatch on September 18, 1862.

TO: A. Lincoln, E. Stanton

FROM: J. A. Hastings

A special note you should both be made aware of.

There is, through the troops marching under General George B. McClellan, a large desertion rate, as well as low morale and discontent. There seems to be, at this point, nothing being done to stave off this occurrence, or bringing those who have left back for disciplinary action.

After Andrew left Antietam, he spent the next few months riding throughout Virginia, Maryland, and Kentucky. He constantly checked his back and wondered when and if he would be caught as one of the war's prizes. This made him all the more careful knowing Jessie waited for him.

* * * *

Besides missing their second wedding anniversary in August, they had been away from each other for Christmas. He crossed into Pennsylvania to find a small inn to stay. He wrote Jessie and hoped she would receive it before the holidays.

To my love,

Merry Christmas from somewhere in Western Pennsylvania.

I miss you desperately and deeply apologize that I cannot be home with you for another holiday we should be celebrating together.

It is cold here, snow on the ground—the white Christmas everyone always wishes for—at least up here. I remember growing up with snow—very deep—throughout the winter, but there was more of a significance at Christmastime.

I lay at night thinking about being with you, your beauty, our love. I don't know how much longer I can take this separation. You don't know how sorry I am that we are so far apart and that I am getting to the point where I cannot handle it.

How is Victor these days? Caitlyn? Family? Send my best to them and wish them good cheer for the holidays. For you, my love, my wish is for a wonderful holiday. I think of you every day, every minute, every second. I miss you terribly—more than words can say. Just remember, my love is forever.

All my love—

He slid the letter into an envelope and put it in a mailbox at the front desk. He had decided to stay at the inn after stabling Satan at the local livery. They both deserved time out of the weather and he wanted to celebrate Christmas by a warm fire in comfort. The more he slept out in the elements, the more his back ached. It felt good to sleep in a nice, warm bed.

After a quiet but lonely Christmas dinner in the inn's dining room, he sat in the front lobby with a cigar and a newspaper to catch up on the war's current events. Offered a brandy, he gladly took it. Finishing the news, he put the paper aside and stood up to go up to his room. He spied a pin sparkling in the light, in a little showcase off to the side.

He caught the attention of the desk clerk, purchased it and had it wrapped. It would go in the pouch with the other gifts he had for birthdays, anniversaries, Christmases and just for the hell of it. He made his way to the stairs, brandy in hand, and slowly went up. He knew he would spend another lonely night. How many more of these do I have to go through?

* * * *

During the next few months, Andrew received orders to Washington for meetings with the President and the Secretary of War. On one of these trips in the areas between Philadelphia and Washington, Andrew almost lost Satan. He had taken a train from Pennsylvania to Baltimore, Maryland and had put Satan on a flatcar with some other mounts. Some troopers took a liking to the black stallion and decided they wanted him more than the officer who owned him.

After he fought them off and held them at bay with his Colt, Andrew yelled, “Don't you ever dare to presume you can take another man's mount! If I ever hear you're involved in anything like this again, you'll hear from me. Now, go to your posts. Dismissed."

The two troopers ran and realized he had done them an enormous favor. Andrew turned to Satan and calmed him as he swore he would never do this to his horse again. Andrew hated the way the country's circumstances changed men. He turned his mind to other things.

Andrew thought, no prayed, he might be able to plead his wishes for leave and possibly get approval to go home. Surely someone would grant him his request, but no such luck. The war heated up and Lincoln had need of Andrew's special talents.

He wrote Jessie that the spring blossoms in the Capitol had almost as much beauty as she did. He described to her everything that happened to him and around him. He did not tell her, though, about his life being in danger due to his spying activities. Andrew did not want to worry his Angel any more than he already had.

From the bench he sat on, he looked down Pennsylvania Avenue at the White House and the Capitol. He imagined them walking arm-in-arm down the street. He shook his head, the vision gone. Was he going crazy?

In April, orders sent him to Chancellorsville, Virginia—this time, under Major General Joseph Hooker. He witnessed a Federal defeat at the hands of Lee, sorrow was felt on both sides over the death of Stonewall Jackson. He praised Hooker's attempts, a Union victory not meant to be.

Andrew headed to Memphis early in the fall for his meeting with Ulysses S. Grant. He picked up passage on a Federal ship heading downriver. When it docked, he saw to Satan and made sure he held steady, once more on firm ground. Once Satan was taken care of, then Andrew found his way from the docks to Beale Street and found the Hunt-Phelen estate. Over the course of the war, the ten-acre estate had been host to the Confederacy before becoming Grant's headquarters on June 23, 1862, after the city of Memphis fell to Union control earlier in the month.

Looking at the mansion, it was brick, with federal-style architecture with Greek portico columns across the front of the house. He stood at the end of the walkway leading to the front porch and glanced at the front yard, where he saw tents set up on both sides of the lawn.

As he made his way along the sidewalk, a trooper ran up to him and saluted.

“May I take your mount, sir?"

“Fine. Make sure you feed him later. He doesn't eat well until half an hour off ship. Water's fine though."

“Yes, sir,” he said as he took Satan's reins and gently rubbed his neck. “Sir?"

“Yes?"

“He's a magnificent mount, sir."

“Thank you. Son?"

“Yes, sir?"

“Where's General Grant?"

“He's inside in the library, I think."

“Thanks,” he returned as he dismissed the young man. The soldier took off and talked to Satan as he cooled him down. Andrew watched and saw himself in the young man. He continued up the walkway and returned those salutes he received. As he neared the columns on the porch, a sergeant came out and stood at attention.

“Lieutenant Colonel Hastings? It is indeed an honor to meet you. The general will meet with you in the library. Follow me, sir."

On entering the house, Andrew quickly took in his surroundings. The house seemed larger inside than what it appeared to be from the outside. The sergeant led him to where the general periodically set up an office when he was in the area, settling in the library of a Colonel Hunt. He found Grant sitting at a long mahogany table with maps of Vicksburg, Mississippi, his current project. Every battle won became another step needed to be successful in the coming siege that would begin in December.

Andrew waited until he looked up from his work and stood at attention until Grant lifted his head.

“Lieutenant Colonel Hastings,” he said as he returned the salute. “Sit down. Can I offer you something to drink?"

“Water would be fine right now, sir. Thank you,” Andrew replied, taking the glass offered to him and slowly sipping the cool water, as he waited for Grant to continue. He quickly considered the job he had been doing for the past year.

Some of his reports dealt with the state of the areas in the aftermath of Union victories. Andrew tried not to be intrusive to the officers he visited and interviewed. Most of them understood his duty, but some were not happy at all.

Ulysses S. Grant had been one of those most vocal. Throughout the campaigns in the West and the Trans-Mississippi area, there had been too much undermining of command from the President's office down through the generals, who were supposed to be commanding their troops to take ground in order to put an end to the war.

“I feel this is all unnecessary,” he told Andrew before he proceeded to give him the information needed. “Do you understand me on this, Hastings? After all, there are more important things to be concerned about right now, one of them is sitting in front of me. This has been a thorn in my side for two months now. Take a look and give me your opinions or ideas."

“Yes, sir,” Andrew replied as he rose to take a look at what lay out in front of him. They spent a few more hours going over things before Grant dismissed Andrew to get some rest and clean up. Grant offered him a room in the house. He settled in and spent the next few days at Grant's side, helping him with various duties. Andrew left this meeting and spent the next several months in the northern area.

The last months of 1862, and the early days of 1863, General Ulysses S. Grant focused his attentions on the region along the Mississippi River. His main aim—take Vicksburg, Mississippi.

Andrew had been assigned to scout the outer regions, and check on Confederate positions. Were they still active? How active were the Southern forces? He had given Grant some much-needed information and had helped the commanding general in his fight to secure the Trans-Mississippi region. Grant had been truly impressed with Andrew's concise information, the accuracy of his opinions, and sizing-up of the enemy, including the failings of the federal troops. Much of Andrew's information was acted upon, improving Grant's men.

In February, Andrew found himself along the Coldwater River, where he scouted the area between the waterway and the Mississippi-Tennessee Railroad and on both sides of the Tallahatchie River. He had sent several dispatches and set his mind to find somewhere to camp for the night. The trooper who had taken the messages back to Grant would return, more than likely, in a day or two. This gave Andrew some much-needed time to himself.

After he took care of Satan, he sat down and leaned against a tree. He took out a piece of paper and wrote to his wife. He tried to tell her where he had been without giving out information that could jeopardize either Grant's operations, or Jessie's life. God forbid, the letter should fall into the wrong hands.

The times are frantic and frustrating as the area is putting up a fight in order to keep territory. Finding areas to bed down at night that won't end up with me in an exclusive cell at Andersonville has truly been an experience. So far, I've been successful, but word is that Jeff Davis’ government has put one hell of a hefty price on my head.

I hope everything is well with you and Victor. I've been trying to acquire reports as to what has been going on in the city, but have not been able to get any news. I have also tried, on several occasions, to get leave to come home to you, but the powers that be always turn my request down.

I'm sorry, Jess.

Even though we are separated by miles, my heart is with you, my love as well. You have me forever—my heart, my soul. I pray this war will end soon so I may be back with you again.

All my love—

He carefully folded the letter and put it into an envelope he placed in his saddlebag to send with the next run. He lay back and enjoyed the relief from the constant saddle time. His back hurt and the downtime gave him some much-needed relief. He fell off to sleep, comfortable after he said a quick goodnight to his Angel and prayed for her safety. Andrew never prayed for himself, nor did he ask for any special favors. He never felt worthy of the right to ask for the Lord's help.

Around midnight, he woke with a start as his head pounded. He spent the rest of the wee hours before daybreak feeling pains throughout his body. Andrew could not understand why or what happened to him. He had always been healthy, outside of his back pain from having been thrown by Satan several years earlier.

He hadn't felt anything odd since he had felt nausea the one night he laid in a clearing in Kentucky. Or was it Virginia? He had almost been taken away to a Confederate prison that night but lucked out for some reason. That pain then, though, hadn't been nearly as bad as what he experienced at the moment.

Sharp pains to his head awakened him as no headache had ever done before. He felt more pains all over his body. Several hours of this drove him crazy. Then, as quickly as the pain came, it subsided. What the hell is happening to me? Is this a warning of what is coming? Jessie had urged him to trust his instincts and feelings but right now, he didn't understand what they were telling him. Thank God Jessie was safe!

There had been a night before he left Grant's command in early June, 1863. He witnessed something he had only heard rumors of—the general's drinking. Grant invited Andrew to have a drink with him before he left camp the next morning. Andrew accepted the invitation without hesitation. Joining General Grant would be a privilege he wouldn't be foolish enough to turn down.

Unfortunately, when he arrived at the general's headquarters, he found Grant had started without him. His aide attempted to get him to lie down and sleep it off, but the general refused.

“Andrew, my boy, come on in and join me. I know you have a long ride ahead of you tomorrow. Sit down.” He poured the lieutenant colonel a glass of the same whiskey he had been drinking.

“Thank you, sir.” Andrew looked at him, amazed how this man had accomplished what he had. No wonder he looked toward alcohol, his rumored vice.

Andrew left the headquarters shortly before midnight. They talked about different things. Surprising him, Grant told Andrew about his family, then shocked him when he asked about his own. Andrew told him about his recent marriage and described the love he had left in New Orleans that seemed like a lifetime ago.

“Get back to her soon. That region isn't safe."

“What do you mean, sir?” he asked, concern in his voice.

“We've had reports of a band of renegades, Union soldiers who have deserted their sworn duty to go plundering, pillaging, and reaping the spoils, in more ways than one. They are wanted for trial but their habit of striking under the cover of darkness has made it impossible to find them."

“What are the charges, sir?"

“Looting, assault, rape, and murder—that's just the beginning of the list."

Andrew shuddered. What if something had happened to her? No one knew how to contact him. He had received letters from her but, having been constantly on the move, they reached him months after she had sent them. The last one he had received had been written back in late November, 1862.

“Any recent news?"

“Just north of New Orleans, a few months before the city came to us, a woman was found beaten to death with a broken neck. Everything of value in her home had been stolen, along with every bit of food."

Andrew paled, visibly unnerved. He had to find out if she was all right. Why haven't they given me leave to go home to her? What if she had been hurt or worse?

“Forgive me, sir, if I'm out of line, but would you be able to find out if they have been in New Orleans? That's where my wife is. I need to know, because every time I ask for leave, Washington refuses me."

“I will try to see if there's any information and try to messenger it to you along your route."

“Thank you, sir. I'll be waiting to hear from you."

“Godspeed with your duties and I hope I don't find anything out. May you and your bride be as happy as my wife and I are. I pray only for the best for both of you."

“Thank you again, sir.” He stood up, saluted the general, then left him. He returned to his quarters and turned in. Sleep wouldn't come for him this night. The general's news disturbed him. He knew Jessie lived in danger but at this point, he was helpless to do anything for her. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the worst as he tried to clear his mind. If only I had been granted leave, I would have been with her!

At this place, Andrew's life took a turn he had never planned on. This night, as he lay in his quarters attempting to sleep, he experienced the first signs of the demons that ran his life, the ones that refused to let him sleep in peace, that drove him to irrational behavior and to find her with some almost fatal decisions.

Even though he had great respect and feelings for him, he knew Victor Templeton would be in no shape to fight off these bastards. Jessie herself wouldn't be able to stand up against them, though she wouldn't sit back and take anything without a fight. That night, he prayed the Lord would take care of her until he returned home to her.

Lying on a cot, his imagination virtually ran away with him. He saw the worst. He saw her in danger, alone and helpless. He saw himself on the outside looking in as he tried to get to her but not able to move to her defense. He felt frozen, forced to witness her pain.

No matter what he would try, the nightmares came back. When they did, he would wake up in a cold sweat. Little did Andrew Hastings know these demons followed him every day. He found they drove him to do things he didn't know he could do. They introduced him to parts of his personality he didn't know existed.

After very little sleep, Andrew woke early, gathered his things, and left for his next tour of inspection. He had nothing but good to say about General Grant's command. He would not mention Grant's drinking problem, the least Andrew felt he could do, especially if the general was able to get him news of his beloved wife.

Chapter 6

The war continued with victories on both sides. Actions became more hostile and bloody. Shiloh, Antietam, Chancellorsville—Andrew visited them all, filed his reports, and awaited news. It came to him in Gettysburg.

He had seen many things—valor, bloodshed, waste. Too many had already died. The war had yet to reach its turning point. He had met with many officers—Reynolds, Hancock, Halleck.

Andrew had a meeting with Brigadier General John Buford this day. The cavalry officer sent Andrew an invitation to ride with him. Andrew accepted his invitation quickly, an honor. Buford had a reputation for being a renowned horseman, and Andrew felt he would enjoy meeting with him this way. Riding for over an hour, inspecting lines of possible defense or attack, the general told Andrew how he felt about this place. Andrew was greatly impressed.

“The land is too beautiful. We shouldn't fight here. Unfortunately, I can't change things."

“It is indeed beautiful. The hills remind me of where I grew up in Maine,” Andrew replied as the two looked over the land they both felt would become a major part of American history. They rode back to the grounds of the Lutheran Seminary where Buford's troops camped in readiness for the next day's battle. What could be the impact this land might have on the rest of the war? They dismounted and a waiting corpsman took both horses to cool them down and let them graze.

The two officers walked toward the building when a junior officer approached them, saluting as he handed a message to Andrew. Andrew saw that the message had come from General Ulysses S. Grant. He started to open it, but his hands shook so much, Buford took it from him before he destroyed it.

“I know I shouldn't ask this, but would you read it?"

The general nodded as he opened the message. Buford's face paled and Andrew knew the news was bad.

U. S. Grant, General

Lieutenant Colonel J. A. Hastings

As I promised, I have checked into the situation in New Orleans. There was a reported murder, by beating, of the groomsman at your father-in-law's estate. There was no sign of anyone else on the property, although officials did not enter any of the buildings.

There was also reported a couple who attempted to have an army major contact you. The major, disbelieving the circumstances of your marriage, rudely sent them away.

Be advised, by my order, he was disciplined for his ignorance.

Should I find any more information, I will contact you. I suggest you contact Washington about your future separation from the Army.

Also, please accept my sympathies for what has happened. I hope your wife has found safety and will be waiting for you upon your return.

Good hunting,

U. S. Grant

Andrew's legs failed him as he slumped onto a bench. He rubbed his eyes and brushed his hair back from his face. His stomach knotted, a chill went up his spine. He thought of Marcus, a truly genteel man, who had never hurt anyone. A personable man, who always kept to himself, Marcus had a way with the estate's animals and Satan.

He thought of his wife. Deep down, he knew Jessie was in trouble, but his hands were literally tied until he heard from Stanton's office.

“I'll put your request through immediately,” Buford said as if reading Andrew's mind. “It'll take a day or two before you hear back. Do you feel up to making another inspection, or should I notify them as well?"

“I'll do it. I have to. It'll keep my mind busy.” He knew if he spent time with an old friend, it would help.

“Ride out in the morning and I'll meet with you at suppertime."

Andrew nodded. Buford put the message down and left him. Alone, Andrew picked it up, read it again and sobbed. The demons of failure and overwhelming grief hit him hard. Hanging his head, he prayed. Please, let her be alive and safe. Will she forgive me for letting her and her father down? Will I lose her thanks to these lowlifes?

In the morning, he left to find Colonel Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain and the 20th Maine. Oddly, he wanted to see someone from home, his old friend. He had met Chamberlain on many occasions in Brunswick at Bowdoin College, when he worked at the blacksmith shop and had shod some of the horses on campus. When they got together, the two old friends would talk for hours.

They would ride for hours and sometimes race each other to give their mounts a good workout. They shared other interests, sometimes enjoying an occasional day sailing or swimming. From the beginning, Andrew sensed Chamberlain had taken an instant liking to him, their friendship always an easy one. On the other hand, Andrew felt able to open up to Chamberlain about his past and other things he had not told anyone else. During one of their meetings, they swore a blood oath and promised to be loyal friends forever, no matter where their lives took them. Andrew considered himself lucky to have built this friendship with a man he felt was more like his brother than his friend.

The two friends were separated in 1848. One went to attend Bowdoin College, the other enlisted in the army. Andrew had not seen a cavalry unit until the day one came through Brunswick and stopped at his uncle's livery. He liked everything he saw. That day, he made his decision to go into the military. After the cavalrymen had left, he asked his uncle for a break, then went to find Chamberlain to tell him of his decision.

Chamberlain had been impressed by what his friend had told him. They agreed Andrew had chosen the right path for his life. Chamberlain thought his friend would do well with his future endeavors, telling Andrew that he had no doubt Andrew would become a respected officer. There had always been something that had struck Chamberlain about Andrew Hastings—he seemed to have the ability to bring out the best in those around him. Andrew commanded respect while being fair and compassionate. Chamberlain knew Andrew would go a long way.

Chamberlain would be the only person Andrew would say good-bye to when he left Maine. Andrew didn't like farewells. He thought he would rather leave quietly, then no one would make a scene. Chamberlain wished him luck and they promised to keep in contact, if possible. A few years later, when Lawrence Chamberlain wed Frances (who Lawrence called Fanny), Andrew quietly slipped into town, attended the wedding and wished them his best. Just as quietly, he left again and never visited his family. For some reason, that was a pain and hurt Andrew could not and would not deal with, and Lawrence never pushed.

Chamberlain's unit headed in the direction of Devil's Den and the Round Tops. Andrew caught up with the 20th Maine as they rode.

“Good to see you again, old friend,” Andrew said as he caught up with his regiment.

“That it is. How have you been?"

“Better yesterday than today."

“That sounds ominous. What's going on?"

“First, let me tell you, I got married."

“When?” Chamberlain smiled as he waited for Andrew to tell him his wonderful news. His friend deserved some happiness in his life.

“Almost three years ago. She's beautiful, Lawrence."

“That's great, but why the dark face?"

“Read this.” Andrew handed him the message from Grant.

“This means...” Lawrence started, as he handed the piece of paper back to him. Andrew carefully put it back in his pocket as he shrugged.

“I don't know, Lawrence, but it can't be good at all. Buford's trying to get me out so I can go find her. I've been going crazy since this came in, no sleep and the nightmares..."

“What nightmares?"

“The kind that rob me of much-needed sleep. I can't even remember when I slept the night through since I left New Orleans. I miss her so damn much. Now, I keep seeing her in danger, imagining what those bastards could be doing to her."

Understanding, Lawrence put his hand on Andrew's shoulder to offer his support. Chamberlain saw something in his longtime friend for the first time. Whoever this woman was he had married, she had been good for Andrew. He could see the change in Andrew by looking into his eyes. Elated for his friend, he always thought Andrew had deserved a better hand than the one he was dealt and it looked like he had finally been given one.

“It's about time you found someone,” Chamberlain said.

They rode on and reminisced about some of their times in Maine as they talked about their families. Andrew asked after Fanny, then their children. The meeting did Andrew good for a change, taking his mind off his worries for a short time.

A corporal rode up, saluted the officers and handed a note to Chamberlain. The unit had been ordered to move to its new position—to ward off the Confederate troops at the hill known as Little Round Top. Andrew decided now would be the time to find Buford. He wished his friend safety and good luck, then rode back toward Buford's camp.

During the next day's battles, he watched the troops with Buford from the cupola on top of the Lutheran Seminary building. At the end of the day, Andrew wrote up his reports on Buford's and Chamberlain's status and put them into the dispatch bag, along with his request to be mustered out to search for his missing wife.

Now came the worst part—waiting. Word from Washington would be slow in coming. He hoped Stanton would understand and release him from his duty. Hours later, when a rider came in with another dispatch bag, he received a letter from Charleston, South Carolina.

Andrew opened it. What was going on? Who do I know in that city?

Dear Andrew,

Jason and I hope this finds you well. We moved from New Orleans a couple weeks ago, for the safety of Charleston. Our family is fine but there is news you need to know—your Federal officers are ignorant and rude. We needed to contact you in New Orleans and they laughed in our faces, saying no Union officer would dare marry a Southerner.

Daddy died after you left. Jessie remained in the house after the funeral. No matter what, she refused to leave the house, afraid she would miss you if you came back, and worst of all—now Jessica is missing. We last saw her at Sunday dinner, three days before we left the city. She went home and we didn't hear from her. You won't believe the house when you see it. We didn't touch anything. As I said, Jessie was gone.

Please find her! I know that wherever she is, she needs you!

Help her!!

Caitlyn

He leaned against a tree, afraid he wouldn't be able to remain standing without support. Looking at the piece of paper, he saw the letter was dated in April, almost two months ago. His head spun. Everything he had imagined in his thoughts and nightmares seemed to be reality. I need to be released and soon!

A private approached him, looked at him, and asked if he could help in anyway.

“No. No, thank you.” He gave the trooper a weak salute. “What can I do for you?"

“General Buford requests your presence for the evening meal."

“I'll be there. Thanks.” Another weak salute and the private left.

Andrew looked over the lands of Adams County, Pennsylvania. How had all this started? If things hadn't happened this way ... If ... If ... If ... He felt his life slipping through his fingers, quickly and with no hope of it ever being good again.

He had a few hours to himself before he would meet Buford for the evening meal. He mounted Satan and rode. He turned toward the Chambersburg Pike where he thought Reynolds’ I Corps units should be. As he got on the road, he urged Satan to go faster. He found himself coming into another part of town, so he eased up on the reins. Satan slowed as they went through the streets.

He passed the local theater where several of the actors stood outside. Andrew dismounted and went over to the group thinking, maybe, they could give him some information.

A tall, lanky man, with somewhat curly hair and a thick mustache, walked over to him. They shook hands.

“James Harrison, at your service,” he said as he took a deep theatrical bow. Andrew smiled at the actor's flourish.

“Lieutenant Colonel Andrew Hastings. I was wondering. Has your group been in New Orleans recently?"

“No, sir. We were warned against going into that area.” He spoke with an English accent that added to his flair.

“Why?"

“You haven't heard? There is a group of marauding soldiers terrorizing the region. I've heard of several murders. They've brutalized several women and took their valuables and their food. One woman's face, sad to say, will never be the same due to the horrible beating she suffered."

“You say terrorized?"

The actor nodded.

“That was several weeks ago. I've heard they went west and they've always plied their trade at night."

“Thank you, Mr. Harrison."

“Anytime, Colonel. One thing more you may be interested in. The story coming out of New Orleans is that before they left, they took a woman with them. For her sake, if it's true, I hope you can help her."

Harrison noticed the Union officer's face drain of all color. Harrison was positive the man he spoke with did not show his feelings easily, especially with strangers. He knew that trait well, having used it many times himself as he spied for Confederate General James Longstreet. It seemed this officer had become close to the situation, too close maybe.

“Sir, may I ask? Is this personal?"

“You're damn straight it is! That woman you spoke of? She may be my wife!"

The others in the group gasped.

“Godspeed to you, sir. We wish you both well."

“Thank you for the information.” They shook hands. Andrew remounted and rode away, this time back toward Buford's headquarters. He thought about what the actor had said, uncaring and unknown to him that he had just received the information from the same notorious spy who fed Union positions to the Confederates. The Union wanted Harrison as much as the South wanted Andrew. Even if he had known, as desperate as he had become, it would have made no difference. The man had helped him, and for that, Andrew felt he owed Harrison.

Late in the afternoon, he finally returned to camp. A private took Satan to cool him down and give him feed. Andrew went to his quarters where he washed his face and hands before he went to meet Buford. When he reached the general, he saw several other officers, one being General Winfield Scott Hancock, sitting with him. He started to walk the other way when Buford called him back.

“We were discussing tomorrow's maneuvers. We agree you should get started out of here tonight for your safety."

“What are you talking about? The separation papers came through?"

“They're here. As of last evening, you've been a private citizen."

“How did it happen so fast?"

“Your papers went out in yesterday's dispatch bag in the morning. Just after you left, I took the liberty of wiring the war department to try and speed things up for you. Your papers came back in the late bag."

“My God, thank you, sir."

“I think after the last five days and your current status, you should call me John.” Andrew smiled. He appreciated what Buford had done for him and would forever owe him. “By the way, this also came in from the general."

He took the message from Grant and shook as he tried to read it. Buford again took the paper from him, and as General Hancock gave him his chair, Andrew sat down. He hoped for good news while he expected the worst.

From: General U. S. Grant

To: Lieutenant Colonel Hastings,

More unfortunate information has just now reached me from a trusted officer who I asked to look into this personally.

He reported to me the following:

Your father-in-law's groomsman, Marcus, was found dead from a massive blow to the head behind one of the estate's buildings.

The other two servants—Geoffrey and Molly—have apparently left, not only the estate, but the city, their personal possessions being taken with them.

The second story to the house was gone through and ransacked—probably by someone looking for valuables.

There was one room that had been ransacked more so than the others with not only drawers taken out, but some furniture being broken.

Damage from the ransacking was minimal, save the bloodstains on the wall by the library doors to the garden and a large stain on the hardwood flooring. There were also stains of the same type in the aforementioned bedroom.

Finally, as to Mrs. Jessica Templeton Hastings—there were no signs of her having been present on the estate for several weeks. There were several items that stood out though: a hat, which had been trampled, and a purse on the hallway floor. Several drapery sections had been yanked down and the cording removed—in the library and second floor bedroom. In the same bedroom, which was assumed to be her room, a torn black dress was crumpled in a pile along with what looked like the remnants of a petticoat.

Andrew, you have my command's sympathies and support. I hope that you get back to New Orleans as soon as possible in order to initiate the search for your wife. Our prayers are with you. Please let me know if I can be of any further service to you with this matter or anything else.

Respectfully,

U. S. Grant

Buford handed him the papers. He read them again before he handed them to the generals seated with them. Buford called his aide and ordered him to pack seven days rations, along with the lieutenant colonel's personal gear. After that, he was to saddle Satan. He handed the separation papers to Andrew, who looked at them with his mouth agape. Buford and the other two grinned.

“Separation papers?” he stammered. The surprise showed on his face.

“Washington finally came through although the note I received told me they aren't happy losing your services."

“I don't know what to say, sir. And..."

“You were promoted prior to this, but the paperwork was held up until you were in one area for a time longer than a day. Congratulations, Colonel Hastings."

The others rose with Buford and saluted the newly promoted officer. Andrew rose, returned their salute and thanked them.

“For knowing you for the very short time I've been here, you've all become very close to my heart. I don't know how to thank you for all you have done to help me with this situation."

“It's been a pleasure to help out. Keep us informed of your progress. I want to meet this lady, she sounds real special."

“She is, sir."

General Grant's report had been given back to him and he put it in the same pocket as the other messages. He pulled out his wallet and showed them a ragged-edged portrait of her he kept with him. They were right, she was special. He told them about Harrison's information from earlier.

“You'll leave after dark. Once you get the chance, you may want to get out of uniform. It's an idea for later."

“I don't know how I'll ever repay you for this."

“Find your wife. Now, let's get some supper."

On the eve of the battle, the troops ate heartily, or as best they could, considering the rations. When they finished eating, Buford had Andrew's horse brought to him. He shook the general's hand as he mounted the stately animal. He thanked the general and gave Buford a final salute before he left.

As he left, he felt the adrenaline rush of the chase. His heart pounded hard. I will find her, come hell or high water!

At the beginning, he traveled by night as he headed west toward the Blue Ridge Mountains through Cumberland. He heard of skirmishing on the eastern side of the mountains and he wanted to bypass it all to make time getting south. Along the way, he listened to men tell stories of what they knew about the marauding deserters from Eastern Virginia. His stomach knotted with each new tale of murder and mayhem.

Fortunately, the actor he had met in Gettysburg and the information from Grant had prepared him for the worst, although nothing made sense. Jessie was somewhere out there with three men who wouldn't think twice about hurting her or worse, ending her life just for fun, or because she was no longer of any use to them.

He traveled down a back road in either Western Virginia or Eastern Kentucky, not sure and not caring, when he ran upon a small band of Confederate soldiers. He urged Satan off to the side into a small thicket, then quieted him while he waited for the men to pass by.

Following Buford's advice, Andrew quickly changed into some clothes to make him look like a local farmer. He knew he could, if need be, change his accent if he had to speak with anyone. He came back to Satan's side, grateful that because of the work he had done for the army and the President, he did not have the standard cavalry issued gear when it came to his saddle and tack. Anyone looking at him would take him for a semi-well-to-do man, not a colonel in the Union Army.

He made his way into Tennessee as he continued south through the Shenandoah Valley. The trip became slow and tedious, but once Andrew found a valley to cut through the mountains, the going became easier and the ground afforded him quicker movement that seemed to please Satan. From there, he made his way to the Tennessee River, then followed its twists and turns for what seemed an eternity. Finding some Federal troops making their way to Grant's command in Mississippi, Andrew joined them.

He managed transportation down river on one of the Union's ironclad ships that had orders to patrol the river and put down any fighting should the need arise. He heard many more stories about the three bastards as he headed further south. When he reached Grant's position in the area of Holly Springs, he got word of a sighting of those he sought in Eastern Texas.

General U. S. Grant had something else for him—wanted posters. Now he had names and faces to go with the tales of horror. He studied them, the images burned into his memory. It maddened him that, earlier, he had told his superiors about the desertions and their neglect to do anything about the problem. As he read the papers, his anger turned to raging fury. The more he read, the more his hatred intensified. Was all the work I've done being ignored and a waste of time? Now, everything he had warned them about had come back to haunt him—his wife made to suffer.

After Andrew left Gettysburg, orders followed him from the President and the Secretary of War. Figuring he would check in with Grant, the papers waited for him at his headquarters. They read:

Even though your papers of separation were processed and you left with the rank of colonel, we are pressing you into further service for the United States. The President has been concerned about the three men you seek. We know of the search for your wife and are sure that reactivating you will be beneficial to all involved.

We have received information of the Confederacy's concern in this matter.

Jefferson Davis has, in a moment of truce, asked that you consider his personal interest as well. I understand that there are family ties involved.

This order opens up every resource the United States government has. You will have the powers of arrest and the use of Extreme Prejudice.

Godspeed to you!

He looked at the paper and reread the orders several times. Shocked, Andrew kept coming back to the words use of Extreme Prejudice. He read and reread the orders again. Does that mean I can kill the bastards and get away with it because I'll be removing a pestilence? Will my raging revenge push me to do to them what they have done to others?

“Andrew, are you all right?” Grant asked.

“You know, sir? I just received what anyone in my position would want. Some, in fact, would kill for these orders. But if I go off half-cocked with rage and kill them, then I'm no better than they are. I don't know if I can handle that or even how Jessie would feel about it. She could hate me."

“You will do what you have to and it will be the right thing. Face it, Colonel Hastings, you were given your promotion because of your clear head. I hope you don't mind, but I did some checking into your service records. You are an excellent officer and you have a reputation for fairness, which at this point, is a rarity."

“But this is personal, sir. It's my wife they have done those horrible things to."

“Rely on your good sense. Besides, I want to see those bastards hang."

Andrew smiled. “No more than I, General."

“One other thing, Andrew. Word's been passed down through Confederate channels. You are to be left alone. The price on your head no longer exists as per Davis’ and Lee's orders.” Amazed at this news, Andrew remembered Davis had a personal stake in this, thanks to Caitlyn's marriage to Jason.

With his new orders in hand, restocked rations and astride a rested horse, Colonel Andrew Hastings left Grant's headquarters to begin the last leg of his journey to New Orleans. It scared him more and more as he got closer to the place where he had left his wife, the place he had depended on for her safety.

Satan had weathered the trip well so far. He would be able to stable his horse soon before they started the real chase. About twenty-five miles out of and nearing the city, the knots in his stomach tightened more. He feared what he would find at the house. The images of what had happened to her came to him every night when he closed his eyes to sleep. The nightmares consumed him to the point that they became real, instead of bad dreams.

Early evening, it started to rain ... and, as he slowly neared the city, he remembered...

* * * *

Jessie came to, unsure of her surroundings. She noticed strange things, like the smell of dried blood from the wounds where she had been slapped hours before. Odd fragrances in the area of wherever they had seen fit to stop came to her. She felt queasy and lightheaded, her arms numb from being in one position for so long, her fingers icy cold from little or no circulation.

She traveled, bound to the inside of her father's coach, unconscious most of the time. When she finally awoke, some twenty-four hours had passed. They had crossed Louisiana after taking a barge across the great Mississippi River. Twenty-four hours out of my life lost forever to me.

Gordon had thrown a cover over his prisoner to keep the shady barge owner from asking any more questions than need be. After all, Gordon had no idea who bought this man's silence, information or loyalties and he didn't care to find out. He owned this woman and that's the way he intended to keep things.

Jessie stirred, sore in every joint of her body and terrified that this nightmare had become actual reality. Why? Where is my husband? Will he be able to save me from these predators? Andrew...

She figured she lay inside her father's brougham, on the floor and bound to the doorpost. She lay alone with her thoughts, unable to comprehend why this had happened to her. She thought of her parents, Victor and Theresa who, fortunately, had gone to a place together where none of this could touch them. She thought of her sister, who had taken her daughter into the safety of her home. Thank God!

She thought of her little daughter, Sarah, just walking. How much of her new little milestones will I miss? She missed her precious little one and prayed for her safety.

Jessie thought of Andrew, the handsome man who she had married a little over two—no, almost three years ago. She knew her sanity depended on her memories. Tall and good-looking with sandy blond hair, he had dark, sapphire blue eyes that sparkled, especially when he had been mischievous. He became the love of her life from the instant they had met after she had literally walked into him in New Orleans. Soul mates in no uncertain terms. Now they faced separation by this damned war and all the ugliness that went with it. God, I need him!

She tried to see outside but saw only the darkness of the skies before the break of the next day's dawn. She drifted back into an uneasy sleep, her head aching and feeling faint. The pain in her body took over, causing her to pass out once more, a helplessness that Jessie did not understand.

When she regained consciousness, she hid her eyes due to the glare of the bright sunlight. She tried to pull herself up so she could sit. Her back ached from the position she had lain in for hours. Her eyes had just started to open again from being swollen shut. As she moved, she groaned, her head pounding, her face sore. She heard the latch on the carriage door move.

“It's about time you came to."

She had trouble focusing her eyesight and could barely see the silhouetted figure standing in the opening. He reached over, untied her from the doorpost, and yanked her by the cord binding her wrists. She groaned again. Tears streamed down her face and stung her eyes and the open wounds on her cheeks.

“That's what I like on a whore's face,” Baker started. “Sheer terror—shows me I'm the boss."

She tried to look away from him, her eyes hurting from the bright, glaring light. He shook her violently as he yanked on her wrists. She slumped back as he grabbed her hair and pulled her to him. For a second, as they were inches apart, she saw an odd look in his eyes. Then, as his look changed again, he pushed her back onto the carriage floor and backhanded her face. She couldn't scream out because the cloth they had bound her mouth with had silenced her cries.

Jessie went crazy. Never had she been treated as she had been over the last few hours. She had tried to pull her hands back to shield herself against any more blows, but his grip tightened. She saw the shadow of his raised arm, ready to strike her again. She braced herself against the next blow.

She closed her eyes tightly and waited. As he prepared to strike her again, she felt herself flying out of the carriage and into the dirt as she heard scuffling and punches being thrown. Dirt flew in her face from someone being flung to the extremely dry ground. She coughed from the dust she swallowed. Her eyes burned as she hid her face, trying to move away from her captors.

“I told you to leave her alone. We can't use her if you beat her to death.” Gordon noticed their prisoner as she tried to inch away from them. “And you...” He picked up the trembling woman, threw her over his shoulder, and carried her to the carriage. He untied her bloodied and swollen hands and feet, then removed the gag.

“I'll tell you this once. Do as you're told and we won't tie you up again. Misbehave, and ... Well, I think you can finish it."

“Won't she run away?” Samuals asked.

“Not if she knows what's good for her.” He looked at Jessie, nowhere near the beauty they'd kidnapped from the library of the huge Louisiana estate. He could not understand why she hadn't been tamed. This was prime real estate and should have had a claim staked to it long ago. Maybe he would...

Jessie grabbed her petticoat to rip four pieces off it. She wrapped first her ankles, then her wrists. She tried to get the dirt out of the wounds so she could stave off infection, even a little. Anything would help. She noticed Gordon watched her intently, but stopping the bleeding became her main concern. When she had done that, she quickly checked that her dress was buttoned up, not giving either one of the three men any hints. Only the Lord knew that the two bigger guys took whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted.

She could feel him staring at her intently. They had terrorized her over the past day's time and she still fought. He had found a filly that definitely needed to be broken and he would do it. If anyone stood in his way, they'd have one hell of a fight from him, even if he ran into the man she may be in love with. He didn't doubt for a second she had someone. He walked over to her.

“If I meet whoever might be coming after you, if anyone is, oh, the stories I can tell him, right before I kill him."

She shuddered hearing this. He stood over her and grinned. As she hid her face, he grabbed her by her hair, matted with blood from the beatings of last night. Her neck wrenched back, he brushed the hair out of her face. He looked at her before he kissed her hard. She hit him with what strength she had left. He laughed as he grabbed her hands and held them together, causing pain to race through her body.

“You will be mine, woman. Remember that,” he yelled at her.

“I'll die first before you ever get that far. You've raped me and you've abused me, but you won't have me. Someone will come looking for me, then you'll be the one with the pain and the agony and if I'm lucky enough, I'll kill you myself!” she screamed back at him as she struggled with him.

The most she had said since they had left her house that night, it came out of her like the wrath of a mother tiger protecting her cubs. She knew Andrew would come after her and keep her safe. She would have to stay alive for him, though she feared, once he found out what had happened to her at the hands of these monsters, he would not want her. To see him just once more...

If he did stay with her and accept it, then she would tell him about their daughter. She would never use little Sarah to keep him. Maybe, just maybe, their happiness would come back to them. Even if it didn't, she would still have their daughter and a piece of the man she loved and always would.

Gordon looked at her. This little wildcat still had a lot of fire left in her. Good. It would make the victory even sweeter!

“Just who do you think will come after you? You packed your bag and you left. You were all alone in that big mansion. Does anyone, outside your darkies, know you? Do they care if the mistress of the house is missing? And besides, if someone were to come after you, would they even want you after we've had our way with you over and over and over..."

That thought seared her mind. She shuddered as a chill went up and down her spine. She had never encountered men as disgusting and vile as these three, and prayed she never would again. At least, with that warning and knowledge, I can somehow prepare myself for more abuse, or can I?

She drifted off in her thoughts of Andrew on the day he left New Orleans, handsome in his federal uniform, wearing the navy blue coat over a white blouse, lighter blue pants, and the rider's boots to distinguish his service in the cavalry. His hat, wide-brimmed with gold braiding finished this out, making him even more dashing. The saber, sheathed in its polished scabbard as it hung from his waist, added to the look. The yellow scarf he used to dry my tears ... I grabbed it, not giving it back, putting it with the book of poetry after he left. His sapphire blue eyes twinkling...

“Hey, didn't you hear me? Who would come for you?"

This is how she planned to survive this ordeal, his image before her eyes, and Sarah's, their darling little girl. Thank God she was safe! She didn't want to think about what these bluecoats would have done to a defenseless child.

She suddenly found herself on the ground. She saw his massive shadow loom over her as he came at her again and left her with no way to get away. Not for now at least, although she would bide her time. Gordon kicked her in the side and knocked the wind out of her. She curled up in pain moaning.

He yanked her up, then dragged her over to the horse trough. He threw her into the icy water and held her head under. He pulled her out and she tried to scratch him as he pushed her under again. She fought and fought against his strength. As her life started to leave her, she tried to grab the wooden sides of the trough as her sleeve ripped on a nail. He finally pulled her out when it seemed she no longer had any fight left in her. Her hands fell back into the water before she came up and gasped for air.

Why won't he just give me peace and end my nightmare? Each time he held her under, she felt her weaknesses increase to take her body over. She prayed for the freedom death would give her. Her struggling began to slow as she lost against the hands that held her life in them. Please, let it be over.

“I told you to behave. That means listening to me when I talk to you."

He pushed her head down harder and longer.

“Hey? What are you doing?” Samuals yelled, trying to be a man. He jumped on Gordon in an attempt to pull him off their captive. It didn't work as Gordon threw him back. Baker involved himself as the two men brawled. In the meantime, Samuals picked himself up and went to help her out of the water trough. They pulled him away and punched him.

“Stay away from her unless you're told otherwise.” Gordon knew the man looked at him like a father. Samuals hung to his every word just as he had a mean-tempered, domineering parent, a trait Gordon constantly used against him.

“You can't keep hurting people. What did she do to us?” the man moaned.

“She's a woman!” Baker screamed. He hated woman unless he could use them, abuse them, and throw them away. He would look at a woman, any female, and remember his mother, the tramp. She couldn't wait for his father to leave for his day at work before she plied her whorish ways. Sixteen years old, seeing his mother in bed with a lover had changed him for life. Then the incident with his girlfriend...

She tried to pull herself out of the trough, lucky that she could sit up as she rested her head on the side of the long tub. She tried to catch her breath but had a very hard time accomplishing this one simple act of living. She coughed, which hurt her even more.

The monsters continued fighting each other, neither winning the match. Finally, they lay on the ground, tired from the exertion. Baker stood up first. He started to cross over to the trough, when he heard the click of the hammer on the revolver.

“Are you letting that whore break up a good thing? Get rid of her. She'll only hold us back if we expect to get away.” He inched his way toward her. She moaned.

“Stay away from her. She could be valuable."

“How?"

“Ransom."

“No way. She's a loner. Nobody even cares about her."

“Somebody does, don't they, sweetie?” Gordon asked as he looked at the drenched half-dead woman.

“Nobody cares, that's why she was picked. Use and abuse like any bitch."

Lightheaded, she started to sink back into the water.

“Catch her. Don't let her go under again.” Baker hauled her out of the water. Jessie felt weak, unable to stand up.

“Put her in the barn and make sure she doesn't go anywhere."

Gordon thought more on what she had said. She was right, somebody would come after her. She was something, that was for sure. Still, Baker had been right. They kidnapped her because they thought her to be a loner—she had been alone—they had watched her to be sure. Outside of the servants, she had no visitors, no boyfriend, and definitely no husband. She wore no ring on her finger. She had not gone out except for that Sunday. When he went through the house, he found no evidence of a family at all. That had been another thing that struck him as odd, the total lack of valuables. They must have been hidden.

Gordon watched Baker drag her into the barn and considered a couple other things at hand. Baker would be a problem unless he could be controlled, Samuals another story. He went over to the man lying on the ground. If anyone became a liability, it would be him. He would have to go because he couldn't be trusted.

He thought about Samuals a little more. Since they had left New Orleans, he had shown some glimmers of strength and guts. This could prove dangerous because, at any time, Samuals could turn against them. He could turn them in to the authorities to save his own skin. One day, the man would stand up to them—and bury them.

He walked to the barn and passed the wagon that her valise had been thrown on. He took the bag and looked through it. When he found nothing of interest, he threw it on a pile of wood and lit a match to it. She didn't need the fine, rich things anymore.

He entered the barn to check on her. Baker had bound her to a post, her hands tied to a hook above her head. He could hear her breathing heavily, desperately trying to take in whatever air she could, every breath precious to her. Each time she had gone crazy, Baker had slapped her harder to shut her up.

“Food ... Hungry ... Please...” she murmured, feeling half-alive. The only sensations she knew had been the stinging pains of her face where she had been hit, her eyes swollen shut again and the bruising from the continual blows.

“The princess is hungry.” Gordon laughed. Before he left, he told Baker to get some food and feed her, and "don't do anything else!" Baker left, then returned with an apple. He cut it in pieces and gave her the fruit. She ate the slices. She constantly watched the knife as he taunted her. With everything she had gone through, she didn't want to be slashed.

With the apple gone, he threw the core into one of the stalls. As he folded the knife and put it in his pocket, he went over to her.

“Stan thinks you're his, but I saw you first. He can have you, but he doesn't know what we'll enjoy. Won't we, bitch?” He held her face to force her to look at him. His other hand started feeling her. He kissed her. As he leaned against her, his weight began to pull her down. The ropes holding her hands above her head cut even deeper into her skin. Her wrists swelled more as the bandaging she had tried to put on the earlier wounds had come off in the trough. She felt blood run down her arms.

Leaning on her, he kissed her neck while his hands crept up underneath her skirt. She tried to scream but his dirty hand quickly covered her mouth. Why was it happening again? She didn't try to fight it. How can I, with no strength left? He made sure she couldn't do anything when he tied her to the post. Her feet had been positioned on either side of the beam he had bound her to, just high enough so she couldn't put them on anything solid. In essence, this caused her to hang by her wrists even when he didn't pull her down. He had wanted to make sure she couldn't flee in the middle of the night.

He had his way with her, coarse and uncaring in his touch. He forced her legs apart and shoved himself into her, then roughly satisfied his needs with her. She's my little, rich whore. While he pushed into her, he groped and squeezed her with one hand while he clamped his other over her mouth until he wanted to kiss her. His whiskey breath made her sick and faint. He looked at her with an arrogant smile on his face. She tried to look away but he forced her to look at him.

“Just remember, honey. I found you first, not him. You'll service me, then maybe Gordon. Understand?"

Her heart sank.

“Is this the only way you can ever do it? With any woman?” she asked him. She figured most of his conquests were like this. He had to use his power over a woman who had absolutely no way to fight him, as she had no choice but to somehow satisfy his needs against her will. It had to be the reason his intense hatred of women that made him enjoy his work so much more.

He got off her and left her bound to the post as she hung helpless and used. He smiled as he shoved the dirty cloth into her mouth. He walked out of the barn. The monster had gone but he would return. So would the others. She had to try and make plans to escape as soon as possible. She couldn't be sure where they had stopped but she had heard Beaumont might be their destination. That meant Texas and west. They could not have gotten too far away from New Orleans, but then again, she had no idea of how much time had passed.

He had closed the door to the barn and left her in the darkness of the early evening. She quickly tried to figure out how long she had been conscious. The bright sun, if she remembered right, should be overhead. Am I even thinking straight? That meant noon. No, it's starting to darken more. That told her late afternoon or early evening. How much time had passed? She didn't know. Where are my wits, or have I lost them? Jessie's mind spun out of control, her grasp of time and reality gone. The more she tried to find an answer, the more confused she became.

The time was actually late, more than twenty-four hours since hell had begun. Chilly, her clothes felt damp from the drowning attempt. She realized he had left her hang with her clothes half pulled off after he had raped her again. She fell asleep as the cool evening breezes found their way into the barn, but kept jerking awake from the pain in her wrists. She would have to stand taller while she tried to touch her feet to the floor of the barn. Can I cut my wrists and bleed to death?

Chapter 7

Andrew sat for a while and watched the skies light up. Lightning streaked through the darkness as rain fell in heavy sheets. Remembering back, he stood up. He checked on Satan and discovered he had wandered around under the overhang of the porch, out of the rain. When he made sure Satan was safe out of the elements, he went back upstairs in the mansion he had once called home.

