“I’ll take Riley.”
Christa arched a brow. Riley could be deadly. John Mackay’s pride and joy was big and powerful and had a will of his own.
“You’ll break your neck!” Christa warned her.
“I need to be there!” Kiernan told her. She leaped up onto Riley, her skirt swinging. She was a good enough rider to handle him, and for all his temperament, she’d never seen a faster horse. John Mackay had won money on him time and time again.
She looked to Christa. “Where?”
“In the glen past our property, down by the old burned-out church.”
Kiernan nodded and nudged Riley. He set off like lightning. Christa cried out something from behind her, but Kiernan didn’t hear.
Her heart was thundering as loudly as Riley’s hooves against the ground. The reckless pace and the seething energy within the massive stallion seemed to join with the shivering that had set up inside of her. She ducked down low against the horse, riding tightly against him, heedless of the wind and brush that sped past her as she reached the road. She careened by a wagon and tore past a group of revelers. Christa was far behind her.
She had to reach them. She couldn’t let either of them die, not for her! There had to be a way to reason with them.
She could remind them that they could shoot one another in battle soon enough.
Jesse couldn’t die—but she couldn’t bear life herself if he were to kill Anthony. Anthony loved her, and Anthony was willing to die for her. This was her fault because she’d never told him the truth. She’d put him off, and she’d put him off, but she had never explained that she didn’t love him.
She saw the trail off to the glen and plunged down it, unaware of the branches that reached out to snare tendrils of her hair. She raced on—and heard a shot.
Riley heard it too. Startled, the stallion came to a stop, then reared up on his hind legs, standing almost straight up. Kiernan struggled to remain seated. “You overgrown fraidy-cat!” she yelled at the horse desperately, clinging to its neck. “Get down!”
He did, but when Riley reared once again, she went flying off.
She landed softly, with tears stinging her eyes. She had to get to the copse where the shot had come from! But if Riley went off without a rider, there would be all hell to pay. Her father would have her blood.
Blood! Dear God, a shot had been fired!
Riley suddenly went trotting into the bushes.
She leaped to her feet and raced after him. As she did so, she heard hoofbeats charge by on the trail. “Wait!” she cried out, but the rider did not hear her, or give her heed. Growing more and more desperate, she charged after Riley.
The horse had paused to munch a long clump of grass. She lunged for Riley’s reins. He pulled back, snorting, his dark brown eyes wild. But her strength was great in her growing panic. She managed to subdue the horse and mount him again.
Returning to the trail, she raced again until she reached the copse by the old church. She pulled in hard on the reins.
Someone was lying on the ground with two men beside him. Daniel was one, she realized, and the other man she barely knew, but she thought his name was Aaron.
And the one on the ground …
She screamed and leaped down from her father’s wayward stallion and ran over the cool, shaded earth.
Her heart slammed hard against her chest. It was Jesse! If he was dead, her world was over, and she wanted to die herself.
Daniel looked up at her and saw the raw terror in her eyes. His smile reassured her. “Just a wound,” he said quickly. “A flesh wound.”
She fell down to the earth upon her knees. It wasn’t Jesse. Jesse was nowhere to be seen. The man stretched out on the ground was Anthony Miller, and his shirt and sleeve were soaked in blood.
“Oh, my God!” she breathed.
His dark, deer-brown eyes opened to hers, and he tried to smile. “Kiernan.” Then his eyes shut again.
“Anthony!” she cried.
“It’s all right,” Daniel told her softly. “Jesse gave him a shot of morphine.”
“What?” she whispered.
Daniel rose, drew her to her feet, and placed his hands on her shoulders. He pressed her away from the fallen man. “It’s all right, Kiernan.”
“Jesse—”
“Jesse is fine. He allowed Anthony to take the first shot, and then he just clipped him in the arm. His shooting arm. Anthony wanted to take another shot, but Jesse told him there would be plenty of fighting soon enough. Anthony said that he still wasn’t satisfied.”
“So what happened then?” Kiernan cried.
