She looked at Lucas, judged the determination on his face. “There is no way I’m going to jump from this train. There must be another way—”
Lucas swooped down and picked her up and tossed her into the air. The sickening feel of free fall pitched in her stomach and hardened in her throat. She screamed, flailed her arms and legs like an albatross not knowing where God intended her to land, or how many bones she would break.
Water heaved around her, splashing mud over her. Thunderstruck…she had landed in the middle of a cow pond. Her feet oozed deep into slimy muck. Her clothes clung to her, soaked and slicked with sludge. After ingesting the water, she’d doubtless expect some parasitic malady. She shoved wet ropes of hair from her eyes, and then dragged her gaze up a slope to where Lucas stood rocking on his heels. The infuriating sound of her deep and quick breathing ran in tandem with the cows mooing on the dike and the hiccupping hilarity of Lucas. Like a cat, he had landed in the tall grasses on his feet, dry and unharmed.
Rachel shook her fist at him. “You are proof of evolution in reverse. They should have drowned you at birth and saved me a pile of trouble. Ever since you came into my life, you have turned it upside down,” she spat. Her teeth began chattering, and she pulled a lily pad from the top of her head.
Lucas held his sides and dissolved into laughter again.
“This is what I get for listening to the high and mighty Colonel Rourke.” She made no protest when he grabbed her arm and yanked her to shore. Her final indignity occurred when she bent to pick up her bag, slipped on the bank, and fell into the mud again. Lucas wiped his eyes, stood her up and sobered. Rachel started into a full-blown weeping. He threw his greatcoat around her and hugged her.
Cows crowded around, mooing and drinking from the water’s edge. “You’ve had a little jolt is all.”
What was worse—his placating her, freezing to death, or her inability to control the flow of tears? “Everything is going badly. One day, you think all’s within your grasp, and the next it’s swept away. Now that Johnson has seen me, he will have the train stopped at the next depot, sending every available man to search for us.”
“You’re upset because you’ve been thrown from a train,” Lucas said.
Rachel stepped back. “What on earth would cause you to think I’d be upset about being thrown from a train? I rather enjoy being cold and muddy and standing knee-deep in a cow pond.”
Rachel bombarded him with a whole litany of abuses, raining down all her miseries on Lucas’ head. She spent the next thirty minutes telling him so, but not complaining that he had picked her up, and brought her to the front yard of a nearby farm. A farmer appeared at his door with a rifle cradled in his arms.
“Our carriage overturned and lays in the bottom of your cow pond,” Lucas explained.
The farmer’s wife took immediate pity on Rachel’s pathetic condition, especially when Lucas added fire to the story by insisting she was in the family way. With his winning manner, Lucas relaxed their doubts and they were rewarded with their clothes dried, a warm meal to fill their belly and a ride into the next town.
Chapter Thirteen
Lucas had the farmer drop them off at a crossroad and hinted they were traveling west, opposite of their intended direction. He followed Rachel down a lone country road without interventions or questions from passersby.
He chewed on a piece of timothy grass as they headed to a safe house or church that Rachel knew about. “I take it your Reverend friend’s politics differ from those of his Southern neighbors?”
“The Saint has called upon him countless times during this struggle. Father O’Connor’s protection is guaranteed.”
The scuff of gravel crunched beneath his feet on the sunbaked road where tar looked like poured licorice. “The Saint. Always the bloody Saint. You place him on a pedestal as if he were the holiest of holies. Why have I never seen him? I’m beginning to think he’s a figment of your imagination,” Lucas said sourly, and then glowered at her when he saw her smile.
Her eyes sparkled as though she played a game. He could have melted into those amber eyes. Instead, he remained guarded, knowing their enemy, Captain Johnson, would have wired the news that they lived, and then ordered patrols to hunt them down. Lucas’ first priority was to get her safely North. In that beautiful, rare head of hers, lay all the facts vital to save the Union.
A breeze blew hot air across his damp forehead, whooshed across his sunburned neck, and then ruffled the hardy wildflowers across the forgotten fields. He took off his coat and slung it over his shoulder. “I believe we should revisit our intended direction and head north instead,” said Lucas.
In her mud dried dress, Rachel drew up short. “No. Because of you, we’ll have the entire Confederacy looking for us. Do I need to remind you that it was your idea to board the train? As a result of the mess you’ve gotten us in, you’re going to follow my orders, Colonel Rourke.”
Lucas narrowed his eyes, frustrated with her mulish expression. “I’ll bow to your infinite madness this time but, mark my words, you better be right, or else you’ll have to live with the consequences.”
Full of sunlight and floating like gold dust, he took in the high steeple, pricking the azure blue of a cloudless sky. Whitewashed clapboard adorned the structure, aged and yellow as soap, but solid as rock. He grasped her elbow and marched her up the steps, and then glanced around while Rachel knocked on the sanctuary door.
“Father O’Connor?” said Rachel.
“Yes, my child. What is it?” The cleric adjusted his collar, glowing snowy white in the cool of the darkened interior.
“The Saint has sent me.”
The old man’s brown eyes widened as he swung wide the door, allowing them entry. And none too soon in Lucas’ estimation. Thirty plus Confederate riders stormed into the front yard.
“They are in pursuit of us,” said Lucas.
The ancient priest glanced wildly about. “You could not have come at a worse time. I have ten slaves hiding beneath the rectory and no room to hide you. We are at risk.”
From a sacristy table, Lucas jerked off a lace tablecloth and threw it over Rachel’s head.