He put his hand on the doorknob of the front door. Slowly, he turned his key in the lock and cautiously pushed the door open, letting it go out of his hand. He stood in the doorway, frozen in fear of what he might find. He saw the huge window the winding staircase ran along. Lightning flashes illuminated the entrance hall with its marbled floor and crystal chandelier.

Another flash let him see her hat on the floor by the bottom of the stairs, trampled as the report had said. He saw her purse underneath a chair beneath the huge wall mirror. As he stepped forward to pick it up, he felt something under his foot. Andrew looked down and found he stepped on an envelope.

Lowering the chandelier, Andrew lit the candles before raising it back up. Light filled the area joining the lightning that was becoming fainter with the easing of the storm. Looking back at the envelope he had picked up, he saw it had been addressed to his wife. Out of his mind, he did not recognize his own handwriting as he slowly opened it to read:

My dearest Angel,

Your letter just reached me. I can't tell you how sorry I am about Victor. He was very dear to me and I feel a huge loss in my heart.

I cannot imagine how you feel. I am deeply sorry about the family's loss. I regret that I couldn't be there to help you through this. Your letter got to me too late for me to get leave to come home to you. If I figured right, it reached me almost a year after you wrote me. It seems that the mail never seems to catch up with me because I'm always traveling—at least that's what they tell me.

You know I would have been there if I could, but you are also aware I am there in spirit, as well as in your heart.

I've been all over the Tennessee-Kentucky area of the Trans-Mississippi region, having recently been in the Cumberland Gap. After that, I'll head toward Gettysburg, Pennsylvania. I'll be there in July and look forward to meeting an old friend from where I grew up in Maine. I'll tell you about him later when we're back together. May that be soon—although it'll never be soon enough!

I miss you more than words could ever say. I hate not being with you, feeling your love, and holding you next to me. Damn this war!!

Again, my sorrow for your loss is deep. My sorrow for us is unending, my love is eternal.

Until we are together again,

I am forever yours—

He read his letter, his teardrops smudging some of the words. He clenched his fists as his soul felt like it had been torn apart to a point beyond repair. Andrew looked at the envelope he had posted back in March, immediately after he had received one from her. Victor's death hurt him and Andrew felt terrible at not having been at her side when she needed him.

Carefully, he folded the paper and replaced the letter in the envelope. Andrew crossed the floor to pick up her purse and found it had not been gone through. He opened it to find their wedding portrait, seeing it for the first time. Next to it, in the small double frame, Andrew gazed at the portrait of a baby. He would have to congratulate Caitlyn and Jason when he saw them next. He looked more closely at the picture and thought he noticed something odd about it. The child looks a little bit like my side of the family, like me, in fact. Could this be my daughter? Do I dare let myself believe it? Could something wonderful come from this pain?

Andrew hoped more than anything Jessie and he had had this good fortune. A baby girl. He felt hesitant to believe the possibility, fearful this would be taken away from him as his wife had been. My God, what would they do to a child? Andrew felt the fear—and rage—intensify.

As he walked around the first floor, he discovered the living room, like the library, had been ransacked. This fact had not been in the report. Furniture knocked over, drawers pulled out and dumped, books thrown to the floor, glass smashed. In the library, the evidence he saw caused him to suspect the men he had to deal with could not be that smart. Victor's priceless first editions had been thrown to the floor, not taken. He looked at the bloodstains on the wall and on the hardwood floor. These bastards are mine!

The more he picked his way through the mess, the tighter the knot in his stomach became. He slowly went up the long, winding staircase to the second floor. He held onto the banister for support, his body feeling weak and numb. Halfway up the staircase, he grabbed the banister tighter as he felt his legs go weak. He turned and sat on one of the steps, leery of going any further. He felt dizzy as his head spun from the lightheaded feeling that set in deeper.

After he had made his way to the top of the staircase, he looked around the second floor of the once beautiful mansion. He checked in each room, one-by-one. The guestrooms and the master bedroom had been searched, but not like the library. Last, he went to the door of her room—their room—the one they had shared before he left. He paused and took a deep breath.

Andrew turned the knob and hesitated before he pushed the door open. The farther he pushed the door, the more his worst fears were confirmed. It had definitely been his wife they took from New Orleans in the middle of the night several months ago. He looked in horror at what faced him. Why had this happened? Why, to her?

He knew she would have tried to leave him a hint, even a small one, of what had happened that night. He looked for any clue but where to begin became the question. He would find her, no matter what or how long it took.

He carefully began to sift through what remained of her possessions, his stomach in another tight knot. The feeling of dread returned. He usually didn't depend on those kinds of feelings, but now, he took everything into account. He remembered she kept telling him to trust his instincts, that they could save his life. She had told him his feelings might one day save him.

Andrew thought it strange as several months before, at approximately the time Grant's information had said she had been kidnapped and taken from New Orleans, he had felt sharp pains one night. He had figured they came from a stomach virus or something he had eaten. Now, he wondered if he had actually felt her pain as she had been beaten and hurt by the three renegades. What the hell...

He remembered a day almost two years before. He sat in a clearing, camped on his way to another encampment. Drinking a cup of coffee after taking a swim in the creek, he felt the worst stomach pains he had ever had. He had an enemy visitor he'd been able to put off because of the pain. The soldier left him with the belief he was a Reb. What had happened to her? Had Jessie had the little girl in the photo at that very moment? Andrew started taking her advice to trust his feelings as every one of them had a meaning, even though he might not find out the reason until much later.

He came back to the task at hand. Andrew found the book of poetry, carefully hidden out of the thieves’ sight. It seemed as if it had been put there, to look thrown and worthless. He picked it up.

As he opened it, he found an envelope. He pulled out a letter and, while he read it, her wedding band stared at him. He held the ring tightly, holding back tears as he read:

17 April 1862

My darling,

The war is coming closer, day by day, hour by hour. We can hear the armies fighting in the distance. The Federal ships are in the harbor. I know it's just a matter of time! I cannot damn your Yankees, as many in the city have and do, because of your loyalty to your blue leadership. I am scared and miss you terribly!

Father, fortunately, is in a place with mother, where this cannot touch them. This is a blessing.

I am putting my wedding band in this letter and hope that you may find it first. No one else! I hope and pray that I see you before you read this, my love, for if you are reading this, I shudder to think what has happened to me.

If you are reading this, then the worst has happened. Go to my sister. She will have news of anything that has happened.

I think they were going to Charleston to get away from the coming dread.

As you are reading this, then I trust that our favorite book will keep us together until we are in each other's arms again.

You are, and always will have, my love.

Always, J

P.S. Please hurry back to me!

He carefully put the ring with the letter back in the book. He walked around the room, touched his wife's dress before he saw the cord hanging on the bedstead. He found the washbowl and threw up. Throwing the bowl across the room, Andrew heard it smash into pieces. He didn't have to think about what they had done to her. The bastards would hang all right! I'll tie the noose to the highest tree!

Andrew picked up the book and walked out of the room. He closed the door. As he went downstairs, he found an earring on one of the treads. In his hand, he held one of a pair of diamonds he had given her on their wedding night. When, or if, they came back to this house, they would look for the mate together.

He went into the library and remembered his first night in this house. At the French doors, Andrew looked outside through the curtains. As he looked down at the jamb, he spied the blood trail down the woodwork. With clenched fists, he suddenly hit the wall with an anger he had no idea lived inside him as he felt hatred like never before.

The storm returned and raged on. He remembered Satan and went out to take him back to the stable. Taking his saddle off, he hung it on a rail. Andrew put him in a stall and found some feed. He returned to the house and went back into the library.

He stared at the floor, mostly at the bloodstain. Angered and sickened more, he took a nearby pillow and covered it. He sat on the leather couch and figured he would spend the night here, instead of upstairs, where he couldn't handle what he had seen. Andrew knew he'd never be able to sleep in that room again, because all the good memories had been overshadowed by the bad. He would get a fresh start in the morning.

He picked up another cushion and, as he went to put it down at the end of the sofa so he could lie down, he found it—a large spot, bloody with strands of long, auburn hair, staring back at him. Squeezing the pillow, he screamed. Thunder crashed overhead. He threw it across the library at the desk and knocked over the oil lamp that remained in the same spot Jessie had put it on that fateful night.

The storm raged on for another few hours before it finally moved off. He tried to sleep but couldn't because his demons returned. Around dawn, the storm returned—a crack of lightning, another crash of thunder. A few minutes later when he went to the stable to check on Satan, he noticed it.

The roof of the house burned from the earlier strike of lightning. It looked like the lightning had danced across the roof, leaving several gaping holes filled with fire in the shingles. He ran back in the house, into the library, and got his coat, hat, and the book of poetry. He left the house and went back to the stable where he saddled Satan and put the book in one of his saddlebags before throwing it across the horse's back. He put on his coat and hat, mounted up and rode out.

Down the street, he stopped and looked back. He saw no one on the street, but that did not mean he hadn't been seen. He knew what people would think. He turned Satan around and watched the flames engulf the house. By the time any fire apparatus arrived on location, the roof had collapsed, charred remains the only things left. The house, where wonderful memories had turned into horrible experiences, burned to the ground. Gone! Nature had solved his problem easily enough. Thank God, that question was answered. Andrew considered returning to this place in the future with his wife, but seriously doubted either one of them would want to live there again.

He went back toward the fireground to find the police chief as he conferred with the fire chief. He guided Satan over to them, still in the saddle, and introduced himself. He explained his relationship with the family.

“What happened?” he asked.

“We're not sure, it could have been a lightning strike, or it could have been arson."

“Arson?"

“Someone said they saw a rider leaving the premises before dawn. That person may have set it. The property has been empty for a while and there have been looters going through these places and, after they get any spoils, they torch them."

“This property is part of a military investigation. I would appreciate it if you would keep the word arson and the information you just gave me between us. This comes from the top, of both governments."

“What, if I might ask, are you investigating?” Chief William Bennett asked.

“Three army deserters who have been linked to major crimes, including rape and murder, with a newer charge of kidnapping just added."

“What's your interest? Official, or personal?"

“Both. The President's office, the War Department, President Davis’ office, and most of the military want them. I want them because they have my wife.” He saw the shock on Bennett's face.

“Colonel, you have my full cooperation. I didn't realize your connection with this. It went through New Orleans after her disappearance had been discovered. I just hope you find them, especially your wife."

“Thank you and, by the way, the fire came from a lightning strike, not intentionally set, although I wish I had come up with the idea. One other thing, Chief—I was the rider the witness saw leaving here. I got my horse out of the barn to get away from the house."

“I just want you to know, Colonel, I am Confederate in every sense of the word. I don't have a real love for Yankees, but these three? They ain't human. Your wife's folk? Well, they're good people. I had heard that a Yank married into the family and figured he had to be good people, too. I hope to hell you find her and when you return, build a new home where the ruins smolder for the three of you."

“Wait a minute? The three of us?” Hastings asked in disbelief.

“You didn't know? Your missus gave birth to a baby—girl, I think."

Andrew shook his head.

“Where's the baby, now?” Andrew asked, numb.

“Not sure. Maybe with her sister's family."

“Caitlyn didn't tell me."

“Your wife kept it a secret. I mean, she being Confederate and a Union wife in a secessionist state, some don't take kindly to that these days. She was also alone. She had a notion the baby may be safer that way. Good thing, as I hate to think what they would have done to a child."

Andrew's emotions reeled.

“Chief, thank you. You've been a big help. One other thing, sir. I'm going to go take a look through what's left of the house. Then I'm leaving to follow those bastards. I'd appreciate it if you would keep an eye on the estate for me."

“Sure thing. Shouldn't be a problem.” The two men shook hands and the police chief left. Andrew led Satan to a safe place on the grounds of the estate, then went to look over the remnants of his wife's family home.

One thing kept nagging at him. In some way, it seemed these guys didn't get what they sought. He remembered Jessie had once spoken about hiding places in the house. Unless somebody knew exactly what they searched for, no one would have any idea of where to look.

He walked into where the kitchen had once been, somewhat damaged a bit. Looking up through a gaping hole in the ceiling into one of the bedrooms, he saw something that didn't look right. He climbed on the counter of the cook's workplace in the middle of the kitchen to get a better look.

Andrew reached up through the hole and tried to dislodge a locked metal box. He broke the lock, opened it and looked inside. He found Jessie's jewelry, along with her mother's, including the garnet necklace Victor had given her the spring after they married; her father's rings and his pocket watch; along with some of the family's smaller heirlooms. Tucked in the corner of the box, he found a small, wrapped present. He moved it to see the tag with his name on it. He opened it and found a small picture frame holding their wedding portrait, slightly different from the one he had taken from her purse.

Andrew sat among the ruins and remembered their wedding day. They had gone for the sitting right after they arrived at the reception. Her portrait had been the one the photographer had taken. This one must be the artist's portrait. He had left New Orleans before Jessie received them back, so he never saw the finished ones. As he looked at them, his eyes welled with tears. He replaced the gift in the lock box and the photograph that had become ragged from wear in his pocket. He figured Jessie had hidden things thinking she protected family treasures. If only she knew!

He looked around some more and hoped he could find something else without having to go upstairs. The fire chief warned him of the structural damage to the house. Though unsafe, Andrew told him he would take his chances as he had some things he needed to check on and retrieve. He told Chief Murphy he didn't intend on coming back in the near future, if ever.

He thought better of doing anything too fast. He had to see her again and to do something stupid like getting himself hurt would not get them together any quicker. He chose each step gingerly as he made sure he had stable footing. He looked around and found another box. When he finally pulled it toward him, Andrew grabbed it and put it on the counter. Opening it, he found bank notes and stock certificates from the Bank of England. Victor must have kept these in case they needed money, since the current monetary standards in the United States, especially in the Confederacy, had fallen into turmoil.

Jessie had protected her family's wealth and their future. He took the small double frame out of his pocket once more to look at the pictures. He remembered their wedding portrait had not been completed at the time he left due to various delays with the artist. It had turned out amazingly good but, of course, with his angel of a wife, it didn't matter. The portrait was beautiful. I will find you. I swear on my life and our love.

He looked at the baby portrait. He took it out of the frame and looked to see if it had a name but nothing had been written on the back. He turned it back and gazed some more at his daughter. Deep down inside him, he knew he had fathered her. It's a whole new game now. In order to have his family together, he had to find the most important lady in his life. Though still somewhat unsure about her, he wanted to meet his daughter before she grew up and he missed it. He wanted and needed Jessie. He had to get her back and soon. Their separation killed him a little more each day, especially after he found out about his newest little angel.

He took everything and put it in his saddlebags. He mounted up, finally ready to leave the doom of the house. Maybe they would come back, maybe they wouldn't. It would be up to her, but if it was his choice, he never wanted to come back, ever.

Andrew made one stop before he left. He went to the other side of the property to the Templeton family cemetery. He stood before the graves of Victor and Theresa and stared at the tombstones. He sank to his knees and his heart ached as he apologized.

“I promised you I would keep your daughter safe and I have failed miserably, letting you down, sir. Most of all, I've let her down because I wasn't here to keep her safe from the monsters who have taken her away from me. I am so sorry, Victor and Theresa, and I pray someday, when we finally meet in the Great Beyond, you'll both find it in your hearts to forgive me."

Andrew sobbed. He wanted, no, needed to be forgiven. He feared when he did finally find her she would reject him because he hadn't been the protective husband he had promised her he would be. He got up, stood a few more moments, then said a silent prayer. He rejoined Satan and saddled him for the next part of his journey—the chase for his Angel.

Before he left New Orleans, he went straight to the Union commander's office to check in with a commanding officer to document his being in the city. The officer at the desk took him to meet with one of General Butler's aides.

The second officer, a Major Sean Mitchell, treated him with contempt. Andrew wondered if he had heard the name correctly. Something angered Andrew as he considered what Grant had told him about the disciplinary action he had laid down on one of these officers, probably this one. He had the impression that this man didn't care about the feelings and wishes of the major general commanding the Union forces in this region.

“Major, I have a very good idea as to the reason behind your treatment toward me, rank not withstanding. I don't appreciate it, but as I don't have the time or the inclination to deal with you, I'll say this. Tell General Butler that the colonel searching for the deserters and their hostage, the main object of your contempt, was here and that I am on my way."

“Yes, sir.” They saluted and Andrew left, disgusted by the actions of one of his own troops. No wonder the feeling in this city turned the way it had.

Andrew stopped, thought for a moment and turned around. He returned to the office where the major looked at him in surprise. Mitchell obviously didn't like this man because of his Southern attachment, though he had heard of his fairness unless he was crossed. He wondered about this colonel's plans for him.

“I know that General Grant disciplined you due to the treatment of my sister-in-law and her husband. You evidently figure he has no authority over what you do or say. Let me let you in on a little secret. If I ever hear of your actions being untoward to anyone in my family or my friends as well as the ignorance of a commanding officer's words, I will hunt you down and take care of you personally. Do you understand me, Major?"

“Yes, sir,” he replied with a salute. He shook slightly at the threat, realizing it to be very real. Andrew turned and left as he smiled to himself. He didn't like threatening people but this one, he would carry out, if need be. No one hurt his family, friends, or men of rank who had earned the respect their office commanded.

This time, when he left, he didn't bother to look back. He rode out of New Orleans headed west. He followed the road, which eventually ran along the Mississippi River. Just before he readied to cross the river, a rider caught up with him.

Andrew looked at the man—tall, dark, and good-looking. Standing six foot one, he had jet black hair, a thin mustache, and a thin, closely-trimmed goatee with dark brown eyes, almost black, and penetrating. Handsome in a quiet way, his personality showed he usually took control of a situation, if need be. There were times when his feelings would take over and demand control, while he threw everything to the wind. When he pulled close to Andrew, he saluted him.

“Colonel Hastings, the general has sent me with some information for your investigation.” He reached into the bag and brought out a thick packet.

“Do you have to get back to General Grant right away?"

“No, sir."

“Good. I may have something for you to take back to him, if you'll wait."

“Yes, sir.” The man waited for the colonel to go through the papers. Andrew looked at one report intently. It stated that, at a small farm near the Gulf Coast, two people had been found dead, their farmhouse burned. There had been reports of a wagon laden with unknown goods and a black carriage. Three men had been spotted, but no woman.

Andrew's heart sank, this news he didn't want. He read the last line again. No woman seen. My God, she's dead!

“No!” Andrew didn't realize he had spoken this last thought aloud.

“Sir?” the young officer queried.

“No, it's not true."

“What, sir?"

“Read this.” The officer read it and looked at the colonel, puzzled. “I don't believe she's gone,” Andrew explained. “I think they still have her.” Andrew knew in his heart that Jessie, while still in danger somewhere, had survived.

Andrew wrote a message telling General Grant he would be on his way to check the farm mentioned in the report. When he finished, he would give the general an update. Andrew put the message in the bag the rider had handed him, though instinctively, Andrew felt something else had remained inside.

One more item, Colonel. The lieutenant bringing this bag to you has been ordered to assist you, should you desire.

Andrew folded the paper and put it in with the others he had received. He looked around the area where they stood and mulled over his thoughts. He appreciated the fact Grant had sent him an officer to assist him in his search, but he just couldn't give anyone orders. He would take this up with the young man later.

“What's your name, son?"

“Lieutenant Jack McCord, sir."

“What do you know of this situation?"

“Only that you're searching for the three deserters and the woman they kidnapped. The general told me who she is. My sympathies, sir."

“Thank you, Lieutenant. Are you ready to get going?” McCord nodded. He had heard a lot about the colonel and considered it a privilege—no, more an honor—to work with him.

They rode for several hours until they came to the small Gulf Coast settlement with no name. Andrew stopped a man on the street and showed him the three wanted posters.

“Have you seen these men?"

“No,” he said, “but I know where they were.” The man gave them directions to the farm. Andrew thanked him. As they turned to leave the settlement, the man said something catching both of their attention.

“Get those bastards!"

Andrew and the lieutenant looked at him quizzically. The man went on.

“They killed my brother but, before they did, they made him watch as they raped and murdered his wife."

Andrew extended his sympathies and assured the man they would do everything they could to get the men who did this. After all, they have my wife!

* * * *

Jessie fell asleep from sheer exhaustion. Hanging from the post, or beam, or whatever Baker had tied her to, her body ached more and more. She tried throughout the night to free her hands by trying to lift the rope off the hook to which it had been attached. Her feet couldn't touch anything solid enough for her to push up on. Baker had made sure she couldn't free herself.

Later, she awoke to find herself lying in the hay in one of the larger open stalls at the rear of the barn. From here, she could see everything around her. She saw horses in the other stalls, the post she had been bound to and she had a clear view of the barn door.

She lay in the brightness of a huge beam of sunlight coming in through a hole in the barn's roof. The warmth from the sun went through her. She felt warm for the first time since they had reached this Godforsaken place. She tried to sit up but couldn't.

They had untied and moved her, but she found her left foot shackled to a post. Jessie tried to stand up but she couldn't keep her balance. She fell as the sudden movement caused the chain to cut her ankle. She didn't realize the fall had broken her ankle. She felt no pain because she had been suffering extreme throbbing in her ankles, both very swollen from being bound together too tightly.

Jessie heard footsteps and the opening of the barn door. Samuals brought breakfast to her. She had a difficult time eating due to swelling around her mouth from the backhanded slaps Baker had so much fun giving her. Her swollen throat resulted from several attempts to choke her and one try at drowning. Samuals tried to be nice to her, but she wouldn't accept any of it.

“Why do you let them get away with this? How can you live with yourself?” she asked slowly. She found it very difficult to talk but she had to ask this man what made him tick. She had to understand why all this happened to her and the others they had terrorized since this awful spree of theirs had begun.

“I guess it's because they're the only ones who have bothered to give me the time of day. Now, I'm in so deep, I'm stuck through the duration, I guess.” She shook her head in disbelief.

“You can escape anytime you want to. You're not a prisoner as I am."

The door opened. Baker walked in and immediately sent Samuals away. He walked over to her and looked down at her while he laughed. He knelt down and tried to mount her again. She kicked him between the legs with her free foot and he doubled over in the worst pain he had ever felt in his entire life as it sent him to his knees.

As he slowly started to get up, she saw a look on his face that terrified her. He pulled back and punched her hard before he fell over again. He landed over her feet and legs. Screaming in more pain, she landed face down in the hay and swore she had seen stars from the force of the blow to her head. Her ankle had been wrenched around in the shackle.

Jessie stared at Baker in disbelief, as her headache became worse. She felt like her head had been used as a ball in a child's game. Her skin stung from repeated slaps and her stomach felt like it would wretch. Now, the realization her ankle had been broken hit her as the pain traveled the length of her body. Her mind needed to hide and try to reclaim the rest of her. Gordon walked in and laughed at Baker's plight.

“Serves you right. You're a pig, you know that? Get up and get outta here.” As Baker passed by, Gordon told him to try the other one. Baker left and slowly went up to the house.

“Well, Princess. Oh, bloody Princess,” he said sadistically. She tried to get up as her head reeled in extreme pain. Her ankle wouldn't support her and she fell back in the hay.

She glared back at him as he walked over to her and knelt down. He grabbed her hair and drew her face close to his, ready to kiss her. As he did, she heard a scream in the distance, then his laughter. Her stomach churned as his hands worked their way down to the buttons of her dress. She tried to fight him, as she slapped him anywhere she could, before she heard another anguished scream.

He undid several buttons as he held her down. She slapped him hard about his head. He looked at her and sadistically enjoyed it. She tried to wriggle away, but he grabbed the sleeve of her dress. It ripped as he threw her back into the hay. The more she fought, the more violent he became.

Straddling her to keep her down, much as he had done on the floor in her bedroom, he grabbed the bodice of her dress and pulled it apart. Buttons flew. He tore at the camisole, ripped it from her to expose her nakedness while he took her dignity and threw it to hell. He squeezed her until she screamed the same agonizing scream she heard in the distance.

“Shut up.” He slapped her again while he wanted her to scream louder. “Shut up, or I'll shut you up for good.” Gordon enjoyed this immensely. She heard another distant scream. What was happening? It came to her she heard another victim. She wanted to throw up.

“Jealous?” he asked as he laughed harder. As he did, he moved only enough to continue holding her down, as he went for her skirt. Grabbing the waistband, he yanked the garment from her body and threw it aside. Her waist hurt from the pressure of the fabric before it eventually gave way. Once he had done that, he dropped his pants and slammed into her while he squeezed her even harder than before.

When he had sated himself, he lay on top of her and kissed her hard. As he got up, she lay in the hay. She shook as if ice ran up and down her spine. Tears streamed down her face. The pain from his attack had been more than she could handle. She wanted to die, ashamed at her life.

He watched her and enjoyed every moment that brought him closer to breaking her. Being sure that she watched him, Gordon took her diamond earring out of his pocket and clipped it on his ear. He took the scarf out of his pocket and wiped his face with it as he taunted her. She glared at him as she confirmed his suspicions. He put it back in his pocket.

“I will figure out who this belongs to and I will finish him off,” he told her.

So ... if there was someone coming after her, it was a military man. The man had to be Southern. No Yankee man in his right mind would have anything to do with a Reb woman unless it was for the fun and satisfaction he was now enjoying. But it fascinated him. If there was someone who was involved with her, why was she alone in that house and easy prey? He took the military scarf out of his pocket to closely look at it in the light. He was wrong, the man was one of his own—blue.

As he teased her with Andrew's scarf, Jessie lost control and lunged at him as she tried to grab it. The thought of this man having anything that belonged to her husband made her violently ill. She fell in the hay, pain in her broken ankle from the shackle racing through her. He pulled it back, out of her reach and laughed. Rolling her on her back, he put his hand around her neck and applied just enough pressure to calm her down. She hit him. The more she fought, the tighter the hold on her neck became.

She tried to pull his hand from her neck, but his grip became tighter as he held her down. Close to the point of passing out when he let go of her, Jessie gasped for air. She rolled on her side, curled up and tried to breathe.

He left her alone in the stall, devastated, naked, and shackled to a post like a wild dog. Power—what a wonderful feeling!

He returned a short while later. More screams came from the distance. She curled around the remnants of the skirt he had ripped from her shaking body. He unlocked the chain, threw a set of clothes at her and told her to get dressed.

“Where are my things?"

“Burned. You don't need that rich stuff anymore, Princess."

The realization she would never go home to her family hit her like a freight train at full speed. She would be a captive of theirs for the rest of her life, or however long they would deem her useful. These monsters had stripped her of everything and she hated them with a loathing she couldn't comprehend.

She pulled herself up and trembled as she attempted to cover herself with what remained of her dress. He grabbed her and made her painfully stand. Gordon ripped off what remained of the top of her dress, baring all she had left to him. She stood in front of this man with fear and loathing in her eyes as she tried to protect herself.

Jessie glared at him as he grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her to him. She felt a crazed hysteria descend upon her and she began to fight like a wildcat trying to get away from him, but his grip too strong. Jessie ranted and screamed as she hit him and clawed his face. He laughed, raping her again and enjoying the fight she put up.

He pulled back from his folly and noticed she bled from several places, including between her legs. He touched her there and Jessie recoiled from the pain. He grinned as he made her take the clothes he had brought out to her and dress in front of him.

Shaking, she slowly began the painful chore of putting on undergarments. He actually thought of that. She lost her balance and nearly fell. He caught her by her hair, pulled her up and hit her across the face. She ached more when she noticed the bruises over her entire body. It seemed every inch of her was painted a shade of black or blue. If Andrew ever found her, he would never recognize her as the wife he had left over two years ago. It felt like an eternity.

She put the white shirt on and slowly buttoned it up. She heard a gunshot and a scream—this time, a man's. Looking in that direction, she finished dressing as her mind raced in circles. She couldn't see or think straight. She heard the last gunshot. She found the distant screams she had heard earlier had been the woman's, whose clothes Gordon forced her to wear. The couple hadn't been home when the renegades had arrived, having been away at relatives. They had come back late, after Jessie was put into the barn.

From what she found out, the couple walked into their home and into hell. The man had been beaten before they bound him to a chair and forced him to watch them rape and murder his wife, her screams were what Jessie heard from the barn.

Gunshots. The first gunshot killed the woman. The scream came from her husband as they tortured him. The final shot must have killed him because she heard no more fired off. In fact, the silence deafened her.

She realized they became more violent as their reign of terror went on. She started imagining what would happen next. Gordon dragged her into the bright sunlight in time for her to watch the other two set fire to the house. Her ankle weak beneath her, she stood in the yard and looked in horror of what they had just done. The pain became worse.

Jessie didn't say another word. She blankly stared as they led her to the carriage. Pushed roughly into it, she fell on the seat, motionless. Somewhere deep inside, Jessica Hastings fought and screamed to get out. Nothing happened. Deep down, she knew she had to do something, but her body would not physically respond. Before she could save herself, she would have to fight her way out of the darkness of the catatonic state she had sunk into. The little voice came back. Fight, fight!

* * * *

When Hastings and McCord reached the settlement, they found devastation, even though they looked at something that had happened several months before. They checked the ruins of the house first. Nothing left that could tell them anything.

They walked over to the barn and opened the heavy door. Andrew looked around and saw the dress. He asked Jack to leave him alone. The lieutenant left him as he walked over to the pile of material that had once been a woman's dress—her dress. He saw the chain they used on her ankle, droplets of blood on it. He saw the bloodied ropes that had held her to the post.

He dropped to his knees and screamed. McCord ran back into the barn and then backed out, leaving Andrew with the pain of discovering what had happened to her here. Andrew looked up at the beam of light streaming in from a hole in the roof.

“I will get them, Jessie! I will hunt them down! I will find them, and as God is my witness, I will kill them!"

His scream echoed throughout the area.

He picked up the remains of her skirt and buried his face in the folds of the material. He hoped to sense her beauty, her life. He sobbed even more as he saw her life at this moment. He fell asleep in the hay, close to the spot where his wife had been violated.

McCord checked in on him when no more sounds came from within the barn. He saw the colonel, restlessly sleeping in the stall as pain etched his face. The images of what had happened to her obviously haunted his thoughts, his dreams horrible nightmares. McCord could not imagine what his commanding officer was going through because he still had trouble believing and understanding how men could be so cruel.

Andrew had nightmares of what he imagined had occurred here and back in New Orleans. He had these same nightmares almost every night since his stay at the house and they seemed to get worse each time. The demons tortured him and the only way to get rid of them would be to find her. He had to get his Angel back, or life as he knew it would never ever be the same again. He opened his eyes and looked to the sunlight. I won't give up. I will find her!

He stood up and walked outside to where McCord stood and saluted him. He asked if the colonel felt all right. Andrew looked at him and shook his head. He thought about the nightmares for a moment.

“I won't be all right until I get my Angel back.” He looked around. Since learning of the terrible events of that dark, dreadful night in New Orleans, plus the history of what Baker, Gordon, and Samuals had done, Andrew had not had a bit of sound sleep. He would doze, then awaken with a start, swimming in a cold sweat. Sometimes, he would shiver or worse, shake uncontrollably, as he had been when the lieutenant had checked on him earlier.

He couldn't believe, much less understand, how people could do this to each other and, even worse, enjoy it. Each time he closed his eyes, he would see them doing the unimaginable to his wife as Jessie fought them. He saw her half-dead, being attacked again and again. What possessed men to do this?

Andrew had read all the reports furnished to him through Grant's headquarters. The evidence against the three of them would unquestionably send them to the gallows. The more he read, the more his imagination ran wild as it got the better of him, the images larger than life, taking over and becoming worse and worse as the days wore on.

He could not bear the thoughts of what had happened—what was happening to his Angel. He would look toward the heavens and ask “Why?” but he never got an answer.

He wondered if he was being punished for his past. He hadn't been much of a churchgoer, except when his aunt had pushed him to go. He'd been more involved with the livery and trying to get his life set to leave Brunswick than anything else. Now he feared this would be his punishment with everything being taken out on his wife.

All of these thoughts raced through his mind every time he closed his eyes. The longer the chase went on, the worse the nightmares became. He began to fight demons he never knew to be part of his life. He didn't know why they came out and it scared him. Is my past a part of this and if so, why is it coming out now? Someday, would it be all right again?

“How long was I out?” Andrew asked as Jack watched him.

“A couple hours, sir. I did some looking around and found something that may be of some interest.” He led him over to the woodpile where the frame of a valise, hers, hung over some burnt logs.

“Get a good night's sleep, Lieutenant. We ride in the morning."

Chapter 8

He saw her smiling, Jessie always his Angel, the most beautiful creature in his world. He saw her tears as he left her to do the bidding of the United States government. Why did he have to leave her? They had been extremely happy and this separation could not have come at a worse time.

He saw the good times: when they went to parties, on walks, the holidays, making love. Then he saw her in pain at the hands of the merciless deserters who kidnapped her months before. He saw her being beaten and raped—the bloodstains at the house in New Orleans. He saw a battered beauty desperately trying to survive, and then he saw himself.

Unable to help her. All he could do was nothing, always too far away to protect her. Always frozen, not able to move an inch toward her. Voices taunted him.

“You've failed me, son!"

“Victor, I tried to..."

“You've failed her like you've failed us. Where were you when the house went up in flames and we couldn't get out?"

“You didn't come back! You left me in New Orleans to be taken by these monsters."

“No, I tried to come home. I asked for leave and they told me no."

“I needed you and you failed me, Andrew!"

"No!"

Andrew awoke, sitting bolt upright, drenched in a cold sweat—his usual reaction to his nightmares.

“Jessie, I'm sorry!"

* * * *

Morning dawned on a bright, sunny day. Rain overnight gave the new day a clean, fresh scent. Andrew arose, left the lieutenant to sleep, and went over to Satan. Satan had performed well; the horse was always up to the challenge at hand. They had been together for a long time and the pair had seen a lot.

He led his horse outside to graze before they left. He looked around at the remnants of what could have been a promising venture for the young couple who had settled here. He walked toward the trough, and noticed a small piece of fabric caught on a nail as it moved in the gentle, early morning breeze. He tugged at it and after a bit of a fight, he pulled it off.

Turning it over, he found a little piece hidden from the elements. He noticed it looked like the remains of the dress he had found in the barn yesterday. He ran back inside and put the two together.

“Good morning, Colonel.” Seeing Andrew's distress, he asked, “What's the matter, sir?"

“This is my wife's dress, or what's left of it. I found this a few minutes ago on the horse trough. My God, Jack, they tried to drown her.” Andrew tried to hold his rage in check, but the hurt overwhelmed him. He clenched his fist around it, pain etched on his face.

“How can you tell, sir?"

“That's just it. I can't be sure. I have this feeling in my gut that this is what this piece of material is telling me. Jessie always told me to trust my feelings. I didn't listen to her until I left New Orleans before the city was taken by Federal forces."

He didn't tell Jack that months before, he'd been riding to one of the camps he had to report on. He had stopped beside a creek to give Satan a chance to get something to drink when he had the sense of losing his breath. Now, he began to understand what he had felt that day.

“Your orders, sir?” McCord asked, a military tone to his voice.

“First, if you're going to be with me on this, understand a few things. You may think I'm irrational about this, I don't care. My wife is out there somewhere with those bastards and I'm going to bring her back, no matter what. Another thing is when the orders were received from the President and the War Department; I was given the authority to do what I had to, any way I had to. If you have a problem with this authority or irrationality, I'll understand if you choose to leave."

“No, sir. I want to help you any way I can. Before I left, the general himself called me to meet with him. You can imagine, I thought I was in trouble. He sat me down and briefed me on the entire case. I wanted to come and help."

“Fine, then. There's one last thing, Jack."

“Sir?"

“Call me Andrew, when it's one-to-one. I'm not up for the formalities anymore. In fact, I never really have been. Use protocol only when necessary."

The two men shook on their agreement. Andrew had Jack bring Satan in to saddle him. Jack did the same for his palomino, and then led both horses outside. Andrew looked around the barn again and saw before him visions of what had happened in this place. His nightmares accomplished the same, only in graphic detail. Since he had first heard about the situation from General Grant, he hadn't had a decent night's sleep without the nightmares that would wake him in a cold sweat every time. The more evidence he saw of the outlaws’ actions, the worse it became. Finding his wife would put a halt to all this ... if only he knew where they had taken her.

He had chosen to stay in the barn overnight instead of making camp further down the road for several reasons. First had been the shelter for them and the horses, all of them deserved a night in from the elements. He didn't know about Jack, but he needed the comfort the hay could provide. His back had started to ache from years in the saddle and a previous fall in another war. Every once in a while, he needed to ease up for some relief.

For some strange reason, Andrew felt close to his wife here. He felt her with him as the feelings she had wanted him to trust began to overcome him. Pushing aside the bad images, he pictured them lying in the hay in each other's arms, making love. This had been one of the ways he'd been able to get some much-needed sleep. He would drift off but, like clockwork, the nightmares would return and wake him.

The one fear he lived with, God forbid, had recently taken over his life on a daily basis. Jessie lost to him forever or things changing to the point where they went their separate ways. These nightmares killed him inside, just as much as the others.

They rode away from the ruins following a dirt lane leading to another, wider road, and then west. They rode in silence for several hours. Andrew listened to all the sounds: birds singing, the fall of the horse's hooves on the dry dirt, the insects in the bushes. All of this, he wished he could share with her. Someday and hopefully, soon.

* * * *

Ron Samuals had always been scared of his own shadow, and this was the only reason he stayed with Gordon and Baker. He dreaded taking any kind of a stand and leaving of his own volition. He didn't have the nerve to go out on his own.

Gordon ordered him to keep watch over the woman. No longer fighting them and docile as a puppy, they had left her free of bonds. Samuals watched her. He didn't go near her unless told to and even then, he didn't want to. They had done things to her and the others—things he knew had been wrong. It sickened him, but Samuals was too frightened to try to put a stop to it.

He never should have been a soldier in the first place, but he enlisted anyway. He thought if he did and behaved himself, then he'd be done with the nasty business of war. When he got out, he could do what he wanted, if he ever figured out what. Now a wanted man by the government and the military, he couldn't say no. He had no choice. If caught, he knew he'd fall as hard as the other two. He knew he faced the gallows, unless he could muster the courage to go to the military command and turn himself in. Maybe if he went against the other two, he would get a lighter sentence and not hang.

He thought back to when he got involved with them. Stanley Gordon had the brains, or so they all thought. The three of them sat by the fire one night, and discussed what they planned to do. Gordon suggested he should join up with them. On their way up, they could always use help. They had accepted him, even though he had always been a scrawny bastard as his father had always taunted him. Of course, he had grown up being told he'd never amount to anything.

“You look thinner than that sapling over there,” his father said.

“Why don't you use him in the garden to scare away the rodents?” his uncle suggested every chance he got.

No wonder I've been shy all my life. That had been his feeling before meeting Baker and Gordon. He'd never had any friends before in his life and now, these two wanted him to join up with them. Now, he felt like somebody, as Gordon offered him a new life. He had never felt excitement like this before and it thrilled him. He'd do anything to stay with his new friends.

“Are you in? If you don't want to join us, leave now. Once you hear the plans, you're with us to the very end."

“Yes, I'm in,” he assured them, afraid to back out. His life of crime and regrets began with those three small words.

Gordon, an overweight man of medium height, came from a broken home. He told them of his Washington upbringing in an Italian family.

“I like money and the stuff that goes with it. I like smokin’ the weed and I need my morphine."

“Why?” Samuals asked curious.

“The army hooked me on it when I got shot in ‘61."

The dark-haired man, who loved food, along with everything else, went on.

“This is the plan. We're going to break the line of march and head into the tree line and disappear. Then we start raiding, robbing, and whatever strikes our fancy at the moment.” Baker laughed maniacally. Samuals knew Baker as a foul-mouthed, rotund, little man, a legend in his own mind. He also knew of his intense hatred of women. He sat in front of them. Had they just accepted me because I'd be the perfect sap for them, just a pawn in their games?

They unfolded their plan of terror and robbery. They would start wherever they deserted the Army of the Potomac. Gordon knew from the high rate of desertion among McClellan's troops that no one would come after them. Either he or Baker would choose, and then watch, their intended victims to plan the perfect time of attack. Using military strategy to plan their raids, they knew exactly what they would take: supplies, valuables to sell, and maybe even some fun. While they raided, they would head toward Beaumont, Texas and see whether they could settle there and start their new lives. If that didn't work, they would head into Mexico, out of the law's reach.

“I'm going to take every woman I can. The whores'll love it,” Baker said. He hated all women because, he had told Samuals and Gordon that his whoring mother had slept around behind his father's back.

“What the hell happened, Bake?” Gordon asked one night.

“I came home from school for lunch one day and found her in bed with another man. They never noticed me until I slammed out of the house. She'd fuck anything in pants, my father told me. Talk about betrayal."

“How old were you?"

“Sixteen."

“What about others? Surely there was somebody you loved?” Samuals asked weakly.

“I had a girlfriend. We planned to get married until she tried to knife me, slicing up my shoulder. I shoved her away from me, grabbed the damned blade, and cut her throat. That was my first crime, so I joined the army and never looked back.” Meeting up with Gordon, he'd found they had a lot in common.

Samuals had fallen in way too deep. In fear of what they would do to him, he did everything they wanted. He didn't like it. What can I do? I'm stuck. God help me!

The woman with them had not said a word since they had left the last site of their endeavors, definitely not natural. One minute, she fought like an angry hellcat, then nothing. Emotionless, she sat and stared out of the window of the carriage and never uttered a sound. This scared Samuals.

That night, after they pulled off to the side of the road, Baker went after her again. She didn't fight, or scream—nothing. He enjoyed it. It was so damned easy.

“Next,” he snidely called. Gordon entered the carriage and looked at their captive.

“Are you ready?” he asked the silent woman. A lone tear ran down her face. He attacked her and sated his manly desires. Proud of what he had done, Gordon determined he would tame this fiery wildcat, and he had. He had been with her that night when he discovered he and Baker had more in common than he had originally believed. Coming from the brougham, he motioned to Samuals it was his turn.

Samuals meekly entered the carriage, their captive motionless as she blankly stared, just as she had been left. Disheveled from all their attacks, her arms lay at her sides, legs apart. She looked like a child's rag doll as she stared out the window.

Samuals couldn't take this. Bending over her and pulling her dress down, he moved her legs and feet together. He buttoned up her blouse and put her hands together in front of her on her lap. He tried to pull her hair from in front of her face to make her a little more presentable. He leaned back and looked at her, swollen from the beatings with open bloody wounds all over her body.

He knew, deep down inside, someone would come after them to rescue her. He feared help would come too late and knew she would be dead before they were caught up with. He dreaded what the person or persons would do to them. Maybe the gallows would be a lesser punishment.

He moved around to make it look like something happened inside the carriage. He put his hand to her face as her eyes moved from the window. She looked at him blankly. Samuals gently closed her eyes and found the only hint of life left in her body, a single teardrop.

* * * *

After he left, the voice inside her told her to fight, to come back and find a way to escape this. I have to get away from them to get my life back. Her body didn't hear, didn't move. Her brain seemed to ignore the voice inside her that tried to save her life.

She drifted off into a deep sleep, the first in a long time. She saw her life since meeting James Andrew Hastings, Lieutenant Colonel, United States Army. She saw their courtship, their wedding and the few short weeks before he had to go off and play soldier. Please, Andrew, I need you. She dreamed he would come to take her from these monsters. She dreamed of Sarah, sweet little Sarah. Thank God, she was safe!

Jessie slept for a long while, waking after sundown. She opened her eyes slowly and looked around. Alone. What a relief! A blessing. She heard voices and closed her eyes. The little voice inside told her to be careful

The carriage door opened as Baker poked his head in and cursed. He turned as he told Gordon she was still out. Gordon looked at him, then went to the brougham. He pushed Baker aside as he climbed in and looked at the seemingly lifeless being. He shook her violently and screamed at her. She opened her eyes as he grabbed her face. She looked at him with the blank stare that had come over her as they had left the Gulf Coast. The little voice inside disappeared deeper and deeper to safety.

“Wake up. Damn it. Snap out of it."

He shook her some more as her arms fell to her side. He pulled her out of the carriage and made her stand in front of him. She stared at nothing. He slapped her. Jessie fell to the ground in a heap, lifeless with no fight. She never felt the searing pain from her broken ankle. He picked her up and this time, threw her in the back of the wagon. Jessie landed hard. The little voice inside was screaming in pain, begging her to fight, to run away from this horror. Then it disappeared again.

“We'll see how long she can survive out here tonight."

“You can't do that, she'll die.” Samuals made a move toward the carriage, but Gordon stopped him.

“Yeah, Samuals, so what? She may as well be dead now, the way she's acting,” Baker chimed in, disgusted with Samuals and the woman.

After the other two turned in, Samuals took a blanket over to cover her. She lay in the wagon, helpless. Samuels saw one of the other two had taken a rope and tied it around her neck, then to the wagon. He shook his head as he regretted the day he had ever met these two. He left her alone in the open wagon. The starlit night became chillier but she never noticed. Just before dawn, rain began to fall.

The little voice inside her came back, telling her again to run, pleading with her.

* * * *

Gordon checked on her a few hours later. He found her in the same position as when he had thrown her into the wagon, soaking wet with her eyes wide open. This made him edgy. Those eyes never flinched.

He had wanted to break her. This ain't fun no more. Eerie, it became one of the few times in his life when something actually rattled him. He realized, in this condition, they wouldn't find out her identity. That meant no one could be contacted for a ransom.

Baker came over, curious as to what Gordon stared at. They discussed the situation while their captive lay in front of them.

“She's no good. Let me take her over to that woods and get rid of her."

“No. She may still be of some use."

“How? She's only going to slow us down."

“Why are you worried, Bake? You think somebody's coming after her? I don't think so. If they were, they would have caught up to us by now.” He wouldn't admit his doubt of what he had just said. Someone out there had to be looking for her.

“The bitch ain't no fun anymore,” Baker said, becoming furious

“There will be others and you know it."

“What's next?"

“Get rid of the brougham. We don't need it for the Princess anymore.” They laughed. Gordon knew if they kept the fancy carriage, it would slow them down and make it easier for them to be caught. The wagon would do unless things changed.

* * * *

Later in the morning, they struck camp before they headed west again. They burned the brougham, since the Princess had little need for it now. Samuals rode in the wagon with Jessie while the other two got up on the bench seat. Baker urged the horse on as the wagon lurched and moved. The other horse that had drawn the brougham had been tied to the rear of the wagon, led along behind them.

Jessie babbled deliriously. Samuals gave her some water but he couldn't be sure how much she actually drank—if she did at all. He looked closer at her. He thought to himself that she seemed to have lost some weight. That wouldn't be a surprise since she hadn't eaten for several days, thanks to their neglect. Baker had steadfastly refused to feed their captive.

Samuals tried to make the woman comfortable. As he pushed her hair back, he thought her head felt warm. He checked again, finding her feverish. This once beautiful woman, who had the misfortune of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, now could add fever and sickness to the list of bad things complicating her life.

They rode well into the night before stopping to set up camp. She lay motionless, her eyes still open.

The little voice inside told her she was sick and, if she didn't do something and quickly, she would die without ever seeing Andrew or their daughter again. She lay as if dead, the little voice screaming at her. I have to get a hold of myself and come back to the living. I have to move, no matter how painful, and make a run from this hell. I have to think of my husband and my little girl.

Something finally got through the mental wall Jessie's mind had put up. After she looked around to see where her captors might be, she slowly tried to move her arms and legs. She felt numb and very stiff. The aches and pains returned, her head hurt from the continuous beatings. Her eyes seemed dry from the inability to close them. She heard a sound and froze. Jessie took no chances and acted like she been for the last few days. While she lay still, she started to make plans for her escape.

She heard some rustling as one of them came back to the camp. He met the other two by the fire. Jessie overheard Baker say he had just found the best place to go after next.

Gordon listened intently as Baker told him about the house with a barn.

“I looked through the windows. It was loaded with valuables. The kitchen looked well stocked, too."

“Anything else?"

“There's a woman, a real good-looker to boot."

“Any menfolk?"

“No,” Baker replied, smiling as he said it.

“Don't you ever think about anything else, Baker?” Samuals whined.

“At least I think about it and don't have to be told to do it like you do.” Baker said. Gordon knew he had stung Samuals with the biting comment.

“Fine, we hit tomorrow,” Gordon stated.

“What about her?” Baker hoped to get another shot at her.

“She goes with us and gets to watch, and then maybe all of us can have some fun.” The two of them laughed at this.

Jessie listened to this and cringed. She knew she had to make plans to escape them. She resigned herself to the realization she probably couldn't help the next poor, unsuspecting victim. She would more than likely go through it again herself in order to buy herself some much needed time. How can I live with myself if I don't try to help her? An idea came to her. The next time they camped, she would try to run away and take them by surprise. After all, she hadn't moved for two or three days now, had she?

The next morning, they rode up to a house. Gordon ran up to the door and knocked. A woman, short and slim but beautiful with blond hair, opened the door.

“Can you help me? My wife is sick."

The woman welcomed them in as Baker and Samuals gently removed Jessie from the wagon. The woman gasped as they brought Jessie inside her home.

“Good Lord. What's happened to her?"

“Don't know, ma'am. She all of a sudden stopped moving and started staring. We need your help."

