They sloshed through a shallow creek, the morning mist rising like a blanket to the sun. The cold nipped at Rachel now that she was away from his body heat. A painful lump grew in her throat. Gone was the cheerful and teasing Lucas. And gone, too, were the warm kisses shared beneath the tree despite being in the midst of a war zone.
The rotting smell of decomposing leaves lifted from the forest floor and the crunch of twigs beneath the horses’ hooves filled the silence. Piecing thorns from overlying branches scraped her skin. A relationship with the colonel was unrealistic. Regardless of her troubled spirits, she would never forget their time together and stored it in the corner of her mind.
“I believe you may demand more of yourself than is necessary, if you understand what I mean, Colonel Rourke.”
“No, I don’t understand what you mean.”
Why did he refuse to see that he held himself accountable for the whole world?
“War brings change,” Lucas bit out. “War changes people. It gathers its grains and fires them into contemplation about themselves, about life. There’s no turning back, only the sad forward motion wreaking disaster for the losers and salvation for the victors.”
Chapter Twelve
A week of plunging through cramped woodlands, hacking at misshapen thickets had taken its toll. The last straw was when Rachel’s horse had taken a stone in its shoe, crippling the poor beast and inhibiting further travel. Against Rachel’s protestations, they found their way to a railroad depot, and bought tickets. To all visible travelers, they appeared nothing more than a married couple.
“You are the most muleheaded, stubborn, illogical man—”
She stopped and smiled at a passing gentleman on the train platform. She leaned in closer to Lucas, keeping her voice low, and hissed, “You were the one who was worried about someone recognizing you and, at this moment, we are exposed to the eyes and ears of the Confederacy.”
He took her hand and placed it in the crook of his arm, strolling across the platform. “To my line of reasoning, we haven’t been trailed. Blending in with the regular population is a simple and expedient approach to get to Grant’s lines.”
Like an attentive husband, mollifying his fretful wife, he patted her hand and led her to the line boarding the train. Her temperature rose two degrees. “We should have taken the cautionary route on back roads with little exposure. Next time, I decide the direction we take.”
They took their seats in the back of the car. A Confederate colonel stared at her. Rachel held her breath. A long brittle silence ensued. Lucas winked at her and looked out the window.
“Good day,” the colonel nodded amicably. He took off his coat, settled himself in the seat facing them.
Lucas assumed a polite expression and introduced the two of them as Captain and Mrs. Jefferson Davis.
Rachel’s jaw dropped.
The colonel’s eyes lit. “Any relation to our President Jefferson Davis?”
“Shirt-tail cousins,” Lucas nodded. “On my father’s side.”
The colonel brought out a flask and offered it to Lucas. “Apricot brandy. Will you join me, Captain? That’s if your wife concurs,” he said, smiling to her.
Rachel gave a disgusted snort. The train moved off with a lurch, and she clutched her bag in her lap. “My husband does not drink spirits.” Lucas must keep a clear head.
“A taste will not hurt, sweetheart, and I must be civil and not affront the colonel’s hospitality. He is my superior and an order is an order.”
The train chugged and whistled and bellowed out steam, increasing its speed until it was moving through towns and around bends at a steady pace. Rachel rested her head against the cool glass, making a study of the passing countryside while Lucas spent his time in cordial discussion of the war and past campaigns with their traveling companion.
“Let’s toast to the loveliest of flowers of the Confederacy,” said the colonel, raising his flask. Rachel offered him a shy smile and darted a glance at Lucas. He was superb. If she weren’t so nervous, she might admit he was better than the Saint.
“To my beautiful and devoted wife, who complies with my every wish.”
There lay a pale blue lightening of amusement between his lashes.
Rachel gritted her teeth. “And to my loving husband, who falls on bended knee at my bidding.”
“Indeed,” said the colonel. “A happy marriage brings such calm in these cruel times. Any children?”
Lucas bent low and confidingly. “My wife is in the family way.”
Rachel’s face heated to the roots of her hair. It was the second time he referred to a maternity she never had. When she jammed her elbow into his side, his laughter broke off, and he veered his discussions on mundane topics.
She rubbed absently at her arms. What machinations hammered behind his solid expression? How his clever mind analyzed and deliberated various ways to elude a sudden crisis.