“I don't know what I can do,” she said as she obviously wondered what the men had done to this poor woman. “I can call a doctor, though it may be a bit. My brother's in the next town over checking on his patients."

“The first thing you can do,” he said as he spun her around and pointed the revolver at her, “is to sit in that chair, put your hands behind your back..."

“What the hell is going on?” The woman looked at them, horrified.

Baker backhanded her hard into the chair while Samuals tied her hands behind her back. She looked at them and remembered they looked like some drawings she had seen in town. The wanted posters! She had picked one up the other day at the bank but couldn't remember where she had put it. She started to fight the ropes but couldn't.

Jessie watched helplessly from the chair she had been roughly thrown into. She feared doing anything. She couldn't let on she could move, afraid of what would happen to her. Then something happened she hadn't anticipated. Baker came to her, and bound her to the chair she sat on before he gagged her. No! Don't do this! Please!

They made her watch as they beat the woman senseless. Once unconscious, they untied her from the chair and threw her to the floor. The two men raped her repeatedly. Meanwhile, Samuals stowed food in the wagon and hoped to stay away from the action inside the house.

The woman on the floor faced Jessie as she bled all over and moaned in agony. Her body lay broken and battered. Sometime during this ordeal, her neck had been broken. She couldn't feel anything below her shoulders as she barely clung to life.

“Now, you get to watch us do it to her,” Baker said. Jessie prayed she could keep up the charade. Baker untied Jessie. As he stood her up, he spun her around and slapped her hard. She hit the floor. Jessie couldn't go through it again and tried to get away from him. Baker loved it as he checked to find out where the others had gone. Gordon prowled around the house in his search for valuables, unaware of the latest development. Samuals busied himself where they would not whine at him. Baker had her all to himself.

“I'm going to screw you and do it right. I knew you were lying. You bitch.” He went after her as she fought him. Meanwhile, the other woman lay on the floor, forced to watch, her last sight being another violent rape. Baker grabbed Jessie and yanked her back to him. She kicked him as she hurt her broken ankle more. He hit her again. The more she fought, the more violent he became as he enjoyed the fight.

She couldn't scream because he hadn't removed the gag. He threw her to the floor and jumped on her as his knee went into her ribcage before he ripped her clothes off. She fought back and felt more pain than ever before. Will I find out later that he had broken a rib with his knee?

Her clothes gone, Baker sprawled on top of her. He entered her with such force, she screamed, no sound came out. He ripped the gag from her mouth and kissed her, his tongue delving deep into her mouth. She felt like he would choke her and prayed he would. Jessie fought him with her remaining strength, only it made him want her more.

“Stop it.” She hit the side of his head.

“Go to hell, you lying whore.” He backhanded her and drove into her again, harder than before as he ripped her to shreds with his violence. Sometime through all of this, the other woman died.

“What the hell is going on here?” There had been enough noise from the scuffle that Gordon came to see what was going on.

“The bitch was lying to us. She was fine all the time."

“Oh, yeah. My wild filly is back.” He shoved Baker off her. As she tried to wriggle away, he grabbed her again as she kicked and fought. He cleared the table of everything and slammed her onto it.

When Baker saw what he had in mind, he went to find cording or anything to tie her down with. “Time to have some real fun."

As Gordon held her down, Baker tied her to the oblong dining table. She lay on the hard, flat surface as she struggled unsuccessfully to free herself. The more she fought, the tighter the ropes became. Her wrists and ankles bled from welts already swollen. Jessie fought harder as her attempts failed. Her mind desperately tried to find some way of getting out of this alive. The more she struggled, the more they beat and punished her.

Gordon had found a sword upstairs that he immediately took a liking to. He put the cold blade to her skin, watching her reactions as he ran it up and down her side. The point of the sword's blade lay at her throat. He slid it across her face, causing her to bleed from a slice roughly about two inches long. He ran the blade back down her body. She screamed in horror but no one heard her terror and agony. She screamed again at the top of her lungs as her attackers laughed sadistically. Gordon found he got a perverse pleasure in hearing agonizing screams of terror. The louder, the better. Money is good, but this is better. He understood Baker's fixations and sated himself.

“Now you'll feel pain, because I'm going to enjoy what you dread. Behave and you might survive; be bad, and I'll cause you agony like you've never known. You'll learn never to lie to me again, you Southern bitch!” Stanley Gordon found he truly enjoyed the emotional blackmail. “Oh, and scream as much as you want. Please, scream. After all, who's going to hear you but us? And we love screaming, don't we, Bake?"

Baker grinned maniacally.

Running the sharp, double-edged sword slowly along the curves of her body, he came back up her side to her shoulder. She shook uncontrollably. Gordon loved every second. Her eyes begged him to stop. She felt the cold steel on her chest, then a stinging pain. She screamed even louder in agony. He yelled at her to scream more, as the blade put a hole in her chest.

“Don't move,” he commanded. He knew she couldn't stop shaking. With this, he laughed as he pressed the blade of the sword into her skin at a second spot. She screamed again, a blood curdling sound. Her hands clenched as her nails dug into her palms. She squeezed so hard, she bled.

Baker enjoyed this, but when he tried to join in, Gordon aimed the bloody sword at him. He backed off, unfamiliar with the look on Gordon's face and it scared him. Samuals heard the screams and ran in to see the torture. He ran outside and threw his guts up while he made a deadly decision.

Gordon went back to Jessie. She glared at him, half in terror, half in intense hatred. He started moving the sword again, this time, laying it between her breasts. He grabbed them and pressed them around the sharply honed blade. Then he pulled it away from her. She screamed even louder than before as the pain seared her body. She felt her life drain out of her as she fainted, her body limp.

“Now, I've branded you, you Southern bitch. That man of yours won't want you now.” He laughed as he slapped her. Jessie came to and looked at her attacker.

Gordon backed off, the fun over, because she wouldn't scream for him now. He enjoyed it so much, he looked forward to using the sword on her again, on other parts of her body. Maybe the next time, she wouldn't pass out so quickly. He leaned over to look her in the eye.

“I told you I would break you. It's a shame you probably won't live long enough to see your husband's face when I tell him what I've done to you and the others. Then I'll make him watch as I kill you after I take you again. Once you're done, I'll kill him."

Jessie shook as she felt his breath on her skin and heard his plans for Andrew. She closed her eyes, and saw Gordon's face with his ugly mouth with a couple teeth missing, his scarred skin and ragged beard. She could smell his horrid breath as he taunted her. I will get away from these monsters. I swear, if it's the last thing I do.

Baker said, “Now you've done it. She's dead."

“She's still alive. Tell Samuals to get back in here and tend to her. You go find something for her to wear."

Samuals rushed in after he found bandaging and some whiskey in a cabinet. He tried to take care of her. He cleaned the wounds, dabbing them with the whiskey. Even though she lay unconscious, her body shook uncontrollably from the stinging pain of the alcohol. He dressed the wounds. Amazed, Samuals had stopped the bleeding.

Gordon wiped the bloody sword on the tablecloth beneath her. He ran the blade of the sword along her face and down her neck. A reflex movement caused her neck to twitch. The blade cut her again. He licked the blood off the metal, even more sadistic and violent than before. Cutting the cords around her hands, he ran the blade's point down her body to her ankles before he cut the cords that bound her feet to the table. He looked at the glistening, double-edged blade. He had never seen anything like it before. Gordon slid the blade into his belt and grinned.

Baker came downstairs and threw some clothes to Samuals. The two of them went through the rest of the house for anything they might have missed while Samuals tended to Jessie. He stopped the bleeding from the newest cut on her neck. He couldn't believe how much Gordon enjoyed all this as he became more maniacal and sadistic as they went further on. When would it end?

She lay unconscious, but at least Samuals had been able to stop all the bleeding. It had been a fight to dress her but, when he finished, she looked a little bit more presentable. He held her up and used a brush he had found on the buffet to brush her matted, tangled hair. She looked a lot better than before.

While he packed the wagon, he had left room for the two of them to ride in the back. He grabbed an afghan from the couch and wrapped her in it, then carried her out to the wagon. Propped against a bag of flour, she lay unconscious. He looked at her. How much longer would this go on? How much more could she take? He knew they still had days before they got to Beaumont.

He looked back at the house, and saw Gordon and Baker as they came out with pillowcases full of small items. They had found jewelry and some silver and put them in the box under the seat with the other stolen things they would pawn when they got to Texas, the money to be split between them. Gordon had always gone for the silver, gold and any other valuables that could be taken and sold. How else could he get his morphine and spirits? That had been his obsession from the beginning.

They had raided from Virginia, where they had broken McClellan's line, to just north of the Mason-Dixon Line through the South to New Orleans. They had robbed, raped, and murdered and the list of charges increased. A far cry from his Washington upbringing, the military had given him a great deal, but not enough until he teamed with Baker.

Gordon showed them something he had found when he searched the house. He held the circulated handbill. They now knew they held the wife of an army colonel. To think they could take out everything they felt wrong with the United States military on the wife of an army officer became sweet irony. In fact, it seemed to make it even more fun. Now, it would be even more interesting.

As it became darker, they pulled away. Gordon looked more intently at the handbill. He pulled out the yellow scarf he had taken from the bedroom in New Orleans, as another memory came to him. He realized he should have looked at the book that had fallen by the bureau. As he thought back, he remembered the book as it hit the floor with other things.

He looked at the scarf, all of his questions answered by these two items. The scarf had to belong to her husband, who would come after them. He knew his enemy by reputation only, but the man would be a formidable opponent when they finally met. This would be interesting. Who would win?

* * * *

Andrew and Jack rode toward the west. They came to a small town that had a general store, a hotel, a saloon, and a few homes. They took their horses to the livery to stable them for the night. Andrew asked the blacksmith if he would check Satan's shoes and, if needed, change them. He handed the man some money and asked him to do the same for Jack's horse. The two army officers crossed over to the hotel and took rooms. The clerk looked at their names on the registry as he gave them their keys.

“Are you Colonel Andrew Hastings?” he asked.

“Yes, sir."

“This has been waiting for you for a few days. It came in a day or two ago when a cavalry division went through here. They thought you might be coming this way."

“Thank you.” He took the package and, as they headed for the dining area, he tried to open it. His hands trembled out of control.

“Are you all right, sir?"

“No. I'm leery of what's inside. I've had thoughts at times, that, maybe I should never have said yes to the government. I wonder if I should have kept going on my own."

“Why, sir? Hasn't the government been helpful?"

“The reports we've been getting ... too helpful. It's bad enough to see the sights, but to read it in black and white and then reread it is tough."

“I've noticed you haven't gone back over the information once you've read it."

“That's because it's burned into my mind. Every sordid detail of what they've done, especially the images of what could be happening to her. The fact that, if you've noticed, each time they hit a new place, the attacks get more and more violent and recently, sadistic."

“What really bothers me is we're almost three months behind the bastards. There's too much frickin’ time between them and us."

He opened the package to see the latest on their quarry. He read the papers and threw them on the table. Every report they received, including these, agreed on the same point. There had been absolutely no rhyme or reason as to how they chose their victims or what they did to them.

“Damn bastards."

Jack looked at him and paled.

“Am I reading this right? It says here it looked like someone had botched a surgery.” He waited out Andrew's silence.

“We'll go out there in the morning. Right now, I want to get something to eat, if that's possible, and try to get some sleep.” He knew no sleep would come tonight.

A man approached them.

“Are you the Federal officers investigating the renegade deserters?"

“Yes, sir. How can we help you?” Andrew asked him.

“I'm the brother of the woman found at the house outside town. I was away, came home, and found her dead.” Tears came to the man's eyes as Andrew saw his pain. His fears became more dire and he had yet to speak with this man. The man was handsome, of medium height with a full head of light brown, but slightly graying hair. His eyes hazel, he had long eyelashes that accented the fact they seemed more yellowish, almost catlike. He had a scar on his left cheek that disappeared when he smiled. He had a long decisive stride to him that gave him an air of higher education as he told them he had graduated from medical school in Boston, Massachusetts.

He seemed to be a caring man with an expressive face that hid his quiet personality, even when he laughed. For a man of medicine, he had graceful hands, even if imagining them elbow deep in blood during surgery. Impressed with him, Andrew knew somehow, they would become close. Why have I taken such an intense assessment of him?

They extended their condolences to him for his loss, then they went on to have a long discussion about what had happened. He told them the place had been gone through with jewelry, coins, some silver, gold, and a couple other things missing.

“Like what?” Andrew asked.

“Odd things, an afghan throw, some clothes of my sister's, and our grandfather's double-edged sword."

“What kind of wounds did your sister have?"

“A lot of swelling on her face, wrists, body, and if I can be frank, repeated rape."

“How do you know this for sure?” Andrew asked.

“Unfortunately, especially in this case, I am a doctor. I was in the next town over for scheduled visits and came home to find her."

“I am sorry, Doctor."

“If I hadn't already known her, sir, I would never have recognized her. She sustained major blows about her head. I determined the cause of death as being from a broken neck due to a severe blow to the area below her ears that basically snapped it. She had also been kicked in her stomach and back, causing some internal bleeding. There was something else, Colonel."

“What's that?” At this point, Andrew had his worst fears confirmed as to the botched surgery victim. Jack felt very queasy but sat listening to this conversation. He wondered how the colonel could handle all the information he heard without tearing the building down.

“I found her, lying on the floor, her head facing the dining table. Colonel, her eyes were wide open."

“What are you getting at?"

“Her neck was broken but these men definitely made her watch the rest of their actions. This gave them an audience, I guess. I can tell by the way you're looking at me that I've lost you.” They both nodded. “She lingered for a short time after the final blow that killed her and watched what they did. I figure there was another person with them."

“Go on,” Andrew said, not wanting to hear the rest of the doctor's story, though he forced himself to.

The doctor told them about the bloodied tablecloth; the ropes around the table legs; the ripped, bloodstained clothes. Andrew's stomach turned. Jack got up and ran outside to get some air. The doctor went on to say one in the group needed medical attention, as bandaging and medical supplies had been taken.

“Were any other medical supplies taken?"

“No, I keep an office here in town."

Andrew relaxed at this. At least they couldn't use morphine on her. He remembered from Gordon's file he had a love for the painkiller. It troubled Andrew he hadn't considered this angle until his meeting with the doctor.

Andrew rubbed eyes that hurt more and more each day from tension. He knew, in his heart, who had been tied to that table. His feelings had told him that. What shape was she in at this point? He asked how much of the case the victim's brother knew, and the doctor replied he was only aware of what had been printed on the wanted posters and from stories that came through with strangers.

“Have the stories mentioned a woman with them?"

“Some. Why?"

“You said that the tablecloth was bloody and ropes were tied to the table legs?” The doctor nodded. “That woman you've heard about was probably the one on the table."

“My God.” Andrew saw his face lose color.

“Doctor, she's my wife."

“Colonel, I am sorry to hear that. Is there anything I can do to help you with this?"

“You've already done more than enough. Do you mind if we look at the house tomorrow?"

“I'm sorry, sir. I couldn't take looking at it anymore after what had happened, so I had it torn down. I'm letting it go to pasture."

“I understand.” Andrew hadn't been happy about this but he did, wholeheartedly, understand why. After all, he watched the house in New Orleans go up in flames as he thanked nature for doing something he should have had the guts to do himself. He rubbed his eyes again.

“Colonel, are you all right?"

“Short of not having slept for weeks, I'm fine."

“How long have your eyes bothered you?"

“I don't know. Why?"

“I'll be right back.” Jack returned as the doctor left. The officers looked at each other. He came back a few minutes later. “Here, these might help,” he said as he handed him a pair of eyeglasses. Andrew laughed, the first time he had done so in weeks, trying the glasses on.

“I must look like Ben Franklin. Thank you, Doctor."

“Cole. Adam Cole."

“Doctor Cole, I appreciate everything you've done for us. Why don't you join us for some supper?” He chuckled some more as the other two looked at each other while they wondered if he had finally cracked. “I'm sorry, boys. I just had this thought of when Jessie sees me wearing these things. She's going to call me an old man."

The three men dined on steak dinners and drank well into the night. Andrew usually didn't drink. Anymore, he didn't care. He found whiskey took the pain away, even if only for a short time. Adam left early in the evening. Andrew and Jack stayed another hour and drank more. Jack helped him and the rest of a whiskey bottle to his room, then tried to put him to bed. He pulled Andrew's boots off before he swung his legs onto the bed.

He put the colonel's glasses next to his papers, along with the half-empty bottle, on the nightstand. He pulled a blanket over him before he turned the lamp down, and left him. Maybe this man would finally get the sleep he so desperately needed, even if it had been because he had gotten smashed. Maybe the hangover in the morning would be worth it, if he did manage to sleep. Jack went to his room and turned in.

The next morning, they met downstairs and ate breakfast. The colonel wore his glasses and did not look great. He asked Jack to keep it down please, as the thunder in his temples would not let up. He read the remaining papers from the package he had received the day before, one especially:

Colonel J. A. Hastings,

This command wishes you well. The reports you have are the latest we have received. I sincerely hope Mrs. Hastings is still alive and hopefully, well. The situation becomes more dire each day. I appreciate your updates and, rest assured, the government does as well.

Enclosed are the newest orders for Lieutenant Jack McCord. Rest easy, you won't be losing his services. You are hereby authorized to promote this fine young officer to captain. I have also sent a package for him, if you would be so kind as to present it.

As always—good luck and good hunting!

U. S. Grant, Genera

Jack looked at him, and asked him if it had been more bad news. Andrew smiled as he gave him the bundle Grant had sent along.

“I am empowered by the U. S. military to honor you with this promotion to captain in the ranks of the United States Army. Congratulations!"

“Thank you, sir!"

He opened the package and pulled out a uniform blue jacket, already with the patches for the new rank. He looked at Andrew quizzically. Promotions in the field were extremely rare, if they happened at all.

“The general said to tell you he figured working with me, you would not have the time or the opportunity to sew your bars on, so he sent this along.” McCord grinned.

“Have breakfast, Captain, and enjoy the moment. I'll meet you at the stables.” With that, he left the newly promoted officer, and went to the front desk to send a wire to General Grant.

TO: U S Grant, General. Stop.

FROM: A Hastings, Colonel. Stop.

Promotion bestowed upon McCord. Stop.

Read reports sent. Stop.

On way west. Stop.

He thanked the desk clerk and took off his glasses, carefully putting them into his pocket. He put his gloves on as he crossed to the stables to meet with the blacksmith.

“I changed the shoes on both horses.” He handed Andrew's money back to him. “I heard from Doc Cole about what you're doing. Consider this my way of helping the cause."

Andrew shook his hand and thanked him. Both horses had been saddled. Throwing his saddlebags on, he led them out of the stable to wait for Jack to come out. While he waited, he looked at the artist's portrait from their wedding day. God, she was so beautiful that day. He thought back to what Cole had said about his sister's bruises and her swollen face. My God, Jessie, what has happened to you? Why wasn't I there for you?

He replaced it back in his bags. Andrew grinned as Jack emerged from the hotel, proudly wearing the new uniform jacket. They mounted up and started out of town. They made it out on the open road when the sound of thundering hooves came from behind them. They stopped as the rider caught up to meet them.

“I'm coming with you,” he said.

“I can't ask you to do that, Doc."

“You didn't. My decision."

“What about your patients?"

“I got another doctor to take my place."

“Who?"

“My father. He said he'd take my patients ‘til I get back.” He had told his father he probably wouldn't come back to this place. Too much had happened to ever be the place he had remembered or, for that fact, wanted to return to.

“Now, I have one question for you. Why?"

“Your wife. If, at this point, she's still alive, she will need medical attention immediately. I'm offering you my services."

“Thank you, Doctor Cole."

“Adam, please."

Andrew smiled as they shook hands. The three of them rode off and hoped the circumstances would improve. At least one good thing had come of this. Andrew had finally slept a night through, and without the wretched nightmares. He did not wake swimming in cold sweat and he felt much better, save for the hangover from last night.

That, too, would pass.

* * * *

The wagon rumbled along. Samuals checked on their hostage, all the while wishing the whole affair over. Her breathing did not sound right. He had moved things around some to try to give her more room to be comfortable. Every time she moved, she moaned.

He tried to keep her covered up and warm. The nights had been getting chillier and he feared she would catch more cold and infection. When all this was over, he selfishly wanted her alive so she could tell them he hadn't been as bad as the other two, and he tried to help her.

Gordon looked back to check on them. Samuals pleaded with him to take it easier on the road. Baker's comment—"So what!"

Jessie started to stir but didn't open her eyes out of fear of what might happen to her. She heard them talking. The quiet one of the three had tended to her but she still loathed him as much as the other two.

She moved slowly, trying not to hurt anymore than she already did. Her chest ached, she felt the weakness of her body and, as it had been since this nightmare had started, she had a bad headache. She listened to more of their conversation. They discussed the idea of continuing on to Mexico instead of stopping in Beaumont as originally planned. They would stop in the Texas town long enough to sell off everything they had stolen, then go south to Juarez or further and, unless they could ransom the woman off before then, they would sell her to some Mexican. For tonight, they would stop and scope out the next place to hit, while Samuals guarded her.

“That should be easy for him. Face it, she's half dead,” Baker scoffed.

Jessie thought some. No matter what, she would be gone tonight. She didn't care how much it hurt. I will escape this hell! No way will I go any further than where they stopped presently. No way will I be sold like a piece of meat, either. The wagon hit another bump. She groaned.

“Is she awake?” Gordon asked.

“No. She's been doing it every time the wagon hits something. She's in extreme pain after what you did to her."

“Shut up, Samuals."

She drifted off again, the hope of escape some comfort to a point. The rest of the day's trip became painful, as Baker deliberately tried to find every bump or hole in the road so he could hit them.

About sundown, they pulled off into a wooded area, secluded from the road. After they set up camp, the three men sat around the fire and ate. As had been their practice, Jessie's hunger or need for food had been ignored. As she watched them eat, she went hungry again.

“Get her off the wagon. We need it,” Gordon ordered Samuals. “Do whatever you have to. Just keep her quiet.” Gordon went over to the wagon and looked at the woman. He knew her name now. Was she worth all this effort? Was she really worth trying to tame? He pulled out the officer's scarf and looked at both the woman and it, as he anticipated their future meeting with the colonel. Yeah, she was worth it, all right!

He decided he would win. He would make her watch as he killed her husband. Then while he lay dead, or in the last throes of his life, Gordon planned to have one last fling with her and finish it. He would leave the two of them, make his way to Mexico and safety, with the knowledge it had been indeed worth it and he had won.

He decided, before he left for his safe haven, he would get rid of Baker and Samuals permanently. They would be liabilities, slow him down and cramp the style he planned to become accustomed to.

* * * *

Samuals took a sack of flour off the wagon and put it by a fallen tree. Gently, he tried to lift her off the wagon. She moaned with the pain the movement caused but this brought her that much closer to her escape and her long-awaited freedom. Samuals laid her on the ground and made sure she had the afghan wrapped around her for warmth.

After he tried to make her comfortable, he untied the horse from the rear of the wagon. Samuals hitched him to a tree a few feet away. Baker and Gordon got up on the wagon and urged the other horse on.

Gordon surprised her by ordering Baker to make sure she couldn't escape. Baker grinned as he got down from the wagon. He told Samuels to get away from the whore. He went to the back of the wagon and came back with some rope. Gordon silently slid in behind Samuels and held a gun to his back.

“Don't even think about it,” he commanded as they watched Baker go to work. Jessie felt like she died inside as she had a good idea of what would come. Baker took the rope and tied it around her neck, tight enough to almost cut her breathing off. The remaining rope he took and tied around the tree trunk. After he knotted it off, he bound her hands behind her.

“There now, the lying bitch won't go anywhere.” He sadistically laughed. Jessie moaned from the pain. She desperately tried to find a way to ease her breathing and the pain of her wrists. She watched as they threw Samuels to the ground, next to her before they left, his two friends taunting him.

She heard the wagon when they pulled away to find another place to terrorize. She would wait until they had been gone for a while, or after they went to sleep, to run. She remembered both enjoyed drinking, so they may be gone for a long while. How will I get free of the rope?

When they had disappeared out of sight, Samuals turned over to look at her.

“If you're awake, please open your eyes,” he pleaded. “You need to get out of here.” Jessie looked at him, unable to speak. “You have to run."

What was going to happen now? Is he setting me up to be murdered?

After releasing her, he tried to help her up. Once she stood up, she felt a bit better, though a little lightheaded and it still hurt her to breathe. Her ankle had swollen and hurt her. He gave her a bundle with food. She looked at him, fearful a set-up may be coming.

“Go now, back the way we came. Stay off the road. There's a farmhouse off to the right. Get help there. Now, go!” He looked at her with sorrow and apology in his eyes.

She looked at him and tried to speak, but it hurt her too much. He wrapped the afghan around her, then helped her to the horse. He helped her mount up and handed her the bundle. Samuals led the horse to a clearing at the edge of the woods.

He stood and watched her slowly ride away, then went back to their camp. He found the remains of an opened bottle of whiskey and started to drink. As he finished the bottle, he took the gun out of his holster and pulled the hammer back. He held it to his temple and pulled the trigger.

She let the mare choose her steps. Her feet had been cut and bleeding after Gordon had taken her shoes from her. The pain intensified as she tried to put pressure on her feet to hold her on the horse, but she put that out of her mind. Her head hung down over the mare's mane. I have to! I have to get away!

After a while, she heard what sounded like a small explosion. It came from the direction of where she just came from. This meant one of two things, either he shot himself or the others had returned, killed him and would soon be after her. She tried to hurry to safety.

It seemed like hours before she got to the farmhouse. Her pace had been slow, as the horse had sensed she couldn't hold on. About midnight on a night lit by a full moon, she saw the door to a barn had been left open and led the horse in. She found an open stall filled with hay, and collapsed into it. Jessie groaned as the fall hurt her ribs. The horse moved away as she fell asleep. Still hurting and having trouble breathing, Jessie felt safe. Hopefully, she would remain that way.

Overnight, Jessie tried to keep warm but nothing helped. The afghan's open needlework pattern did not hold the heat in. She shivered more and started to feel worse. She coughed, her chest hurt more. She didn't understand why. She became delirious as it got colder. She needed help but had no strength to move. Please, Andrew, come for me! I need you!

* * * *

Soon after, Gordon and Baker returned from their scouting trip. They picked a home on the outskirts of town to break into the next night. When they pulled up, the fire had gone out. Ron Samuals lay dead, the victim of a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head, their captive gone.

They looked around the camp. She would only have been able to make it a short distance. They could find nothing but the other horse missing. The wild filly still had some tricks up her sleeve. Gordon had underestimated her once again. She still had to be close in the area, though, as sick as she was.

When they found her, he would never underestimate her again.

When he found her, he would have his way with her one more time before he carried out his plan for her and her husband.

They looked at Samuals, packed the wagon, and rode off. They left him for now, but they would take care of this later when they had the bitch back in their hands. Their main goal was getting away from here in case someone heard the shot. They would set up a new camp, and then search for her. If she healed and talked, she would send them to the gallows and neither of them could afford that. They went back up the road about half of a mile, and pulled over for the night. They decided to start the search for her in the morning. She had to be near. Gordon mentally kicked himself for his mistake of underestimating this woman.

Gordon picked up the wanted poster he had taken from the last farm and read it again, fully aware of who they had with them. It would turn out to be their misfortune the wild rebel filly had become the wife of a Union officer. He figured the guy had to be pretty hard up marrying her.

He should have gone for the ransom, instead of what they had done to her. They could have used the money to get to Mexico and freedom. Now the price for this escapade would be high. He figured the military and the government would be easy to deal with. He had heard of an officer named Hastings who had the reputation of being fair, unless someone crossed him, and they had definitely done that.

Gordon thought about Baker, as he became more of a liability. His hunger for women held them back as well. He would have to take care of him once the bitch and her colonel had been dealt with. Then nothing would stop him from getting to Mexico and the life he had planned on.

He would take on a new name. He laughed at the irony of the one he had decided to go by once south of the border. Ironic as hell he would become James Andrew Hastings, Colonel in the United States Army. That identity would definitely get him farther than Stanley Gordon, army deserter. He loved it!

They fell asleep as the whiskey they had overindulged in took control. They woke after noon, under a hot sun, and kicked themselves for not getting up earlier. But what difference did it make? She couldn't have gotten that far away, or could she? Yes, she was still full of surprises.

Chapter 9

Later in the morning, just after dawn, George Burton got up to begin his daily chores. He went to the barn to milk the cows and feed the other animals. When he went into the stable, he discovered a strange brown roan standing just inside one of the stalls. He entered the stall and found a woman lying in the hay, wrapped in an afghan, shaking and sweating. He heard her talking, no, babbling to no one. He bent down and felt her head, which was burning with fever, then saw the blood and the bruises.

He picked her up. The strange woman moaned in agonizing pain. He carried her to the house and told his wife, Helen, to pull down the bed in the guestroom. He carried the woman upstairs and laid her on the bed, then carefully removed the afghan.

“Helen, we have a problem."

“What?” she said as she came into the room. Helen saw the stains on the woman's blouse as she told her husband to go get hot water, towels, soap, bandaging, and whiskey.

“Whiskey?"

“She'll need something for the pain, George.” He came back shortly with the items she had asked for. She handed him the blouse, the undergarments, skirt, afghan, and the dirty bandages and told him to burn them. He looked at her with questions in his eyes.

“George, this poor girl's been tortured. Whoever did this will more than likely be back for her.” He left them and hurried outside to the barnyard to burn the things on the woodpile.

Helen tried to clean the wounds, but found too much poison. She dampened a cloth with whiskey and dabbed them again. Jessie cried out as Helen tried to quiet her down.

“You're safe here. I'm taking care of you and I'll do my best to make you well."

“They'll ... come ... after ... me ... I ... need ... an...” she mumbled in return.

Helen washed the wounds again, then applied clean bandaging. When she finished, she bathed the young woman and washed her hair. The scars and welts all over her body showed continuous and recent abuse. What man could do this to a woman? Then she remembered.

She had been handed a leaflet that showed three men wanted by the military. She covered the woman up, let her fall off to sleep, then went downstairs. Looking through some papers lying on the counter, she found it. George came in from burning the woman's things, then Helen showed it to him.

They read it and saw that the men Jessie spoke of were wanted for murder, rape, assault, theft, arson, kidnapping, and desertion from the army, plus a long list of other minor charges. The last paragraph stopped them:

They are armed and extremely dangerous. Be wary if coming into contact with the three of them. They have a woman traveling with them against her will. She was kidnapped in New Orleans, April 1863.

She is believed to be in serious medical condition from acts at their hands. Her name is Mrs. Jessica Templeton Hastings, wife of a US Army Colonel. If seen, contact military officer in area.

“George, it's her.” She showed him the handbill. “We've got to protect her."

“Do you realize the danger? We could be hurt, or even killed,” he warned her.

“She deserves our help, George. If anyone comes by looking like them, we'll say we haven't seen her."

“And if they don't believe us?"

“I'll think of something."

“What about notifying her husband?"

“When she gets better. We don't even know if she'll live or not."

“But he must be going out of his mind,” he reminded her.

“We'll let him know when we have an idea of what to tell him.” George didn't agree, but usually Helen turned out to be right in her decisions. He watched as she went back upstairs. She checked in on Jessie, relieved her fever had come down some. The wounds appeared a little weepy, but not like earlier.

She went to the dresser drawer and pulled out a nightgown and a shawl. She gently lifted Jessie up to a sitting position and helped her into the gown. After she laid Jessie back against the pillows, Helen pulled the quilt over her.

Jessie felt a little better, cleaned up with clean clothes in a comfortable bed. She was free!

Helen looked at her, attractive but more than likely, beautiful before this had happened to her. She took Jessie's hands in hers and felt a strange roughness. She turned them over and exposed scarred palms where Jessie must have, on several occasions, clenched her hands so tightly, she bled. She looked again at the bruised, battered face, swollen around her eyes. Helen felt ashamed and sorry for Jessie. No one should go through the horror this poor woman had experienced.

“Jessica, my name is Helen. My husband's name is George and we're the Burtons."

“How do ... you ... know my ... name?” Helen showed her the flyer. Jessie grabbed it and threw it down on the floor as she tried to get away from those horrible faces. She tried to bury her head in the pillow but the pain from her ribs stopped her. She cried out. Helen held her, calming her.

“You're safe now,” Helen said, as she picked up the handbill. Carefully, she folded it in half to hide the pictures of the men, then read Jessie the last paragraph. Jessie started to cry.

“What's wrong, dear?"

“My husband is a colonel? I missed his promotion. My God, something important like that and I wasn't there to share it with him.” She sobbed uncontrollably, then coughed. Her body hurt as the loss of breath returned, her heart broken. Helen laid her back, and tried to get her to stop crying and calm down.

“It hurts,” Jessie cried as she held her side. Helen lifted her gown up and noticed something she hadn't seen before. This poor girl's ribs are bruised. No, wait, one felt broken. The stress of crying and coughing made it difficult for Jessie and more evident.

“Jessie, you have to remain calm, or you won't heal."

George came into the room. He squeezed Jessie's hands warmly as he welcomed her to their home. They heard a noise outside as a wagon approached. George went to check on it, then came back.

“It's two men,” he warned. Jessie grabbed Helen's hand.

“It's them,” she whispered as her eyes filled with terror.

“Can you get up?"

Jessie nodded.

“I'll do anything. Please, don't let them get me again. Please,” she begged.

Helen helped her out of bed, gave her the shawl and helped her cross the room to a closet. She noticed Jessie limped as she supported her and told herself to check this later. She opened the door as Jessie looked at her. Helen pushed a panel in the closet wall that opened into a crawl space. She helped her into the space and told her to lock the door. Jessie did as she heard the closet door close. Back in darkness, this time, it felt safe.

George had gone downstairs while Helen moved Jessie, then straightened the bed to hide any signs of Jessie's presence. She threw clothes on the bed to make it look like they had been going through old things. She joined her husband downstairs when they heard a knock on the door.

George opened the door to two very unkempt Union soldiers.

“Have you seen a woman anywhere? She's sick and we have to get her to a doctor."

“No. No, we haven't.” George knew they didn't believe him as Baker pushed his way into their home. He looked around as he tried to see any clue of Jessie being there. Gordon went over to Helen, who backed away from him. He thought better of this. After all, they could always come back.

Baker went upstairs while Gordon looked around downstairs. They could find no evidence of the wild filly anywhere. Gordon went over to George and whispered something in his ear. He told Helen what had been said after they left.

“He said what?"

“He said that if he found out, or could prove, we were lying or holding out on them, they would be back and it wouldn't be pretty."

Helen sat down, feeling faint. She looked at George.

“Well, we're going to have to be very careful in what we say and do. She has to be protected, and taken care of so she can heal, that way she can get back to that colonel of hers. We can't let those two monsters get their hands on her again."

They waited until the two renegades disappeared out of sight before they went back upstairs to Jessie. Helen helped her out of the crawlspace and back into bed. From what she had seen, Helen understood how much pain Jessie suffered and gave her a shot of brandy to help relax her.

“Helen, could I ask you a question?"

“What?"

“Why are you doing this? Why are you risking your lives for someone you don't even know?"

“Why shouldn't we? God led you to our farm for a reason. It's only right we should take care of someone in need."

“I appreciate everything, but don't you realize they will find out I'm here? Don't you know what they will do to you?"

“We were informed before they left. Like I said before, don't worry. We'll get you well and back to that colonel of yours. Trust me, we'll be very careful."

* * * *

When Andrew, Jack, and Adam reached the next town, they met with interesting news—Ron Samuals was dead, apparently a suicide. His body had been found a few weeks before in a wooded area just over the hill. Andrew rode out to the site and looked around. As he surveyed the clearing, he breathed a sigh of relief for two reasons.

First, with Samuals dead, that left only the other two to contend with. The odds became a little better in that respect. Second, they had closed the time gap from being over a month behind them to a few weeks or less.

The more he looked around, the more something struck him as being out of place. Something wasn't right with what he saw in front of him. Why was there a sack of flour broken open in the middle of nowhere? It didn't belong and this bothered him.

It seemed like it had been used as a support for something or someone. He looked at it closely and noticed a familiar-looking reddish-brown stain on the burlap and the rope, which looked as if it had been used recently. He looked up at the sky. When would it all end? He sat down on the fallen tree and thought about what it felt like to stand with her under the stars, to walk with her hand-in-hand. He had to clear his mind.

As he sat in the quiet clearing, his sadness deepened. He got up and aimlessly hiked through the thicket coming into a glen. He stood in the small clearing, and looked around, his emotions welling up, as he stood alone without her. Andrew let out an anguished cry, dropped to his knees and cried more. He stayed there for a short time. How close to Jessie had he gotten?

“Jessie!"

He hiked back through the woods, then mounted Satan. Hours after he had left, he rode back to town but, before he went to his room at the hotel, he paid a visit to the sheriff. This proved uneventful, except for one bit of information. The men they sought were rumored to still be in the area.

“Where?"

“There have been sightings, but we haven't been able to pin them down. They've been living off the land."

“Unfortunately, the army trains their people well in some areas.” He got up to leave, stopped and asked the sheriff to let him know of any news. He realized the man would be no help. “By the way, is there a wire service or telegraph office in town?"

“At the hotel.” Andrew tipped his hat and left. He walked Satan to the livery to stable him for the night. As he came out in the sunlight, he looked around the small town of Winston, Texas. Located just over the state line from Louisiana, it had grown to become home to a hotel, livery, emporium/general store, bank, and some other small businesses, plus many homes, both in town and on the outskirts. Winston had become a sort of neutral zone between both sides of the war, accepted on both sides without question in a rare moment of truce.

As he made his way to the hotel, he thought about what the sheriff had said. If these bastards were in the area, then so was Jessie, and that would mean an end to this hell! Please God! Let it be over!

* * * *

The man at the livery said rumors had abounded for months about the three marauding Union deserters, who were either in the area or headed toward Winston. One family, after hearing of their exploits, packed everything of value they could stow in their carriage and some wagons, and headed straight for Atlanta. They left their mansion fully furnished with Jameson, the banker, leaving him instructions to sell it to whoever wanted to buy it.

Early in ‘63, the townspeople heard the possibility, the rumored threat had become quite real, the renegades were somewhere in the woods south of the Burton Farm on the outskirts of town.

Three men, two Union officers and one doctor, arrived in Winston with the hopes of taking care of the problem and arresting the three perpetrators to take them to trial in a military court. The one officer, the colonel, was personally involved since the outlaws had a very valuable “insurance policy"—they had the man's wife.

The doctor with them had lost his sister at the hands of these monsters and wanted not only revenge, but to be on hand when the colonel found his wife so he could give her the immediate medical attention he was sure she would be needing.

There had been a quiet exchange of wishes between the two warring Presidents over this one little town. It may have been one of the few things they agreed on, but they did. Winston, Texas would remain untouched and unharmed by the war tearing the nation in two. The two leaders concurred. Whatever the outcome of the situation, it would be at the hands of Hastings, McCord, and Cole. That alone made it imperative this town be left in peace by both sides.

* * * *

Andrew went into the lobby to the desk and sent a wire to General Grant, followed by wires to the President and the Secretary of War. He advised them of the latest information and questioned the possibility of some troops being sent to his position, if the army didn't need them. Since he had left Gettysburg, he had no idea of what had gone on with the War Between the States. As he thought of the war, he sent a quick message to Buford.

When he finished, he met Jack and Adam in the hotel's dining room. He told them what the sheriff had said and added he planned to spend some time here.

“What do you intend to do?"

“We're going to pick up their tracks. My wife is near, I can feel it and I'm not leaving until we know for sure."

Jack excused himself to go upstairs while Adam took this opportunity to talk with Andrew.

“I don't want to be the one to say this, but someone has to play the devil's advocate with you."

“Your point?"

“What if she's dead?"

“She's not,” Andrew stated emphatically.

“But what if she is?"

“Don't say that, damn it,” Andrew said, clenching his fists.

“You have to face it because if you don't, you won't be of much help to her if she is alive."

“What are you saying?"

“What I'm trying to tell you, as your friend, if I can call myself that, is you had better prepare yourself for the worst. For all we know, she could be dead."

“She's not. She can't be.” Andrew felt betrayed by this man, who had also been affected by this situation as much as he had been, maybe more. “She's alive and I'm going to find her."

“I understand that.” Adam remained calm, wishing he could get through Hastings’ desperation. Andrew Hastings definitely skirted the edge. Adam did not want to see him fall, as he knew what the consequences could be.

“Well, then don't screw up the works,” Adam told him harshly with the need to get through to the distraught husband of a kidnapped wife. Then Adam got up and left.

Andrew wondered how this guy could be his friend and say what he had about Jessie, his Angel. After some thought, he realized Doctor Adam Cole had been right. He went to Adam's room and knocked on the door. Adam opened the door, saw Andrew and waited to feel a punch to his jaw for what he had said, or to be told to leave and go home.

“I'm sorry, Adam, you were right. If anyone knows what I'm going through, it's you,” Andrew quietly apologized. They shook hands. Andrew turned to go back to his room.

“Andrew, we'll find her."

Andrew nodded and left to go back to his room. He tossed and turned that night. He got up and poured himself some bourbon, then walked to the window and looked out at the quiet, sleeping town. The thought of his losing her forever haunted his dreams and made his nightmares worse, as they invaded his waking thoughts. When would the nightmares all be over? He needed to know when life would get back to some normalcy. Only by finding Jessie would this happen. He turned around and looked at the bed he should be sharing with his wife and reared back. He threw the glass at the door. It smashed into little pieces, much like his life had up to this moment.

A few minutes later, he heard a knock on his door.

* * * *

Adam closed the door and breathed a sigh of relief. He had come to not only like this man, but admire him. He turned and went over to the bed, then sat on the side of it. He leaned against the pillows he had stacked against the headboard and tried to get comfortable. He thought back.

Jack had mentioned Andrew's nightmares, as Jack shared with him what he had been told about Andrew's feelings. Adam wondered how sensitive Andrew and his wife had become to each other. If this was the case, and he felt her pain, then they had a very unique and special bond between them.

He remembered how adamant Andrew had been about his wife still being alive. No wonder the man had pushed his limits. Though he drove himself as he had, he seemed to still have some control over what he needed to do.

Adam hoped, as they got nearer to the end of the chase, Andrew would still hold it together, though it would be understandable if irrationality took over. Adam knew how he felt about the situation, especially after what the bastards had done to his sister, Elizabeth. He would never forgive himself for not being home when they broke in. Hell, I feel guilty about the fact my grandfather's sword had been somehow used during the attack.

He looked forward to meeting Mrs. Hastings as he promised himself to apologize and make amends for what had happened to her. Adam regretted the use of a family sword against her in the hands of the renegades. He wondered how Andrew would react to this little bit of information.

As he sat, lost in thought, he heard the crash from the room next door. He ran out of his and began banging on Andrew's door.

“Andrew, are you all right? Andrew."

The door opened as a disheveled man, obviously in pain, looked back at him. He turned and went over to the window to gaze out on the quiet street.

“No, Adam, I'm not all right. Nothing's right and won't be until I have my wife back."

“The crash..."

“What the hell happened? Andrew, are...” Jack asked, short of breath.

“I owe Berringer for a glass. I threw it against the door and it shattered. I cleaned it up before you started beating on the door.” Andrew looked at his exec. “I'm fine, go get some sleep."

“You're sure?"

“Go on,” he said as he nodded. Adam remained.

“It scared me. I thought you had done something rash."

“No, not yet, my friend,” Andrew replied, smiling. “Thanks for caring, though."

“Anytime, just don't do it again too soon."

“Sure, Adam.” Cole was turning to leave him, when Andrew stopped him.

“Adam, she's not well and in a great deal of pain. She's having trouble breathing, I think. Somebody's got to help her.” Adam looked at him and went back over what he had been thinking about when he'd been startled by the glass breaking.

“Andrew, how do you know this?"

“I'm sure Jack has told you about the episodes I've had. Jessie told me a long time ago to trust my feelings. I don't know why, but I know when she's in extreme pain. I sensed what she went through that first night, although I didn't put it together until weeks later. I've felt everything that's been done to her in one way or another.

“I think I even felt the night, I guess almost two years ago, when she had our baby, but even that I'm not sure of at this point. Adam, she needs me and I can't do a damn thing for her standing here."

“It won't be too much longer, Andrew. Trust me. We're very close and you know that. Calm down and don't make any foolish decisions. Doctor's orders.” With that, Andrew cracked another smile. “You said baby?” he asked.

“Yep. From what I was told in New Orleans, she had a little girl."

“Congratulations, Dad,” he said as he smiled at the thought of Andrew being a father.

“Thanks, Adam."

Adam returned to his room, thrown by what he had just been told. Andrew felt so sure about the feelings, but it still bothered him, it seemed really eerie. It would be interesting to see how his wife reacted when Andrew lay in pain or hurt.

* * * *

Jessie had stayed at the Burtons for almost a month. Was it longer? She had totally lost all track of time, with no idea of day, let alone the date. Still confined to bed due to the broken rib and the fractured ankle, which for some reason, hadn't healed, she tried to think about her future. She continued to have problems breathing, but coughing hurt the most. She hadn't eaten. Sometimes, she became delirious and babbled.

Helen went to check on her. As she reached the top of the stairs, a blood-curdling scream came from Jessie's room. She ran into the room to find Jessie sitting up in bed, hysterical and crying as she shook uncontrollably. Helen saw a faraway look in her eye, Jessie obviously distressed. Jessie fought her until she realized that Helen held her.

“What's wrong, Jessie?"

“They're going to kill me. They're after me,” she cried, terrified.

“No, they're not."

“Help me. They want to cut me again,” she pleaded. Helen brushed the hair out of her face. She felt Jessie's forehead, hot with fever. Helen called to George and told him to bring cold towels. She laid Jessie back down on the bed, as Jessie held onto her arm with an iron grip.

“We're going to try and bring your fever down. It's going to be all right.” She tried to explain everything to the young woman in order to calm her down, but she saw the terror in Jessie's eyes. George brought the cold towels in as Helen attempted to get the fever to break. When it finally broke, Jessie rested, drifting off into an uneasy sleep. Helen thought this the perfect opportunity to check her ribs again.

As she lifted the gown, Helen noticed the bruising had not faded. In fact, it had gotten worse. She asked George to go fetch the doctor. “If we don't do something and soon, she could die."

George left and returned a short time later. He said Doc Morgan would be out in a little while, and would act as if he'd been invited to afternoon tea. Helen thought this would be best, in case they were being watched, a fact they were quite sure of.

Around quarter after two, the doctor's carriage pulled up. The medium-tall man with reddish hair jumped down and went up on the porch. As promised, he acted like he was paying a social call. As soon as he entered the house, Helen led him upstairs to where Jessie lay unconscious, overwhelmed with another fever.

Doctor Scott Morgan gently and very carefully examined Jessie. He had seen cases like hers in London, where he went to school, and during one of the latest conferences he had attended in New York. Helen explained how she had come into their care, what she did for the knife wounds. She told him the entire story. They were able to get bits and pieces from Jessie when she was lucid.

“She's told me about abuse, rape, and emotional terror. This poor girl has been living through hell."

“That is obvious. It's a wonder she's even alive. You've done a good job on her wounds. It looks like most of the infection is gone. We'll have to keep an eye on that."

“What about her ribs? Did you look at her ankle?"

“I'm going to wrap them both. She'll be in pain but it's the only way to put pressure on them to heal. It feels, too, like one of the ribs is out of place. The ankle? We'll have to play it by ear, as we don't know how old the injury is."

He took a small bundle from his coat, carefully hidden in case the monstrous pair watched their activity. Helen gently lifted Jessie, then he wrapped her ribs. Carefully, he pulled the wrapping tight enough to help the ribs, but not increase the problem with her breathing. He treated the ankle as he tried to support it better with a small splint. He took a bottle of elixir from the bundle. Doctor Morgan told Helen to try to get a dose into her every six to eight hours. He opened Jessie's mouth and poured a dropper of the medicine in.

He helped Jessie lay back against the stack of pillows after Helen straightened the gown. She slept a little while Scott remained to watch her. She woke and started rambling. Dr. Morgan caught the word baby and the names Andrew and Sarah.

Helen showed him the handbill. He read the information about her on the bottom of it. He looked back at Helen.

“How long has she been here?"

“Several weeks, maybe longer—why?"

“Did you contact the colonel about her being here?"

She shook her head.

“No, we thought she should be taken care of first. Having the bastards watching every move we make hasn't helped either. I was afraid if I went anywhere out of the ordinary, they'd be back for her."

He nodded, seeing her point, but realized this Colonel Hastings must be out of his mind. Then he remembered two army officers had come to Winston in the last day or two.

“Her husband must be going crazy, not knowing her whereabouts. I'll try to contact him, but first, I want to make sure she's on the road to recovery. That's my priority.” He took the handbill and put it into his coat pocket. They went downstairs where the cups had been put on the table, ready for the next part of the charade.

To anyone who might be watching, the doctor casually walked out of the door and onto the porch with a cup of tea in his hand. Helen and George followed him and the three of them sat in the rockers in friendly conversation.

After Dr. Morgan finished his tea and left, Helen went inside while George went to the barn to do the afternoon chores. Helen cleaned up the kitchen and straightened the dining tablecloth to get rid of the crumbs from the cakes she had made.

As she had done for the past few weeks, she made a bowl of chicken broth for Jessie. She took it up to her, but Jessie slept, if that's what it could be called. Every once in a while, she would shake violently or twitch, then return to an uneasy peace.

“Jessie?” Helen tried to wake her, though she knew she probably wouldn't stir. “I have some broth for you. Jessie?” Helen took a spoonful of broth, poured a little off so it would not spill, and put it to Jessie's lips. She could pour some of the liquid into her patient, a good sign. Another good sign had been that Jessie swallowed it. She fed her some more until it seemed even this tired Jessie out.

Helen felt Jessie's forehead, still warm with fever. She would let Jessie rest and come back later in the evening with the medicine. As she left the room, she heard a moan. She went back to the bedside to find Jessie's eyes wide open. As she looked at Jessie, Helen noticed for the first time the beauty of Jessie's eyes as they had a sparkle she hadn't seen before.

“Jessie?"

“I hurt."

“The doctor was here to see you earlier. He wrapped you so your ribs can start to heal. He also tried to help your ankle. He's not sure about how it will heal."

“What's wrong with my ribs?” she asked slowly as she had trouble taking breaths.

“Evidently, when you were beaten, one of the ribs was either cracked or broken. He said one felt out of place."

“I remember being kicked in the side and having a knee in my chest."

“That was probably the cause, then. What about your ankle?"

“If I remember right, during the early part of this whole deal, I was held in a barn, shackled to a beam or something. I kept getting knocked down by them and I think that's when it happened."

Helen looked at her. This poor girl never deserved any of this, no one did. If what she could get from various mumblings was true, she had a husband who loved her and a daughter who needed her. She needed to be with them, not here in this condition. She noticed Jessie became a little more agitated.

“I need to move, to get away from here."

“Why, dear? You're safe here."

“I need to get back to Andrew. I need to tell him...” She trailed off into sleep again. Hopefully, Dr. Morgan would be able to contact Colonel Hastings, and soon.

She pulled the covers over Jessie and left the room. Helen could not believe the hell Jessie must have gone through, and so young. One thing she had going for her had been that need for her husband and Sarah. Helen left the room and went downstairs to tell George about what had just happened.

Around eight o'clock that evening, she filled the dropper with the elixir Dr. Morgan had left with her. She took it upstairs to Jessie's room where she lay under the quilt, asleep. Enough light came in the window to see what she had to do without lighting a lamp. She and George had agreed, from the morning he had found Jessie asleep in the barn, that no matter what, everything would appear as if only two people lived there. There would be no apparent evidence of their guest. They knew they were being watched and they had to protect Jessie.

She gave Jessie the elixir and, after she covered her patient up again, Helen sat with her awhile. Jessie slept better this time, quieter and easier. Maybe she was finally getting better.

Helen sat with Jessie for several hours. As she watched Jessie, Helen wondered how much more Jessie would go through before she got back with her husband. The girl had to heal, or she would never make it. Helen knew something was going on that kept Jessie from a decent recovery.

Jessie began to stir as Helen got up to leave her to go to bed. She went back to her bedside, and saw the young woman's pain. Suddenly, she went into convulsions. Jessie cried out as Helen tried to calm her. George heard her and ran into the room. He left and returned with towels and cold compresses.

“Jessie, my God. What's wrong?” Helen asked her as she took Jessie's hand.

“My stomach. I can't take this. It feels like it's on fire."

“Tell me what it feels like,” Helen asked as she hoped Jessie could tell her more.

“Like I'm having a baby.” Again, she cried out, her grip on Helen's arm like iron.

“George, pull the drapes. I need to take a look at her.” He did so, then lit one of the lamps.

“Jessie, calm down. I'm just going to see if I can tell what's wrong."

Jessie relaxed. Helen pulled back the covers, shocked at what she saw. Jessie looked at her, then George.

“Tell me what's wrong. Please,” she begged.

“Jessie, you've miscarried."

“What?” she asked, shocked by what Helen said.

“Did you know you were pregnant?"

“Andrew's been gone for so long. There was no one except ... no..."

“Who?” Helen asked as shock set in.

“My God, no. Andrew will hate me now.” Helen realized what had happened.

“No, he won't,” she said as she comforted Jessie. “He'll understand it wasn't your doing. What was done to you was hideous and vicious. He will love you, no matter what. You'll see."

Jessie cried. Helen cleaned her up, changed her gown and the bedding. George took the dirty linen downstairs to be taken outside in the morning to be burned. He came back with some hot tea and hoped it might help to calm Jessie down. Jessie drank it and fell asleep, as an uneasy peace came over her. Had Andrew felt the entire episode, thinking his Angel had died while convincing himself and the others I'm very, very much alive?

* * * *

Andrew woke early the next morning; he had barely slept at all. The lack of sleep and the constant drive began to take their toll on him. He looked as if he had aged several years in the last few weeks, his hair grayed a little more each day. He had been at this constantly for the better part of a month or more. They had gone non-stop since New Orleans, each day closer to the predators they hunted.

Nor did it help him when he felt her pain. He had felt it the night before when his stomach felt like it had been torn apart. Adam desperately tried to help him but, as quickly as the pains came on, they went away. Andrew's condition had baffled him, Adam obviously amazed at how strong their bond was.

“Your wife has to be one hell of a special woman,” he commented.

“She is."

Andrew got up, dressed and left the hotel to go to the livery. He had Satan saddled and rode out to the woods to search for more clues. He came back and, when he met Jack and Adam, he told the two men the time had come to check the properties in the area. Someone had to know something.

“We'll start at the campsite, go west, and work our way back. We know they're in the area. They have to be getting low on provisions, which means they're probably planning another attack.” The desk clerk handed him a message. “Well, that confirms it. They hit another farm, north of here.” His fist clenched as he read it.

“What happened?"

“Ransacked the house, attacked the farmer, and made him watch while they raped and killed his wife and daughter. They left him for dead and took what food was left."

“Bastards."

“We'll ride out to the farm and take a look around."

“Why are you torturing yourself this way? You, of all people, know what they're capable of, as I am.” Adam was worried about him. He feared Andrew would go off the deep end, but then again, wasn't that to be expected?

“You don't understand, Adam. We have to investigate each incident to gain evidence to make the reports for the court-martial,” Jack explained.

Adam finally understood, though he felt, from what he had been told of the circumstances, the government and the military had taken unnecessary advantage of the Hastings’ situation. Knowing the personal involvement, what more did they need to catch these killers?

The clerk handed him another wire, this one from Stanton's office. They would not be able to send troops due to the campaigns going on in the upper Midwest. Andrew threw the message on the table, unhappy at the news, but not surprised.

“Well, it looks like we're on our own, boys. No support coming. Something about a war.” Andrew figured the local sheriff would be of no use either and left him out of the equation.

Jack looked at him and then Adam—the three of them against two soldiers, deserters who had nothing to lose. He considered the enemy's standpoint on their captive. As sure as someone could say Ulysses Simpson Grant, they would use the colonel's wife as leverage, if not emotional blackmail. She would definitely be a plus for their side.

He sat next to his commanding officer and wondered how the colonel would handle that. Andrew was good, in fact, very good, but the stress from this ordeal so far had taken its toll on him. He vowed to keep a closer eye on the man, who at this point, had become the closest thing to family he'd had in a long while.

Jack McCord grew up in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania in the city's oldest section and a few blocks away from Elfreth's Alley, one of the first residential streets in the country. There had been no question as to whether or not he'd join the army, family history had made it his destiny.

He went to West Point, a fair student. As soon as he graduated, he took an assignment in one of the divisions serving under General Grant in the Trans-Mississippi area. Happy for these orders, he got the chance to get away from the east coast. When Grant had called him to a meeting a few weeks earlier, Jack thought he had done something to incur the general's wrath.

Instead, Grant offered him the duty of assisting Colonel James Andrew Hastings in catching three army deserters who terrorized the southern Louisiana region. He jumped at this, and had accepted the assignment eagerly.

Over the last few weeks, he had come to admire the colonel. He considered Andrew a friend, and hoped the feeling was mutual, but Colonel Hastings had a lot of demons. Hopefully, catching these guys would help Hastings, though it remained to be seen.

They left to go to the farm to investigate the latest attack. When they arrived, the sheriff was leaving. He told them what he had and left. The three of them entered the house to find the place ransacked with furniture out of place, broken glass, and evidence the victims had put up quite a fight.

The farmer told his story, though a bit hazy on some of the facts. He painted a gloomy picture of what took place. Adam checked the man over and took him outside. Andrew and Jack looked over the rest of the house and saw about the same things they had seen at the other places, but something caught Andrew's eye from under the table, shining in the sunlight coming in through the broken kitchen window, a gleam from a small gold item. He picked it up, looked at it, and ran outside.

He ran over to the farmer, grabbed him, and spun him around. Ranting and screaming at the man, Andrew asked him if there had been another woman with them. Adam pulled Andrew back, trying to calm him. As Andrew ran off, Adam apologized to the man and tried to explain the situation. The man swore he hadn't seen anyone else with them.

“Andrew?” Jack called after him, after Andrew had pushed by him.

“What the hell is the matter with him?” Adam asked McCord.

“I don't know, but something's got him upset."

“You're telling me? I've never seen him go after someone like he went after that poor man.” They followed him and found him on his knees, sobbing, then he screamed “No!" Shaking his head and looking up to the sky, he let out the same agonizing scream he had a few nights before at the clearing. Adam and Jack looked at each other, then went to Andrew. He stared, blankly gripping whatever he had found tightly in his hand.

He got up, totally oblivious to their presence beside him, mounted Satan and galloped off.

* * * *

Jack and Adam looked at each other as their fears of his snapping intensified.

“If he survives this ordeal, it will be because several things have happened: first, he's got to find these guys and put a stop to them. If he kills them, at least the world will be a safer place to live in, and second, he has to find her alive or, God forbid, dead. Either way, he needs closure and answers."

“I hope he's not going to do something drastic. Not this close."

“What do we do, Jack?"

“Give him some time. If he's not back in a reasonable amount of time, we'll go looking for him."

“What's reasonable?"

“Good question."

* * * *

Andrew rode Satan hard, harder than he had in a long time. The horse didn't seem to have a problem, the ground was even, and the air fresh. After riding for what seemed like forever, Andrew found that they stood beside a rippling stream, wildly flowing on its way to wherever. He sat in the saddle with no idea how far he had gone, out of breath and weak from his emotional outbursts. He leaned over Satan's neck, his face buried in the horse's thick mane, and sobbed more. His body shook with the force of his hatred and sorrow. All he could think of was his beautiful Jessica, his Angel.

His thoughts kept coming back to one nagging feeling. He had failed her. He had promised to love and protect her. Love, he passed; protecting her, he had failed at miserably. He had failed Victor. Andrew Hastings had never been able to handle failure at all. It had always been an unacceptable element to his life. He didn't know if it went back to his childhood when he reflected back that his father had virtually failed him and his mother, but Andrew drove himself to succeed at everything. Now, when someone else had depended on him, he had failed miserably. The tiny item in his hand confirmed this. As he lost himself in these thoughts, he lost his balance. He fell from Satan into the stream, face down.

The chill of the icy water stirred him. As he fought to make his way out of the water, he realized he still gripped what he had found at the house. He climbed the bank of the stream and fell into the grass. He lay by himself, his hand still in a tight fist. He sat up slowly and looked at the object in his hand.

Andrew opened his hand and stared at the small gold and diamond earring, the mate to the one he had found in the hallway at Jessie's home. Their home. This had been after he had discovered more about the house being invaded. He took the other one out of his pocket and put the two together. These earrings he had given her on their wedding day. The only thing left to find was the matching necklace. He could imagine that Gordon or Baker had worn the earring that, during the scuffle with the farmer's wife, it had fallen off to land where Andrew had found it.

After he discovered the second earring at a place where the sons of bitches had been, it led him to believe he had been chasing a dead woman. Dead at their hands! Adam had been right. Jessie could not have survived what these monsters had put her through, especially if it had been anywhere near what they had done to the others.

He fell back in the grass and prayed for strength. Tears streamed down his face but something told him she hadn't died. He didn't understand his feelings, but deep down in his heart, Andrew knew it would be a matter of time until they would be together again. Deep down, he knew his wife was still alive and close—so very close. This one feeling had become his driving force. He had to find her and the assholes or, quite honestly, he didn't want to go on. He wanted to die now but, if there was any chance that Jessie was still alive, he had to live.

He lay in the grass by the water for a long while in the hot sunshine, the first quiet time he'd had in weeks it seemed. It felt good to be able to listen to the sounds of the stream and the birds, instead of the screaming demons in his thoughts.

Andrew came to with a start due to the silhouette of a man that stood between him and the sun. Andrew couldn't focus on who it might be until Jack spoke up.

“Are you all right, Colonel Hastings?"

“Why so damned formal, Jack?"

“Just checking. We didn't know what condition we'd find you in."

“What do you mean?” he asked as he rubbed his head.

“You tore off pretty fast, gone for what Adam and I considered too long."

“I'm sorry."

“Don't be. Just answer me one thing. What the hell set you off?"

Andrew showed him the earrings and noticed the questioning look on Jack's face.

“I found one of these in the carpet tread of the stairs in the house in New Orleans and this one in that poor unfortunate family's kitchen. I gave these to Jessie on our wedding day. She never took them off."

Jack put a reassuring hand on Andrew's shoulder, understanding now what had started this episode.

“We'll find her,” he said. “No matter what, we'll find her."

The two walked back to the farm, as they led Satan and Callie, then met Adam at the farmer's house. Andrew saw the man and went over to him.

“Excuse me, sir. I'm Colonel Andrew Hastings and I owe you my deepest apologies for what I've done to you and my condolences for your loss. Can you forgive me for my actions earlier?"

The two men talked, shook hands and smiled. Andrew stood back and saluted the man after he told him everything would be done to bring these monsters to justice, one way or another. Andrew left him and went to rejoin Adam and Jack.

“Did you find anything else, Adam?"

“The usual. They beat the husband, tied him to a chair and made him watch as they raped his wife repeatedly. The daughter was awakened by the noise and came downstairs to see her mother's neck being broken in the scuffle. The one they call Baker? He chased the girl outside, dragged her back in by the hair and proceeded to beat her and rape her. The worst part..."

“There's a worst part?"

“She was only ten years old. Somewhere through the whole thing, the wife looked over to the husband and died. The daughter died of internal bleeding from the massive blows she had received to her stomach. The assholes never noticed or cared they were fucking dead women. It seemed her husband had knocked the chair over and somehow, moved it and himself over to his wife. That's where he remained until he was found."

“Isn't it amazing what we do for the women in our lives?"

“Why don't we get going? It's getting late.” Early afternoon, they rode back to the hotel.

“We'll start searching tomorrow,” Andrew said, after they stabled the horses.

They went into the lobby. Adam excused himself to go up to his room. He came back in a few minutes as the desk clerk caught up with Andrew and told him a man was waiting to see him.

“Colonel Hastings? I'm Doctor Morgan. I think I may have some news you've been hunting for.” This piqued Andrew's curiosity. He motioned to the dining room where the small group sat down. Berringer brought them some ale as they talked.

“Recently, I was asked to come out to a farm on the edge of town. The people are friends of mine and they asked me, when I got there, to act like it was a social call instead of a medical visit, due to the nature of the situation. I did so, taking a small package of what I thought I might need hidden in my coat."

“When I arrived, I was let in and taken upstairs to take a look at a young woman. She was delirious, hot with fever, bruised and swollen all over her entire body. Helen—Mrs. Burton—had taken good care of her, at least the best she could but, for some reason, the young woman's injuries were getting worse.

“It appeared she had been stabbed, more like a puncture wound, on her right shoulder below her neck. It was the kind of puncture that would cause a slow, major loss of blood over a long period of time if not stopped. I found a second wound of the same type inches over from the first one. Just to warn you, it gets worse."

Andrew swallowed hard as he choked back his emotions. His grip tightened on the arms of his chair.

“There were two incision-like marks between her breasts, looking like a double-edged sword blade or the thick blade of a kitchen knife had been squeezed between them, then pulled away from her. She was probably very close to dying at some point from the loss of blood. I wrapped her ribs so the one that is either broken or cracked, and is a little out of place, would heal.

“I had to try and set her ankle, which seemed to be either broken or fractured. The hardest part in trying to treat this type of injury is determining the age of it. She's bruised, swollen, and she's been cut several times, plus the fact her wrists and ankles were bound together, too tightly on numerous occasions, and there's two long slash marks along the side of her neck. I believe she suffers from an infection from the knife wounds. There's one more thing—"

“What's that?” Andrew's fists clenched tighter, as he wondered how much more bad news he would hear.

“I did a quick exam of her private areas. From what damage I saw, which looked like it was from numerous, violent acts, I don't think this woman will ever be able to have children. Mrs. Burton told me she might have suffered a miscarriage..."

Andrew felt like he died inside, as the feeling of emptiness and rage came over him. He asked about anything more, though he knew and dreaded the answer Dr. Morgan was about to give him.

“The woman, I am very sure, is your wife. Mrs. Jessica Hastings."

“Where is she?” he demanded.

The doctor looked at him and waited for another outburst, anything to release some of the pent-up rage this man obviously had inside him.

“I asked you a question, Doctor Morgan. Where is she?"

“Before I tell you, you have to understand something. You can't go out there like Grant's Army. She's alive only because of the protection of the people she is with. You could go out there with uniforms, authority, and guns blazing and you would be dead before you say anything. We have a strong idea the men who did this to her are waiting and watching because, as you well know, they can't afford for her to live."

He saw the colonel's hand relax a bit as Andrew realized what the doctor had just said was in everyone's best interest, especially his wife's. The doctor had successfully made Andrew straighten out his priorities, his military persona commanding the situation over the personal feelings of a man who had spent weeks in search of his loved one. Thinking of this, Andrew reached into his pocket where he kept her wedding band and the earrings close to his heart with his pocket watch. He took out the pictures of Jessie and Sarah and put them on the table in front of him. He handed Jessie's picture to Morgan and asked him if this had been the woman he had treated. He hoped beyond hope the answer would be no. Morgan nodded, his worst fears confirmed.

“Jack, stay with Doctor Morgan here. I'll be back. There's something I have to do.” He turned and left them, going to the clerk at the front desk.

“I need to send an immediate message to the President of the United States, Abraham Lincoln, to read as follows:

Have found Baker and Gordon.

Request immediate confirmation of the orders as to handling these two. Third one already dead, by his own hand.

Respectfully,

J A Hastings, Colonel USA

P.S. Have found my wife, alive.

More to follow.

“The minute an answer comes, I want it. I don't care what time it is. Understand?"

“Yes, sir.” The clerk sent the message as Andrew left the hotel. He went to the stables to find Satan. For the second time that day, he jumped on the horse. This time, he didn't bother to saddle him and rode bareback out of the stable. Satan galloped hard as Andrew held onto a handful of his mane. They went toward the river, north of town. When they got there, Andrew guided Satan to the water's edge.

Jumping down from Satan's back, Andrew's mind raced in various directions of blurred thought. Andrew ran into the water. He wanted to drown himself in the cold, icy water, fearful when the time came, he would fail her once again. He couldn't believe they'd been this close to each other, yet so far apart.

As he went further into the river, the chill of the water consumed him. He tried to let the currents take him away, but something held him back. He saw her in a vision as she held out her hands and beckoned to him. She pleaded with him not to do this as she begged for his help. He tried to reach out to her, but her hands were too far away. He tried everything and failed. Andrew let himself float to the top of the water and go with the current.

A short way down the shore, he pulled himself from the water and coughed. Dragging himself up on the bank, he fell to his knees as tears streamed down his face. He screamed her name as several egrets and ibis flew away at the sound of his agony. He screamed for Jessie again and sobbed more as this time, he apologized for failing her. He dropped there, beaten from the suicide attempt and the stress built up over the last few months. He closed his eyes.

He dreamed of her when he was awakened, roused by the feel of Satan's nose nuzzling him. He rolled on his back and put a hand out to his horse. As he slowly pulled himself up, a sudden flash of reality hit him. He would do no one any good—especially Jessie—if he totally lost it and became a raving lunatic, although nobody would blame him if he did.

* * * *

Adam, Jack, and Dr. Scott Morgan waited for him to return. They had a feeling he might be a while, so the three of them waited in the hotel dining room. Ordering food and drinks, they sat at their table discussing everything except the situation at hand. Jack had taken a chair to enable him to see Andrew the moment he walked through the lobby.

A young woman brought their orders to them and, as she placed their meals in front of them, Jack noticed her beauty for the first time. In her early twenties and fair-skinned, she had dark brown eyes and long blonde hair.

“Your friend took off out of here pretty fast. Is he all right?” Heather Berringer asked.

“We hope so. He had some pretty hard news earlier."

“That's a shame. I hope he's all right."

“So do we,” Jack replied as he felt himself falling hard for the hotel owner's daughter.

“If you need anything, let me know.” She turned and walked back to the front desk, where her father stood. She moved around him and situated herself where she could keep an eye on the handsome officer who had only been in Winston a few days. Randolph noticed his daughter's preoccupation with the captain and smiled.

Heather noticed the men had finished eating. She put her things down as she moved from behind the counter to come face-to-face with this, in her eyes, dashing officer.

“I'm Jack McCord."

“Heather Berringer."

“Would you have some time to take a walk?” Jack felt nervous, he figured she would probably say no due to being involved with someone else, but to his surprise, she agreed. They had been gone for almost an hour and when they returned, both Adam and her father noticed a difference in the couple. Adam was pleased something good might come from the dire reasons that had brought them here.

Chapter 10

Andrew returned to town a few hours later to find Jack, Adam, and Doctor Morgan relieved. They worried about his disheveled appearance, obviously from being in water. They wondered what he had tried to do to himself.

“Jack, any response to the wire?” Jack shook his head as he dropped his mouth in awe of his commanding attitude. “Then do me a favor and take care of Satan. He needs a kind word right about now and a good rubdown.” Jack nodded and left the others.

“Adam, would you please consult with Doctor Morgan about Jessie's condition? Doctor Morgan, your first name?"

“Scott."

“Scott, would you please come up to my room after you've spoken with Adam? Oh, and Adam, tell Jack we'll make plans when I come downstairs.” They looked at each other and marveled at Andrew's control, his command of the present situation. Since Jack had already gone to the stables, Adam and Scott talked to each other about Jessie and Andrew.

Half an hour later, Scott Morgan knocked on the door of Andrew's room. Tall, in his thirties and good looking, he had blond hair and blue eyes. He walked with a slight limp, the result of a broken leg from falling out of a tree at seven. Ushered into the room, he saw the colonel had cleaned up and changed clothes. He asked Andrew what had happened.

“Please check me for any side effects of an attempted suicide by drowning."

“Are you all right, Colonel?"

“Andrew, please. I think so, but I want to make sure. I went out to the river to end it all for failing to protect my wife, among other reasons. Maybe it was her father's spirit punishing me, I don't know. But I got a big dose of what I need to do, and I can't do it if I'm dead, now can I?"

Scott checked him over as he listened to his heart and lungs, the points he worried about. Everything seemed to be fine with this man, who just a few hours ago, resembled a volcano ready to erupt. He could not wait for these two, obviously so much in love, to be reunited.

Andrew cleaned up after his watery excursion. A knock came on the door as the bellman delivered a wire from the President. As he took it, Andrew asked if someone could clean his uniform for him. The bellman replied they could and took the clothes with him. Andrew opened the folded piece of paper. Scott saw his face and knew something had happened. Hastings looked at Scott as he handed him the piece of paper.

Colonel J A Hastings, U S Army

I am relieved to know that you've located your wife. May God take care of you both.

Confirmation of orders referencing extreme prejudice in the matter of Baker and Gordon stands.

Do what must be done!

Your servant,

A Lincoln

Scott's mouth dropped and he reread the message.

“You wired the President?"

“Why not? They're his orders."

“What's extreme prejudice?"

“Before I tell you, are you in with the three of us, or not?"

“I'm in. After seeing Mrs. Hastings...” Andrew stopped him.

“Extreme prejudice means, basically, I can use whatever means necessary to do whatever it takes to get these animals. The military wants them alive for court-martial and the gallows, but if they wind up dying in the process, so be it."

“What do you want?"

“I think you already know how I feel and what I want. I was given these orders because, in the words of a very dear friend, I'll do the right thing and use my head."

“President's order?"

“Yes, sir."

Why does this shock me? The bastards had terrorized, murdered, tortured, robbed, and committed other criminal acts. This he had seen firsthand when he examined the colonel's wife. They definitely had to be stopped. Scott figured this would probably be the only way to do so.

They talked a bit longer as Andrew asked about the people taking care of his wife. He wanted to know, for his own comfort, who they were, what they were like, and anything else Scott could tell him.

“Scott, give me a few minutes and I'll meet you and the others in the lobby."

“Sure thing.” He went to the door, opened it, then turned to Andrew. “Are you all right?"

“I'm not there yet. When I have Jessie back, I'll be the best I've been in a long time.” He smiled at the man who had become a friend, even after Scott had given him the worst news anyone could ever give him.

“By the way, Scott, you still haven't told me where she is."

“Downstairs, Andrew."

* * * *

Andrew finished dressing. He noticed Scott had put her pictures on the dresser. He looked at Jessie's portrait, needing her desperately. He looked at the picture of the baby and noticed the resemblance to Jessie and himself. He still wondered about the baby's parents. He knew she existed, that fact was confirmed by the New Orleans Police Chief himself.

If Andrew believed him, then he held a picture of his daughter. He had been a father all this time and didn't know it. Still unsure, he felt apprehensive, afraid to believe his good fortune. He didn't want to let himself in for a letdown should it not be true. For their history of doing everything quick, like their courtship and marriage, he guessed this probably could have happened.

Looking back on his personal history, life had never been better from the moment he looked into her beautiful, blue eyes and fell hard for her. A fire started in their hearts at that exact moment and had spent a great deal of time consuming them. He had been told things happen for a reason. All he wanted was for them to be back together, forever.

But at that, he felt leery of assuming the baby could be his daughter. Jessie would have told me if she was going to have our child, or would she? If what Scott said about Jessie's condition wound up being true, and if this picture had been taken of his daughter, then they had to be the luckiest couple alive. Looking at the pictures again, he put them in his pocket with her jewelry before he went downstairs to where the others waited for him.

“The confirmation for use of extreme prejudice has been received from Abraham Lincoln. This means, we start making plans for what we're going to do,” Andrew told Jack and Adam.

“Do we know where the bastards are?"

“Not yet, Jack. More than likely, they're going to have to be flushed out."

“How do we do that?” Scott wanted to know, concerned about the danger.

“Your friends will be needed to pull this off."

“They won't do anything to risk her life."

“Like I would?” Andrew asked, indignantly.

“Sorry."

“Don't worry about it.” He shifted in the chair, his back beginning to hurt. “If they're watching, they already know, Scott. That leaves Adam or Jack."

“For what?” Adam inquired.

“Those two have to know by now the Burtons are protecting her. What has me more puzzled..."

“...Is why haven't they done something about it?” Scott finished Andrew's thought. Andrew nodded.

“We know of one attack since Samuals killed himself—where have they been, and why no action?” Is this really my thought? Or was it more like when they would act on the farm? It had to be only a matter of time, and it was running out fast.

They agreed Adam would take a ride out to the farm to tell the couple of their plans while the others watched from a safe distance. This would give them time to flush out the renegades, if necessary, or stop anything before it started.

They agreed Andrew and Jack would not wear their uniforms, so as not to spook their prey. The two of them went to the general store and bought clothes, boots, hats, and whatever else they thought they would need.

They decided to ride out at eight in the morning. Adam would act as if lost and ask for help. Once inside, he would tell the couple of their plans for the following day when Andrew planned to take the fugitives, one way or another. The others would be at various positions where they could see what happened around them and scope out more of the property. They hoped against hope this activity would push the two they hunted out into the open, but not prematurely. They had to be extremely careful.

Andrew wanted the entire operation to run to his schedule, not Baker's and Gordon's. After a few more details had been worked out, they retired for the evening. Restless, Andrew hoped he would see her in the next day or two, but he had lost track of time and couldn't be sure about even when that would happen. He tried lying in bed, but his mind was way too active. He got up and poured himself a drink. He had been drinking more of late and, as he looked at the glass in his hand, he knew it would have to stop.

Slowly, he sipped the whiskey and looked out the window. The streets of the town were lit up by the full moon. He could see no movement anywhere, all was quiet and peaceful. He looked forward to when their lives would be back to normal. He wanted to settle down with Jessie, his daughter, and his good friends. He was tired of the military, ready for a change. He doubted it would be like he wished, but maybe someday.

* * * *

Helen awoke earlier than usual. While George did the morning chores, she set about giving Jessie her medicine and something to eat. Since Dr. Morgan had been by, Jessie's ribs seemed to be healing and perhaps feeling better, and it appeared the infection was gone, the fevers with it. She was still weak from the starvation, and the time span grew between the delirious episodes.

Helen had taken excellent care of her to the best of her ability, but she didn't think the young woman would get better without her husband. That would be the spark to light her fire for life again. She'd bathed Jessie last evening and washed her hair. She took a brush to the long, tumbling curls and when finished, Jessica Hastings looked beautiful once again. Her face had almost healed back to normal, save the scars from the knife wounds but, over time, they too would heal and fade.

She tried to feed Jessie a little bit more after she finished. This morning, she tried something a little more solid, making her some oatmeal. A little bit here, a little bit there, but Jessie would not eat.

“Jessie, you have to eat."

“I want to die. I'll never see Andrew or the baby again."

“Don't talk that way, dear."

“Let me go outside and I'll release you from this life the two of you have been living. Let those monsters do what they want. I'll never see Andrew or my child again, so what happens to me doesn't matter."

Helen tried to comfort her but Jessie turned away, a single tear streaking her cheek. She rejected any more food. Helen didn't force the issue and, before she left, fixed the pillows so Jessie might be able to see out the window. The poor girl was healing physically, or so it seemed, but emotionally, she was dying, if not dead already. Helen would have to call Dr. Morgan.

There came a knock on the door. Cautiously, she answered it.

“I'm lost. Could you give me directions?"

“Where are you headed?"

“New Orleans, ma'am."

“Come in, sir, and we'll try to get you there.” Once inside, Adam dropped the act.

“Where's Mrs. Hastings?"

“I'm sorry?” Helen replied, alarmed and worried.

“No, I am. I'm Doctor Adam Cole. We're here to help you with your problem and to get Jessie back with the colonel."

“We're being watched."

“We know. We're trying to smoke them out, so to speak."

“You can't. They'll come back if you fail,” she argued.

“We won't fail. Trust me, ma'am. I came here to explain our plans to you and to assure you that Colonel Hastings is very aware of the situation and has planned this to the utmost detail."

* * * *

Upstairs, Jessie stirred as she heard the strange voice downstairs. She tried to get out of bed to hide in the closet as she had once before, but her legs failed her. She fell to the floor and hurt her ribs and ankle. She moaned in pain. Helen and Adam ran upstairs and found her on the floor. Adam immediately went to her. She looked at him and tried to pull away from him. Her eyes filled with terror.

“Jessie, it's all right. I'm here with Andrew."

“Andrew?"

“Yes, ma'am."

“My Andrew is gone. He's working for the ... President ... no ... the Secretary of War. He's not coming back to me.” Adam and Helen looked at each other.

“It's been a while since she's been this delirious,” Helen quietly told him.

Adam tried to comfort her. He looked at Jessie as she lay on the rug by the bed where she had fallen. Even though fear had taken her over, she still had a hint of childlike innocence in her eyes. Adam Cole fell hard for Jessie Hastings at that moment. He didn't care that it was wrong. His feelings for the wife of his friend overwhelmed him. He realized there would never be another woman in his life. Adam vowed to himself that, no matter what, he would make her well for her husband and family, and he would always be there for them while loving her from afar.

“My name is Adam, Jessie. I'm a doctor. May I please check you to make sure you didn't hurt yourself when you fell?"

“I guess it's all right,” she said cautiously as she looked to Helen for reassurance. Helen nodded.

He checked her head, glad he found nothing out of the ordinary. He very gently unbuttoned her gown to look at the blade wounds and her ribs. He saw the puncture wound healing but those from the sword needed more time, as they had originally been very deep. He rued the fact he knew about the sword and how it had been used on her. Why? How could anyone be so cruel?

Her ribs and ankle were healing, but he noticed the bandaging needed to be changed. He knew of some of her injuries from his consult with Scott but, to see them firsthand, sent chills through him. For all they had done to the people close to him, he hoped these bastards rotted in hell!

“You seem to be doing all right,” he told her, very concerned about the delirium and even more sickened by the signs of one man's inhumanity to his fellow man—and even more so that it was a woman.

“Can you keep my little secret?” she asked with a childlike innocence.

“Sure, I'm a doctor. I'm not supposed to tell anyone anything you don't want me to.” He hated treating her like this, as if he dealt with a child, but she seemed too delirious for anything else.

“I had a vision. My Andrew's not going to come back to me. He drowned. I want to die, too, to be with him."

This took him aback. Whatever had happened to her now made things worse. When he assured Jessie he would not tell her secret, he helped her up and back into bed. As he turned to leave, he motioned to Helen to join him. Once downstairs, they went out on the porch.

“What's wrong with her, Doctor?"

“I can't put my finger on it. Has anything unusual happened recently?"

“The other night, she suffered a miscarriage. One of the attacks hit its mark. She was in a great deal of pain—that and not eating anything. I've given her the medicine and the rest you can see."

He shook his head.

“Where's the medication?” he asked. She went inside and returned with the bottle of elixir. “There's your answer. She's got to be having an allergic reaction to the medication."

“You're kidding?"

“Who prescribed it?"

“No one. Doctor Morgan brought it over and gave it to her for the infection."

“She must be having a reaction to one or more of the ingredients used to make up the elixir. We'll take her off it and see what happens. The wounds are healing nicely, so I think she's out of the woods there. You've done an excellent job of nursing her.” She smiled and thanked him for his kind words.

She walked him over to his horse as she thanked him for helping Jessie. He reminded her to try and get broth or something into Jessie so she would not starve or dehydrate.

“Remember the plan,” Adam reminded her as he left and met the others out on the road.

* * * *

He saw Andrew, anxious to hear about Jessie. He asked Andrew and Jack to bear with him while he talked with Scott. The two doctors crossed over to the other side of the road.

“How is she, Adam?"

“The elixir you gave her damned near killed her."

“What do you mean?"

“She's having a delusional reaction to one or more of the ingredients in the elixir. I took her off it. Maybe she'll be a little more coherent when they finally see each other."

“What do you mean?"

“She's bordering on dementia. She thinks he's dead and wants to die herself, so she won't eat anything. In essence, she's starving herself. Now, I'm going to tell him about everything except the medication. That'll be between you, me and our Hippocratic oaths."

“Fine. Hey, I'm sorry. I didn't know. It's never had that kind of effect on any of my other patients.” Adam turned as Scott stopped him. “Tell him."

“Let's be glad it was caught when it was."

“She was pregnant by one of them and miscarried the other night."

Scott looked at him.

“I know and so does he."

Adam told Andrew about his encounter with Jessie, including their brief conversation as Andrew became visibly shaken. Could we have, in some way, connected when I tried my suicide swim? How am I going to handle this? He had to try to explain to her that, when he had thought about ending it all, it came as an act of desperation. When he thought he heard her voice, he found he did have something to live for. My Angel...

Adam went on to say Helen and her husband would go along with their plan to finish off Baker and Gordon. Morgan would go out to the farm to check on his patient, make a big deal out of it while they hoped to attract the deserter's attention. This would, hopefully, bring them out into the open and put an end to all of this.

“Good, we'll go in the morning then."

Scott and Jack left to take care of some last minute details Andrew had asked for. Once alone, Adam stopped Andrew and told him to sit down.

“Andrew, I have to tell you something. It's important."

“What?"

“You know she's been raped, repeatedly?” Andrew nodded. “I'm going to give this to you straight. One of the attacks got her pregnant. The other night, she suffered a miscarriage.” Andrew winced at Adam's confirmation of Scott's assessment.

“Is she all right?” Adam nodded as Andrew turned away.

“Andrew, don't hold this against her. It wasn't her fault."

“I know. It's mine. This would never have happened if I had been in New Orleans with her."

“Don't do this, my friend,” Adam warned.

“I'm just having a hard time believing she survived all of this. My God, how much more can she take?"

“We'll get her back, but she's going to need a lot of understanding and love from you."

“But what..."

“You'll do what's right. She's still your wife, the woman you married. She's going to need everything you can give her to get through this. Don't turn away from her."

“I won't. I couldn't, even if I wanted to. I love her too damned much,” he raged, the horror of her condition killing him inside.

Andrew mounted Satan and told them he would meet them later. He decided the time had come to figure out some things in his mind. He couldn't wait to see her but, after his talk with Adam, he decided he would take their reunion slowly, at her pace. No matter what. Jessie would lead, he would follow, everything on her terms. Even if things went the way he didn't want, he would accept it if he had to. But no matter what, it would be up to his wife.

Andrew rode off. This time, the others did not worry. They had come too close to completing the job of rescuing the colonel's wife to have him do something stupid as he had tried to do yesterday.

* * * *

For weeks, Jessie had laid in bed. Every time she moved, she ached. Her breathing was labored and, even though a wonderful couple had taken care of her, she had not gotten any better. Helen tried to feed her, but she said it hurt too much to swallow.

She had tried several times, when alone, to get herself out of bed. The sunlight came into the room and the bright days seemed to call to her, even only to look out the window. She gingerly attempted to pull herself up and stand next to the oversized feather bed that, in essence, had been home to her. She would stand a few seconds, then fall back, tired and weak.

She had no idea of life outside this bedroom. She didn't even know the progress of the war or anything that happened in the world. Her father had always made sure she and her sister knew of current events but right now, none of that mattered to her. What really mattered? What has Andrew been doing? Was he physically well, or not? She knew deep inside he was alive, but even that became a fading vision in her mind.

This bothered her because she felt like a burden to these two wonderful people. Her appearance in their barn changed their lives so much. They had put themselves in danger to care for her and, though she appreciated this, she feared for them. She thought back on this.

George, a tall slender man, warm-hearted and loving, had a hardness to him most people saw when they first met him. Only after he got to know someone did he warm up to them. Hard-working, he refused to accept anything unless earned. He only did the right thing, never anything against God or his fellow man, which was the reason why he had welcomed Jessie with open arms when he had found her in the barn.

George would look at every side of a situation but still come up with the right thing to do. He had one regret in his life—they had taken too long to notify Andrew Hastings of his wife's presence at the farm. Under the circumstances, he hoped the colonel would understand.

Helen, on the other hand, was the practical, levelheaded type, open and up front with everyone she met. Surviving her parents, who lived in Baltimore, Maryland, she held the deed to their house but figured she would never see it again. She loved her husband and the home he had built for her and she wanted to be with him.

She had wanted children but that was not to be, as their daughter had recently died not even a month after birth. Helen had taken it very hard, still in mourning when her husband brought the almost lifeless body of a young woman into their home. Caring for Jessie Hastings had been the best therapy for Helen as she channeled her attentions and the grief from the loss of their baby into caring for the almost dead woman.

Jessie realized she had missed lots of things since this whole affair had begun that dreadful night in New Orleans. The Secretary of War had promoted her husband to full colonel, she guessed. She missed this, a time in his life they should have shared. Her daughter probably walked by now and she had missed all of Sarah's growing up over the summer. My life is hell!

One day, late in the afternoon, she carefully pushed herself onto her side and figured she would at least be able to look out the window. She could see the blue sky, the fluffy white clouds floating by, and a bird sitting in the tree outside beside the house. She enjoyed this for the first time in a long while. She drifted off to sleep and dreamt of the open expanse and freedom of the sky, with the birds flying overhead. Then the dream turned to a horrible nightmare.

The peaceful sky turned to raging blue waters. She saw him as he rode along the water's edge, on that magnificent stallion of his. Andrew got off his horse, fell to his knees, and sobbed. Then he stood up, waded into the waters, then disappeared. Jessie tried screaming out to him, to save him from himself, but he couldn't hear her. She held out her hands to him, but he couldn't reach her.

She woke with a start, screaming at the top of her lungs, but no one heard her, Jessie alone until Helen ran in, concerned. She looked back out of the window.

The sky had turned black, the clouds darkly ominous. Lightning streaked across it as the wind blew up, Andrew gone. Her beloved husband had disappeared, swept away by the raging waters, and she would never see him again. He had taken his own life because of this awful event in their lives.

Jessica Hastings, at that very instant, decided she no longer wanted to live on this earth. The world of the living held no excitement for her. Not even the thought of Sarah, safe with Caitlyn, changed her mind.

After months of holding onto life, hoping to be with him, fighting for the moment when they would be back together with their daughter, her will to live had gone. She wanted to join him. She wanted to die.

Then a man came to her, a stranger who told her Andrew waited nearby for the right time to come for her. She argued with him. Andrew was gone. All I want is to be with him.

After he had left, she thought about what he had said. Afraid to believe him, she thought it might be her mind playing another horrible trick on her. She desperately wanted to believe him. She needed Andrew something fierce. He would take care of her, heal her, and make her whole again. But one thing nagged at her, the shame of what had happened to her. What if he doesn't want me after what those monsters have done to me? She figured she would have to understand and let him go. It would have to be up to him.

I love him, but if he leaves me ... will I survive it?

* * * *

Sleep didn't come easy for Andrew Hastings. He lay awake and thought. He could not wait to see her. The anticipation of finally putting an end to their nightmare and having his life back kept him awake. The nagging thought of anything going wrong kept intruding on his hopes for the future.

Rising before dawn, he shaved, then dressed. He wanted them to see his face and know who he was. Not only that, Jessie had never seen him with a beard, although he kept the mustache. He didn't want her to think he had ignored anything while they had been apart. Andrew swore Jessie would not find out a beard came from lack of caring for anything but finding her.

He wore his cavalry uniform. When he finally caught the two outlaws, the main objective of his life for the past several months, he wanted them to know exactly who he was and what authority he had. He picked up the coat he had just bought, a long, black-caped, oilskin drover's coat. It would cover the uniform until the right time.

He paused a moment to look at his reflection in the mirror. Many years had passed since he last wore anything but Army blues. As used to this as he had become, it wouldn't be too much of a hardship to change from a uniform to regular clothes. When this was over, he would resubmit his request for separation so he could devote his life and his time to his wife and his family. He looked at the pictures again in the candlelight, along with the earrings. He put them in his pocket but held the wedding band a little bit longer. He could not wait until he could place it on her finger again. Andrew carefully replaced it in his pocket with the other things he had cherished during this time apart from each other.

The group met downstairs. Andrew went over to the counter and sent messages to Lincoln, Stanton, and Grant to advise them the time was at hand to deal with the Devil! He turned. The other three stood and waited for him to say something. His eyes went from one face to another, in search of some clue to their thoughts. Adam finally broke the uneasy silence, much to the relief of the others.

“Look, Andrew. We just want you to know how we feel about this."

“And?"

“No matter what, we'll be there to help bring these guys in. But, we want to make sure you know that while it is personal for the two of us, it may not be as much so for the others. They don't want you to go off half-cocked and do something stupid, like wind up dead. Speaking for myself, I say, kill the bastards, but don't be foolish enough to try to do it by yourself. If you're dead, where does that leave your wife?"

“I'm fine—really. I appreciate your concern, but I don't intend to do anything to risk anyone's life, including my own. I swear."

“Colonel?"

“Captain?"

“I just wanted you to know it's been a pleasure to serve with you. General Grant was impressed with you, as I have become. I just want you to know this in case I don't return from this assignment.” He saluted the colonel, who returned it and, with a tear in his eye, Andrew shook Jack's hand, and smiled as he thanked him.

“That means a lot, Jack. One thing though..."

“Sir?"

“You better not get yourself hurt and you will come back with us. I want you to meet my wife, plus, if they choose not to let me muster out of this man's army again, I'm requesting you for my executive officer."

“Thank you, sir.” He took a step back and saluted Andrew, who returned it, after which they shook hands again.

“You've been a good friend, Jack, especially out there by the water's edge. I know I was a bit half-crazed there. I appreciate everything you've done, for both of us. Adam, Scott, my thanks. Adam, for bringing the cold, hard facts to me and being my devil's advocate, I thank you. Scott, my thanks to you for taking care of my wife, and then me. Now, let's get this hell over with."

They left the hotel to ride out to the Burton house. Scott went ahead, while they positioned themselves at various points on the property. Adam took the rear and readied his Winchester for whatever came next. Andrew took the barn after he led Satan into a stall where he would be out of the range of gunfire. He took a spot where he had a perfect view of the house from all possible directions, including the driveway. Jack went to the side of the house, between the porch and the bushes. Ten minutes later, Scott rode up as he yelled at the top of his lungs. He pounded on their door.

“Helen, George, let me in! I think I gave her the wrong medicine! Let me in!"

“Scott, what are you talking about?” George asked as he stepped out onto the porch.

“I think she has the wrong elixir. I screwed up,” he said frantically, as George led him into the house.

Once inside, they closed the door. George grabbed his shotgun and took a position by the window while Scott held tightly to the Springfield he favored. Helen went upstairs to be with Jessie. Now the waiting started.

It didn't take long before they heard the sound of thundering hooves as a wagon rumbled into the driveway. Stopping in front of the house, Baker and Gordon jumped from the wagon, ran onto the porch, and kicked the door in. As they entered the house, Jack and Andrew left their positions to meet at the wagon. Adam watched through a rear window.

Inside, Scott and George aimed their weapons at the front door, ready to fire. The door crashed open flying off its hinges and onto the floor. Outside, Andrew took his coat off and threw it to the ground. He wanted these two to see the uniform and the authority of the man they would deal with. He aimed his rifle at the front door and waited.

“Where is she, liar? I told you what would happen if I ever found out you lied to me and she was here. She's my woman.” Gordon waved his revolver. Andrew held his breath. He noticed the sword, double-edged and thick hanging from Gordon's belt, a yellow scarf tied to the handle. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. This bastard is mine! I'll destroy that damned sword as well!

“Yeah, you lied to us.” As Baker started toward him, Scott aimed his rifle at him but Baker put him down with a hard shove. George tried moving to the door to take the fight outside. When Gordon turned the gun on him and pulled the trigger, George felt the searing pain of a bullet through his heart, dead before he ever hit the floor. Then, Gordon aimed the gun at Scott.

“I wouldn't do that if I were you.” The voice came from outside, in front of the house. “Come out of the house and put your weapons down.” Andrew waited, his rifle aimed at his quarry.

“I'm afraid I can't do that. You see, I have a date with one of the women in this place. We have some unfinished business. In fact, the same goes for Baker."

“Yeah, I need to see the whore.” As he had figured it would, Baker's words stung Andrew. He slowly but gently drew the bolt back and as he readied the gun to fire, his heart pounded harder than ever.

“The two of you had better come out of the house right now."

“When we're ready. Besides, who are you?"

“The man who's going to take you down."

“You and whose army?"

“Ulysses S. Grant's, of course."

“Then you'll have to wait till I'm done with her.” Gordon had just put it together who this man was in reality. He had to be the Union officer mentioned on the posters, the someone who had come after her.

Well, won't this be sweet? He would finally meet the man chosen to stop him. The government had sent their best, but before this man tried to take him back for court-martial, he would take care of the officer and his wife. He had dreamed of this for the past few weeks, ever since finding out who his opponent was. Now, it was finally a reality. Satisfaction would come in two ways. The last time with her while her husband watched, then he'd kill them both—his wild filly and the army officer who came for her. After that, Mexico definitely would be his next stop.

* * * *

Upstairs, Helen stayed with Jessie, who had a Colt revolver by the pillow, in case she needed it. Helen had one of George's long rifles aimed at the top of the stairway, determined they would get past her over her dead body.

Jessie's hand rested on the revolver, her finger on the trigger. She swore to herself if the monsters made it up the stairs, she would shoot herself. No way would she willingly let either of them ever touch her again. Then, as she lay quietly listening, she heard his voice. Her heart skipped a beat. Andrew—here and only a short distance away. She desperately wanted to go to him.

Helen listened to what happened below them. She looked at Jessie and told her not to move, though she knew Jessie desperately wanted to run to him. “Let the men take care of the job at hand. They don't need to worry about us,” she whispered.

Baker tried to get to the stairway, but it was blocked by Scott, who had somehow pulled himself over to the steps. They fought. Scott got in a few punches but Baker hit harder. Adam found his way in through a rear window. He quietly came into the living room as Baker hit Scott again. As he prepared to level another blow to Scott's face, Baker felt the cold barrel of Adam's rifle on his skin. He backed away as Adam motioned for him to go toward the door.

Scott painfully reclaimed his rifle, then backed Adam up.

“I'd join him if I were you,” Andrew ordered. From his vantage point, he had a very good view of everything happening inside the house.

“No way. I'm going to see the bitch one more time."

“I'm warning you. Stay away from her."

“What is she to you?” Gordon asked, arrogantly, though he knew the answer already. He taunted the officer as he tried to get him to slip up.

“My wife, you asshole."

“What? Can't be? She never said anything."

“Good for her. It's none of your business, is it? Your only concern right now is my taking your asses to the stockade for court-martial."

“Who the hell are you?” Gordon screamed.

“Colonel James Andrew Hastings, and you are both under arrest."

“I doubt it. I'll leave here and you'll all be dead."

“Don't count on it."

“You can't kill me and I'm not going to jail."

“Come on outside and find out."

Baker and Gordon started to come out of the house when Gordon called back inside.

“I'll be back for you, bitch. By the time I come back, I'll decide who gets to watch the other one die."

* * * *

At this, Jessie began to cry, terror overtaking her. She trusted Andrew would take care of the two monsters. But what if something happened? She knew he hadn't made a threat, what he said was a promise. Helen had started to go downstairs. She would keep an eye on what happened and keep Jessie advised.

The two, who had been hunted for months, went outside with the colonel and his men. They put their weapons, including the sword Gordon had used on Jessie, down on the ground.

“The army didn't send back-up, so we can't be that important."

“Don't kid yourself.” Andrew had the sights of his rifle aimed at Gordon's head. They both stood next to each other, four guns aimed at them.

“I want to know which one of you slammed her into the walls in New Orleans, tried to drown her in a trough, tied her to beds and tables and anything else at hand, and sliced her with that sword.” The two smiled, proud of what they had done to her. “I ought to..."

“But you can't. You have to take us back for court-martial. What would the government say?” With that sarcastic attitude, Andrew lost it. He took the rifle and slammed the stock end of the gun into Gordon's stomach, doubling him over. Just as quickly as Andrew had lost his composure, he regained it.

“You son of a bitch,” he muttered. Andrew mistakenly turned away from Gordon to go over to Baker. Gordon whipped out another pistol and shot Andrew. He hit him in the right shoulder and knocked Andrew to the ground. Andrew hit his head hard when he fell back.

Baker pulled out another pistol and shot Scott in the neck. Bleeding profusely from the main artery the bullet severed, he died within seconds. He dropped the rifle as he hit the ground. Jack aimed to fire at Baker, but Gordon grabbed the rifle and hit him on the side of his head with the stock of the weapon. Jack fell to the ground unconscious. Adam shot Gordon, who fell to the ground writhing in pain. He stopped breathing, shot once in the heart.

Baker picked up the weapon. As he did, he shot Adam in the leg putting him on the ground. Planning to finish off Adam and Jack after the colonel, he went over to Andrew, who looked up at him. He pulled the hammer back and aimed the gun at Andrew's head. He started to squeeze the trigger playing with his victim's mind.

Their eyes met as Andrew stared back at the man, who was very serious about killing him. When he had fallen back after the first gunshot, his gun fell just out of his reach. A quick look behind Baker found Jessie on the porch. She leaned against the post, raised a gun and aimed it. She yelled something, Andrew not quite sure what.

“Jessie! No!"

Chapter 11

Once she and Jessie found out Gordon had killed George, Helen ran downstairs screaming. Jessie heard Helen go to her husband and could hear her shaking him, pleading with him not to die.

“George, no. Don't die on me. We have so many plans. George..."

But that was not to be!

Jessie got up, threw the shawl lying at the end of the bed around her shoulders, then grabbed the revolver. Cautiously and painfully, she made her way down the steps. From the top of the stairs, she saw Helen holding her husband and weeping. Helen Burton would no longer be of any use in fighting off the two fugitives. Jessie knew she had to do something to help her own husband. She passed the Burtons and went to the front door to see what happened outside.

She screamed at the sight of Andrew lying on the ground. Baker was aiming a gun at him, ready to finish him off. She watched Andrew look down the barrel of the gun as Baker's finger slowly pulled the trigger, toying with her husband's emotions. She also saw that Andrew's gun had fallen a little out of his reach.

“I'm going to kill you and then I'm going to rape your woman and kill her, too. In fact, why don't I make you watch?"

He laughed, enjoying the moment.

Jessie made it to the front porch, forgetting the pain in her body. All that concerned her was unfolding in front of her. She watched Baker standing over her husband, ready to shoot him. Leaning against the post, she carefully raised the revolver and aimed it at his head. Just as he readied to shoot Andrew, she yelled. Baker spun around, aimed the gun at her and heard the Union colonel yell at the bitch.

“I'll see you in a minute, sweetheart. I'll finish off soldier boy here and then it's you and me, honey."

He started toward her. Two shots rang out, one from Jessie's gun and one from the gun Andrew had gotten a hold of when Jessie distracted Baker. Andrew fell back in pain from the gun's recoil. He had never felt this way before in his life. He tried to look at the two dead fugitives, but burning pain stopped him.

Jessie stumbled over to Baker, bent down to pick up his gun and throw it away from him. She poked him with the revolver and found him dead from two gunshot wounds. He had one in the back of the head, the other one to the heart. Both killed him instantly, but she had to be sure.

She managed to get to Andrew as he lay on the ground in pain. Laying the gun down, she picked his head up to gently cradle him in her lap. She couldn't believe her eyes. She held her husband. He was alive.

She looked at him, while his gaze swept over the ground next to him. He saw Jack laying a few yards away, unsure of his condition. Adam sat up and looked at the bloody wound in Jack's leg. The bullet had gone through cleanly. He took his scarf and tied it around the wound to stop the bleeding. He pulled himself over to Andrew and ripped the uniform away from the gaping hole in the colonel's shoulder.

“Don't move,” he ordered.

“How bad?” Andrew asked.

“Not bad, but it ain't great."

Jessie knelt over her husband, holding his head, her hair falling over his face. Her face next to his, she cried in his ear, telling him she loved him. She did not know what to do for him and that scared her. Adam put a reassuring hand on hers.

“Jessie?"

She didn't hear him, overwhelmed by her concern for Andrew.

“Jessie,” he said as she looked at him blankly. “I know you don't want to leave him, but I need you to do two things. Get me some bandaging from inside and then, while I tend to Andrew's shoulder, go check on Captain McCord."

Jessie shook her head.

“I can't leave him."

“Jessie, I'm okay. We've got the rest of our lives. I promise. Go help Jack,” Andrew said as he tried to comfort her. She kissed him and gently put his head down on the grass. Adam grabbed the coat Andrew had tossed to the side when he took it off, and folded it to make a cushion for his head.

“How do you feel?"

“Like a damned fool. What's the story with Jack?"

Jessie came back with what she could find, including a washbowl filled with water so Adam could dress Andrew's shoulder wound. She smiled at Andrew, lying in the grass with a bloody hole in his right shoulder.

“Jessie, did you check on Captain McCord?” Adam asked.

“Don't worry about me. How's Andrew?” Jack asked.

“In pain. What do you think?” Andrew answered. Everyone was relieved he hadn't lost his sense of humor.

“Jessie, meet Captain Jack McCord, my right-hand man. Jack, Jessica."

He tipped his hat to her. She smiled that winning smile of hers that had won Andrew over the very first day in New Orleans. Jack couldn't believe what he saw. Her portrait did not do her any justice. Beautiful, and like Adam and his friend before him, he fell in love with this woman on the spot. She would become the ideal any woman would be forced to compete with if he found someone to be with himself. Andrew was truly a lucky man.

Becoming very military at this point, Andrew asked for the casualty report. Jack gave him what he could.

“Two wounded: you and Adam. Two dead: Mr. Burton and Scott...” At this, Andrew winced and cursed. Jack went on. “One walking headache: me, and with both of the fugitives killed here today, that brings the total of them dead to three."

“Three?” Andrew and Jessie asked at the same time, looking at each other, then back at Jack.

“Didn't you say both deserters were dead?” Andrew asked.

“Three,” Jack repeated.

“Jack, I think you need a math lesson,” Andrew sighed.

“Three: Scott and Mr. Burton make two, and two bastards makes three because they don't count as whole, only half a person each,” Jack explained, crossing his arms across his chest.

Andrew and Jessie looked at Jack, then Andrew shook his head.

“How's Mrs. Burton?” Andrew finally asked Jessie.

“I'll go to her."

“Are you sure, Jessie?” Andrew asked. She nodded as she got up and went over to Helen, who sat on the floor next to her husband's body, weeping. She cautiously put her hand on Helen's shoulder as she shouldered the blame for George's death. Helen stood up and looked at her as the two women, one who had just lost a husband and the other who had just reunited with hers, held each other.

“Helen, I'm so sorry. It's my fault this happened. George was a good man."

“It's not your fault. We didn't have to do this. We talked about it and we knew something could happen. There were times when we wondered—times when we wanted to change our minds. There was one thing we knew for sure—these animals had to be stopped and we had to protect you while you healed."

“But if I hadn't found your barn, he'd be alive right now."

“Maybe, maybe not. Those two could have come back here at any time and we'd both have been gone, if not all three of us. We helped you, knowing all this. The important thing was to get you well and back to Andrew and that baby girl of yours."

They walked from the house onto the porch, arm-in-arm.

“How are you feeling? I saw what you did out here."

“Helen, I smiled today for the first time in months. My body aches, but not like before."

“That's because you have the fire in your belly back. Your husband was in danger and you put everything aside to save his life.” Jessie realized Andrew had done for her what she had done for Victor. Her life came back to her for a reason, just as her loneliness had given Victor a reason for living the day Andrew left New Orleans. They stopped to look at the dead on the lawn. Helen looked at Jessie and suggested they go freshen up for Andrew. They left to let the men take care of the work in front of them.

“But what about you?” Jessie asked.

“Don't worry about me, dear. I'll be fine."

They went upstairs to Helen's bedroom. She went to the armoire and started going through her dresses, choosing one of her favorites. She went to the bureau for other things, petticoats and stockings, then back to the wardrobe for a pair of shoes. “It's a good thing we're the same size,” she mused.

After fixing Jessie's hair by putting a ribbon in it, she pointed her to the mirror. She saw a beautiful woman, despite what those ogres had done to her. Jessie hesitated, afraid of what she would see, and tried to walk over to the window. Helen urged her to come back and take a look. She gazed at herself for the first time in months, startled by the image of the person looking back at her.

They looked at each other and giggled like school girls. Jessie turned around, feeling good about herself and her life for the first time in a very long while. She felt like she had gone back home to New Orleans on that magical night.

“How can I ever thank you?"

“Go be with that man of yours. He's a good man and life is too short to waste. That's what this was all about."

“Helen, if there's anything we can do for you..."

“I know,” Helen replied as they hugged again before they went downstairs. Jessie cautiously looked outside through the lacy curtains. She saw Andrew standing by the porch steps, leaning against the railing. She watched as he slowly walked over to where everything had taken place.

* * * *

Jack and Adam moved George's body out on the porch, then covered it with a blanket they found inside the front door. Scott's body had been moved to the porch afterwards and covered, both waiting for the undertaker. The bodies of Baker and Gordon had been put in the back of the wagon they had ridden in earlier. They pulled it to the side of the driveway. After covering them, Jack searched the wagon to see if there might be anything else of interest.

He looked underneath the seat in the box that usually held things like tools. He found several pillowcases, all full of the small valuables they had stolen from the site of each crime. One bag piqued his curiosity. Opening it, he found two items. He took them over to Andrew.

Andrew took them, looked at the two pieces of jewelry, relieved. Smiling, Andrew said, “Now the set is complete."

“Complete?"

“This is the necklace that matches the earrings I gave her on our wedding day.” Looking at the other piece, he felt a huge sigh of relief as he held Victor's cross. He knew Jessie would be happy to see this again.

“But you said there were no other valuables lying around."

“This may have been on her bureau. She didn't wear it all the time because she was afraid she would lose it."

“There are a lot of other small items in the wagon. What do we do with them?"

“Try to get them back to the family members, if they can be found."

“Yes, sir."

Adam had cleaned and dressed Andrew's shoulder wound, after he removed the bullet lodged in it. Relieved that Jessie had gone inside with Helen, Andrew hadn't want her to see how bad the gunshot had been.

Andrew stood in the front yard of the house and looked at the area where all hell had broken loose just a short time before. His shoulder ached, although Adam had fixed a sling for Andrew's arm so he wouldn't move his shoulder and to relieve some of the pressure on it.

He tried to think about the reports he had to write for the President and the Secretary. As soon as he returned to the hotel, he would wire Lincoln, Stanton, Grant, Chamberlain, and Buford with the news. He had trouble keeping his mind on the business at hand because of wondering what the future had in store for him.

He noticed the sword lying on the ground where Gordon dropped it. He had attempted to use it on Andrew, but never got the chance. It had fallen to the ground and now Andrew walked over to it. Picking it up, rage built up inside him as he pictured how it had been used on his wife.

Andrew looked at the scarf and it dawned on him why it had been tied to the sword. If he put everything together and came up with the right answer, then he held the scarf she grabbed away from him the day he left New Orleans. He left it tied to the sword as he took the weapon and heaved it toward the wagon, hurting his shoulder in the process. He wanted to scream. At last, the hell was over. Finally!

Jack came over to him, along with Adam, who knew Andrew had hurt himself more. The sheer pain etched on Andrew's face made this evident. Adam hurt looking at his grandfather's sword. Knowing how it had recently been used, his stomach turned. He deeply regretted what had happened and prayed Andrew and Jessie would forgive him. He needed to talk with Andrew about the destruction of the sword.

The three discussed what had happened. They agreed everything went according to plan, with the exception of the deaths of George Burton and Scott Morgan. They expressed sorrow for both Helen Burton and Morgan's family. They had done more than their share in stopping Baker and Gordon. Andrew would make sure the government knew this.

“Adam, before we leave, would you give Jessie a check-up to make sure she's all right? Scott told me some disturbing information he learned the day he first saw her, in addition to what you told me. She and I both need to know."

“Sure, Andrew.” Adam had an idea of what he would find and he could understand Andrew's concern. Jack asked if Andrew had decided on what to do next. Andrew asked Jack if he would ride into Winston and see if someone could take care of the bodies in the wagon. Jack said he would, asking Adam if he would join him. Adam agreed and told Andrew he would send someone for Burton and Morgan.

“Are you going to be all right?"

“I hope to be. Hope for the best.” They shook hands, hitched their horses to the wagon, and pulled away. Andrew went over to the barn to check on Satan, fine in the stall where Andrew had left him. He thought he could figure out what to do next. Militarily, he did not have a problem. Personally, would be another story.

“Hey, boy, how's it going?” Andrew asked as the horse came over to him, enjoying the attention. Andrew wanted to take off and ride away, but he knew he had to stay and face whatever came next, the sooner, the better. He dreaded what may be coming, but he had to know. The thought of finding her had kept him going since mid-June when he first found out about her kidnapping. Now that I've found her, how will I handle what is coming?

One of the hardest things would be if she couldn't have children. They hadn't talked about it much before he had left due to time. He could accept this truth, Jessie was the most important person in his life. If they couldn't have children, then so be it. They had each other and their daughter. Jessie's life had been the most important thing he could think of and she came first, then their baby.

“So, what do you think, Satan? We won."

The horse threw his head up, as if giving Andrew his approval.

“So you're gauging our life together on whether Satan here likes me?"

Startled, Andrew spun around to find her standing in the barn's doorway, beautiful as ever in a red paisley dress. He noticed its high collar covered the scar on her neck. He smiled as she came closer. He saw the few scars on her face, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered but his wife.

He noticed she had lost, in his estimation, an incredible amount of weight. She had been naturally thin when they married, but she looked much thinner now. He stared at her and wondered. How could anyone slash or abuse such a beautiful person?

Andrew waited as she looked at him, obviously noticing some changes in him. He knew his hair had grayed and he looked as if he had aged some. The addition of the mustache made him a little more distinguished looking, or so he'd been told. It would take some getting used to, but he could see she liked it.

He held out his hand to her and she cautiously took it, coming next to him. He noticed the roughness of the hands he remembered as being velvety soft. She reached out to pet Satan's face, the horse again taking to her immediately.

The two of them shared a very uneasy moment. Andrew wanted to take her in his arms and hold her while trying to convince her everything would be all right. Jessie wanted to hold him more than anything. When he took her hand, a warm feeling went through her, no question as to their love for each other. How they would handle what had happened was the real question.

“I missed you terribly,” she started, looking into Satan's eyes, afraid to look at Andrew, not knowing what he thought. “I thought of you constantly, needing you, praying you would come for me. I was afraid I'd never see you again."

“I'm sorry I failed you."

“No. My God, you didn't,” she said. She turned to him and saw the pain in his eyes.

“I wasn't there to keep you safe. I promised you and Victor that I would protect you, and I didn't.” His voice cracked as he spoke. He did not want to scream.

“It wasn't your fault. Don't you realize after all this, if you had been home, they would have probably forced you to watch their actions and then forced me to watch as they murdered you in front of my eyes? I could never have lived with that."

He looked at her. How could she be so forgiving after the hell she had been through?

“I need to tell you that I've been the one in charge of this investigation since around July 2nd. I separated from the army for all of one day to come after you. Then I was offered the opportunity of having all of the resources of the government at my hands in an official capacity to find you. I've read every report, and interviewed everyone and anyone close to those involved. I know every unfortunate detail of what happened. The President gave me the authority to do whatever I had to, however it had to be done."

“Did you say the President?"

“Abraham Lincoln, yes, ma'am. Jefferson Davis agreed these two had to be stopped at all costs. You know there was more, but he couldn't admit the personal connections. Anyway, what I'm trying to say is I was given the official right to kill the son of a bitches. The government and military wanted them for court-martial, but if they wound up dead, so be it.

“At first, I was a husband looking for his wife. Then I turned into a military officer with an assignment to accomplish. My feelings started to take over and I scared the hell out of Jack and Adam. I took off once after I had found your earring in the last victim's house. Jack found me beside a stream, where I had dropped after pulling myself out of the water. I think I had fallen asleep from, I guess, sheer exhaustion. He thought I was dead.

“Another time—a few hours later, in fact—I rode out to the river after I had found out about your condition from Scott Morgan. I completely lost it and tried to..."

“Drown yourself?"

“How did you know?"

“I was evidently delirious from what Helen tried to tell me. I saw you in the water. I woke up screaming. I've spent the last few days wanting to die because I thought you had. Adam tried to tell me you were alive, but I wouldn't believe him."

“He told me."

“I'm so sorry I doubted you. I love you but the thought of never seeing you again, being with you in your arms, making love to you, killed me inside. If you were dead, I wanted to be with you, no matter what."

“Thank God for Adam's visit,” he said as he put his arm around her, pulled her close and held her. “I have you back now and I'll never leave you."

“Don't say never. There will always be something or someone who'll try to separate us."

“Not if I can help it.” He looked into those eyes of hers, the ones he had fallen in love with in the first place. She gazed into his, feelings flooding back to her from wherever they had been safely locked away in her heart. She leaned against him for support and put her head on his shoulder.

The smell of her hair, gently moving with the breezes, the warmth of her body against him drove Andrew crazy with anticipation of their future together.

“I have something to tell you before we go any further."

“What?” she asked as she faced him and feared what he would say.

“Like I said before, I read all the reports and got all the sordid details of what happened to the others. I can't even begin to imagine what happened to you. If you want to tell me, I'll listen. If you don't, I'll drop this and never ask again. But, please do me one favor."

“What?"

“I've asked Adam to have a look at you to make sure you're all right and not having any problems from this. I know it may have been presumptuous of me, but we're going to need to know, especially you."

“I guess he's probably the best one to see. He's got a tiny insight into the situation. Andrew, whatever made you the wonderful man you are?"

Andrew took the sling off and hung it on a nail on the wall of the stall. She tried to stop him, as she knew Adam had given it to him for a reason. Quieting her, he figured he would see just how far they might be able to go this soon. So much for letting her lead ... I can't wait any longer to find out. I've already waited a few years, missing her every moment we've been apart. He gently took her face in his warm hands, gazed into her eyes, and kissed her. As he did, she put her hands on his.

The feelings rushed back to both of them—the warmth, the love, everything from their first kiss in New Orleans. He kissed her forehead, then each cheek, the warmth growing. He kissed her on the lips and pulled back, smiling as he looked into her sparkling blue eyes.

She stared into his dark sapphire blue eyes and felt like time had stopped for them. She put her arms around his neck and they kissed—long, lingering, passionate. He wanted to make love to her all night. They walked into the stall holding each other and slowly sank onto the bed of hay as they continued to kiss. They picked up where they had left off, even though they had a lot of time to make up for.

Late afternoon, they heard hooves beating on the driveway. They had been in the barn for a few hours, laying in each other arms in the same stall George had found her in not so long ago. They made love gently, romantically, and passionately. He remembered their wedding night and the times before he left. After unbuttoning her clothes and slipping them off, he reexplored her body, finding some unfamiliar things, like the scars on her wrists and ankles.

As he kissed her shoulders and moved down her chest, he found the two he dreaded the most. The puncture wounds had healed with only a slight mark where the sword's point had made entry. He saw the worst thing he could imagine—the two scars down the middle of her chest. He would never tell her he thought the long scars seemed ugly to him, as he could never hurt her. He knew he could never understand the agonizing pain she had endured with these bastards. He kissed her again.

She shivered slightly as ecstasy grew. She waited for him and lived—no, survived—on her memories of their few months together before he left. The warmth of his hands, the gentleness of his touch, her husband—she loved him, wanted him, and now had him back. They had to find out if they could put what happened behind them and go on with their lives.

He looked at her, lying naked on a horse blanket on the hay, beautiful as ever. She looked at him as he took his shirt off, then the rest of his clothes. She started a bit when she spied the bullet wound to his shoulder. He calmed her, telling her Adam had done a good job of sewing him up.

She watched his every movement as he undressed and lay beside her.

“Are you sure? If you don't want to, we won't,” he assured her.

“I'm sure,” she said. “Please, my husband, my lover, please, make love to me."

He kissed her. Jessie's body trembled from his breath and the cool breeze moving through the barn. He teased her nipples, her reaction pleased him more than he could ever imagine. Her body told him she wanted him as much as he needed her, relief taking over as he relaxed with her.

Moving down her side to her hips, he kissed her stomach, thinking about what she must have looked like when she carried their child. His tongue lingered over her as his fingers played with her breasts. He heard her moan and loved the sound of her pleasure. As he moved further down her side, he remembered she loved having the inside of her legs kissed. He did so right before he brought her to a point of going over the edge. As he pulled back, her body shuddered with arousal.

His lips moved over hers, his hands held her as hers met his. He tasted her essence, a taste he had not forgotten as he always considered her to be sweeter than any wine. His right hand slid down her side and, as he gazed into her eyes, he pushed his finger inside her. He felt her body close on him and he groaned. He wanted to come inside her desperately but he would take it slow and easy, refusing to be like the animals who had held her the past several months.

Jessie needed gentle treatment and she would get it from him, unless she told him otherwise.

“Andrew,” she moaned. “Please, I need you."

“You're very sure? I don't want to hurt you."

“The only hurt you could ever give me is to ignore what we need at this moment. Please, my darling husband, please."

He saw Jessie's tears running down her cheeks. He would not deny her, his love for her so great.

“I love you, Angel."

“Thank God!"

She screamed when she heard the words she thought had been lost to her. He smiled as he removed his finger to place it on her hardened nipple. His tongue went between her legs. Jessie gasped. She moved to meet his love. Andrew wanted to drown in her. Her fingers tangled with his hair as he drank her life, enjoying every second. She cried out when he took her to the top. Then he pulled back as he quickly came to the point and gently entered her.

She gasped, her arms holding him tightly so he couldn't leave her. Together, their passion soared, their love deeper and stronger than ever. They moved together, their rhythm, sheer natural instinct, as if no time had passed between them.

“I'm sorry,” he apologized as he gasped.

“For what?"

“I don't want to hurt you. I'm afraid to..."

“Andrew, you could never hurt me. I want you as I have never wanted you or anything before. It's been so damned long. Please, my love, don't worry."

“Forgive me, Angel,” he said as he loved her. His tongue explored her mouth as he teased the firm buds of her nipples. He wrapped his leg over her to pin her close to him. He felt her move within his arms so he could enter her easily. He felt her body envelop him and hold onto him tightly.

“Andrew, please, I need you."

“I know, I feel the same. My God, we are one,” he said as he drove into her. He knew what she wanted without her saying one word. She knew his desires without him telling her. He moved within her with a raw power he had never let her feel before and she took it with everything in her.

His body against hers sent a heat through her as he exploded within her. She gasped feeling her own release at the same time. Together, they cried out as their world enveloped them in its passion and need. She felt wonderful, cherished, and loved, feelings hidden for too long and that they both had thought lost forever.

“Andrew!"

“Angel?"

“My God, I love you."

“I love you too, my Angel."

* * * *

They lay in the barn, in each other's arms, more in love than ever. They heard hoofbeats coming near and quickly dressed. Sitting next to each other, they looked in each other's eyes, sheer joy overtaking them. Together again, they laughed, feeling like they had just been caught by their parents.

“By the way, I have something of yours,” Andrew told her, reaching into his pocket and pulling out her wedding band.

“What?"

He took her hand in his and gently slipped the ring back onto her finger where it belonged. As he did, he repeated his wedding vows to her. They kissed until the hoofbeats were too close.

She looked at him, a little puzzled.

“Aren't you a little out of uniform, Colonel?"

He looked and realized he wore no coat and his shirt hung out. He tucked the shirt in, put the jacket back on and put his arm around her. Their love became the same fiery light it had been when he left her. He swore he would never leave her again.

He stopped as he looked at her. She gazed up at him, more in love with him than ever.

“I have something else of yours,” he told her as she wondered what it could be. He pulled out the diamond earrings and necklace from his pocket. He put the necklace on her and kissed her neck, as he had on their wedding night when he had given it to her. He took her hand in his, placed the earrings in it and folded her fingers around them.

She burst into tears. Kissing him, she threw her arms around him and thanked him.

“I was afraid I'd never wear these again.” Together, they walked out of the barn. “You know, I bought gifts for each birthday, anniversary, and Christmas from the time you left. I tried to hide them with some of the other stuff I put in the attic. I guess they're all gone now."

“Not all of them, darlin',” he assured her as she looked at him, her eyes questioning his words. He smiled. “I have the portrait. I found the one you put in the lock box with your parent's jewelry."

“Where is it?"

“In my saddlebags back at the hotel.” He reached into his coat pocket and retrieved the cross. “Jack found this after the shoot-out. I thought you might want it."

She looked at the cross, one of her father's favorite pieces of jewelry. It had been a gift from her mother to him celebrating the event of their daughters’ births. The inscription said: "To my adoring husband—a father two-times over in one day. My love, Theresa, 21 May 1836."

She couldn't believe her good fortune. She had been so worried that Andrew wouldn't find the book of poetry that held the note and secreted her ring. She felt that partly helped to save her life, protecting her husband and daughter. But now she had it all back, including the other jewelry. His beautiful gifts on their wedding night, she'd never take them off again.

Elated her father's cross was also recovered, she smiled. God forbid, some stranger got a hold of that. It thrilled her that he also had the box she hid the jewelry in. She secreted pieces she had intended for Sarah to get when she grew older. She had protected that much of her parents’ legacy.

Andrew and Jessie walked out of the barn, hand-in-hand. They met Jack and Adam as they returned to tell Helen the undertaker would be out to see her. Andrew approved, suggesting they stay with her while the man saw her, until he finished. He wanted them to take care of the arrangements for Scott, too. They would let his people know what had happened as soon as possible.

“Jack, thanks."

“Sure. This was waiting for you.” He handed Andrew a message from John Buford. “His troops are headed south, chasing Lee's army into Virginia."

Brigadier General John Buford, Army of the Potomac

Colonel J A Hastings

Received last wire from you. It seems you have been busy on your hunt. Hope success follows you and you find your wife. Keep news coming.

Good hunting!

John

“Something wrong?"

“No, General Buford wishes us luck in our pursuit. Wait until he reads the next message tonight."

“Who's Buford?"

“He's a brigadier general in the Army of the Potomac, 1st Division Cavalry, and one hell of a cavalryman. In fact, he virtually rewrote the book on cavalry tactics. We became friends at Gettysburg at the beginning of the battle, when I checked out his combat readiness for Stanton. He took care of me between reading my mail to me when I had trouble handling any of the news forwarded to me and getting me mustered out quicker than usual. He went to the point of getting in touch with Washington to get my separation papers as soon as I could after I heard about what had happened in New Orleans. He's a good man and I promised that you two would meet."

“This is interesting. How many others did you tell about me?"

“Everyone who would listen to a newly married man bragging about his gorgeous wife."

Her face became serious, Andrew concerned and unprepared to start dealing with the mood swings Adam warned him about.

“You can't brag about your gorgeous wife anymore. I'm not, I'm scarred.” She sobbed as he held her and grabbed her shoulders to pull her close. He winced from the pain in his right shoulder.

“Don't say that. There's nothing scarred about you. You are a beautiful, gorgeous, vibrant woman and do not let anyone tell you any different. If they do, they'll have me to answer to. Hear me?” She looked at him, crying even more. He held her tighter.

“Let me tell you something. I have a good idea of what happened to you from following their trail. It bothers me that it happened to you, and the others, but my main concern is you. I'm not trying to be cold-hearted, but I don't care as long as we're together. None of this, and I repeat, none of this was your fault. If you have problems, we'll work through them. If I have any, we'll work through those as well.

“And do you know what? I intend to brag up a storm. I love you and there's not a damn thing wrong with you."

“Why are you so special?"

“Because of you, my Angel."

Jack returned, saying Helen had been happy to have their help with the funeral arrangements.

“Do you need us right now?"

“No, sir."

“I want to take Jessie for a ride. Can she borrow your horse?"

“Sure.” Jack replied as he whistled to Callie, his beautiful palomino. Jack helped Jessie, who acted like she felt better and seemed to have less pain, into the saddle. Andrew tried, painfully, to saddle Satan. His shoulder hurt, so he called Jack to help him. Jack saddled Satan, then helped Andrew replace his arm in the sling Adam had put it in.

“Adam's not going to like the fact you took the sling off. He's very much the perfectionist when he's doctoring people."

“I know, but it got in the way of uh ... reuniting with my wife."

“I'm happy for you. I was afraid it might not be an easy road for you two. Andrew, she's so special. I can see now what drove you so."

“I don't remember what life was like without her.” Leading Satan out of the barn, Jack helped Andrew mount up. Andrew told him they would be back in a little while.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“Some place I want to show you.” They rode out to the river to the spot where he had tried to take his own life.

“Do you recognize this place?"

“Should I?"

“This is where I stupidly tried to end it all. I had found your earring and became a raving lunatic, to the point where they had to pull me from the victim's husband. I came out here, waded into the water and tried to let the current carry me away. Jessie, I wanted to die. While I was under, I heard a voice calling me back. The voice was yours."

“I had a dream you were drowning. The last thing I remember was screaming. I woke up in a cold sweat, scaring Helen half out of her wits."

“Thank God, somehow you came to me."

“It's amazing how connected two people can become."

“Jessie, I have a question, and it's important."

“What, Andrew?"

“I found a picture, I don't even remember where.” He took it from his pocket and handed it to her. “Who is it?"

“Andrew, I have to explain something to you first."

“No, answer the question, then explain,” he demanded. She felt apprehensive, this being the first time he had ever sounded cross with her. She took a deep breath, hoping.

“Andrew, this is a picture of Sarah Mary Hastings, your daughter."

“That's what I thought. It's what I wanted to believe, but I couldn't let myself, just in case it wasn't true. Now, tell me what you wanted to explain."

“I found out I was expecting her days before you received your orders to leave New Orleans. I had ideas a few days before when I was real nauseous. Do you remember?"

“Yes.” He did remember, but only because she had never been sick at all and this one day, she had been so ill, it had forced her to stay in bed.

“I wanted to tell you, but I could never find the right time. Then I was afraid to because I didn't want you worrying about the two of us. I didn't want you letting your guard down any more than it had been already because I knew you were going into very dangerous areas. I was afraid of miscarrying as my mother had."

“Where is she now?"

“A few weeks before all the hell began, I asked Caitlyn and Jason to take her. They did. Sarah, her things, every toy, blanket, everything of hers, went to my sister's house. I visited every chance I could. The last time I saw her was that Sunday afternoon. She and I were on the lawn when she fell asleep in my arms. I put her to bed and said good-bye to her, not realizing what was going to happen to me that night.” Tears came to her eyes. He tried to make it easier for her.

“Thank God for taking care of her."

“The only problem is I'm not sure where they are."

“Charleston, South Carolina."

“How do you know for sure?"

“Your sister wrote a letter telling me about your father's death and your disappearance. It finally reached me in Gettysburg, three months after it was posted, but she neglected to tell me about our daughter."

“That's my fault. I swore her to secrecy. I honestly did not want you to be worried about the two of us. I wanted you to come home to us in one piece."

“I guess it's my turn now."

“What?"

“After I left Gettysburg, I came down the river. I had a meeting with General Grant, who gave me orders from the President and Stanton as to how to handle the three deserters. After leaving Grant, I headed straight to New Orleans and the house."

“Our house?"

“Yes. I got there during the middle of one of the worst thunderstorms I've ever been in. I stabled Satan in the carriage house. I spent most of the night looking around the house, seeing what had happened. I saw where you bled on the wall and floors. I was sick because I had these horrible ideas of what they had done to you. I looked at the room we had briefly shared, and found our book of poetry. I went downstairs, sick to my stomach, imagining what could have happened in our room. I sat in the library, and, I guess, fell asleep. Around dawn, I heard a crack of thunder preceded by an extremely bright bolt of lightning. It was close, but I didn't realize how close. Jessie, I'm sorry, but the house burned to the ground."

“As long as you didn't get caught in it, that's all right. We can build another."

“But it's your family mansion, your home."

“Andrew, my home is where my husband and my daughter are."

He smiled at her, relieved. He feared she would be mad or extremely upset because the house had been destroyed.

“There's also something else. When I spoke to the police chief, he told me about Sarah."

“He did?” she asked, feeling a little flushed. “I remember Chief Bennett had been an old friend of father's and would never do anything to intentionally hurt me or my family. But since he knew, how many others did, too? My God, has Sarah been really safe at all?"

“He mentioned you'd had a baby girl and as far as he knew, the child was safe with your sister."

“I'm sorry about the underhandedness, but I needed to do something and that's what I did."

“It's all right, you did the right thing. Our daughter is safe. There's one other thing..."

“What's that?” she asked as Andrew took a deep breath.

“I was in Virginia in a hamlet taking some much needed downtime. I didn't feel well, which I think now I know why, but I'll tell you that one later. Anyway, an enemy soldier came into my camp. He couldn't tell I was Federal because I had my coat folded behind me. He told me he was searching for a Yank spying on their troops and wondered if I had seen him. I answered I hadn't. I found out later the Confederacy had placed a price on my head and wanted me to be a guest in Andersonville."

“My God, Andrew..."

“When I was given my promotion and the orders to come after the bastards who had taken you with everything the governments had, I found out, thanks to our personal connection with Jeff Davis, the price had been lifted and I was to be left alone—period.” She shook her head.

“Andrew, since all of this happened, I care only about what's important and that's the three of us."

“I found two of the boxes you hid upstairs in the attic. The last time I saw it though, it was sitting on top of the kitchen.” Andrew said, changing the subject quickly, seeing her distress.

“Andrew, can we ride back? I'm not feeling too good.” Her head spun, she assumed, from all of the excitement plus what she had just heard.

“We'll get Adam to look at you.” They turned away from the water and rode back to the house.

* * * *

When they returned to the house, the undertaker—a Mr. Ryan—was leaving with the bodies of George Burton and Scott Morgan. Helen was sitting on the porch rocking. She told them the services would be in the morning in town. She counted on them being there and they assured her they would.

“Adam, could you look at Jessie? She said she wasn't feeling well just now."

“Sure, but I'm pretty sure I can tell you what's wrong right now. When was the last time you ate, Jessie?"

“I don't know. Helen?” she asked, looking at her.

“Try sometime early yesterday or maybe, the day before."

“What are you trying to say? Jessie?” Andrew and Adam asked together, both concerned.

“I haven't eaten a whole lot since I was kidnapped. The three of them gave me enough to barely keep me alive, if anything at all. I don't remember too much about that though. I do remember I thought starving was a way out of the hell."

“Jessie, let me take a look at you."

Jessie looked at Andrew, who nodded. Since he had met him, Adam had impressed Andrew. Very professional, the doctor knew his business, and most importantly, he cared.

He had given Andrew a very comprehensive report of Jessie's condition on the day he rode out to explain their plans to catch the fugitives to the Burtons. The one thing that bothered him had been learning she may not be able to have children due to the damage inflicted upon her by those bastards and the miscarriage. May they burn in hell!

While Adam checked Jessie out upstairs, Andrew sat on the porch to watch sunset approach. Jack returned from the barn after taking care of Callie and Satan. He sat in the rocker while Andrew stood leaning against a post, one leg on the railing. Jack noticed that Andrew was worried about something.

“Everything all right?"

“Adam's finding out right now. I don't mind saying, I'm scared we're not out of the woods yet on this one."

“What do you mean?'

“When Scott first met us ... you remember ... when he first joined us?"

“Yes. Why?” he asked as he noticed Andrew kept an eye on the door.

“When he and I met alone that night, he told me about his visit with her. He was very ... concise. Jack, we may never be able to have anymore children. Sarah may be the only one."

“Who's Sarah?"

“Sarah Mary Hastings, my daughter.” Andrew beamed proudly.

“Congratulations, Dad."

“Thanks.” Andrew looked at the sunset, its colors of orange, yellow, purplish-brown—all magnificent. “Another thing I told Adam about is we're not sure if she's all right or not. I mean, with all the beatings, the welts, the slashings and lacerations.” He started to lose color as he spoke, his voice breaking up. “I'm afraid, Jack. I just found her again, but what if I lose her, this time, for good?"

“Don't even think about it,” Jack told him. They rose when Adam came out.

“What's wrong, Adam?” He felt anxious and he couldn't hold it back.

“Several things. The first is your wife, in the last three months or more, has been through hell. She was raped—violently and intrusively—on more occasions than she can even remember. During the attacks, she was physically abused by being hit and/or slapped frequently. She was emotionally abused with threats of death or more abuse. Gordon evidently liked taunting her with your scarf and your death. She said Gordon was determined to break her.

“As you deduced at the one farm, they did attempt to drown her because she didn't listen to Gordon. She was bound on numerous occasions with whatever they used being too tight, causing severe swelling and bleeding from the cording or rope."

By this time, Andrew had become as white as a sheet, Jack not too far behind. Adam asked if he wanted the rest of his findings. Andrew nodded and closed his eyes.

“She evidently went through fits of delirium. Helen said she would, without warning, drift off into her own world. She'd either babble incoherently or withdraw and say nothing at all. Sometimes, she would come out of it, screaming bloody murder. She was feverish on numerous occasions, ranging from a mild fever to extremely hot.

“As to the wounds on her body, her ankles and wrists may be severely scarred. The puncture wounds on her chest will heal as will the—and I hesitate to use this word, but I will—incisions from the double-edged blade. I will say at this point that I regret the fact the bastard used my grandfather's sword to inflict such pain and agony on your wife. For that, I am truly sorry. The slash on her neck is questionable. She also has an out-of-place broken rib causing her extreme pain.

“At this moment, the main thing we have to worry about is the fact the assholes didn't feed her unless they had to, which was seldom, if ever. She's dehydrated which, paired with no food, brought on the episode this afternoon. I know Helen tried every day to get something into her, but there were many times she said Jessie refused to eat for one reason or another.

“There's one more thing. Jessie may never open up about what happened to her or she may, one day, or night, out of the blue, just blurt the whole story out. The slightest thing she may have hidden deep inside associated with the ordeal could trigger it. You'll have to be prepared for that, if and when it happens. Don't push her into telling you, as this could make it worse. If you try digging, she might take a change for the worse."

Jack looked over at Andrew. He gazed at the sinking fireball, tears streaming down his face. How could they have done what they did to her? She had never hurt anyone in her life but these lowlifes had come along and taken her life away, her dignity, her pride. We've reunited in the barn, but will that be enough of a start to hold us together? Jack and Adam quietly went inside, allowing Andrew some time alone to deal with the future with, or maybe without, her.

Andrew looked at the sunset. He would treat her with tender loving care and hope for the best. He thought back to the days in New Orleans, wishing he'd never received the orders taking him away from her. All that was in the past, nothing could change what had happened. He would do his best to make it as easy as he could for her, and quietly, hope and pray for the best.

While inside, Jack and Adam offered to make dinner for everyone. Asking Helen what she had, she opened the pantry and showed them. They got the meat out, along with some vegetables and salad fixings. The two of them started cooking dinner. Helen went to check on Jessie.

* * * *

She slept and, for once, peacefully. Helen sat down in the rocker by Jessie's bed, where she had spent many an hour. Did we do the right thing taking her in, or would we have been better off if we had turned her away? Would George still be alive? She weighed out the last few months, convinced protecting this young woman had been the right thing to do.

She would bury her husband tomorrow in the cemetery in town. She didn't know if she wanted to keep the house or go back to the home her mother had left her in Baltimore. She wondered if Andrew and Jessie would want the property, the land would be good to raise their daughter on. She would talk to them when things settled down.

Andrew appeared at the door. Helen left, squeezing his shoulder in support. He went over to sit on the side of the bed. He cautiously took Jessie's hand, holding it while he watched her sleep. She stirred a little, opened her eyes, and gazed into her husband's dark sapphire blue eyes.

“Hi."

“Hi, yourself."

“Where are we?"

“In the room you've called home for the last few weeks."

“Do you think Helen would be upset if we went to the hotel tonight?"

“I don't know. Why?"

“To put it bluntly, I'm tired of this bed, and besides, it's only big enough for one,” she said, mischievously smiling.

“I think it depends on Adam and what he says."

“I like Adam."

“He's a good man."

“Has he talked to you?"

“About?"

“Having children."

“He's not my type,” he said with mock indignity.

“Not you and him, silly. You and me."

“He said it could be very difficult for you. There's a good possibility there's permanent damage from what those morons did to you."

“Could we try anyway?"

“Angel of mine, I just got you back, have yet to see my only daughter, and you want another one?"

“Yes."

“Darlin', I want to be selfish and have you all to myself for a bit. Besides which, I want you to heal. You need to beat this and come back to me."

“I am back."

“I mean in every way,” he said. He didn't want to tell her he dreaded losing her if she got pregnant and died. He would go to his grave blaming himself if that happened. “We'll talk about this later, when you're better."

“But..."

“No buts about it. That's an order. You are my priority, then our daughter."

They heard footsteps on the stairs. Jack poked his head in and told them some semblance of dinner was waiting.

Andrew looked at Jessie and she nodded. He helped her off the bed and down the steps. They went to the table, sat down, and started to eat. While they ate, Andrew watched Jessie pick at her food.

“You've got to eat, sweetheart."

“It still hurts a little to swallow."

“Jessie, how long has it been hurting you?” Adam asked.

“Since Baker decided I was his to abuse. I guess, sometime in the beginning, before they tried to drown me."

“Do you remember ever having fevers?"

“Yes, several times."

“My God! How long did the fevers last?"

“A day or two, why?"

“You're still trying to get rid of whatever you were exposed to over the last couple weeks. I'm leery of giving you anything like Scott gave you due to the reaction you had. Helen, do you have any broth or something solid but soft?"

“I have some, plus some fruit."

“Give Jessie some, please. We'll try the basics to see if they help."

After dinner, Andrew and Jessie went out on the porch. He pulled out his pocket watch, her wedding gift to him. Seeing that it had gotten late, he said he had to go.

“Don't leave me,” she pleaded, terror in her eyes.

“I just have some wires to get out to Grant, Lincoln, and John Buford. I won't be long. I promise,” he assured her, trying to calm her. He held her hands, clammy to his touch. “It'll be all right, I promise."

“I want to go with you,” she said as Helen came outside and heard Jessie's plea.

“Andrew, there's a carriage in the barn with my horse. Go ahead and take it. Jessie needs to get away from here for a bit."

“You're sure?"

“I'll be all right. I think Jessie needs a change. She's been here for months. Besides, as much as I enjoy the company, I really want to be alone tonight. It's been so busy here today. I need some time to be by myself and grieve."

“I'll stop back tomorrow,” Andrew promised.

“You'll come back tomorrow after the funeral. Promise?"

“We will,” Andrew promised.

“Jessie, can I talk to you for a minute?” Helen asked.

“What?"

“I know you haven't had any clothes of your own to wear. While you were sleeping, I packed you a bag. We're pretty much the same size, so I hope you don't mind. I put it by the door."

“You have been so kind to me. How will I ever repay you?"

“Take care of that man of yours. He's one of a kind. Don't let him get away."

They hugged each other. Jessie thanked Helen again, tears streaming down her face. Andrew came over to make sure they were both all right.

“We're fine. Helen just gave me some clothes.” Andrew smiled. Helen had been a widow for only a few hours yet, after she made sure her husband had been taken care of and readied for burial, she mothered the four of them. A very practical woman, Helen Burton felt everything happened for a reason. This would help her make a life without George,

“Thank you, Helen.” Andrew hugged her, giving her a quick kiss. “Thank you for everything."

“Do me a favor, Andrew. Take care of her. She needs you now more than ever. You kept her alive these last few months.” She hugged him again.

He stood back. They decided to leave Callie and Satan overnight at the farm. Jessie took his hand and they left to meet Adam in town.

Chapter 12

A surprise waited for them in the small town of Winston. Every person came out to cheer the army officers who had taken on the three renegades and won. Jessie felt overwhelmed with the adulation they received. They pulled the carriage up to the hotel and, after Andrew helped Jessie out of the rig, he grabbed the bag Helen had packed. Jack took the carriage to the livery. He wanted to make sure the horse was taken care of.

Andrew and Jessie entered the hotel. The proprietor, Randolph Berringer, told them he had taken the liberty to personally move Andrew's belongings to a larger room.

“You do know Heather and I are very happy that you and your beautiful wife will be spending your time in Winston here."

Andrew thanked him, then told the man he would need to send some wires out whenever he had time. Andrew put his glasses on and started to write out the messages, when he heard Jessie giggle.

“What are you laughing at?” he asked while he concentrated on the messages he wrote out. He knew full well what made her laugh. Jack walked in on this.

“You were right, sir,” he said. Jessie laughed harder.

“When did you start looking at life through those things?"

“About a week or so ago, I guess. It's all your fault, you know?"

“Mine?"

“If I had been doing my original duty instead of chasing the most beautiful woman in the country through two states, I would have gotten my sleep and I wouldn't be suffering from eyestrain."

“You're getting older there, Colonel."

The three of them laughed. Andrew realized one major steppingstone to her recovery had just been passed over. She still had her sense of humor, one of the things they had in common.

Adam joined them, promptly picking up on the joke and remarking he had given Andrew the glasses to make him look like Benjamin Franklin. Jessie thought Andrew to be far more handsome than Ben.

“Besides, Franklin didn't have a mustache and they make you look distinguished,” she whispered in his ear. He smiled and kissed her before he checked over the messages he had written down.

The first wires went to Lincoln and Stanton:

TO: A Lincoln, President USA

E Stanton, Secretary of War

FROM: J A Hastings, Colone

Problem in Winston taken care of. Deserters are all dead. Reunited with Mrs. Hastings. Reports to follow. JAH

The next wire went to General Grant:

TO: U S Grant, General

FROM: J A Hastings, Colonel

Problem solved—deserters dead. Have reunited with my wife.

Will deliver reports personally—JAH

And to Buford and Chamberlain:

My dear friend,

My Jessie is safe with me! Her captors are dead. Mission accomplished!

You must meet! JAH

“Can you get these out as soon as possible?"

“Yes, sir. I'll make sure your wife's bag is taken up to the room also."

Andrew turned to the others as he told Jack and Adam they deserved to relax the rest of the evening. He asked at the desk as to whether or not his uniform had been cleaned. Berringer told him he had put it in his room.

“Hey, can we go outside?” Jessie asked.

“Sure,” he replied as they walked toward the door.

“Do you remember the first night we were together? We stood on the patio and looked at the stars."

“I remember."

“It was a beautiful night that evening, wasn't it?"

“I don't remember. I kept looking at you."

“One of the things I kept remembering during the last few months was looking at the stars with you. Memories of you, of us, kept me alive."

They walked outside on the porch of the hotel. As they looked up at the sky, they saw a shooting star. They gazed to the heavens for a little while until they found themselves gazing at each other and the stars in their eyes instead of those in the sky. She turned around and he put his arms around her. She took his hands in hers.

He held her in his arms. Andrew had missed this. He kissed her hair as she leaned against him. She smelled so beautiful, just as he had remembered. He missed this as he had her. He kissed the top of her head before gingerly putting his head on hers. This time, she felt hot. It didn't feel right. It felt like she leaned on him more.

“Jessie,” he softly spoke her name, but she didn't answer. He tried to turn her around to face him but she didn't respond. She looked as if she had closed her eyes to take in the freshness of the early evening. In reality, he found she had lapsed into unconsciousness.

After he took his arm out of the sling, he quickly scooped her up, just as he had done on their wedding night when he carried her over the threshold at the hotel. He carried her back into the hotel, his shoulder feeling as if it was being ripped apart. Randolph Berringer sat at the desk but hurried over to him. Andrew told him to get Adam, but not before asking which room he had put their things in.

Berringer said to follow him and he led him down the hall to their room and unlocked the door. Andrew carried her over to the bed and gently put her down on it. As her arm fell to the side, she reminded him of a rag doll. His wife unconscious and very hot, Andrew began to lose his control when Adam ran in and asked what happened. Andrew told him.

“What's wrong with her?” he pleaded desperately.

“I don't know. She's feverish again. Andrew, look at me. Get her clothes off. I'm going to go get something for her.” He ran out of the room to get his medical bag.

Andrew tried to undo her clothing and feared what her reaction to this might be. Earlier she had been fine, when they were together in the barn, but...

As he tried to undo her buttons, Jessie stirred some. He couldn't be sure, but he thought he heard her say something. Andrew finally got the bodice undone when Adam returned with the cold compresses. Adam opened up the bodice of her dress and felt the heat of the fever. He put cold towels on her forehead. They slid her dress off to give her body some air and hoped this would help to break the fever.

Jack came in and asked if he could help. Adam asked him to take care of Andrew, who by this time, had lost all color, deathly afraid his wife would die. Jack took him out of the room and down to the bar. He reached behind the bar to grab a bottle of whiskey and two glasses.

Andrew fidgeted. This man, who only this morning, had been in complete command of a life-and-death situation, sat across from him an emotional wreck. He kept looking from Jack to the stairs and back to Jack with a what do I do? look on his face.

“What happened?"

“I don't know. One minute, we were looking at the stars, the next, she passed out."

“Wasn't Adam concerned about the fevers?"

“Yeah, I think so."

“He got her to eat food, remember?” As he lost Andrew's attention, Jack poured another glass of whiskey for him. Jack had the feeling that either Andrew would get drunk, or all the whiskey in the world wouldn't help.

“What am I going to do, Jack? She's all I've got."

“Calm down, Andrew, or I'll start getting formal with you again."

“Anything but that.” He looked back toward the stairs. “Should I go up to her?"

“Wait for Adam. Let him do what he has to do."

* * * *

Adam checked Jessie over, who was still unconscious. At last, the fever broke. He covered her with a sheet, not wanting to use the blanket unless necessary. Adam had been able to sneak over to his room to get his other bag. He dreaded if Andrew saw him with it, as in his present state, he would probably overreact. He brought it back, set it down, and took a small bottle of syrup out of it.

Remembering her reaction to Scott's elixir, he hoped and prayed this wouldn't be a repeat of that experience. But something had to be done as quickly as possible. He poured a small bit into a spoon and pressed it to her lips to get the syrup into her mouth. He repeated this one more time.

He sat with her and waited for her reaction to the treatment he had just given her. He checked her forehead and found the fever had finally broken. The heat, for the most part, had cooled and she felt a little more like normal. But then again, her body had been so damned out of sorts for so long, she probably didn't know what normal felt like anymore. He took a quick look at her ribs, which, Thank God, looked a hell of a lot better than the other day. The bruising had lightened up considerably.

As he sat with her, sorrow and shame overcame him. This poor woman suffered from the actions of three uncaring assholes. Now she had to go through the rest of her life with day-to-day reminders.

He still felt partly to blame. How can I explain to the woman I'm in love with that the sword used to harm her was my grandfather's, used against a far superior enemy in war? Will I be able to get her to believe how sorry I am over this and, after everything that had happened and the constant reminders of the attack, would she be able to forgive my family for what had been their part in the attack on her?

After midnight, Adam went downstairs to speak with Andrew. He went to the bar and grabbed another glass. As Andrew got up and started toward him, Adam went to calm him. He poured the three of them another round of drinks. With everything they had been through, and the gamut of emotions he had gone through the last few weeks, it had been a wonder Andrew hadn't totally lost it.

“How is she?"

“Resting. The fever broke. I gave her a syrup I hope will cure whatever is doing this to her.” Jack came up behind Andrew and shook his head. Adam got the hint immediately. He asked Jack to go sit with Jessie until he came back.

“Andrew, we have to talk."

“Don't tell me she's going to die."

“No, I'm not going to tell you that. I think she'll be fine. It's you I'm worried about."

“Me? Jessie's the one who's sick."

“She's resting. You, on the other hand, worry me."

“Me?"

“Yes, you,” he said emphatically, knowing for now, he had to be the one in command. Andrew looked at him, his eyes childlike in the way they looked back at Adam. “You've been running like an out-of-control freight train, non-stop. No sleep, odd eating, anything else? Let me see, trying to drown yourself in more ways than one. Should I go on?"

“What do you mean drowning?"

“Scott told me, physician to physician, that you tried to commit suicide the other day."

“Why did he tell you?” Andrew demanded.

“Because he was your friend. He told me because he was afraid he wouldn't make it through the gunfight yesterday."

“My God, what have I done?"

“You haven't done anything, but you've been driving yourself too hard. You've got to stop before you're the one not around for those who care about you. I've been watching you since we first met and I've been concerned about you. Jack is, too."

“Adam.” A look of concern crossed the colonel's face. “I'm truly sorry. Jessie's everything to me. We met in the morning and, by after-dinner cigars, no lie, we were engaged. Her father had my things and Satan moved to their house. We had a whirlwind engagement, then the wedding, and our wedding night.” He smiled, as did Adam. His friend experienced true and deep love, the kind of special feeling most people could only wish for.

“Anyway, we enjoyed wedded bliss for about a month, maybe a week or two longer, I don't know, when Stanton's office forwarded the orders to me taking me away from Jessie. It happened about the time the secessions started because of Lincoln's election. I left New Orleans to check Union strengths, weaknesses, and the like.

“That's how I met General Grant, John Buford, and some other generals while catching up with my old friend, Lawrence Chamberlain. Everything started coming to a head over this, the weekend of the Gettysburg campaign, between Grant, who gave me the information, and John, who got me mustered out in a hurry. I was on my way to find those bastards on my own. I guess you could say I acted like a lone wolf. My separation from the army lasted all of forty-eight hours, if that."

“What do you mean?” Adam asked as he listened to Andrew ramble on. He knew the man needed it.

“I got mustered back in as quickly as I was discharged. I got orders to go after the bastards with everything the government had. There was the added incentive of the use of extreme prejudice. The rest you pretty well know."

“I now understand better what's driven you and see why you decided to go looking at the water from the bottom up. But now, you have to concentrate on keeping yourself in good health for her and me."

“You?"

“I might not be around all the time."

Andrew laughed.

“I know, but the fever stuff still scares me. What's causing it? Could she have gotten any injuries we haven't seen?"

“Andrew, that's it!” he cried out.

“What's it?"

“Come with me.” Adam led Andrew up the stairs to their room. He opened the door, turned up the lamp, and checked Jessie's arms and legs first.

“What are you looking for, Adam?"

“I'm not sure, but I'll know it when I see it.” Andrew and Jack looked at each other. Jack shook his head and said goodnight with a yawn. He went back to his room to turn in.

Adam lifted up her arm and looked at it, up and down. He went to her other arm, and again, found nothing. He checked her legs, up and down, and then found a small welt on her foot. He pointed it out to Andrew. Looking closer at it, he saw a cap over the point where a mosquito had bitten her. He took the cap off and tried to draw the poison out of it. He didn't want to tell Andrew, but this could have killed her. The bite had scabbed, healed over and never released the poison that gradually seeped back into her system every time she put any amount of pressure on it.

“Go get me a hot towel. I need to draw out what poison is still left in there.” Andrew went to get the hot towel and gave it to Adam, who put it on the area of the bite. He kept the compress on until satisfied the wound had drained.

“You're a genius, Doctor Hastings."

“I am?"

“What we're dealing with here is a type or strain of malaria. She had the classic symptoms but I never thought to look in that direction due to the other aspects involved. Now I have something to beat. By the way, how's the shoulder?"

“It really hurts. What do you think? Your leg?"

“Same. When we're done with this, let me redress your shoulder."

Later, after the bite had been taken care of, Jessie slept much easier thanks to the care Adam had given her. They left her to go to Adam's room. Andrew took his jacket and shirt off. The bandage needed changing. Adam removed it and checked the hole that didn't look good after being strained when Andrew picked his wife up. Fortunately, the stitches had stayed pretty much in place, even though the wound had been pulled apart a tiny bit. He took a cloth and wiped around the wound, then cleaned it. Andrew gritted his teeth as the pain went through his upper body.

“Wake up call,” he tried to joke. “How is it?"

“Way better than I thought, considering what you just did to it. I do good work."

“Thank God for that. Thank you, my friend."

“Anytime, my friend."

Adam redressed the shoulder. Painfully, Andrew put his shirt back on, then carried his jacket. He went back to their room and hung the jacket over a chair before he went over to sit on the side of the bed. He brushed some hair out of her face and noticed she felt cooler than she had a few hours ago. She slept peacefully. After he watched her for a little while longer, he went and found an extra blanket, grabbed a pillow, and bedded down on the couch. He wouldn't leave her.

* * * *

In the morning, Jessie woke up before Andrew, feeling much better. She looked around the room, saw her husband and laughed. He had slept on the couch and some time during the night, he had fallen off and wound up sleeping on the floor.

She got out of bed and crept over to where he lay. She lifted the blanket and slid in next to him, then drifted off into what she thought to be heaven. Later, they awoke in each other's arms. God! How I've missed him!

“How did you get here?” he asked, enjoying the warmth of her body next to his.

“You looked like you needed someone to keep you warm."

“What's that supposed to mean?"

“When I woke up before, I found you down here on the floor, which was good, as I don't think we would have fit together on the couch."

He snickered and kissed her neck, her hair soft against his face. He loved her long curls. A frame for her face, they brought out the color of her eyes, which made them sparkle even more.

“How do you feel this morning?"

“Much better. I'm not hurting as much as I did last night."

“Adam thinks he knows what has been causing the setbacks."

“And what's wrong with me?"

“He thinks you were bitten by a mosquito, giving you all the symptoms of a kind of malarial fever."

They heard a knock at the door.

“Who is it?” she asked.

“I have a message for Colonel Hastings."

“Bring it in, please,” she said. The clerk came in and found the couple on the floor together. He smiled. He had heard their story, glad it looked like there would be a happy ending to it.

Handing the message to Jessie so Andrew would not have to move his shoulder by reaching, he asked if he could do anything more for them. They thanked him, said, no, and he left. Jessie sat up to give Andrew room to move so he could sit up and read the message. He opened it and smiled—

FROM: U S Grant

TO: The Hastings

Received your message. Am pleased at outcome and very happy for your good fortune. Am waiting for reports after you've taken medical leave. Also waiting to meet Mrs. Hastings.

U S Grant

PS Jessie, if I may presume, glad you are back safe and sound. Take care of you both. Rest assured, he and McCord are two of my best.

“I guess that answers that question."

“What's that?"

“I don't think I'm getting mustered out like I want. This sounds like we're still under Grant's command."

“You're not leaving me again,” she said, authoritatively.

“Don't worry, it won't happen again. I won't let it."

“Don't make a promise you know you can't keep, Colonel."

She helped him up and felt like she could take on the whole world. She smiled as she looked at him.

“You know something? I'm hungry,” Jessie announced. Andrew held her, his eyes stared at the ceiling. Thank God!

He sat on the bed and watched her every movement. She went to the armoire to try to pick out something to wear to George's funeral. She decided on a dark blue, high-collared dress to compliment Andrew's uniform. He noticed she preferred to wear higher or stand-up collars, as opposed to the lower cut necklines she wore when they married. He hated how her life had been changed. She finished dressing and turned to him.

“I'm going to go get Adam to look at your shoulder. I'll be back.” She left the room and returned a few minutes later with the doctor.

“Anything wrong?"

“No. Just a worried wife, who by the way, says she's hungry."

“Wonderful. Just remember, take it easy. You don't want to overdo it."

“Yes, Doctor. I'll leave you to do whatever."

Jessie left and went downstairs. She enjoyed the freedom she had back. Going to the desk, Jessie asked about the possibility of sending a wire to Charleston, South Carolina.

“Anything for you and the Colonel,” Berringer said, handing her a piece of paper. She wrote the following:

TO: Jason and Caitlyn Davis, Charleston, South Carolina

FROM: J Hastings

Am all right and back with my husband. Terror is over. How's our Sarah? Her father can't wait to see her and I can't either. Love to all!! J

She thanked him and started to go back upstairs. He called her back to give her several more wires that had just come in for Andrew. She thanked him again, turned around and bumped directly into Jack.

“Good morning, Jessie."

“Good morning, Jack. How are you feeling today?"

“Much better. I finally got a good night's sleep. Your husband is a slave driver. He goes non-stop."

“So I'm a slave driver, am I, Captain?” Coming down the stairs, Andrew laughed. Adam snickered.

“Oops, caught.” Jack and Andrew shook hands as they slapped each other on the back.

“Don't be so quick to speak. The message I'm getting from General Grant is I can't get away with trying to muster out again."

“These are for you, sweetheart,” Jessie said, handing him the wires. As he took them, he winced a little. Jessie started a little. “Adam?"

“He's fine. Stubborn as a mule. Won't wear the sling, either."

Andrew read the wires and smiled.

“I want you all to hear these:

From Lincoln:

Congratulations on a job well done. Elated to hear about Mrs. Hastings. Bring her to Washington for meeting. Am waiting for final report after you are done your leave.

From Stanton:

You have done your country's service well with a level head. Good news about your wife. Enjoy your leave.

We'll talk when you are in Washington.

From Chamberlain:

Am extremely elated you have Jessie back and she is safe. I told you that you would be successful and you were.

Impatient to meet this special person in your life who has made such a wonderful change for you. My love to her and my congratulations to you!

From Buford:

Still chasing an elusive Lee. Overjoyed at news about your wife. I want to meet her. She's got to be a special lady, especially putting up with a new Brigadier General.

Congratulations, my friend!

“Did he say Brigadier General?” Jack asked. Andrew nodded, puzzled. He reread John Buford's message again. Jessie hugged him and whispered congratulations to him.

A young boy carrying a package entered the lobby, then went to the desk and spoke with the man who pointed to their group. He brought the package over to them.

“Captain Jack McCord?” he asked, nervously.

“Here."

“This is for you, sir.” Jack gave him a nickel and the boy ran off. The four of them looked at each other.

“Well?” Andrew said. He thought he had an idea of where this would lead, as he remembered Jack's promotion had come the same way.

Jack opened the bundle and took out an envelope. He opened it then dropped his mouth in surprise.

“What's wrong?"

“Nothing,” he said, grinning.

TO: J McCord, Captain

FROM: U S Grant, General

Congratulations on a job well done. Put away the captain's jacket and put on the major's jacket. When you've done that, read the following:

Jack did as ordered:

Now that you're wearing the jacket pursuant to your promotion to major, you now have the honor, as the first official act in your position, to face Colonel James Andrew Hastings and read this:

I have the honor of promoting not only Jack McCord to major but you as well, Andrew Hastings, for a job well done.

You have exhibited what I told you were the best qualities of your command. It gives me great pleasure to promote you to brigadier general. Your stars and braids are enclosed.

Congratulations on a triple celebration!

U S Grant

Adam shook his hand, Jessie hugged him and Jack. The two newly promoted officers looked at each other, saluted and then hugged. Two men, brought together by extremely adverse conditions, had forged a lifetime friendship.

Andrew noticed Jessie crying. He looked over to her and winked as she smiled back.

“I missed the last one.” She hugged him, proud to be his wife.

“You know it's all your fault. If I hadn't been out chasing my beautiful wife over two states, I'd still be doing regimental status as a lieutenant colonel, or maybe colonel, and Jack would still be a lieutenant somewhere. I tell you, it's all your fault."

Everybody laughed. They decided to get breakfast before the noon funeral for George Burton. As they left the hotel, the undertaker came up to Adam with an envelope in hand. He asked to speak with Colonel Hastings, privately.

“How can I help you?"

“Can I speak with you in private?"

“Sure.” They went over to the side where he spoke with him for a few minutes, gave him the envelope and tipped his tall black hat before he quickly left.

Andrew put his glasses on and read the letter, then returned to the others.

“Jessie, you had better get a hold of yourself. Helen's dead. She committed suicide some time last night.” Jessie's legs went weak as Adam caught her. “It seems after we left last evening, grief overtook her. She wrote this to us and then she shot herself.” He handed her the letter:

To Andrew and Jessie,

My love goes out to you both. It was a long haul, but you two finally won over all. Jessie, you said that when you thought Andrew was gone, you wanted to die. That's how I feel now, only I know that George is waiting for me.

Because we have no family except the two of you, Jack and Adam, please allow me this one request of you all. Keep in touch with each other throughout your lives. Life is too short, as I told Jessie when we acted like school girls earlier today. It is so very important!

Last but not least, I'm leaving the property to the two of you. I know you lost your house in New Orleans so this may at least give you somewhere to call home. It will be great for Sarah, giving her a nice place to grow up.

Just remember, this house did not end anything for George and me. We've started on our own way as you two have begun the rest of your lives.

I've asked Mr. Ryan to take care of the arrangements for the two of us.

My love and best wishes,

Helen Burton

Jessie sobbed uncontrollably. The woman had become like family to her, had taken care of her while Helen and George risked everything for her. Andrew held her. Jack and Adam stared blankly at each other in total disbelief.

“Jack, if you would, could you go after Mr. Ryan and ask him what arrangements he made...” Jack nodded and left.

Adam asked Jessie how she felt. She had tired a little, but felt all right. Andrew told her he would feel better if she went upstairs and rested. He asked Adam to go with her and make sure she managed all right. They went upstairs and Andrew waited for Jack to come back.

While he waited, he reread the letter. He sat on a chair, took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes. When Jack returned, he said Ryan told him he had gone out to the farm to pick up Mrs. Burton for the funeral. He found a note on the door with instructions telling him she wanted a quiet funeral, no mourners, and burial elsewhere.

“He said the letter to you was left with the deed to the property, which Ryan signed and notarized as per her instructions. Legally, the farm is yours."

“This isn't right. They should both be alive, on their farm..."

“Don't take the guilt on yourself, it's not your fault. It's the fault of those monstrous bastards!” Jack screamed, upset over the turn of events.

“Jack?"

“No, it's not your fault."

“Jack?"

“Colonel, I mean, General..."

“Jack, shut up and that's an order."

Jack looked at him and dropped his mouth. The general had finally pulled rank on him. Andrew looked at him and laughed. Jack laughed, too. Adam came down from Jessie's bedside to tell Andrew she was doing fine.

“What's so damned funny?” he asked.

“I, for the first time since he's been assigned to me, issued an order to Jack. Nothing complicated, nothing earth-shattering."

“What did he order you to do?"

“To shut up."

They all had a good laugh. Even though the timing hadn't been very good with the news they had just received, the tension of the moment eased and it seemed the rest of the time went just a little easier.

* * * *

Jessie felt deeply saddened over the Burtons’ deaths. They had treated her like family and took care of her when she couldn't take care of herself. Now they were gone.

One thing kept coming back to her. Anytime Jessie, or anyone, for that fact, showed concern for her, Helen had said not to worry. She had planned to do this before they had left last night.

Andrew poked his head in the door to check on her. She looked at him, held her hand out to him and motioned for him to come over to her. He did and sat on the side of the bed, then leaned down to kiss her. In that moment, they made a silent vow never to be apart again, if they had any control over the situation.

“What do you want to do with our farm?"

“I don't know what to say. It really depends on where my orders are going to send me."

“Us."

“...Depending on where. You will not go into a major campaign area. Is that clear?"

“Yes, General. We'll have to see what happens."

“If I can't get my own wife to obey my orders, how do you expect me to keep Jack in line?"

“That's between you and him. Speaking of which, don't we have to worry about the house in New Orleans?"

“Sometime, I guess. The police department is supposed to be keeping an eye on the place. I told the police chief that the property was part of a military investigation."

“Sly."

“Whatever works, I guess. Anyway, first things first. I'm on some sort of leave, along with Jack. We can do a lot in that time, if only I knew how long it was for."

“Why don't you find out?"

“I could do that.” He got up, went over to the door and locked it. “However, first things first."

The feelings they had for each other had been strong—so strong in fact, if one found they were in a room full of people with their back to the door, they would feel the other's presence when they entered. Their feelings seemed even stronger now.

He went over and sat on the sofa, took off his boots, then his coat. His wife watched his every move. He went to the bed and sat on the side of it.

“How are you feeling?"

“Anytime I'm with you, I feel good.” She felt overjoyed they were finally back together. She wanted him, needed him, and she had missed him over the past two years.

He played with her hair, the curls he adored tumbling. He rubbed her neck and felt the scar on the left side. She shuddered a little bit but he kept gently massaging it. It would take her a while to finally accept the physical scars of what had happened to her, and he would help her anyway he could.

She felt very relaxed, her face in his warm hands. She reached over to him and started to unbutton his shirt to reveal a very muscular chest. She slipped the shirt off his shoulders as he gently kissed her neck. He slowly removed her dress.

He set to unlacing her chemise, while kissing her neck and shoulders as he removed it. He worked his way down her body, exciting her with every move. She tried to undo his trousers, but they sat so close to each other, she couldn't. Stopping her, Andrew got up and finished undressing them both.

He kissed her down one side and while he did, he ran his fingers down the curves of her body on the other. This sent chills of excitement through her. He found her ready to welcome him. He kissed the inside of her legs, then slowly entered her. He made love to her as their hearts and souls became one. There seemed to be an urgency to their lovemaking that needed to be addressed by this couple who had been apart for so long.

She melted into his touch. They lay in bed, asleep in each other's embrace, the way she loved to be with him. Later, they woke, looked at each other and made love again, somehow, trying to make up for lost time. They spent the rest of the day together, behind a door that locked out the rest of the world, getting reacquainted.

* * * *

Jack and Adam waited for them to come down for dinner, but Heather told them the couple had ordered in. She said the clerk had instructions to leave the tray outside the door and they would get it when they wanted it. Jack looked at Adam, who just smiled. He knew what they were up to and he not only envied them, he felt just a little bit jealous. Why didn't I meet Jessica Hastings before Andrew had?

He felt happy for the Hastings, pleased there might be something between Jack and Heather. They made a nice couple and she seemed to be good for Jack. He resigned himself to love someone else's wife from a distance, to be near when they needed him. In a way, he could be content with this, only because he had been married briefly once before. She was killed in an accident when a stray bullet had struck her.

Adam had grieved for her for years and missed Lindsey more than he could say. They hadn't even had the chance to really start their marriage when she died and he'd sworn he wouldn't leave himself open for that kind of hurt again. Now, he loved another man's wife.

He could live with this, though, as he saw the Hastings family often, an uncle to their daughter. Life had become good and he wouldn't do anything to change things as they stood.

* * * *

Jack and Adam spent the next day relaxing. Jack was still experiencing shock over his promotion. He hoped Andrew would be able to keep him as his exec. He enjoyed service with Andrew as, even though he drove himself, he still had an easygoing side, along with a wicked sense of humor.

Jack got a hold of some newspapers and decided to catch up with the war. Grant finally gained success at Vicksburg, now under Union control. The effort put out in the attempt to take Vicksburg had finally paid off with the Mississippi River in Union hands. It split the Confederacy in two and cut her off from the West. He learned of the slow progress toward Richmond, Virginia, the Confederate capital.

Another item caught his eye. He read an article written about Baker and Gordon. The reporter had taken the angle of interviewing their families—nothing out of the ordinary with the only exception being a brother of Baker's, who swore his sibling to be a good guy, who would never do anything like he had been accused of. He went on to say to the reporter, if anything happened to his brother, he would personally seek vengeance on those responsible. Jack ripped this out of the paper, intending to show it to Andrew when Jessie wasn't around. He knew Andrew would be interested in this. He hoped the threat would be taken seriously.

Jack saw Adam and showed him the article.

“This doesn't look good. This means anywhere, anytime, he's a target."

“And she's going to be hard-pressed to be away from him. Somehow, this guy's got to be located to put a stop to it."

“Andrew will know how to handle it.” He motioned toward the staircase as Andrew came down. He wore the clothes he had bought a few days before. It seemed strange to see him out of uniform, but he looked better than he had in weeks.

“What's going on?” he asked as he sat down with them.

“There's no easy way to say it, so here,” Jack said as he slid the article across the table to him.

“Shit!” he cursed as he threw it back across the table. “God damn it! What's next?"

“What do you want to do?"

“First thing. Do not, under any circumstances, tell Jessie. She doesn't need to be upset by this, especially until we find out what's going on. Jack, do me a favor, send a wire to Stanton's office and see if you can get the records for both Baker and Gordon."

“If I can't?"

“Request family members, locations, and history. We need to know where he is and what makes him tick.” Jack got up to go do this, but Andrew stopped him. “See if you can get it down here as soon as possible, preferably by messenger. Also, request news articles, and the like. We've got a big problem."

“What's that?” Jack looked at him.

“We don't know if the asshole ever wrote home. This guy could already be in the area. Jesus Christ, when will this be over?” Jack got up and went over to the desk.

“Adam, I'll be straight with you. I'm the one this bastard's after. Jack, unfortunately, can't go where he wants. He's stuck with me. What I'm trying to say is that, if you feel any reservations about hanging around with a man with a bull's-eye on his back, I'll understand."

“Your point?"

“You're a good friend. However, I'd rather have you alive than dead. I don't think I could handle it if anything happened to you because of me."

Andrew Hastings couldn't handle anyone else's death if it became in any way connected to him.

“We've been through this. It's my decision. Besides, I have a patient, excuse me, two patients whom I need to keep an eye on."

“You're crazy, you know that?"

“Yeah."

“Now that you bring up the subject, are you ever going back to your practice?"

“Probably not. Before I left to meet up with you, I told my father I probably wouldn't be back. I can't handle the memories. My sister and I were really close and I don't think I could ever look at the places we spent time together without the hurt or that I've seen you endure with what you thought was the loss of your wife again and again."

“I agree. With me, New Orleans comes to mind."

Jack returned from the desk after he sent the wires to request messages from Grant's headquarters. Andrew sat in front of them, deep in thought, a man who wondered Why?

“Second problem?"

“We're on leave, you and I. She knows it and I think she's going to want to head to Charleston for Sarah. Good idea, but not with this,” he said as he pointed at the article. “Here she comes."

Jack grabbed the article and put it in his pocket. Jessie came over to them and greeted them as she sat down.

“What's going on? I can tell something's up."

“Nothing, sweetheart. We were just discussing what I need to put in the reports about the end of this whole situation."

“But you're on leave."

“If it gets done now, no worry later. Then it'll be ready to send off, or deliver to the right people."

“Oh."

“What's wrong?"

“I thought, maybe, since you had the time, General, that we could go to Charleston to reclaim our daughter."

“Interesting idea.” Andrew shot a quick glance at the others over her request. God how they connected! He had trouble keeping the latest news from her. Not knowing how much the brother knew worried him. He did not like the unknown and didn't want to risk her life, Adam's, or Jack's. Adam wouldn't go anywhere, and he realized if Jessie knew, she'd want to stay as well. He wanted to send her to Charleston to safety but they had vowed not to be apart again. She was smart enough to know if he kept something from her. She was already picking up on his feelings.

He knew if he became overly protective, or if he acted like something was different, she'd pick up on it. He did not know what he'd do about the new developments and that bothered him. He sat with the others, considering both the military options and the personal ones. His thoughts turned to her. Sometimes, it unnerved him how in tune with each other they had become.

“Well?” she asked, again bringing him back to the present.

“Let me see what the situation is between here and there. The Confederates along there don't really like Yankees, generals or not, even if they are married to the prettiest belle of the South."

She didn't like the answer, but let him know she understood. Tension thick in New Orleans had pushed her to send Sarah to Caitlyn's for safety. She missed her baby tremendously. She couldn't wait to see Andrew with her daughter. She wondered what kind of a father he would be, but she'd have to wait a little longer.

“Jack, why don't you and I go upstairs and start working on the paperwork? Jessie, I'm sorry, but it's got to be done."

“All right, I think I'll go look at the store. I've kinda forgotten what shopping was like, plus I'd like to buy an outfit of my own."

He handed her some money and snickered.

“What?” she asked.

“Do not open the door on anyone, thank you."

She laughed.

“I don't want to meet another husband."

“How about if I join you?” Adam volunteered, much to Andrew's relief, though Andrew never realized why Adam would snatch any chance he could to be with her.

“Thank you.” She went over to Andrew and kissed him good-bye. “I love you,” she whispered. Andrew held her and figured he had better lighten up before he made her suspicious. When they left, Andrew looked at Jack.

“I want all the communications to go through you. That way, Jessie won't see any of it. We'll get the reports done today, so they can go back with the messenger in the dispatch bag."

“Let's go then, sir.” They went to Jack's room and spent the rest of the morning on the official reports of the events leading up to the deaths of Jeff Baker and Stanley Gordon at the Burton Farm, outside of Winston, Texas.

When they finished, Andrew sat back, took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. Jack made sure he put the papers all in order and set to go to the right people. He turned around to find the general sound asleep in the chair. My God! That was fast! He smiled.

Jack took Andrew's glasses out of his hand and slid them into Andrew's vest pocket. He left the room and quietly closed the door. Downstairs, the clerk attracted his attention. A wire had been received from Stanton's office:

TO:Brig. General J A Hastings

FROM: A Lincoln; E Stanton

URGENT!

The subject of your inquiry has done exactly as his brother in regards to desertion of post. No reports on activity as such. Skipped out west of your position in the Arkansas territory. Same orders regarding extreme prejudice due to threat to your command. Reports and charges being forwarded as requested.

“Damn. He's not going to want to see this."

“See what?” Jessie asked, startling him.

“Our leave has ended. We have orders,” he lied as he tried to think quickly.

“Where to?"

“I'll let Andrew tell you."

* * * *

“What's going on?” she asked, agitated at his answer.

“Don't get upset, Jessie,” Adam cautioned her.

“Don't tell me not to get upset, Adam Cole. There's something going on here and I want to know what it is,” she said, her voice rising. Jack and Adam looked at each other, not sure what to say.

“Jessie, calm down,” Andrew said, as he came downstairs. Her concerned voice had awakened him from his short nap.

“Colonel, I mean, General. Oh hell, I don't know what I mean. This came in for you. I'm sorry.” Jessie figured she had better leave them to their military issues. She kissed Andrew and told him she'd be back in a bit, then took her new outfit upstairs. Jessie didn't tell Andrew about the dress she had bought because of it being the same color of purple as the gown she wore the day they met. She could not wait to see the look on his face when she put it on for him.

Andrew took the wire and read it, then cursed under his breath. He turned and walked out of the lobby and onto the porch. His shoulder started to ache again as he had been sleeping soundly when Jessie's voice awakened him with a start, the sudden movement aggravating it.

He should have known better than try to hide this from her, but he wanted to protect her. Maybe this time, he'd get protecting right and not fail her. Jack joined him, apologetically.

“Don't worry about it. I should have known better than try to hide it from her. I seem to wear my emotions on my sleeve when it comes to her."

“Any idea of what you're going to do?"

“Yep, and I reckon Jessie won't be liking it. Hopefully, Adam will go along with it.” He would feel better if Adam were the one to escort his wife. He didn't want Adam placing his life in danger by remaining in Winston. Andrew didn't want to lose any more friends.

“Hopefully, Adam will go along with what.” Andrew smiled and relaxed, glad it had been his friend and not his wife who had overheard.

“Adam, I want you to escort Jessie to Charleston to her sister's. That way, you can still monitor her situation and make sure she's safe for me. I want her there, not here.” He showed Adam the wire. “You'll stand a better chance of getting her through to safety than our uniforms will. Jack's already told her our leave is canceled, so it may work."

“Are you sure?"

“Yes, Adam, I am. I'll feel better knowing she's safe with you and not here in immediate danger. One less worry will make it easier to take this guy down."

The three men agreed on the course of action they would take in order to put an end to this latest horror.

Chapter 13

Jessie hurried upstairs with the outfit she had just purchased. It had been a long while since she had last gone shopping. Having her freedom back to do what she wanted excited her. Before her life had been changed like it had been, Jessie had always taken things for granted like shopping, going where and when she wanted. She now treasured every moment with a totally different outlook on life.

She unwrapped her dress, pulled it out, and held it in front of her. She went to the mirror and looked at her reflection. Jessie loved it and hoped her husband would, the color was perfect.

Jessie picked it over another one, just because of the color. She hoped he would remember the day they met. She had worn a royal purple dress when she walked into him the day that had changed both of their lives forever.

She put the dress on a hanger, then tried to hide it on a hook in the back of the wardrobe so she could surprise him at the right moment. She folded the wrapping paper and put it in the trash. She went to the door and out into the hallway.

Andrew, Jack, and Adam stood outside when Jessie came back downstairs. The three of them looked at each other. The next few days would be miserable, the idea of having to watch over their shoulders for this latest unwelcome and unwanted threat. Andrew looked at his wife, and Jack saw a strange look in his eyes.

Andrew went back into the lobby and grabbed Jessie's hand. He led her past Jack and Adam, both startled at his actions, and straight to the livery where he had the carriage, now theirs, hitched and readied. When set, he helped Jessie into the carriage. Starting off at an easy gait, he headed the horse in the direction of the farm they had owned for only a day.

“Where are we going?"

“To check on Satan, of course."

“Gauging again?"

“No, we have to talk."

“About?” she asked, starting to worry. She had never seen this side of him.

“When we get there.” They rode the short distance to the farm in silence. He pulled the carriage into the driveway and went toward the barn. Andrew helped Jessie down. They entered the barn, Satan excited in the stall. Andrew calmed him, while Jessie calmed Callie, Jack's palomino.

She went over to the roan that had brought her to this farm. The horse had been one of her father's and always used for the brougham the deserters had burned when one of them had gotten mad at her for whatever reason. She tried to remember the mare's name. It finally came back to her, the name she had given the horse when she was a foal, Holly. She had been born over the holidays, the blaze on her nose roughly the shape of a holly leaf.

They led the horses out into the fenced area surrounding a pasture of thick green grass. Andrew slapped their rumps and they took off at a gallop down to the lower end. Satan loved an open pasture, Callie happy, while Holly hesitated a little before she joined the others in the pasture. They watched the three of them, free as the wind.

“I love this feeling,” she said as she put her hand on his shoulder. He winced a little remembering he should have taken the pain medicine before he left.

“Jessie, you know how much I love you. What I am going to tell you hurts so much, I almost can't handle it. I know I've made promises to you, some kept, some not. But the most important one is that I've promised I would keep you safe."

“What are you trying to say, Andrew?"

“I want you, no, need you to go to your sister's in Charleston to be with Sarah. Adam agreed to accompany you, so you won't be alone."

“Why?” she asked as they walked toward the house. On the porch, Andrew opened the door and entered the house first to take a quick look around before he led Jessie inside. Andrew closed the door, looked around again and pointed at the couch. “Andrew, you're scaring me."

“I don't mean to, Angel. I don't want to tell you this, but it has to be said.” She looked at him with tears came to her eyes. “There's no need to cry. My God, I knew I'd screw this up.” He tried to wipe her tears away.

“Tell me, please. Why do I have to leave you?"

He paused a moment and slowly tried to collect his thoughts so he wouldn't mess it up anymore than he already had and not scare her any more than possible. He took a deep breath before he started to explain the situation.

“There's evidently a guy out there somewhere who wants me dead because I killed his brother."

“Who?"

“I'm told Baker has a brother who is somewhat misguided in his thinking that Baker wasn't capable of doing what he did. He's sworn vengeance on the one who killed him."

“But we both did."

“That's why I want you safe."

“I want to stay."

“No! It won't help Sarah if we're both dead."

“Damn it, we both were at one time, or another. Did you think of her when you tried to drown yourself?"

“No, but then I wasn't sure about her, remember?"

“Deep down inside, you knew."

“What about you? You wanted to starve yourself."

They looked at each other, both stubborn as hell. Neither of them could believe the fight they were having. Andrew looked out the window trying to think. Jessie came up behind him and put her arms around him. She put her head against his back and listened to his heart pound—it was very fast.

“I want to stay with you. We're both to blame. Besides, I want to face the idiot and show him what his perfect brother did."

“No!” he screamed. “I need to know if anything happens to me, you and the baby will be safe."

“And if anything happens to you, nothing will stop him from coming after us. I don't want to go through hell again, always looking over my shoulder, waiting, wondering. And it won't happen to her. We have to stop him now.” She shook her head as she started to cry, fear overtaking her. He turned around and held her, trying to calm her.

“Why can't you get it through that beautiful head of yours? I failed in keeping you safe before. I don't want to fail at it again, because this time, I might lose you—for good."

“And if this guy kills you, I lose you anyway, as well as living the rest of my life in fear."

“If this ain't a stand-off, I reckon I don't know what is."

“I inherited my father's bullheadedness. I guess it's time you found that out. Tell me what else you know."

“Not much.” He looked out of the window again. “We have an idea he's between Arkansas and, more than likely, here. Other than that, we have no further information yet, outside of the fact he's an Army deserter, like his brother. And one other thing, I have the same orders for this guy as I did for the other three."

She turned. This bothered her, the carte blanche for violence, but she realized it would probably mean saving their lives. She noticed Andrew intently watched outside. He put his hand on his revolver and slowly slid it out of the holster.

“Jessie, get me some rifles."

“Why?"

“Don't ask, do!"

She went to the gun cabinet and took out the rifles, a pistol, and ammunition.

Andrew had noticed some movement in the trees earlier. He could make out a horse tied to a tree in the woods toward the end of the driveway, then some movement by their carriage. He didn't like this at all, and out of character, he hadn't told Jack or Adam where he was going.

“Jessie, find a place to hide and stay low.” She ducked behind a high-backed armchair. She had one of the Winchesters, loaded, and ready to fire. Andrew had two rifles on the table below the window. He finally saw the enemy, a blond-haired man of stocky build, average height, heavy for his height. He made it up to the area of the lawn where Gordon and Baker met their match. He fired off a shot that broke the window by the kitchen table. Andrew moved to the side as Jessie cringed a little. He looked at her.

“You're my back-up, Angel. Try to stay calm, as I may need you to help me out with this guy.” She nodded and trembled a little.

“In the house. I owe you,” a strange voice called.

“What?"

“You killed my brother. I'm going to kill you."

“Is that so?” Andrew said as he motioned Jessie to keep quiet.

“Come outside and face me like a man. After all, you killed a good man."

“In whose opinion, yours?"

“You're not going to believe that lying bitch from New Orleans, are you?” Keep yourself calm, Hastings, keep it calm! He heard Jessie gasp. He looked at her and started for the door. If anything happened, she'd be the back-up Baker evidently did not know about or didn't think much of. It would work in Andrew's favor, if only she held her emotions.

“No!” she whispered as she tried to stop him from going face-to-face with this monster.

He opened the door and went out on the porch while leaving the door open. Andrew held the rifle with his left arm as if the right shoulder hurt as he went down the steps to the yard and around Baker. He tried to get the fugitive's back toward the house and Jessie.

She stood inside the door and watched; the rifle aimed at Baker's back. Jessie took deep breaths and tried to calm her nerves so she could be of help to the man she loved.

“Yo, what's with the wing?"

“Your brother's pal did this. Can't use it no more."

“You're a liar."

“So be it."

“Before I drop your ass, I want to know who the hell you are."

“I'm the man who took your brother out and, if you don't mind your P's and Q's, you're next."

“You and whose army?” Andrew snickered at this as the memory of the other two asking the same question came to mind.

“Your brother asked me the same thing."

“Well?"

“Ulysses S. Grant, of course.” Andrew saw a figure dart from behind the barn to the side of the house. In a quick glance, he recognized Jack come to the side of the porch. He felt a weight taken off his shoulders, relieved and glad for the help.

“I don't see no army,” Baker said.

Andrew slowly inched backwards to gain some distance between himself and Baker. He kept his eyes on the outlaw. He didn't want to give him any idea of who or what was behind him.

“You still haven't answered my question. Who are you?"

“Brigadier General James Andrew Hastings and I'm the one who shot your lying, thieving, raping brother."

“And I'm going to kill you.” He raised his shotgun and aimed it at Andrew. He had already set it, ready to fire. “Any last words?"

“If I were you, I would put the weapon down. You're covered from the rear, so you might as well give up."

“No way."

“Put the shotgun down,” Andrew ordered.

“I'm going to kill you before I do."

“Put it down."

Baker, for some reason, started to put the shotgun down, then dropped it. The impact with the ground discharged a round that hit Andrew in the leg. As Andrew went down, Baker opened fire on him using a pistol hidden in his coat. Bullets hit him in the side as the other shot grazed his head.

Andrew lay on the ground, damn near at the same spot Gordon had put him down and bled. He tried to muster the strength to raise the revolver to shoot this man. Rapidly losing strength, his life draining away, he looked over toward Jessie. He tried to yell to her but no sound came out. He lay helpless, in agonizing pain.

“Baker!” she screamed.

He turned and faced her. Unknown to her, Jack was safely hidden away with his sights aimed at the man who may have killed Andrew Hastings. He watched, in awe, as the general's wife showed strength he thought long gone after the last few months.

“You're just like him. A self-centered ass who thinks he's a stud horse.” She walked to the edge of the porch, the gun aimed at his heart. “Your brother was an idiot who couldn't have a woman unless she was bound to anything he could tie her to."

“Bitch!” he screamed as he tried to sway her.

“Your bastard brother raped me, beat me, and sliced me."

“Liar.” He raised the revolver and pulled the hammer back. She watched him start to squeeze the trigger as Andrew made a move. The noise startled Baker and he fired wildly. Jessie fired a bullet into his head, which lodged in his brain.

Jack shot second, this one hit his heart. Baker died before he hit the ground. Jessie stood over him, frozen as she aimed the rifle at Baker where he lay dead. Jack went over to her. He put a reassuring hand on her shoulder and reached cautiously for the rifle.

“Jessie, it's all right. Put the gun down. We have to help Andrew.” He took the gun from her and she ran to her husband. Jack went to get something to stop his bleeding.

Andrew bled from three places. He lay in the cool grass and felt like he was in the river again. He heard her voice but could not tell where it came from. He could not see her, even though she was right next to him as she held his head in her lap and squeezed his hand.

Jack got to him and started work to stop the bleeding. He tied the leg above the wound, fortunately, not as serious as it could have been. He wrapped the injury. The one on his temple had been a grazing wound. Jack tried to clean it some and rested the cloth on it to try and stop the bleeding from it.

Jessie threw herself over him, her arm around him. She sobbed as she yelled at him not to leave her. Andrew barely heard her. Adam rode up, jumped off his horse, Comanche, still at a full gait. As he ran to Andrew, he saw what Jack had already done, but couldn't get to the wound on his side.

“Jessie!” he yelled as he put a strong hand on her. “Jessie. Let me work on him. Jessie!” he screamed again. Jack pulled her off her husband. She looked at him, then at the blood on her hands and her dress. She screamed hysterically, then dropped to her knees.

“Oh, my God. Andrew. No!"

Jack held her, as she buried her head in his jacket. She wanted to look at him but Jack wouldn't let her.

Adam looked at the wound in Andrew's side, the bullet lodged deep inside him.

“You know, General Hastings, I'm getting a little tired of using the lawn to perform surgery on you. God damn it, stay with me, Andrew.” He saw his patient fading. Andrew barely heard Adam talk to him. “Jack, I need water and whiskey, quick."

Jack ran into the house, leaving Jessie on her knees weeping. She couldn't believe this had happened again. It was two days ago all over again. Only this time, Andrew's injuries were worse and he lay dying. Jack came out with more towels, a pitcher of water, and the whiskey, as she watched helplessly.

Adam poured water over the bloody hole, then dabbed it with the whiskey. Andrew winced in agony, then screamed as the pain seared through him from his feet to his brain. His head felt like it would explode.

Adam poured some of the whiskey into Andrew's mouth and hoped it would help. The bullet had securely embedded itself in the flesh by the lowest rib. He would almost have it, when the bullet would shift and move deeper.

Jessie crawled over to Andrew and took his hand. The next pain he felt sent him into a tailspin. The strength drained from him as he felt himself deeper in the water. She felt no life in his hand as if it had drained from him. He barely heard Jessie yell at him to live and Adam's screams to stay with them. He suddenly felt a peace he hadn't felt in a long time, no worries, and no concerns.

Jessie started to slap his face as she tried to bring him back from wherever he had drifted off to. Adam tried for the bullet again and finally got it out. He quickly washed the wound, stitched it, and put the bandaging Jack had found in the house on it. He did his best to wrap it, but he couldn't get the cloth under Andrew's back. He washed the graze wound which had stopped bleeding, then the one in Andrew's leg. Jack had done a hell of a good job in taking care of his commanding officer, his friend.

“Jessie, we've got to get him inside before it gets chillier. We're going to put him in the room where I first met you."

“He's alive?” she asked, shocked by what had happened to him. She thought he had died and left her alone.

“Barely, but we have to get him inside."

Adam and Jack gently lifted Andrew's body and together, they carried him inside and upstairs to Jessie's room. Before they laid him down, Adam wrapped his patient's ribs to put pressure on the wound. It was now a waiting game.

Chapter 14

Jessie walked into the room and saw herself all over again. She stopped and looked at him, his handsome body a mess, invaded by four bullets. He lay on the bed, at some strange peace with the world.

She went over to him and put her hand to his forehead, which was burning up with fever. She looked at Adam. Tears welled up in her eyes as she looked at him questioningly, then shook her head. He put cold compresses on Andrew's forehead. She ran out of the room, down the stairs and out of the house. She brushed past Jack, who chased after her.

“Jessie, come back. Jessie."

She stopped in the middle of the lawn at the same spot where Andrew had been shot and almost killed. She fell to her knees sobbing. This morning, he had been alive, their lives perfect. Now, he lay dying and all she could do was watch, helpless to do anything for him.

Jack caught up to her and knelt down beside her before he put his arms around her. She wept, as Jack held her and tried to comfort her.

“He'll be all right. He'll be fine,” he told her. She sensed something in him she didn't know before. She looked at him.

“You love him, too? Don't you?"

“He's only the best friend I have. I mean Adam and you..."

“I know. We connected the very first time we saw each other. We were engaged within hours. He does that to people."

Together, they sat on the ground and comforted each other, both loving the same man, only in different ways.

Jack felt something else that day. He, too, had fallen in love with his best friend's wife. He unconsciously compared every woman he met to Jessie Hastings, the most wonderful being he ever met. Holding her and trying to comfort her while her husband lay inside dying, he felt a strange sensation go through him. He knew it to be one-sided, but at this point, Jack McCord didn't give a damn.

Jack made sure she got back to the house. He would have to go into Winston to take care of some things and bring back Mr. Ryan for the body of the renegade's brother. They had moved it out of the hot sun and into the barn until the undertaker could come out. Adam needed some things from his medical bags, and had asked Jack to get them.

Jessie told him to take the carriage and bring everyone's things from the hotel. She would fix rooms for them, knowing none of them wanted to leave Andrew. She watched him leave, then went into the house and upstairs to get ready for Adam's and Jack's stay.

* * * *

She walked through the upstairs for the first time and this time, took notice of the rooms, furnishings, everything. Two more bedrooms besides the one George had first put her in and the master bedroom made up the upper floor. She went into that room, stood in the middle of it and looked around. She saw an envelope on the bed addressed to her.

Dear Jessie,

The house, and everything that goes with it, is yours. You can do what you want with it, but I hope y'all will choose to stay. The antiques are from Europe. There are other valuables as well. These were for the daughters I could never have.

Take care of that man of yours. May you find happiness in this house as we did.

My love to you, Andrew, and your daughter.

Always,

Helen

P.S. There is another document with the deed to the farm. It is the deed to a house in Baltimore, Maryland. This was my parent's home, which I've held all these years. The deed was also signed to you and Andrew. Do what you feel is best with it. I know you'll do the right thing.

Before she had committed suicide, Helen went through the house and straightened it, to the point of even changing the linens. She had been wonderful to them, and Jessie would never be able to thank her. The only way would be to take this tremendous gift and make it the home for her family that Helen had wished for her own.

Jessie opened the other two rooms, both neatly kept. She figured she would put Jack and Adam in these rooms. She would ask if Andrew could be moved to the master bedroom with the larger bed. The small one she had come to know so well would more than likely be uncomfortable for him.

Adam left Andrew's side long enough to come check on her. She looked at him expecting to be told the worst.

“Jessie, he's holding his own. It'll be rough tonight and probably the next few days, but the good thing is Jack stopped most of the bleeding before Andrew lost too much blood. Besides, he's strong.” She nodded. “Are you all right?"

“As well as can be expected, I guess. I told Jack to bring your things back from the hotel so you'll all be more comfortable. I know you don't want to be any farther away from him than need be. I think it might be a good idea to move Andrew into the other bedroom. The bed's larger and firmer. The bed in there won't help any with his healing. Trust me."

Adam chuckled. Jessie looked at him and started to giggle. Adam finally got her to let out some of her emotions she'd been holding inside her. They went back in to check on Andrew. The wound in his side needed redressing because of the oozing poison. He gently untied the wrap and removed the soiled bandages. He dabbed the hole with a whiskey-dampened cloth. Andrew reacted some, though still unconscious.

Adam hoped Jack would return soon. He needed to get some painkillers into Andrew and make all this easier. Then he decided to use a plasterlike substance to hold the bandaging in place, instead of constantly lifting him up to wrap the wound.

* * * *

Jack returned a short time later and Mr. Ryan followed. Adam met with him while Jack talked to Jessie. Baker's body was put in Ryan's funeral wagon. Before he left, he helped the others move Andrew into the other bedroom.

Jessie made Andrew as comfortable as she possibly could. He looked so peaceful, but she knew what kind of massive pain he must experiencing. Four bullets in just over forty-eight hours had been way too many.

She sat in the high-backed, winged armchair by the window and stared outside. The moon was full and the stars twinkled. As she looked out on the beautiful night, she wondered why she couldn't have a few of these nights with him without the gunshots, fevers, with no excitement. She wanted to go back to the first weeks in New Orleans.

Adam came in to check on his patient and give her the medicine she kept refusing.

“Hey, it was Doc Hastings over there who figured out what was wrong with you. The least you can do is get better for him."

She smiled, then took the medicine that was slowly curing her of the fever and the spells.

* * * *

When Jack went into town, he sent wires to Grant and Stanton.

TO: U S Grant, General

FROM: Jack McCord, Major

Baker's brother here and dead. Brig. General Hastings in grave condition with three gunshot wounds—two minor, one very serious. Mrs. Hastings fine.

Will update—JMc and:

TO: E Stanton, Secretary of War

FROM: J McCord, Major

Problem alleviated and removed. Brig. General Hastings gravely injured by three shots. Will update.

Jack still couldn't believe what had happened. He had watched as Baker had the drop on the general. Andrew couldn't get to his gun, and then the severity of the shots leveled at him. Jessica Hastings took over the situation. She waited until he drew on her and went to shoot, and then she shot the bastard. Jack prayed she had saved Andrew's life. He didn't want to lose his friend, his commander, but it would be close. Andrew, from what Adam had said, slept in a coma. Unsure what that was, he knew it couldn't be good.

* * * *

Jessie made up rooms for them so they could all be near Andrew, while he could not be moved. What a way to move into a new home, if that's what we're going to make it.

The events of the last few days had been overwhelming. The story Jack had been able to put together had Jeff Baker writing to his brother Donald about their escapades throughout the South. He had written his brother about what they had done to the general's wife, even before they ever figured out who she was. This was the reason he showed up so quickly at the Burton's farm. It seemed he'd been on his way to join up with them, in place of Samuals. In fact, he'd bragged about it before he deserted. The strange thing? Both brothers got the lowdown on Andrew, only the second time had been the worst.

He dreaded the eventual fallout from this. He could imagine the reaction from Washington. He had no way of telling with Grant, who held Andrew in very high regard. Jack knew the major general of the United States Army could show up at any time, and just might.

He didn't want to have to tell General Buford that Andrew had died either. With everything running through his mind, he went outside for some air. He sat in the rocker and put his feet up on the railing, the same one Andrew had put his foot on just a few days before. Jack found he had one flaw in his personality, one he had in common with Andrew; he could not handle waiting.

* * * *

Upstairs, Adam checked on Andrew. The gunshot injury to his side had finally stopped weeping, a good sign. If he would come out of the coma he had settled into, then his recovery would be quicker.

His patient had been through a lot in the last few days time. Four bullets had either pierced or grazed his body. The shoulder looked better, save the fact Andrew didn't want to use the sling or take it easy with it. A few days earlier, he was lucky he hadn't ripped it open more when he had picked his wife up after she had passed out. The graze to his temple looked far less severe than at first. The bullet in his leg had hit flesh, but didn't do too much damage.

The one that concerned him the most had been the one he had to dig out of Andrew's side. The bullet had lodged against a rib. When he'd tried to extract it, the bullet went in deeper and made things slightly tense.

Andrew was strong. He had that going for him. He had the love of a good woman who, if she didn't take care of herself, would be under his care again. Once Adam and Andrew had figured out what kept Jessie from totally recovering, the rest had been easy. All it had amounted to had been a simple mosquitolike bite, coupled with the previous treatments being all wrong. Once straightened out, Jessie seemed to be back to her old self, from what Andrew had told him.

Since they had moved Andrew to the larger room, Jessie kept a vigil over him. She sat by the bed in the rocker, rocking back and forth, staring at him. She didn't like leaving him. Adam could say, at least for her sake, she had eaten more and gained strength and a little weight. He would come into the room to check on Andrew and she would watch Adam's every move.

Overnight, she sat in the rocker or the other chair and refused to move. She dozed off a few times but never slept for long, lest she miss a move or a sound. Jessie would straighten the covers, reset the pillows, and other little things, trying to make Andrew more comfortable.

All Jessie had ever wanted was the love of a good man. She had found him and, despite everything he said to her right before the shooting, he never let her down. Now she kept her vigil. She wouldn't leave him or let him down ever.

* * * *

Two more days passed. Andrew was still in a coma with no change since the moment he lapsed into it outside on the lawn. Jessie remained with him and steadfastly refused to leave his side.

“Jessie, take a break."

“I can't leave him."

“For your own good, take a break. You are fighting your own sickness. This won't help get you any better and if you falter, you won't do Andrew any good. Besides, Andrew wouldn't want this."

“What do you mean?"

“You've not seen daylight or the outside of this room for at least two days or more, have you?"

“I can't leave him,” she firmly repeated.

“Jessie, come downstairs and get something to drink. Take a break, for God's sake."

“No! You can't make me."

Adam looked at her. That does it! He grabbed her arm, bent over, and picked her up and over his shoulder.

“What do you think you're doing?"

He carried her downstairs and out to the porch. Jack quickly got out of the way and went to sit with Andrew. When Adam put her down, she was furious. She unsuccessfully tried to fight him to get back to her husband.

“How dare you?” she screamed. He laughed as she glared at him, her eyes sparkling with a blue fire. “You have no right..."

“Welcome back, Mrs. Hastings.” He smiled. “It's good to see life in you again."

She looked at him and finally realized what he had done. She smiled and he relaxed a little.

“I had to do something. I don't need both of you dying on me. I need to know how you're feeling."

“I guess all right. I'm tired though."

“Then this is what you're going to do. You are going in on the couch, or maybe the window seat. It doesn't matter. You will lie down and go to sleep. I'll give you the medicine you missed last night and you will take a nap."

“But..."

“Jack and I can keep an eye on Andrew and if there's any change, you'll be the second one to know."

“Second?"

“If you found out first, then you'd be telling us second. Right?"

“I think so,” she said, puzzled.

“Good. Let's go take care of you,” he said, escorting her into the living room. She went and lay down on the sofa. He covered her with a blanket and stayed with her until she fell asleep.

He watched her and thought he understood what had brought these two people together. He had finally seen the fiery sparkle in her eyes, the beauty of her personality, more taken with her now than the day he first saw her. This would be hard for him to do. Holding in his emotions had never been one of his strong suits, but he would work hard not to betray himself to either her or to Andrew.

Now, if only Andrew would come back from wherever it was he had drifted. Adam saw that happening much later, if at all. With the seriousness of his injuries, all they could do was wait.

Adam went upstairs to find Jack staring out of the window. Adam checked on his patient and realized he had been maybe too over-attentive. What the hell? This man has become closer to me than my own family. He turned to Jack and asked him to join him outside. He looked like he could use some air, too. They went across the dining room past Jessie, who finally slept a peaceful, deep sleep, which she needed desperately. They talked a few minutes about Andrew's condition.

“Adam, will you be all right for a little while? I have to run into town and see what's up."

“No problem. I don't think anyone is leaving here—at least, not yet."

“How is he?"

“Fortunately, holding his own.” Adam noticed Jack's concern. There was something about Andrew that made it possible for anyone he met to connect with him in a different way, to bond timeless friendships that, hopefully, would last a lifetime. He had the ability to command a respect not many others could do.

“I'll see you later then."

Jack went to the barn, let Satan out to run in the pasture and then went to saddle Callie. He took the mare he had borrowed at the livery and led her back to Winston. He rode to town and headed straight for Berringer's Hotel after leaving the mare at the livery. He got down from his palomino and looked around the town that had opened its heart and its arms to them. He entered the hotel.

The clerk at the desk asked how the general was doing. All Jack could say was that he rested comfortably.

“His wife's doing better, too."

The clerk put a pile of messages on the desk in front of him. Oh boy, am I ready for this? He went into the bar and started leafing through them.

He picked out some that caught his eye:

To: Major J McCord

From: General John Buford

Word had reached me of Brig. General Hastings’ condition. My best wishes go out to him for a speedy recovery and to his wife and you. If I can be of any service in some way, do not hesitate.

and:

Brig. General J A Hastings

Congratulations on a job well done—all the way around. Sorry to hear about your injuries. Please advise when you are able.

E Stanton

Real compassionate man!

Then:

TO: J McCord

FROM: A Lincoln

Was distressed to hear from you about Brig. Gen. Hastings’ injuries. Am hoping that this will find him in good condition. We are thinking of the both of them and hope only for the best. Please keep us advised as to his condition.

A Lincoln and, finally, one from General Grant:

To: Major J McCord

From: General U S Grant

Will be in your area soon to check on events there.

Tell the General he'd better be up and around when I get there. That's an order!

Jack smiled at this, although he hoped Grant wouldn't risk this. If anything happened to the future Commander of the United States Army, would Andrew be able to handle it?

A couple entered the hotel. She wore a pretty outfit of yellow and light blue. He wore a simple traveling suit. They had a child with them who slept soundly, its head on the woman's shoulder. He didn't pay any further attention to them until she asked for Lieutenant Colonel Hastings or his wife. He got up and went over to them.

“Excuse me, I couldn't help overhearing. Did you ask for the Hastings?"

“Yes, she's my sister. I'm Caitlyn Davis. This is my husband, Jason."

“And this must be little Sarah Mary."

“How did you know?"

“I'm sorry. I'm Major Jack McCord, exec to Brigadier General Hastings."

“Brigadier general? How interesting? It seems we missed some promotions."

“Promotions in the field can happen quickly if warranted, ma'am."

“I see. Where are my sister and the general?"

“Can we sit down? I think I should bring you up-to-date."

The three of them spent the next hour going over what had happened from New Orleans until now. Jack left out many of the horrors and personal details, figuring that information should come from Jessie, if she chose to, or Andrew, if he lived. Caitlyn looked at Jack and felt he gave them as much as he could. She held Sarah, sound asleep and tired from the long trip.

“You've got personal feelings?"

“I've grown very close to the general and his wife, your sister. I was assigned to his command right after he started his chase from New Orleans. It's been a pleasure, and an honor, to know him and to serve under him. Your sister is special—real special, ma'am."

“What's Andrew's condition now, Major?” Jason asked.

“When I left, he was still in a coma. Adam—Doctor Cole—has been treating him since he was shot. He's also been treating Jessie."

“No formalities, Major?"

“I'm sorry, Andrew insisted we be on a first-name basis. He said he's not one for titles and formalities unless protocol requires it. In fact, he gets testy if I call him by rank."

“I see, and my sister agrees?"

“Yes, ma'am. We were introduced that way."

Sarah stirred and woke, looked at Caitlyn and smiled. At twenty-two months, she had become a little lady with quite a personality. Caitlyn pushed her hair back and moved the blanket out of the way.

“Sarah, I want to introduce you to someone very close to your mother and your father. This is your Uncle Jack.” Jack looked at Caitlyn, surprise on his face. “I've been told I'm a good judge of character, like our mother was, and I think Uncle Jack should hold Miss Sarah,” she said as she handed Sarah to Jack.

Sarah looked into his eyes and smiled at the handsome man holding her. She moved a little to get comfortable and content as she sat on Jack's lap. Jack smiled back at her. She had the same blue eyes Andrew had said won him over when he met Jessie.

God! Andrew had to pull through—he had to see his daughter.

* * * *

Adam checked on Jessie, sound asleep on the sofa. He went upstairs and looked in on Andrew. He was sweating, a sign Adam didn't like. He felt for fever, sensing a slight one. He looked at his wounded side and changed the dressing. The plaster he used to hold the bandages in place had worked well. Wrapping him had proved to be a problem because, of course, Andrew hadn't helped.

He left the general asleep and in coma, to go downstairs. Standing on the first floor and looking around, he found Jessie resting. Thank heavens. She had been up for two straight days, afraid to sleep for fear she'd miss something. She had been like one of the zombies the people in the delta talked about.

He walked onto the porch and rubbed his neck. He was beat, but that was expected due to his profession. After all, he was the doctor. He sat on the railing and looked out at the farm. Satan enjoyed the grassy pasture. At least the general's horse was still in one piece.

Adam moved to the rocker and put his feet up and, after he got comfortable, he dozed off. The gentle afternoon breeze, the sunshine ... Why the hell couldn't everything be right?

He thought about the most perfectly in-tune couple he had ever met. Everything had to start going right for them. They were long overdue. He vowed he would do everything he could to make their lives easier and happier. They needed it!

* * * *

Jack held Sarah for a while. She had fallen back to sleep in his arms, content and happy. They had discussed the present situation, Jack unsure if this would be the time to take them out to the farm.

The clerk came over with a message. Carefully, he unfolded the paper, so as not to wake Sarah; then, he read it. He dropped his mouth.

“Is there something wrong, Major?"

“Jack, please."

“Well?"

“Yes and no. It seems I get to welcome a visit from General Ulysses S. Grant himself. He says he wants to pay his respects to Andrew. I don't know if this is going to be so good."

“Why is that?"

“I don't think Andrew will be up to visitors, if you know what I mean."

“There's something else, isn't there?” she asked.

“Would you mind waiting a day or two until Adam and I can be sure they're both up for this?"

Caitlyn's face showed some concern.

“This Adam, how good is he?"

“The best. Jessie kept having fever spells that would come on unexpectedly and go just as quickly as they came. He found the cause and she's much better now after he treated her. He's taking really good care of Andrew.” He tried desperately to reassure them.

“If you say so,” Caitlyn said, for some reason, trusting this man. She liked Andrew from the start and saw he surrounded himself with capable and caring people. She would go along with whatever decision these two men made as to when would be the best time to see Jessie and Andrew.

The clock over the front desk struck two-thirty. Jack figured he had better get back to the farm. As he handed Sarah back to Caitlyn, he promised faithfully to let them know as soon as possible when Adam felt it would be good for them to see Jessie and the general, or any developments in their situation.

He said good-bye to them and left. As he rode Callie out of town, he took time to enjoy the day and went over the events of the last few hours. Why was everybody showing up at once? First had been the Davis’ arrival with little, adorable Sarah. Thank God, they didn't show up three days earlier. Second, he wondered if General Grant truly knew how grave Andrew's condition really was.

* * * *

Adam fell asleep on the porch, comfortable in the chair. He roused to the sound of Callie's hooves when Jack returned from Winston. After he put Callie in the barn and called Satan and the other horses in, Jack walked over to the house.

“Adam?"

“What?"

“We've got two problems."

“We do?” Adam asked as he looked at Jack and waited for bad news. “Well, don't keep me in suspense."

“First, where's Jessie?"

“In the living room on the couch. Why?"

“Why don't we take a walk?” They got up and walked over to the barn. Callie and Satan stirred. Adam went over to spend some time with Andrew's horse that hadn't seen his master for almost three days.

“What's going on, Jack?"

“I went to the hotel to check messages. This couple walks in with a little girl and they ask for Jessie or Andrew."

“Don't tell me. Her sister, brother-in-law, and little Sarah."

“You got it."

“Shit."

“I bought us a few days before they come out here. I told her it would depend on what you said as to whether the time was right or not."

“Thanks. That helps. I know Andrew's not up to it and Jessie's still on the edge. I finally got her to lie down and she's been asleep the better part of the afternoon."

“How's he doing?"

“Still in a coma, but at least he's stable."

“How long can he stay like that?” Jack asked, concerned.

“Depends on what his body wants to do."

“I hope he comes out of it soon."

“What's up?"

“I said there were two problems. The other one is on his way and I can't put him off."

“Who him?"

“Ulysses S. Grant."

“Wonderful."

“He wants to pay his respects. I didn't tell him how bad the situation was."

Adam thought for a moment. Jack had done a good job of blocking the sister, but he couldn't stop the general's visit. Rank did have its privileges. Besides, Adam figured it was time some high-ranking official saw the result of what he still considered to be an unfair use of a personal and deeply emotional situation for General Hastings. Under the circumstances, Andrew had done an amazing job, but the mental and now physical stress, had been too much. After all, how much was one man expected to handle?

The two men walked back up to the house and sat on the porch. The stone house was really a good one, save the events of the last few days. It had a comfortable feel, welcoming everyone who came to visit.

Upon entering, the living room was to the left. It had a huge windowseat with cabinets underneath for storage, and a large bay window overlooking the fields toward the rear of the farm. On the same side of the house in the rear was a library, although it appeared to have been used as an office. Opposite the living room were a dining room, a very large kitchen, and a huge pantry off to the rear. It seemed the Burtons had intended to raise a large family here and built the big, spacious home to accommodate their plans. After all, why else would there be a large master bedroom and four other bedrooms?

They went inside to get something to drink. Adam saw Jessie still resting, something she needed. He excused himself to go and check on Andrew. Still the same, at least he still held his own.

“Now, if you come out of this and can handle the other two surprises...” he said just as Jack walked in the door.

“What surprises?"

“Andrew?” Jack asked.

“At least you weren't formal with me.” Andrew slowly tried to move, grimacing with pain. “What the hell hit me?"

“Three bullets."

“Three? No wonder I hurt.” He tried to move again, but couldn't. “What's wrong with me?” He looked at Adam, scared of the answer he might get.

“Jack, go downstairs and don't let Jessie come up here until I tell you. Andrew and I need to talk.” Jack understood and left.

“Glad you're back, General."

“That formal stuff again. Why me?"

“Well, you've got your sense of humor. That's good."

“Adam, talk to me."

“Listen to me. You've been in a coma for three days."

“A coma?"

“Your body shut down except for the major things needed to keep you alive. You took a pretty hard hit out there."

“It hurts enough. I remember that bastard had the lowdown on me, ready to pull the trigger."

“He pulled it all right. Then Jessie came out and, from what Jack told me, shot the son of a bitch in the head. She found strength somewhere."

“That's my girl.” Jessie had always been an expert shot because Victor had trained her. He had made sure both daughters would be able to defend themselves, if necessary. Andrew kept trying to move, but hurt too much. “Give me the medical report."

“Well, first your shoulder is fine. Starting at the top, you were grazed on your temple. That's the one that feels like its burning. The one on your leg was a clean wound. Jack took care of both of those wounds just before I got there. He did a hell of a good job. The one on your side..."

“The one that is, right now—to put it bluntly—killing me with pain."

“Yeah, that one. Do you remember what I said to you as I started trying to get at the bullet buried in your side?"

“Something about lawn surgery?"

“Good. You didn't lose any memory. Anyway, every time I tried to get at the bullet, it shifted and moved further in. I finally got it after you screamed, quite loudly at that, in agonizing pain. That's it, and the last three days, you've been in a coma."

“How's Jessie?"

“Better. She should still be sleeping or just waking up. I made her take a nap."

“Am I ready to see her?"

“I don't know, are you?"

Andrew looked at him and smiled.

“One other thing, there are two problems you need to know about before you see her. Jack will probably tell you the same thing and can elaborate."

“What?"

“First: Caitlyn, Jason, and Sarah are here in town. They arrived this morning. Jack was able to stall them for a couple of days until I give the okay."

“Good. What's the other?"

“General Grant's on his way to see you."

“Terrific. Just what I need."

“Ready for your wife?"

“Give me a few minutes. Oh, and don't tell her. I want to surprise her."

“Still the wickedness, huh?” Andrew just smiled.

Chapter 15

Jack went downstairs, took a sip of his drink and sat down to keep an eye on Jessie. He didn't relish what would come next with General Grant on his way, Jessie's family in town, and Andrew, maybe, hopefully, out of danger.

Adam came down and joined him. He had an air of relief about him.

“Go on up."

Jack went upstairs to see his friend. When he entered the room, he found Andrew resting.

“Should I come back later?"

“No, it's okay."

“How are you feeling, or shouldn't I ask?'

“I feel like I got run over by a freight train. What do you think?"

“I can't even begin to imagine what you feel like. Besides, after I'm done, you're going to feel like it backed over you."

“What?"

“First, I guess you know from Adam, Jessie's family is in town. Jessie doesn't know yet. Your daughter is beautiful, by the way."

“What do you mean?"

“I've been told she can call me Uncle Jack."

“Wonderful, I haven't even met her yet and already, you're Uncle Jack. Now, what's the kicker?"

“General Grant is coming here to see you. He thinks you're in better shape than you are."

“That's good. He thinks I'm dead?"

“You were close."

“When?” asked Andrew, getting back to the subject of Grant's visit.

“Don't know. Just said he was on his way."

“We'll deal with it.” Andrew thought for a moment. “Okay, so Grant's coming, the others are in town, and Jessie doesn't know yet. Good. How do we keep her from seeing them right away?"

“I took care of that. I told her sister it was up to Adam, and Adam agrees."

“That definitely works. Listen, go take it easy, friend, and when she's ready, send Jessie up, but I want to tell her my way."

“Yes, sir, General.” Jack saluted him. “Glad you're back."

“Thanks, Major.” He returned the salute. “Thanks, my friend.” Then they shook hands.

“By the way, Jack, you did a great job. I owe you my life. Thanks again."

* * * *

Jack came downstairs as Adam gently tried to rouse Jessie. She finally stirred and sat up.

“My God, what time is it? How long have I been asleep? Is Andrew all right?"

“Jessie, calm down. It's about three o'clock. You actually slept a few hours and Andrew is fine. Will you go sit with him a while? I need some air."

Jessie got up and went to the stairs, evidently thinking nothing of what Adam had just said to her. Jack and Adam winked at each other, then shook hands. Time to celebrate!

“Adam, he agreed it's a good idea to tell her sister when you think it's right,” Jack said, after waiting for Jessie to disappear from sight.

“I know. We discussed it. At least we have some control over that situation. I want to make sure they're both up to it. Besides, it'll be a nice surprise for Jessie."

“One thing, or is it me? Is he really as lucid and coherent as he seems?"

“He is. It's a real good sign."

“I don't mind telling you, Adam, I was scared."

“That makes two of us. I didn't want to lose him. He's too good of a man. They're both good people and deserve only the best."

“The question is when will their lives get back on the right track?"

“Soon, my friend. Soon."

* * * *

Jessie went up the stairs and opened the door. She saw him sleeping as she went over to the bureau. On it sat the brush Helen had used to fix her hair when the woman helped her dress up for Andrew. She started brushing her hair and decided to get it back from her face by tying a ribbon in it. She started to tie the bow.

“You don't need to tie back those beautiful curls of yours, Angel."

“Yes, I do, I ... Andrew?” She spun around to see him grinning.

“Yes, Angel?” He held out his hand to her. She ran to his side and took it. She kissed it, then put her hand gently on his face as they looked into each other's eyes.

“You're back."

“I had a good reason, didn't I?” he asked as she nodded. Tears of joy flooded her eyes. She put her head on his shoulder. The pain there was now a dull ache considering the way the rest of his body felt. He ran his fingers through her hair to pull the ribbon out and let the curls tumble down as he held onto her other hand.

“Andrew, I love you."

“I love you, Angel."

Andrew knew he could move his arms and his neck, but was unsure about the rest of his body. Could there be any permanent damage? He'd have to talk to Adam when he came back to see him.

“Can you do me a favor, Jessie?"

“What?"

“Help me sit up,” he said. She looked at him as he saw her eyes asking if he was sure he wanted to do this. “Please, I feel so damned stiff."

“Let me go get some pillows to prop you up with.” She ran to the other room and brought back a stack of pillows. He looked at all this, puzzled.

“You'll see,” she said as she went over to the side of the bed and put the pillows down. She gently put her arm around his back and pulled while he tried to gather the strength to sit up. He winced from the pain in his side. He made it to a sitting position but had trouble holding himself up. She started putting the pillows behind him.

“That's what they're for."

“Thanks,” he said as he leaned back against them. He felt better after he moved. “Do me another favor."

“What?"

“Go stand over there, and slowly turn around.” She did and when she looked at him, he grinned. “I missed you while I was away."

“Will you do me a favor?"

“What, Angel?"

“Don't go away again."

“I'll try not to, but we've had this talk before."

“You had better not. How do you feel?"

“Better."

Adam and Jack knocked on the door, then poked their heads in to see if everything was all right. Adam's face changed when he saw Andrew sitting up. Jessie quietly left the men alone.

“Before you say anything, it's my fault. I couldn't lie here anymore so I asked Jessie to help me up."

“You didn't rip or tear anything, did you?"

“I don't think so."

“Let me look.” He checked Andrew's side, happy to see he hadn't done anything to hurt himself. “How's your head feel?"

“A dull ache."

“The leg?"

“I don't know, I haven't moved it yet."

“Let's see.” He moved the quilt off the injured leg and Andrew tried to move it. He had trouble. Adam warned him what he was about to do would hurt.

“Go ahead,” Andrew said as Jack held his breath. Adam took the leg in his hands and proceeded to push it slowly back to Andrew's chest, bending his knee. The leg had been straight for almost three days and needed to be exercised. Then he did the same for the other leg. The pain showed on Andrew's face as he repeated the process.

“Are you ready for the next step?"

“What's that?"

“Getting out of bed. Because you weren't moving while you were in coma, in essence, you stiffened up and now your muscles have to be limbered up and worked."

“Come on, let's do it."

Adam supported Andrew against him as Andrew tried to stand. He caught Andrew as he started to fall, his strength gone from days of immobility.

“Adam, there's no feeling there,” Andrew said as Adam got him over to the bed. He massaged and exercised his legs again. Adam saw terror in Andrew's eyes. Andrew knew he pushed himself and probably too quickly, but he had never been in this position and wanted to get back to his life as soon as possible. It was not in him to lie around. He had always been driven, for one reason or another, and this would be no different.

“This is normal for someone in your condition. It'll take a little time, but you will walk again.” Adam tried to ease his concern. He knew what this man had to be feeling.

“You had better be right about that, Doc.” Adam smiled at this. “Just to let you know, I'm a lousy patient."

“I know that already."

“I forgot. Sorry."

“Do you want to try again?"

“Why not?” Andrew answered. This time more successful, Andrew took a few steps and shakily stood in the middle of the room. Adam stayed close but Andrew seemed to manage.

“Is there a reason why you're pushing this so fast, sir?” Jack asked.

“General Grant. There is no way I want to have that man come see me in bed.” He had a deep affection and a great deal of respect for the general.

“Stubborn as ever, aren't we?"

“Keep a civil tongue in your mouth, Major."

“Sure thing, General."

“Seriously, Jack. Thanks. You've been a rock for me and I appreciate it.” The two men embraced. Andrew felt closer to Jack than any other man in his life. He never really knew his father, nor been extremely close to his uncle, who had raised him, or his cousins. He had friends, but none as close as Jack or Adam. The exceptions had been Buford and Chamberlain. They were brothers, family, and the thing he'd never had.

“I'm glad you're going to make it, Andrew. I didn't want to break in a new commanding officer. You were hard enough."

“That's comforting to know.” They laughed.

“Now, can you help me get dressed? I'm hungry and I want to go downstairs, outside, anywhere but here at this moment.” Jack looked in the closet and found a man's shirt.

“Do you mind?"

“I guess not. Last I knew, it's all ours. Funny, isn't it? At least the Burtons had good taste. My parents didn't."

“You've never talked about them,” Jack mentioned as he handed him the shirt.

“Not much to say,” Andrew replied, short in his answer. Jack didn't pursue it.

After Andrew dressed, he headed for the door. His side hurt him, and he favored it, but at least he was on his way. He started cautiously down the stairs.

* * * *

Jessie made a light dinner for everyone. She watched Andrew as he made his way down to the living room. The tray she held in her hands hit the floor. She gazed up at him standing on the bottom step in a white shirt and black trousers held up by suspenders. He wore a pair of black boots and looked as handsome as ever.

“Surprised?"

“Surprise isn't the word for it.” She stared at him, as Jack made sure he could handle the remaining steps. She picked up the tray with what had been on it, so Andrew wouldn't slip on it. Then she set another place at the table for him, elated to see him up and around again, more like old times.

They sat down and ate supper together, a magical time for Andrew and Jessie. They held hands whenever they could. It had been a long time since they sat down together and had a meal like a normal couple. The homey touch of the house added to the ambiance of the moment.

Adam cleared the dishes and Jack washed them. Then they went outside to give the couple a chance at something they hadn't had for a while, time alone when both of them felt well and able to enjoy it. Adam and Jack walked over to the barn and made sure the horses were taken care of and fed.

They talked about various mindless subjects, all this to give their friends some needed time alone together. They felt relief the Hastings’ ordeal had finally ended and Jessie and Andrew were back together where they belonged.

* * * *

Andrew and Jessie enjoyed the time they had together. Jessie was elated that he had come out of the coma. She couldn't have handled losing him or the thought of living alone without him. He had come back and she would do everything in her power to keep him safe.

He, on the other hand, worried about their future with the imminent visit by General Grant, along with Caitlyn and her family in town and Sarah. It bothered him that he felt so apprehensive. Caitlyn and Jason would be a piece of cake, so to speak. She and Andrew had gotten along from the beginning, and Jason was a good man. It didn't matter that the two of them had views on opposite sides of the fence, technically. They were special people.

That left the general and Sarah. Jack had shown him Grant's wire ordering him to be up and around. Well, he was up, and maybe, around. Andrew really didn't want the future Commander of the United States Army risking his life to come down to see him. It was too great a risk. Andrew feared for Grant's life. He realized he might be out of touch with the current progress of the Federal armies but Grant's safety and welfare concerned him. It did occur to him that the general wouldn't do anything foolish.

Andrew and Jack didn't know Grant had been on an inspection tour that began in Cairo, Illinois and was winding its way south, toward Natchez, Mississippi before he went further into the Confederacy. The Confederacy had begun to crumble, thanks to the naval actions blockading the coasts and Grant's continued success on the battlefields. As much as they would worry over his safety, the visit to Winston would be a safe venture for the general.

As it turned out, Grant separated a detachment, or smaller regiment, to make the side trip to check on his fallen officer. Ulysses S. Grant had an ulterior motive as to the reasons for his visit. His romantic side showed, as he was determined to meet the woman one of his best officers had been prepared to forego his military career for.

Grant liked Andrew Hastings. His credentials were top-notch, and he was levelheaded and honest. The general took a liking to Andrew when he had arrived to do his survey of Grant's readiness. Upfront, Grant stated his displeasure with the Secretary's assignment. Andrew was not intimidated by his attitude and their friendship was forged at that moment.

That left little Sarah. Andrew wanted to meet his daughter. In fact, he could not wait. He had missed so much of her life so far. In truth, he had missed all of it.

He understood what Jessie had done. Because of her actions, their daughter had been safe and now, close to him, closer than at any other time in his life. One thing he felt apprehensive about: What if my daughter doesn't take to me? What if she loves Uncle Jack, and not me? What if...

What struck him as odd was the fact he had stared down the barrels of three men's guns, been shot by them, and come back from death's door. Nevertheless, the terror of meeting a twenty-two month old child stunned him.

“What are you thinking?” Jessie rubbed his neck as she tried to get him to relax.

“What?"

“You're off somewhere without me."

“Sorry."

“What's wrong?"

“Nothing."

“Andrew..."

“There's nothing wrong. I've been thinking about the last few years of my life—the friends I have throughout the Army, my wonderful wife and, now a daughter, who I'm scared to death to meet."

“What? You'll be fine. She'll love you, just as I do."

“She's not you. She has the two of us in her and I don't know if that'll work."

“Sweetheart, our Sarah will love you because of that. We created her and she's a part of both of us. She'll love you without hesitation."

“And if she doesn't?"

He didn't hear an answer from her. She didn't know what to say to him to make him feel better about everything.

“Angel of mine, you're not answering me."

“I don't know, Andrew."

Jessie watched every move as he rose up from the table and wondered if he had overdone it by coming downstairs. He walked to the front door. His side hurt but he did not want to go back to bed. Three days had been long enough. After what had happened over the last several months, he wanted to take every second of their lives and enjoy it to the fullest. Outside, he watched Adam and Jack as the both of them tried to give the couple some much needed time alone.

“You know, we have two really good friends—my exec and a crazy doctor. I'll be happy if she accepts them as uncles, how about you?"

“No qualms here.” Jessie wondered where this was headed. “What are you not telling me, Andrew? I can tell you're hiding something from me, now what is it?"

“If you think I'm going to tell you we're going to receive a visit from General Grant, your sister and our daughter, forget it."

“What did you say?"

“Nothing."

“Sarah's here? Come on, Andrew, no games."

“Which one do you want first?"

“Whichever. Just tell me."

“Okay. General Grant feels he needs to come by and see for himself that I'm not dead. When he will get here, I have no idea. Caitlyn, Jason, and Sarah are at Berringer's waiting for Adam to give the word."

“Adam?"

“Jack thought, at the time, it was the smartest thing to do. I mean, after all, I was off in a healing sleep, or so Adam tells me, and you were a wreck. A beautiful one at that, I might add."

“Be serious."

“I am. Have you been a total person? No. You've been pushing yourself and healing at the same time. Adam and Jack are looking out for the both of us."

“But..."

“No buts, Jessie. Besides, Caitlyn agreed it was best to hold off. After all, how would it be to introduce the baby to an adult who has no idea of what's going on?"

“Makes sense, I think,” she answered slowly.

“We come first before the rest of the world and I think everybody who knows us, knows that. I want my little girl to meet her father when I can totally be there for her, the same with you. The last time you saw her, you were under a great deal of pressure and fear. Now, we can all relax, but you and I still have to come first, or else nothing will be right."

They walked out to the porch. Andrew leaned against the post as usual, his body aching. They watched Adam and Jack over at the barn. They had taken the Burtons’ horse out, with no idea what its name was, letting it go into the pasture with Callie and Satan. The roan mare joined them, though she grazed off to the side. Adam and Jack were having trouble trying to call them in for the night. As they watched, Jessie and Andrew laughed.

As the two returned to the house, they heard riders approaching from the distance. Jack had a feeling the time had come to take Callie and ride off. Adam looked at him.

“General Grant?"

“General Grant.” They stood at the bottom of the steps leading up to the porch. At this point, Andrew looked at both of them, then Jessie, then back to Jack.

“Let's go face the music."

“Boy, am I glad you're better."

“Thanks, Jack. Oh, by the way, protocol."

“Yes, sir."

Jack walked with him, in case he needed support. Jessie and Adam waited on the porch to watch this momentous occasion.

Andrew and Jack stood in the driveway and waited for Grant, and whomever accompanied him, to come up the road. Andrew rolled his eyes. It looked and sounded like an entire division.

“I don't think we have enough room for everyone,” Andrew joked.

The general and some other officers broke away and rode up the driveway, while the rest of the troops went down the road a little farther to set up camp for the night. Grant told the men with him he would be along shortly. They turned their mounts around and Grant watched them leave to join up with a small brigade.

Grant continued the rest of the way alone. Andrew and Jack waited for him on the lawn where, just a few days before, hell had come and gone. As he approached, the two Federal officers stood at attention and saluted. Grant returned their salute and dismounted.

“Andrew, it's good to see you up and about. I like it when my officers obey my orders.” They shook hands. Jack greeted each with a hearty handshake before being ordered to carry on. Jack went back to join Adam and Jessie.

“How do you feel, Andrew?"

“I've been better. The first shot was bad enough, having never experienced that before. Then I got three more to my credit, not even thirty-six hours later. I don't want any more, believe me."

“Oh, I do. I do,” Grant said. “Jack's been doing a hell of a job for you."

“Yes, he has. In fact, I wanted to talk to you about that."

“About what?"

“As I'm under the impression I'm not going to get mustered out again, I would like to request the major remain on as my exec."

“No problem.” Andrew looked at him, and shook his head in disbelief.

“What have I walked into?"

“Nothing. You have my approval to have Major McCord remain as your exec. I'll put it through when and if the two of you are reactivated to duty."

“Sir?"

“With your injuries, you will probably need time to recuperate and take care of the personal aspects. Jack needs R and R as well. So, if and when, you come back, so does he. Get it?"

“I think so, sir."

“After what you've been through, I think it's the least we can do."

“Thank you, sir,” Andrew said, amazed at what he had just heard. However, he wouldn't question his commanding officer. They talked a while longer about various things, then walked up to the house and sat down on the porch, deep in conversation.

“Okay, I've been here long enough. Where is she?"

“She, sir?” Andrew asked a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

“As your commanding general, General, I emphatically request to meet the woman you chased over hell and Louisiana for."

“Oh, that she!” Andrew said, smiling. He got up and asked the general to please join them inside. They went into the living room where Jessie, Adam, and Jack sat waiting. Adam and Jack rose when Grant entered the room. Jack saluted as Jessie remained seated, overwhelmed by was happening in front of her.

“Sir, first I need to introduce you to someone very important to my recent recovery and survival. If the truth be known, he saved both my life and my wife's. So, may I please present Doctor Adam Cole?"

“'Pleasure to meet you, Doctor Cole,” Grant said, shaking Adam's hand.

“Jessie, I would like you to meet Major General Ulysses S. Grant. Sir, my wife, Jessica."

“Mrs. Hastings, this is indeed a real pleasure. You are even more beautiful than I had imagined."

“Thank you, sir. Andrew told me how you helped him find me. I don't know how to thank you for that."

“There's no need, ma'am. I'm glad I was able to help you both out."

“Sir, we are indebted to you for this. If you hadn't furnished me with the information, I may never have found her."

“I told you before everything would work out. You used your head and that made the difference. I only hope the two of you are happy and can enjoy your lives together."

“Why, General Grant, thank you.” She went over to him and gave him a kiss, whispering a thank you in his ear. He gave her a hug. Hastings was right, she was a very special lady. Every man should be so lucky.

“General, can we offer you something to drink?” she asked.

“No thank you, Mrs. Hastings."

“Please, call me Jessie."

“Well, thank you, Jessie. That means a lot to me."

Andrew was pleased the two of them got along. He had known of officer's wives, especially in Washington, who held their husband's commanding superiors in contempt and hatred. It meant a great deal to him his wife got along with Grant.

Jessie went over to Andrew. He put his arm around her and, in Grant's eyes, they made the perfect couple. He figured to keep Andrew and Jack both on leave. While still under his command, he could kind of lose them, but still know he could call on them at any time if he needed them. Stanton hadn't been too pleased at this, but approved the change of orders. Andrew hadn't been sure what Grant was up to and he would not pursue it. He figured the less said the better.

“Jack, do you have the reports for the general?"

“Yes, sir. Please excuse me, sir.” He went to the library in the rear of the house to get the general's copy of the final report on the first three deserters. He returned with the paperwork, as Andrew apologized for not bringing it up-to-date with the brother.

“Excuse me, sir, but when you were in coma, and I was sitting nearby keeping an eye on you for Adam, I did the report on Donald Baker,” Jack said as he handed the last few pages to Andrew who leafed through them and smiled.

“Good work, Major McCord. General, the final, final report."

Grant took the report, looked at it, pleased with the efficiency of these two men, and proud to have Hastings and McCord serving under him.

“With that, I think I'll take my leave, if you don't mind. Jessie, it's been a real pleasure to meet you. Doctor Cole...” They shook hands. “Major, you take care of him, that's an order."

“Yes, sir.” Jack saluted him and Grant returned it.

“I'll walk you out, sir,” Andrew said.

“Good evening, everyone,” Grant said, tipping his hat before he left. On the porch, he and Andrew stood for a few minutes and looked out on a moonlit lawn.

“Andrew, you have made me very proud of you. I told you to remain levelheaded and you did."

“Not to disappoint you, sir, but I tried drowning myself about a week or so ago."

“That's understandable, Andrew. We all release stress and pain in our own way. With the amount of strain you were under, it's no wonder. Thank the Lord you weren't successful in your try."

“Thank you for your support, sir. It means a great deal to me."

“My pleasure. You deserve it. I have one question, though."

“Sir?"

“Aren't you just a bit out of uniform, General?"

“Yes, sir, I am,” Andrew answered and grinned. Both of them broke out laughing. Andrew looked at him and realized this man had become the closest he had to a real father. The man had treated him like family and he appreciated it.

“Andrew, your immediate orders for now are for you to get well and take care of that beautiful wife of yours. Oh, and before I forget, I have the pleasure and the honor of presenting you with this medal for meritorious conduct. There's one there for Jack, if you wouldn't mind presenting it to him for me."

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” Andrew saluted the general and then, after his commanding officer returned it, they shook hands. Andrew watched him mount his horse, then ride off to join his troops. Adam came out on the porch with him.

“You're due for some painkillers, or you're going to be severely hurting."

“Yes, Doctor. Everybody's giving me orders.” Jack had joined them.

“What did he say?"

“About?"

“Andrew, don't do this. What are we going to be doing?"

“Near as I can tell? Rest and relaxation. I'm supposed to be getting well, both physically and personally."

“And me?"

“My exec, of course. Oh, congratulations. He gave this to me to give you. Good job, Major McCord."

“Thank you, sir."

“You're welcome. Between you and me, it seems we're going to be conveniently lost in Grant's command for awhile."

“Interesting."

“Now that's done, I have to come to grips with the hardest thing I have ever had to do."

“What's that?"

“Meeting my twenty-two month old daughter. You know. Your niece."

“You'll be fine."

“She has me scared, Jack. I've never met a daughter before, especially one of my own."

“She's great. You'll get along just fine."

“You keep saying fine, Jack.” He rolled his eyes, looking at the sky. “I hope you're right."

The two of them showed their ribbons to Adam and Jessie. Her mouth dropped in astonishment. Adam quickly congratulated the both of them on jobs well done. Jessie hugged Jack and offered her good thoughts, then turned to her husband. She looked into his eyes, in awe of this man she had been lucky enough to marry, tears clouding her vision.

“What's wrong?” he asked, concerned over the sudden change in her.

“Nothing. I'm very happy for you both.” She squeezed his hand and then turned. She went out on the porch and sat down on the top step. Andrew looked at Adam and Jack. Adam, in a low tone, reminded him the moodiness could happen at any time and be triggered by anything at all.

“Tread lightly."

Andrew thanked him for the advice and, as Jack and Adam watched, he joined his wife outside. Sitting next to her, he gently put his arm around her. She looked out across the lawn as she unsuccessfully tried to hide that she had been crying. She seemed to be off in another world. Andrew sat patiently, waiting for her to say something.

“I'm sorry."

“There's nothing to be sorry about, Angel. Do you want to talk about it?"

“It's silly. I'm probably overreacting."

“Don't worry about it. I told you before, if you want to talk, I'll listen. I'm here for you.” Inside, he was uneasy about what she might tell him.

“I guess I kinda feel odd, knowing I'm the main reason you two received those medals. I mean, the circumstances ... I look at them and remember."

“It's just a commendation. It's not something either one of us went after."

“I know. Oh, I don't know what I mean.” He could see she was beside herself. He wished he knew what he could do for her.

“Whenever you're ready, Angel."

She leaned against him, stared at the trees, then looked up to the stars. She thought a little more, wondering if she was being very stupid about this. She felt safe with his arm holding her as he reassured her that everything would be all right.

“I guess it's too soon. I know the two of you didn't do everything you did just for the rewards. I just wish I hadn't been the reason."

“I did get a reward, Angel. I got you back. But there is another reason they're given out."

“Oh? What's that?” she asked.

“Injury in the line of duty."

“Oh, I see,” she quietly said as she relaxed a little. “Andrew, do you mind giving me a few minutes to collect myself? I think I owe the others an apology."

“I think they understand,” he said, smiling. “Take all the time you need."

He gave her a kiss and went back into the house. Adam and Jack wanted to know if she was all right.

“They say time heals all. We'll have to wait and see, I guess. She didn't say much."

Jessie came back in, joined the three of them, and looked at Andrew. What else had the general said to him? She worried he'd be sent off again, away from them. He put his arm around her, although his right shoulder objected a little and the pain from his side reminded him it was there, too.

“Your General Grant, he's not at all what I had pictured."

“I had the same impression before I met him. In fact, he made sure I knew how he felt about what I was doing for the Secretary the minute we met. Once said and done, he became one of my biggest supporters and, most importantly, a friend."

“Did he say anything about what you're going to be doing next?"

“Nothing definite. First order is to get healed."

“Which you are not going to do if you don't take your medicine,” Adam said emphatically.

“Yes, Doctor.” Andrew thought for a moment. “Jack, I realize it's late, but could you do me a favor and go into town to wire Stanton and Lincoln? But most importantly, let Buford know about everything."

“Everything?"

“Tell him I need advice on meeting my daughter."

“Got it. I'll be back."

“I don't believe how this is getting to you,” Jessie said, slightly exasperated, as she seemed like she was back to normal. “She's a baby. You'll be fine, sweetheart."

“If one more person uses the word fine to me in relationship to this subject, army or not, I'll have them drawn and quartered."

“Andrew, calm down."

“Listen, this is all new to me. I've never really been involved with children, especially girls who are already twenty-two months old and, most importantly, mine."

“You'll be...” Jack started, and then took off.

“Don't, Jack."

* * * *

Jack returned later with the correspondence and mail waiting for them at the desk. The first came from Stanton's office advising the general and the major of their assignments to General Grant's staff. It stated they would take their orders directly from him. Stanton went on to state his disappointment at not having access to the excellent reports Andrew had furnished him with reference to the Union's combat readiness. He then wished them his good luck and sent his regards to Mrs. Hastings.

There was a letter from Chamberlain:

My good friend,

Word has reached me through J. Buford regarding the events of the last few months since the Gettysburg battle when we were able to meet again after such a long time.

He has kept me up-to-date, as much as he was able.

Congratulations on the return of your wife! She is very fortunate that she married you. A love like yours is timeless. When these trying times are over, we'll get together so we can meet.

Was also told of your being shot. Am hoping this finds you well.

Sincere good wishes,

JLC

Andrew smiled, glad to hear from his old friend. Their meeting at the area of Little Round Top had helped immensely in Andrew's handling what would come in the next few months.

Jessie watched him and saw something new, something on his face she rarely saw, memories of his life before they met. She never pressed him about his history and hoped one day he would tell her.

“I have another friend who insists on meeting you."

“Oh?"

“We knew each other back in Brunswick, Maine. I met him when I would go to Bowdoin College and shoe their horses. He taught rhetoric there, if I remember right."

“You did what?"

“I worked at my uncle's livery and did ‘smithing work. I would make stable calls and that's how I met Lawrence Chamberlain. I had a chance to see him again at Gettysburg before I left to come after you. He was a great help. He was really happy I had found someone, especially when he found out we were married."

“You really did tell everyone who'd listen."

“I told you, I'm a proud, newlywed officer with the most gorgeous wife ever. Of course, I told everyone who would listen."

Andrew found another wire, addressed to Jack. He had given it to Andrew after the other two because of whom it was from.

TO: J McCord, Major

FROM: J Buford, Brig. General

Received your message ref: Brig. Gen. Hastings’ wounds after meeting fourth culprit. Am concerned about his condition. Tell him that I have issued orders to him to get well and real fast. He is expected to meet with me and introduce his wife. JB

With this, Andrew broke out laughing. Jessie and Jack looked at him as Adam came back from being inside.

“It's amazing. Two higher-ranking generals giving me the exact same orders."

Jack now understood as he remembered one of Grant's wires immediately after he had notified him of Andrew's condition.

“He was the one I dreaded telling, especially in the event of your death. I know how close you are."

“I'm glad that didn't happen. I thank you for taking care of all of the communications."

“I'm looking forward to meeting General Buford,” Jessie said.

“You'll like him. You'll also like Chamberlain. He's a man of books and letters, so to speak."

“If he's a friend of yours, I should like him, both of them in fact, unless there are more you told."

“Not that I remember.” His eyes sparkled at this thought. He wanted to scream to the world about their happiness.

“Now, I don't seem to be having any problems with meeting any of your fellow officers..."

“I know, Angel, but a baby is different from grown men."

“No, she isn't."

Andrew was playful now, but deep down, he knew she was right. There was no difference—not much! The others, he could walk away from if they didn't get along. His daughter would be in his life forever.

“James Andrew Hastings, we will do this tomorrow. Adam, if you will arrange things with my sister?"

“Yes, ma'am,” he answered with a salute.

“Don't get smart,” she said as they all laughed.

She walked into the house and went upstairs to the room she had recuperated in and set about making it into a nursery. Andrew remained out on the porch with Jack and Adam.

“I'm doomed."

“No, you're not. Sarah is a very wonderful little girl who has her father in her in every way. Trust me."

“At least, you didn't say fine."

Chapter 16

Jessie busied herself upstairs in attempt to rearrange things temporarily to accommodate their daughter. One thing she hadn't done had been to look and see if there might be anything in storage. She tried to open a door in the hallway she hadn't checked before, but it seemed to be stuck.

She called downstairs to see if either Jack or Adam could come up and help her. With a good hard pull, Adam yanked the door open. They walked into another bedroom, only to find it already made up as a nursery.

“I don't believe this.” They looked around to find everything needed for the beginning family. “Adam, I think you had better go get my husband."

Adam called to Andrew. He and Jack came to see what they needed. Seeing the room, both their mouths dropped open in surprise.

“Andrew, what do you think?"

“I think it's eerie. Why did they do this?"

“I think I know.” She went over to him. “When you first lapsed in the coma, Jack and Adam put you in the small room. I thought it wasn't a good idea. I knew the bed was too short and not firm enough. I went into the master bedroom, the one you woke up in, and there was a letter on the bed.

“In it, Helen wrote about how the place was ours, talked about their European antiques, and referred to the daughters she never had. Do you think she had children who didn't make it, or maybe she miscarried?"

“Possibly. It would explain this."

She checked the drawers of the bureau and found blankets, towels, and clothes, all for a baby girl. Underneath the pile of clothes lay two papers, one a birth certificate and the other, a death notice.

“Andrew, here's the explanation. They had a daughter, it looks like last year ... born in February and died the next month."

Andrew looked at the papers and shook his head. He looked at the contrasts between them. Helen and George lost their baby, he and Jessie had their daughter. Helen lost her husband, but helped Jessie get back with hers. No wonder the woman went out of her way for his wife. She treated her, in some ways, like the daughter she had lost.

“Jessie, this explains everything. She loses her daughter first, then her husband. No wonder she did what she did."

“That poor woman. She really took care of us. She should have hated me. I had everything she lost."

“Why don't we let this go until tomorrow? I'm really beat,” Andrew suggested, knowing it would get Jessie's determined mind on something else.

“Did you ever take your medication?” Jessie asked.

“No, he didn't,” Adam said. “I want to check your side, too."

“I'll be right with you, Andrew,” Jessie said as she took one last look around the nursery. Dusted and aired out, Sarah would more than likely be very happy in this room. Some of the clothes might even fit her.

* * * *

Adam had always been a perfectionist when it came to his profession. His patients were doing well, even though they were both stubborn as hell. Finally, after a little over two hours and worsening pain, he got Andrew to take the medicine and let him change the bandaging on the gunshot wound in his side.

“You're enough to drive anyone crazy, you know that?"

“I told you I was a lousy patient."

“I know. I love a challenge. Okay, now that's done. Bed."

“Excuse me?"

“You just came out of a three-day coma. Your body needs rest—now."

“Doesn't rank count for anything around here?"

“Not with me,” Adam replied.

Andrew knew he was right, but the thought of rest made him feel like a child. He felt tired and he ached. Even his old back injury from the Mexican War had let him know it was still there, but he didn't want to stop. He didn't want to miss any part of his life or any time with Jessie and their daughter.

“You intend to meet your daughter tomorrow?” Adam asked.

“If my wife has her way."

“If I have my way about what?"

“Seeing Sarah."

“Adam, I want to see her as soon as you say it's okay. I've missed her so much,” she said, emphatically.

“We'll see tomorrow how you're both feeling. By the way, have you taken your medicine, Mrs. H.? You've got to be extremely well before you can take care of her without worrying about a relapse."

“Yes, Doctor, whatever you say,” she answered, resigning herself to the fact Adam had taken control of the situation and worse—he was right.

“I think I'll turn in. Oh, and Jessie...."

“What?"

“Don't tire him out."

“Who? Me?” They laughed. Adam and Jack left them. Jessie and Andrew looked at each other. He sat on the end of the bed and held his hand out to her. She went to him and he held her. She felt better after their talk on the porch. Everything would work out; Andrew would make sure of it.

“You feel so good to me,” he said.

“So do you."

“I'm glad you're my wife, darlin'."

“You know something? I fell in love with you the second I walked into you the first day we met. I was afraid to believe love could happen that fast and furious."

“For me, when I first saw you, dressed in purple..."

“You remember the color of my dress?"

“Everything about that day, Angel. When I first saw you, I figured I didn't stand a chance with you. I had, up until then, the worst track record with women."

“Not you?” she questioned, astonished at what she had just heard.

“Yeah, me. I dated a little, but that was it. In fact, Lawrence would comment on the situation, but I had other things on my mind."

“Like what?"

“Leaving Maine to see what life was all about."

“Maine?"

“I was born and grew up in Brunswick. That's where I met Lawrence and I learned the basics of blacksmithing. I found I got along better with the horses than most of the people I knew."

“That's why you and Satan have this closeness?"

“I guess so, why?"

“I don't know.” She looked at him, the opening up about his past unexpected.

“What's wrong?"

“Nothing. I just never knew anything about your past. We never got that far in New Orleans."

“We were busy with other things, I think, if I remember correctly,” he said, trying to sidestep the subject.

“We were,” she said, then kissed him gently. Andrew got up and attempted to take his clothes off. The wounds hurt, especially his side. Jessie helped him and then got him into bed. She went and turned the lamp down, then changed into her gown. When she got into bed beside him, she leaned over to kiss him and smiled—Andrew was already sound asleep.

She lay beside him and watched him. This is the first semi-normal night we've been able to spend with each other since Andrew left New Orleans. I've gotten him back twice, once from circumstances, the second time from death's hand.

Jessica Hastings intended to enjoy every second of their lives, especially the time with Sarah, Adam, and Jack. Good family, good friends.

* * * *

Andrew went to roll over to his side. He groaned as he did. Jessie understood well what kind of pain plagued him. She fell asleep, elated their lives had begun to get back to normal.

Andrew slept, restlessly. Even though Adam had given him something for pain, he still felt every movement. He wanted to be able to go riding again, as well as some of the other things he enjoyed.

He kept coming back to Sarah. He knew, as things presently stood, he wasn't ready to meet her yet. He had this fear he would not be able to hold her without dropping her. Is my strength back? Will I be able to win my daughter over, as I have her mother? It bothered him that he had no control over this part of his future. Why is it getting to me this way?

Andrew couldn't sleep. He tried to get out of bed, but his side hurt too much. He thought his life would never return to normal, unless he pushed himself. He tried to get up again and this time, made it, then found a robe to put on and headed downstairs. He went out onto the porch and looked at the stars with a full harvest moon, not a cloud in sight.

He sat in the rocker and put his feet up on the railing, a custom of his. It eased the ache in his back from a previous injury sustained in an accident during the Mexican War. The cavalry unit he served with had tried to flush out snipers in the area. A snake startled Satan, who reared and threw Andrew. Andrew landed flat on his back and hit some rocks. He mounted Satan after he had quieted him and went on with the task assigned. His back had bothered him ever since.

He thought more on his present state, the events leading up to it, and, of course, Sarah. One good thing—the God-awful nightmares were gone. Without the horrors and the demons driving him as they had, he actually relaxed, able to enjoy life like those weeks in New Orleans. He sat in the chair and rocked reminiscing about those times.

Andrew and Jessie had become inseparable. I remember dining at Antoine's, attending parties at Nottaway Plantation and Houmas House, where Jessie had me dancing all night. He thought of the ball they had attended at the house of P. G. T. Beauregard, before secession began and the man had given his allegiance to the Confederacy. Andrew had been fortunate to have some interesting talks with the future Confederate General.

They had gone riding, enjoyed the city's restaurants, attended a concert at the hall in town, and went to the theater. They enjoyed just being together. He remembered they had spent their first Christmas together, but had not been able to share their first anniversary, other birthdays or anniversaries, Christmas ... It suddenly struck him. Since the day they had met, they had been together to celebrate their birthdays only once. A sad thought that needed changing.

We have so much time to make up. Those days had been busy, the nights sheer heaven. His Angel, he had been terrified he would lose her. He asked himself if, in some way, jealousy reared its ugly head. Was it part of the reason he was so apprehensive about his daughter? Am I afraid I'll be pushed aside in Jessie's love?

Andrew had devoted himself to Jessie from the moment they met. Nothing could hold back his feelings for her every time he saw her. She brightened everywhere she was. Her beauty and her personality took his breath away. He spent the last two months chasing after her, having no idea if she lived or died and nearly drowned himself when he feared her dead. Then he remembered the four bullets he had taken for her.

He loved her, but his selfishness surfaced, when he fully realized he didn't want to share her with anyone. He knew he would have to get over this and quick. He thought he would talk to Adam in the morning. Andrew found comfort in the rocker and fell off to sleep, this time, a deep, sound, pleasant-dreams type of sleep.

His haunting demons seemed to be gone.

* * * *

Jessie woke with a start finding herself alone. She looked around the room, expecting to see Andrew at the window, but he was gone. She called out to him, but no answer. She began to worry.

She got out of bed and dressed quickly. Running downstairs, she searched the first floor of the house, but he was nowhere to be found. She went outside and stopped suddenly when she found him sound asleep in the rocker. She couldn't believe it.

Adam came up the steps from his early morning walk. He'd passed Andrew on the way out and figured it best to leave him where he slept and let him be. He looked at her with a quizzical look.

“He's fine, Jessie."

“How long has he been out here?"

“I don't know. But at least he slept."

“Watch that he doesn't catch his death from cold."

“I better not. I'm tired of being under a doctor's care, no offense, Adam."

“None taken, Andrew."

“Now, what did I miss?” Jack asked as he came out to join them, yawning.

“Nothing, outside of my sleeping on the porch last night."

“You did what!"

“Damn it. I couldn't sleep, so I got up, got myself to where I am presently, put my feet up, got comfortable, and went to sleep. End of story."

“If you...” Jessie started.

“I won't, Angel,” he with a smile, enjoying her fussing.

Adam helped him up, as he knew Andrew might be a little stiff. Everyone went into the house and Jessie set to making breakfast. Andrew started toward the stairs.

“Adam, when you have some time, I need to talk to you."

“How about now?” He followed Andrew and, for his own peace of mind, made sure the man made it up the stairs. When he saw the driven look in Andrew's eyes, Adam knew he had started to push himself to heal and get back to normal. “I also want to look at that side of yours."

Andrew sat on the side of the bed while Adam redressed the wound. He fidgeted and Adam wondered why.

“I need some advice."

“If I can."

“I'm scared, Adam."

“Of..."

“My daughter.” Adam looked at Andrew and knew this had bothered him as he waited for his friend to open up about it. He knew Andrew to be the type who didn't talk about things bothering him until he was ready. Adam found out early on Andrew couldn't be pushed. “I guess I'm being selfish, but I'm afraid I'll lose my wife to my little girl."

“Jealousy is normal. You've never experienced these kinds of feelings before?"

“No.” He and Adam talked for a while. Andrew told Adam about his family history, most of which, Jessie had yet to hear. Adam now had a better understanding of what drove the man.

“I can understand your feelings. Look at it this way. Your little girl is a part of you and, from what Jack has told me, the very best of both of you. Take it one step at a time and it should work out for all three of you."

“And if it doesn't?"

“You'll have to make it work. I'll try to help, but it's something you really have to do on your own."

“But it hit me that I can stare down the barrel of some guy's gun and take the bullets, but I can't handle meeting my own little girl."

“At the risk of being drawn and quartered, you'll be fine, Andrew."

“Thanks, Adam. You know, I'm truly glad you joined our merry little band."

“So am I,” Adam grinned. Andrew finished dressing and put on his boots. “What do you think you're going to do?"

“I've got to ride. If I can ride Satan, then I'm ready for my daughter."

“Good luck. You know Jessie won't allow it."

“The last time I looked, I was still a brigadier general in the U. S. Army, and a cavalry officer. How does she think she's going to get away with giving me orders?"

“The last time I looked, wives outranked generals."

“Don't let her know that,” Andrew said with a wink and a mischievous twinkle in his blue eyes. They went to breakfast and did not say a word, wondering how long it would take her to notice the boots. It didn't take her long.

“And just where do you think you're going?"

“I've got to work Satan."

“Let Jack."

“He has to exercise Callie and Adam has his own horse to worry about."

“Do it tomorrow."

“No, and I'm going to tell you something. No riding, then no meeting our daughter."

“That's not fair."

“Angel, it's me. I've got to do this and do it my way. This is something I've got to work out and now.” She stared at him, wanting to slap him silly.

“Jessica, I'll go with him,” Jack offered.

Jessie conceded and Andrew and Jack walked outside and went to the barn.

“That was close, Andrew."

“Didn't you see my sigh of relief? I didn't want to talk to her that way, but, like Adam said, it's something I have to work out."

As soon as they got to the door of the barn, Satan heard Andrew's voice and got very excited. He circled his stall and waited for Andrew's hand on the side of his face. Andrew always tried to have something for him, too.

Jack went over to Andrew's tack and, after he put the blanket over Satan's back, threw the saddle on, and cinched it tight. The horse enjoyed the attention he had been deprived of for the last few days. Andrew finally tried to mount up.

“Well? Are you all right?"

“No, I hurt like hell. You ready, Jack?"

“Almost.” He saddled Callie, then Jack rode up beside him.

“Let's go."

* * * *

Adam stayed behind to calm Jessie down, as they watched them ride out of the driveway and onto the main road.

“Are you crazy, letting him do this?” she screamed.

“Jessie, enough. Andrew is pushing himself like this for the same reason he has driven himself the last few months, chasing through two states. It's all for you, and he's scared."

“Of what?"

“Losing you."

“Losing me?” she asked, stunned.

“He's scared to death that he'll lose you to Sarah, that there will be no room left in your life for him once you get her back."

“That's not true."

“You say that now, but you haven't seen her for how long? You laid your life down to protect her as much as he did, twice I might add, for you. You are the only love he has ever known and he's never had to share it or you with anybody."

“What do I do, Adam? Forget her?” she asked, sarcastically.

“No. No. No. Give him time. It'll work out, trust me."

“I hope so, Adam. I really hope so.” She cleared the dishes from the table and turned to him. “If he gets hurt today, it's on you, Adam."

“In more ways than one,” he said, under his breath.

* * * *

“Where are we going, Andrew?” Jack asked, already knowing what the answer might be.

“Town."

“Are you sure you want to go there?"

“Yes, I am,” he said firmly.

They rode into Winston and headed straight for the hotel. He slowly dismounted, and hitched Satan's reins over the rail. He stood in front of the entrance to gather his nerve.

“Sir?"

“What?"

“You don't have to do this. It can be in a day or two, or whenever you're both ready."

“Jack, if I don't do it now, I may never meet her, and then I lose both her and my wife. I can't go through that again."

“If you need your exec..."

“Yes, I need you, in case I make a total ass out of myself, Uncle Jack."

“To quote you, let's go.” They entered the lobby and Andrew went straight for the desk to check his messages. Randolph Berringer was pleased to see him, after hearing about his injuries at the hands of the fourth deserter. The entire town had fallen into shock when word reached them that Brigadier General Hastings had been critically wounded and lay at death's door.

The townspeople had come to admire him for his courage under fire against the first two deserters and now their hero lay in serious condition at the hands of another one. Some felt ashamed they hadn't the courage to help these brave men. Instead, they had stayed back, safe in town, while three strangers took care of the menace invading their peaceful lives.

The sheriff sent a letter to the governor to request a replacement because he felt he could no longer serve in the position and be effective. He admired the general and wished he had his drive. He wanted to tell him of his feelings but he feared how Hastings would take this.

As they entered the hotel, Berringer met them at the door and shook their hands to welcome them. He went to the desk, came back and handed him wires from several people, but the one that really interested him came from Buford.

TO: J A Hastings, Brig. Gen.

FROM: J Buford, Brig. Gen.

Take it slow and easy, be loving and caring. But she needs to know, as all children do, who's the boss and why.

You have a good head about you so—

Go give ‘em hell!

Good luck! JB

There was a message from Chamberlain, pleased to hear Andrew had survived, and one from Grant stating he was headed west. He sent his best wishes and appreciation for the hospitality when he had visited and his regards to Jessie.

They went into the dining area and sat down to enjoy a quick repast. Even though Jessie had made a huge breakfast, Andrew was hungry and ordered another good-sized meal, then tried to finish it.

“Why, I do declare, if it isn't Sarah's daddy and her Uncle Jack,” a very familiar voice said, slightly exaggerating her accent.

“What do you say, Caitlyn?” He rose and smiled as he turned toward the direction the voice came from, then gave her a kiss and a hug. “It's good to see you again."

“I'm glad to see you again, too. Where's Jessie?"

“At the house. I came into town with Jack to check messages, exercise Satan and..."

“Meet Sarah?"

“Am I that obvious?"

“I would have been surprised if you hadn't. In some part, it's the military in you, isn't it?"

“Maybe it is or it's out of sheer terror. Jessie said we would be fine, but I'm not so sure. I guess I wanted to size up the competition."

“So you figured to come see your daughter behind your wife's back?"

“I can't deny it, but I have to be sure. I don't know how to say this, but right now, our little girl could make or break our marriage. I have this huge fear that if the baby and I don't hit it off, that's it. Jessie's had all those months with her that I didn't. I lost all that time I actually never had."

“I understand, I think. You feel you're in a situation you have no control over."

“That's close enough. Caitlyn, I've got to do this now, before I lose my nerve. Is it all right?"

“Of course, silly. Come with me.” She grabbed his arm and led him up to the room where, only a week ago, he awoke on the floor with Jessie next to him. He went to the bed where his daughter lay sleeping.

Looking at her, he couldn't believe that perfection lay in front of him, peacefully, having no clue about the circumstances that brought her to this place. Caitlyn bent down, gently lifted her up, and held her. She drew near to Andrew who, in trying to be careful, clumsily took her. He held her in his arms, her head on his shoulder. The pain in his body seemed to go away.

“She's so beautiful,” he said in awe.

“Brigadier General James Andrew Hastings, I present to you, your daughter, Miss Sarah Mary Hastings."

Sarah stirred a little, opened her eyes and stretched as she did. She looked up at the man holding her and reached out to him. Andrew smiled at her and gave her a kiss on the forehead, while gently rubbing her back.

“You are so beautiful, just like your mama."

“She's got your looks, too, you know."

Andrew smiled. It appeared he had put himself through hell over this for nothing. Every time he put his face close to her, she hugged him. They connected as father and daughter, family.

* * * *

Caitlyn left them alone to go find her husband and Jack to tell them the good news. Jack breathed a sigh of relief.

“Do you know what he's been putting himself through over this? He was really worried."

“I think they have hit it off quite well,” Jason said. “I looked in while you were up there."

Jack felt relief. Everything seemed to be working out. He knew Jessie would be a little angry she hadn't a part of this, but he was also aware Andrew's personality had to be the strong push for doing it this way. He had learned another thing that Brigadier General James Andrew Hastings couldn't stand: no matter what, he could not handle being out of control of a situation.

Andrew and Sarah hit it off immediately. His little Angel had the same winning smile as her mother, the one that had caught his attention from the beginning. Her little blue eyes sparkled as she looked up at him, a brightness to her face.

Sarah kept smiling and giggling as her father held her. She would grab his finger and hold on tightly. The more Andrew played with her, the happier and more content she was.

They heard a knock on the door and Jack walked in and smiled.

“I'm not one for saying I told you so, but I did say you'd be fine."

“You did just that. I'm sorry I didn't listen to you. I hope you can forgive me."

“Nothing to forgive. You were nervous and I can't blame you a bit."

“I need you to do me a favor when we get back to the house."

“What?"

“Bring the carriage back to town to bring Caitlyn and Jason and Sarah's things out to the house."

“What about Sarah?"

“She's going home with me. I'm going to hold her. I know what you're thinking, but if I didn't trust Satan the way I do, I wouldn't even have considered it. Plus, you'll be with us."

“I don't know about your sister-in-law. She may object to this."

“But I have one thing up on her. Sarah is my daughter and she's with me now,” he said, very possessively.

“This will be interesting."

Caitlyn entered the room and happily looked at the beautiful sight in front of her. She walked over to Andrew and hugged him.

“Can you do me a favor and get her ready to go? I'm going to take her home to her mother."

“I kinda thought you'd do this. Let me get her dressed."

“I'll send our carriage for you and Jason and we'll have a big family-type dinner tonight."

“We'd like that, Andrew, but one thing, if you decide to be selfish and want to be alone tonight, we'll understand.” He smiled at her, embraced his wife's twin and thanked her with a kiss.

Caitlyn dressed Sarah in a blue denim dress with lace around the collar. The blue made her eyes sparkle even more. Then she put the little girl's boots on. She put a white bonnet on her and gave him a shawl to wrap around her, if needed.

Andrew took her down to the lobby, then outside to where Satan stood waiting for him. He took the little one over to the horse and introduced them. She reached her small hand out to the animal that quietly stood before them.

“Sarah, this is Satan.” The baby smiled at him.

Jack came up to his side and took the little girl so Andrew could mount up. With Andrew set in the saddle, Jack handed Sarah up to him, mounted his horse, and they rode off. The entire trip back to the house, Andrew lovingly pointed things out to his daughter. She spent her time looking up at him as she pointed to different things along their path.

When they came up the driveway, they headed straight for the barn and went inside. Jack jumped down quickly as he knew at any moment a frantic Jessie could run into the barn and spoil the surprise her husband had for her. He took Sarah.

Andrew dismounted and Jack handed Sarah back to him. As they stood in the barn, Jack took the saddles off both horses and then took them out into the pasture to cool down and graze. Andrew stood by the stall trying to gather the nerve to move toward the house, as Sarah took in everything around her, including the man who held her.

He turned to go toward the house to find an angry Jessie. She stood in the doorway of the barn and wore the new purple dress, ready to take his head off for riding away. She couldn't see him that well because the sunlight coming in from the rear of the barn silhouetted him. They stared at each other before Andrew spoke.

“Your mama's just a little mad at me, but I think she'll get over it. She's wearing a dress like the one she wore on the day we walked into each other."

“You didn't?"

“I did."

“You brought Sarah here?” she asked in disbelief.

“Yes, I did."

“On Satan?"

“That's right."

“Are you nuts?"

“About you? Yes."

“Is she all right?"

“Of course, she is."

“I don't believe this."

“Why not? Have we ever been normal in anything we've done?"

“But couldn't you have used the carriage?"

“You want me to take her back and wait for Jack to bring us home?"

“No,” she said, emphatically.

“Then quit yelling. You'll give her a bad impression of you. Oh, and by the way, Satan approves.” She threw her hands up.

“I give up. I can't fight all of you,” she said and, as Andrew smiled, she came over to him to lay eyes on the little girl she had last seen over five months ago. Sarah broke into a smile again when she saw her mother.

“Well?"

“Well, what?"

“Can I hold her?"

“I don't know. Are you still mad at me?"

“No, I'm not.” They kissed and, as he gave Jessie her daughter, he grinned. “Besides, am I not wearing your favorite color?” He smiled again, finally back together and hopefully, never to be separated again.

Jessie felt whole again, she had her husband and her daughter back, and the horror was over at last. As she held Sarah, Jack congratulated Andrew on his good fortune, and took his leave to let them enjoy the moment. He met Adam, and they decided tonight might be the right time to spend the night in Winston and come back in the morning.

Before they left, Jack went to the general and stated a joint decision had been made, and they had agreed they would return in the morning with the rest of the family for the long overdue celebration.

“Thank you. You don't know how much this means to the both of us. You are both the best friends that anyone could have. We'll see you in the morning."

As they left, the newly reunited family waved and went into their home to begin the rest of their lives.

Chapter 17

Time passed quickly, with less excitement than the summer months had seen—almost. The war was more than a year from being over. Grant's forces met with stiff opposition, but the recent victory at Chattanooga helped his efforts to take the Tennessee region. From correspondence he had with Chamberlain, Andrew had been able to keep up with him while he engaged in various aspects of the Eastern campaigns, his fight with malaria, his recovery, and time off.

Andrew remembered hearing about what Lawrence had accomplished at Little Round Top on the second ... or was it the third ... day of the Gettysburg campaign. He had, of all things, led a bayonet charge after his troops ran out of ammunition during their battles with the Confederates. This ended up being a key factor to the turning point of the war during those three days in July 1863. Andrew had written Lawrence and told him how impressed and proud he'd been by what his friend had done that day.

Caitlyn and Jason took care of rebuilding the property in New Orleans, since Andrew and Jessie had decided to remain in the house on the outskirts of Winston. They agreed that, even with rebuilding the house, the bad memories would still be there, no matter how much they tried to change things. Caitlyn and Jason decided to move in to it and sell their other home, thereby keeping the estate in the family for later generations.

Andrew and Jessie made a life in Winston and they loved the area. They decided to hold onto the property in Baltimore that Helen left them, so they would have some place to stay when Andrew was called north. They realized the distance between there and Washington, but it didn't bother them.

Andrew and Jessie traveled to New York to attend the funeral of Major General John Buford in December. He had taken ill in mid-November and, upon his deathbed, received his promotion. He would be buried at West Point, but never had the chance to meet Andrew's wife and daughter, as he had wished.

When the news of Buford's death arrived, Andrew was beside himself. Jessie could see how much this affected him and, as much as she tried to comfort Andrew, he had seemed inconsolable. Jack noticed the same thing.

They had waited, what felt like forever, for Andrew to return after he received word, through Grant, that his friend had died. He ran out of the house, mounted Satan, and galloped off. Jack felt apprehensive because he remembered the last time Andrew had done something like this.

First, he had ridden off, so consumed by the events surrounding him and Jessie that he fell off Satan into a stream. Jack had found him sitting on the bank in a daze. Then, hours later, he tore off on Satan again, headed toward the river where, this time, he tried drowning himself, until he had regained his sanity. Unlike the earlier episode when Jack had found him and brought him back, the second time, he had come back on his own, and proceeded to lay the groundwork for the capture of Baker and Gordon that put an end to their rampaging and Jessie's hell.

Jessie was worried, concerned about her husband. She had never seen him like this, although she had heard what happened from Andrew, Jack, and Adam. This scared her. Adam tried to ease the pain while Jack paced on the porch. He would give Andrew a little while before he went out in search of the missing brigadier general.

Meanwhile, Jessie checked on the baby, who, fortunately, was napping. When she went to sleep, Sarah slept for a good while. Jessie went downstairs where Jack and Adam both paced.

“Don't you dare wear out that porch,” she ordered. They stopped and looked at each other before breaking into laughter. She seemed to bring out the lighter side of things in any situation, as did Andrew.

Adam looked at her, and marveled at how she had recovered from her ordeal at the hands of the Union renegades. She and Andrew seemed to be in love—as if they had fallen in love all over again and those months had never taken place. She healed physically, the scar on her neck becoming less noticeable with each passing day. The other wounds, resulting from the attack using the double-edged sword, took longer to heal and probably would never fade completely.

It seemed she had resigned herself to this. Jessie had finally healed from the malarial type illness she had contracted from an insect bite, possibly a mosquito. In his eyes, she was the most resilient woman he had ever met, something else that added to his love for her.

The one thing that concerned him had been her mental and emotional healing. He discussed this with Andrew, who showed some concern. She never talked about the hell she had been through unless asked about it directly. Other than that, they agreed this part of her life had been buried somewhere, never to be brought to light again. Jessie occasionally had nightmares that awakened her from a sound sleep, screaming. Andrew would hold her, but she rarely talked about them.

Adam was pleased with Andrew's recovery. His lawn-side surgery had been successful, with Andrew coming out of it with some pain, but no complications. These two had become his best patients, and he would do anything to ensure that their family, and Jack McCord, would be taken care of. He had set up a practice for the town of Winston and surrounding areas. The people had been very receptive to him and the others and it seemed he would be able to establish himself.

“Don't worry, he'll be fine,” Adam said, trying to get Jessica to calm down. She had been agitated because she had never dealt with her husband's extreme emotions.

“I know I wasn't here when this happened before. Hell, I was the reason it did, but I don't know what to do. And, as you have probably figured, I'm just as lousy as Andrew at being patient."

“Everyone has different ways of handling stress and grief. Some scream, some break things, some go off into their own little world and don't come out ‘til its safe. Riding, evidently, is his way of handling this."

She thought back to the beginning of her private hell when, after being attacked, then nearly drowned, plus being forced to watch the horror of a family's life go up in flames, she had retreated into a world that kept her safe. She remembered she heard a tiny voice, somewhere inside her that told her what she needed to do. And, if she remembered right, that voice had bought her time, but it still puzzled her a little.

“Then if this is normal, why are you and Jack pacing like this?"

“While we were chasing after you, Jack and I found something neither of us had ever had happen before."

“Which is?"

“I don't know how to explain this, but..."

“He won you over and you both felt like he was the missing link in your lives. I know all about it. I felt the same way the day I met him. Our eyes met and bang! Fireworks.” She saw Adam relax some.

“You see, Adam, I know how Jack feels. In fact, I've known since the day Andrew took all those bullets in the front yard. I had run outside, almost knocking him over, being slightly crazed. My husband was dying and Jack came to comfort me. That was when I picked up on it. You've been through so much together, a lot of which I either wasn't there for, or can't share with either of you. There's one thing I think you should know."

“What's that?” he asked.

“I'm jealous."

Adam shook his head.

“Jessie. You are truly amazing. But you have nothing to be worried about."

“What do you mean?"

“You can handle your husband with two friends who would die for him, and you, and you do it well."

“I have to. Andrew's my life, and you and Jack are a big part of his, which makes you a part of mine. I don't think that's too bad. Do you?” Adam smiled. If only she knew.

Jack came inside and looked lost. He watched the driveway and the road for a while with no sign of the general.

“What do you think?"

“How long has it been?"

“A couple hours, I guess."

“Give him a little longer, and then we'll go out looking."

* * * *

Andrew sat in a small clearing by the water's edge. He looked out over the water and decided not to go anywhere near the peaceful, ambling river. He had no intention of trying to drown his sorrows, literally.

He sat on the bank, looking at the landscape, watching the herons flying low over the water. In his hand, he still held the dispatch he received from Grant's headquarters. He couldn't believe his good friend had passed away. They hadn't been in contact since Buford had taken ill a few weeks before, stricken by typhoid, but to lose his friend so quickly, threw him into an emotional turmoil he wasn't handling well at all.

He read and reread the general's message, trying to find anything that would let him know this was a brutal nightmare, but he couldn't, it wasn't there. Buford had died and Andrew would have to accept it, if he could.

Andrew knew he would travel to the funeral in New York, no doubt about this. Buford was to be buried at West Point. He intended to leave as soon as he came out of this tailspin and went home. The thought about how his friend would never have the chance to meet his wife and daughter came back to him repeatedly. The more it returned and invaded his thoughts, the more he wept.

Andrew flipped open his pocket watch to check the time. He couldn't believe how much time he had spent here. He had to get back to the house, get his uniform, and get on the road. He rose and went over to Satan, grazing quietly by the water's edge. As he put his boot into the stirrup, he heard the sounds of another horse approaching from behind him.

“I guess you found me again, Jack,” he said, as he finished getting onto the saddle.

“We were worried, Andrew."

“Are you up for a trip to New York, Major?"

“Why are you being formal, sir?” he asked, sounding a little worried.

“Because, as soon as I get back, we are on the road north to West Point. I am going to John's funeral and, after all, you are still my exec. Aren't you?"

“Yes, sir. I'll be there. One thing?"

“What?"

“Jessie? Is she going?"

“Damn it. I hadn't even thought about her going. Thanks, Jack.” They rode back together. When they reached the house, Jessie ran out and threw her arms around him, overjoyed to see him safe.

“Are you all right?” He nodded as they held each other.

“How quickly can you get yourself and Sarah packed?"

“Where are we going?"

“To West Point—I have to go to the funeral. But if you don't want to go, I'll understand."

“No. We'll be ready.” She ran inside to get their things together. Adam came over to talk to Andrew and Jack.

“Adam, I'm better,” he said as he beat out the doctor's question. “Can you do me a favor, keep an eye on the farm while the four of us are gone?"

“Sure. In fact, I'll go get the carriage hitched."

“Thanks, Adam."

* * * *

Within the hour, they were on the road north. They followed the main highway until they reached the Mississippi and went northeast. During their trip, they spent a night at the latest site of Grant's headquarters, where he was trying to secure ground in Eastern Tennessee.

They spent a few hours visiting with the general, who enjoyed the brief respite from the task at hand. They spoke of many things and Grant was taken with Sarah, who walked, talked, and did everything else a two year old child was supposed to do.

Jack escorted Jessie and Sarah back to where they were quartered, to give Andrew a chance to speak with the general privately.

“Thanks for letting me know about General Buford."

“I knew you would be interested. Besides, knowing you would be on your way through this command to the Point, I hoped you would stop. If the Secretary asks, we've met and it keeps you both actively under my command, as arranged."

“Is there anything I should know about this, sir?” Grant shook his head and winked.

Grant brought him up-to-date on the military actions going on now, asked him his thoughts on one or two aspects, and other things. They toasted several times before Andrew retired for the evening. Saluting the general, he departed.

The group left early in the morning, headed north toward the Cumberland Gap. Jessie felt nervous, not used to traveling like this. She felt a little fear in being a Southerner traveling through Federal territory. Andrew tried to reassure her, but she had gotten some strange looks when her deep Southern accent had been noticed.

Grant had sent a small detachment with them so they could board the earliest train for the rest of their journey. He had a detail take their carriage back to his headquarters for their return south. After a few more hours on the rails, they arrived in Washington. They checked in with Stanton's office and with President Lincoln. Due to the circumstances of their visit, they were offered lodging at the President's residence. This shocked them, but Lincoln stated it was the least he could do. It gave him the chance to meet with Andrew and Jessie on a more informal basis.

The two officers spoke with Stanton, finding out the arrangements of Buford's funeral. After the services in the Capitol, the group boarded a train for the trip to West Point, New York. They rode to New York City, changed trains and continued north.

Andrew spoke with other officers on board, and learned more about Buford's condition the last few weeks of his life. Andrew last received a letter from Buford roughly the month before, prior to the general's condition worsening. He regretted not making a trip to see his friend sooner.

Jessie sat with Sarah and still felt queasy. She assumed it to be due to the traveling she wasn't accustomed to.

When they arrived at West Point, they found lodging at a quaint little inn in the center of town on the main street. After settling in their rooms, Andrew asked Jack to go to the chapel to see if he could find out what arrangements had been made. Then he and Jessie settled in with Sarah, Jessie still feeling a bit sick. She requested a pot of tea be brought to their room.

“Are you all right, darlin'?"

“I'm fine. A cup of tea, a nap, and I'll be better."

“I'll leave you two alone. I'm going to go catch up with Jack."

“Alright. I'll see you when you get back,” she said, then they kissed. Andrew kissed her again, then Sarah, and left the room as Jessie got Sarah settled. She put her daughter in the middle of the big bed and sat next to her. She finished her tea, put the cup on the tray, and turned back to Sarah, who watched her mother intently. Jessie didn't feel right, but she wasn't concerned.

“You know? The last time I felt like this, I found out I was carrying you.” She stopped. “Oh, my God.” She grabbed her daughter and lavished hugs and kisses upon her as she cried tears of joy. Together, they napped, Jessie with a smile on her face.

* * * *

Andrew met Jack outside the inn and they walked down the street to look around the town, home to the institution that had given both sides of the ongoing war between the North and the South their leaders. Jack offered to give Andrew a tour of his alma mater and they set off.

He looked around as Jack pointed out various places of interest. As cadets passed them, they saluted. There had been times over the years Andrew had been sorry he didn't attend the Point, sometimes wondering where he would have gone if he had. Other thoughts had lately overshadowed these, such as his beautiful wife and daughter. He could not imagine life without either one of them. When he thought of what he may have missed if he had attended this college and his life had gone in another direction, he realized he probably would never have met Jessie, the one thing he didn't want to think about. He had been having the best time of his life and he wouldn't screw anything up.

Jack told him the services would be in the morning with burial afterwards. Buford would be buried up on the hill overlooking the school. Andrew thanked him and asked if he didn't mind, he'd like to walk back on his own. He had some thinking to do. Jack, after Andrew reassured him everything was all right, left Andrew to his thoughts. They agreed to meet at the inn later.

Andrew stood in the middle of the school's grounds taking in the ambiance of the hallowed halls of the most prestigious military school in the country. He saw the chapel and headed toward it. Entering, he took off his hat and sat in a pew to think. He had concluded that John's death had brought home the realities of life, aging, and death. He sat in the silence of the Lord's house, then prayed for Buford, his family, and those for whom he cared.

He remembered his friend, especially their time riding in Gettysburg, their talk at a spot overlooking the beauty of Adams County, Pennsylvania before those three days that changed the face of the war. He saw John, on horseback, smoking his pipe, content, as any cavalryman could be when in the saddle. He remembered their correspondence when he chased after his Angel and the comfort he took from the man's words. God, how he would miss this man!

He was having trouble handling these emotions, much as he did when he thought his Angel had died. Until he had met his wife, he hadn't been really close to anyone—at least not close enough to care. Jessie changed all of that, as had Buford and Chamberlain. Now, he had come here to bury his good friend. In a rare occurrence in James Andrew Hastings’ life, he asked God to help him get through this.

He walked out of the chapel and back to the inn. He went up to their room and opened the door to find his two angels sound asleep. Jessie looked better than when they had arrived. He looked at her, then brushed her hair back gently, she was so beautiful. He sat in a chair by the bed, watching them, then dozed off himself.

* * * *

Morning broke. Jessie had been up for a little while with Sarah trying to get her ready for the day. Andrew lay in bed watching her every move, more in love with her than ever. They heard a knock at the door. Jessie opened it to find Jack standing in front of her, handsome in his dress blues.

“Aren't you a bit early, Jack?” Andrew asked, pushing himself up on his elbow.

“I thought I would escort my niece to breakfast and give you two a chance to get ready in peace."

“You are so sweet, Jack,” Jessie said, planting a kiss on his cheek. She caught up with Sarah and brought her back to the door. Jack offered her his hand and she took it. They left, and after she closed the door behind them, Jessie leaned against it and smiled. “Thank you, Uncle Jack."

She went to the armoire and pulled out a black dress with a high collar, the bodice fitted with pin pleats. The full skirt fell over a single petticoat. She began to get ready as she removed her peignoir.

“Uh, Uh."

“What?"

“Come here for a minute."

Jessie went over to him. As he sat up in bed, he watched her every movement. She seemed to float across the floor. He put his hand out to her and she sat on the bed beside him. Then she stood up and slipped off her lacy white robe, letting it fall to the floor seductively.

She drew closer to him, gently running her fingers through his hair, down his neck and to his chest. She bent down and kissed him. Andrew pulled the ribbon from her hair to let it tumble down free, just the way he loved. He kissed her while his fingers ran down the curves of her shoulders, slipping them under the neckline of the ice-blue gown, and starting to gently slip it off her.

She stopped him and stood back, then slid it off herself, making him watch. She stood in front of him, naked, and very secure with herself. He smiled, knowing she had gotten over another hurdle. She came back and sat next to him so she could look into his beautiful eyes.

He held her face in his warm hands and kissed her passionately, afraid to let her go. He moved his hands down the middle of her back. She threw her head back as she arched herself so he could kiss her breasts and touch each tip with his tongue—lovingly, passionately.

Andrew pulled her closer and held her tight. All the while, he smiled the smile she had loved since that moonlight night on the patio in New Orleans. He ran his hands down her sides while running his tongue over her stomach, heading toward her hips and thighs.

He always found the perfect spot on the inside of her legs right before he would enter to begin a heavenly trip for both of them. He had a way of making each time different and more spontaneous than the one before. After they both came together, he would begin to kiss her body again, which would lead to more and more.

They made love and enjoyed every minute. One thing about their relationship—since they had connected, it had been forever, and nothing would ever tear them apart. The ordeal she had been through hadn't made any difference to him. Jessica Amanda Templeton Hastings was his wife, the love of his life, and nothing would ever get in the way of that.

Jessie got up and Andrew watched her every move, afraid somewhere down deep inside, he would miss something. She washed, and slowly dressed. She decided, as he was so intent on watching her, she'd get playful. As she dressed, she tried to seduce him and drive him crazy. It worked.

Andrew got out of bed, went over to her and turned her around to face him. He took her face in his large, warm, loving hands and pulled her to him. He kissed her lips, then her neck, and moved down her body. All the time, he was driving her crazy. Undoing her chemise before slipping it off, he continued down her body, kissing every inch he could.

She was enjoying every second, her body feeling his love in every kiss, every touch. He went to his knees seeking out the inside of her legs. He surprised her as he continued to the spot that always sent her reeling when he entered her, only this time, he did it with his tongue while his hands massaged her. They found their way to the tips of her breasts, and he gently played with them at the same time.

Jessie held his head and rubbed his neck. When he pushed her to the edge, she grabbed his hair with both hands, moaning in passion. She never felt this way before. He had tried something slightly erotic and she responded as never before.

She melted into his arms and, again, they soared in passion. They made love in the middle of the floor, uncaring as to the roughness of the carpeting. Somehow, they made their way back to the bed and made love to each other as only they could.

He looked into her beautiful, blue, sparkling eyes, while she stared into the deep, dark, sapphire-hue of his. He grabbed her hands as he moved back down her body and proceeded to explore her with his tongue sending tremors through her body. Her love for him went out of control. She sat up and pulled him to her, kissing him.

“I love you, Andrew Hastings."

“And I you, Angel. I'll never leave you again, ever!"

She had missed him and ever since the previous summer, she had taken advantage of every second with her husband. They were very good together and that would never go away—at least not if she had anything to do with it.

“I love you,” she whispered again in his ear.

“I love you, too, Angel.” He wanted to scream it to the rest of the world, but he held back. They kissed before Jessie stood up and went back to the washstand. Andrew came behind her and helped her dress, cherishing every moment spent with the woman he adored. He knew what a fantastic thing he had in his life, their love being the bond that held them together through everything.

She put her dress on and he buttoned it for her. He kissed her shoulders and her neck, turned her around, and kissed her lips. Jessie was the best thing ever happening in his life, and he dedicated himself to doing everything he could to make their lives even better.

While he washed up, she got his uniform out of the armoire and, as he had for her, helped him dress. She made sure every braid and medal was in its place. She looked at the most recently added one; the one Grant had given to him and Jack when he had visited their farm. Easier to look at now, but the memories still haunted her. She always marveled at the handsome man she had married. As far as I'm concerned, I'm the luckiest woman in the world.

Especially with the news he would soon hear. She had decided to tell him about the new little life inside her after the funeral.

* * * *

Andrew and Jessie met Jack and Sarah on the porch of the inn on a sunny, crisp December day. Snow had fallen during the night and left everything blanketed in white. Jack had already shown Sarah how to make a snowball, which she promptly threw at her father.

“Sarah,” Jessie scolded as she looked at the distinctive outline of the snowball on Andrew's blue wool uniform coat.

“Jessie, it's alright."

“But..."

“It's okay, honestly,” Andrew said, smiling at his wife and daughter. He remembered his youth in Maine. He had always enjoyed the snowball fights with his uncle and cousins. He even thought back to the sledding, ice-skating, and the fun he'd had.

Jack had an enjoyable time showing Sarah how to build a snowman as the little girl laughed.

Andrew noticed Jessie's eyes widen at what she obviously experienced for the first time. It amused him when he realized she was new to all of this.

“I've never seen snow before, Andrew. This is ... Father would take us to a friend's home in Florida at the first hint of snow. I have never seen it like this before. I mean, the last few years, other things overshadowed any snowfall in New Orleans."

“I guess I have something to enlighten you on.” He marveled at her childlike fascination and loved her that much more. Her eyes lit up and sparkled from the brightness of the snow like beautiful gemstones.

After Jack treated Miss Sarah to breakfast, he took her for a walk, hoping she would tire out and be quiet at the chapel. He enjoyed showing her the winter fun he remembered from his childhood in Philadelphia. He thought back to the day they tried ice-skating on the Wissahicken Creek and found it to be not one of their better ideas. He smiled.

They walked to the chapel and then met up with many other officers at the Point to pay their last respects. They went inside and sat in the middle of the church. The services lasted just over an hour, then they proceeded to the churchyard and the hillside where John Buford would be buried.

Andrew spoke with several of the other officers attending. He had met them when he reported their unit's status to Washington. Sarah began to fidget and Jack remained near Jessie. Andrew would be the last one to have a private moment with his old friend. He slowly came down from the hillside gravesite that overlooked the school. He walked over to them and tears welled in his eyes.

“Jack, could you take Sarah and get her a snack?” he asked, choking back his emotions.

“Sure,” he said, noticing Andrew's sadness. “Come, Miss Sarah.” They walked over to the general store and Jessie went to Andrew putting her arms around him.

“Sweetheart, are you all right?"

“It's hard saying good-bye, you know?"

“Believe me, I know. I was afraid those morons were going to make sure I never saw you again. I was afraid of not being able to say good-bye."

He looked at her, hearing one of the first mentions of the ordeal since he had found her. She realized what she had said and turned away from him.

“Don't turn away from me now, Angel. Not now. Please, don't shut me out."

“I'm not. I don't know where it came from or why."

“Don't worry about it, Jessie. It's all right.” He put his arm around her. She turned to him, looked at him, and smiled. They walked some more as Jessie took in all of the beauty of the snowfall and the crunching noise of the crisp, newly fallen snow under their feet. She looked into his eyes when they stopped.

“Andrew, my love, we're fine."

“You're sure? You and I are alright?"

“We're fine. You, me, Sarah, and Baby Hastings makes four.” She kissed him, waiting for his reaction.

“You know? I could have sworn you said baby makes four."

“I did."

“You're not?"

“I am."

“We're having a baby?"

He lifted her up, spun her around, laughing and grinning. Then he looked up toward the heavens and thanked God for his help.

“Tell me everything."

“I figure I'm pregnant because I've been feeling the exact same way as I did those couple days before you left New Orleans. When is the baby due? Probably August. Any more, I don't know. But I need to ask you something."

“Anything, what?"

“I want Adam there. Is that all right?"

“Fine. No problem."

They told Jack the good news when he returned with Sarah. Happy for them, he remembered Andrew's concern a few months back due to the reports from both Adam and Scott Morgan about the injuries she suffered during her imprisonment. He shook Andrew's hand heartily, then hugged Jessie.

They had come to this place to celebrate a friend's life, and to say good-bye to him. Now, they celebrated a new life just beginning to grow.

Epilogue

August 17, 1864

Jessie had been in labor for several hours. Adam was with her while Jack looked after Andrew as he paced the floor. He wanted to go riding, just take Satan and leave, but he didn't want to anger a wife in the middle of delivery.

Andrew went outside and leaned against the post and, as usual, put his foot on the railing. Jack sat in the rocker watching his friend.

“Is something wrong, Andrew?"

“I missed Sarah's birth and now I'm standing on the porch, missing this one's."

“But at least you're here."

“You're right about that."

They heard a scream, Andrew immediately concerned, then the sound of a newborn's first cry. Andrew ran into the house and straight upstairs two steps at a time, Jack following. They entered the bedroom that Andrew and Jessie shared, as Adam bathed the newborn. He looked at Jessie, who in Andrew's eyes, looked radiant, though exhausted.

Adam turned to his friend holding the infant he had just had the pleasure of delivering.

“Andrew, meet your son,” he said as he handed the father his newborn infant boy. Andrew went over to Jessie holding him. He kissed his wife and told her she was wonderful. Sarah came in, escorted by Uncle Jack. She ran over to see her new baby brother. Jessie and Andrew looked at each other, then Jessie told him to go ahead and tell them.

“Adam, Jack. Let me present John Andrew Lawrence Jack Adam Hastings. Son, meet your uncles."

Everyone laughed all gazing on the new life. For them, the war had found a truce, even though it raged on throughout the rest of the country.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Christy Poff lives in southeastern Pennsylvania with her husband and two teens, although her older son is in the Air Force stationed in Minot, North Dakota and remains a cell phone call away.

Previously, she wrote news articles for local newspapers and regional firefighting publications. With her articles, she added photography to her pieces.

She has judged for the Rose City Romance Writers (Portland, Oregon chapter) Golden Rose Author's contest since 2002.

Writing for several years, she has a deep respect for Civil War history and has done extensive research into the times. This love and research have resulted in several Civil War novels looking for a home. Chase For An Angel was born from this and the others followed.

She loves old cities with charm and history like Charleston and New Orleans, the wide open spaces in Wyoming, the Dakotas, Civil War battlefields and the hustle and bustle of Las Vegas and seeing the rest of the US. Some day she hopes to visit, with her daughter, both Canadian coasts as well as Ireland.

A volunteer firefighter for over twenty-five years, she's been able to use her experience in several published works for others and even in some of her own works in progress.

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