Daniel grinned. “I gave Anthony a good pop to the jaw. He fell, and Jesse came over and looked at his arm and gave him a shot against the pain and advised that we just wrap it up real good. Anthony is going to be fine.”
“Oh!” she whispered, then she hurried back to Anthony, falling down by his side, determined to see to the truth of it for herself. She ripped up the fabric of his white shirt and found that the wound that had soaked his clothing had already been carefully and neatly bandaged.
She looked up at Daniel. “Jesse tended to him here?”
“Yes,” Daniel said, and added wryly, “my brother has to be one of the very few men who would bring his own medical bag to a duel.”
He was trying to make her smile, but she couldn’t. “Jesse saw to his arm and gave him morphine?”
“Yes, after I slugged him. I didn’t want to slug him—I had to, or he would never have let Jesse tend to the wound. Jesse had to dig a bit for the bullet—that’s why the morphine.”
“Buy why did Jesse leave him like this? Why didn’t he—”
“Because someone else has to take care of Anthony now. Aaron’s brother has gone for a wagon. He’ll take Anthony into Williamsburg, where he can be seen again by a doctor.” He paused for a minute. “And because Jesse is leaving.”
She felt as if she had been physically struck, slammed across the face and the chest. She stood dead still, staring at Daniel. “Leaving? What do you mean, leaving?”
“Leaving, Kiernan. I don’t know when he’ll be back.”
“But I don’t understand!”
“I’ve resigned my commission, Kiernan. I’ve written and posted my letter. But Jesse isn’t resigning. He has decided that in all good conscience, he can’t.”
“No!”
Tears were forming behind her eyes, tears she wouldn’t allow herself to shed. “Where is he?”
“Probably at the house.”
She twirled around, clutching her stomach, and leaped up atop Riley. She slammed her heels hard against his side. The horse seemed to leap into the air, and then they were running again, tearing through the foliage.
She took the shortcut through the fields, through the rows and rows of spring planting. She passed the workers in the fields, felt the sun upon her face, and felt the harsh wind against her as she rode.
The stallion was hot and lathered by the time she reached the back steps.
“Jesse!” she screamed and raced up the steps.
Jigger, the Camerons’ very proper black butler, met her at the breezeway door.
“Where’s Captain Cameron, Jigger?” she demanded.
“Which one, Miss Mackay?” he asked politely.
“Doctor Cameron! Jesse!”
“Why, he done packed up, Miss Mackay. He won’t be coming back to the house.” Her face must have crumpled along with her heart, because Jigger spoke quickly. “You might still catch him down by the graveyard, Miss Mackay. He said there were still a few folks he wanted to say goodbye to.”
She twirled upon the top step and looked down the sloping lawn, over the garden, and to the cemetery.
Pegasus was standing beneath one of the heavy oak trees just outside the wrought-iron gates.
Jesse stood within, she saw. His plumed hat was in his hands, and his head was bowed.
“Jesse!” she shrieked, and tore down the steps, across the expans
e of lawn, her heart beating furiously, creating a thunder in her ears. She ran and ran, sobs tearing from her lips.
He looked up as she neared him and smiled slowly—slowly, tenderly, wistfully, and with an aching bitterness.
“Kiernan.” Her name on the breeze seemed a caress.
“Jesse!” She suddenly stopped dead still. He was on one side of the wrought-iron fence, she on the other. Her heart slammed against her chest. Her anguish must have been naked in her eyes.
“I did my best, Kiernan. God knows, I didn’t want to hurt him.” He shrugged. “I didn’t tell him anything about us. I guess he sensed something, I don’t know. But he’ll be all right.”
She nodded jerkily. She didn’t want to hear about Anthony now. She knew that he was all right.
“Jesse, you can’t ride away,” she told him.
“I have to ride away.” His smile took on a wry twist. “I don’t want to fight a duel with every friend and acquaintance I ever had.”
“Jesse!” she cried it out with pain, with anguish, with all her love.
He said softly, “Are you going to kiss me good-bye?”
He was really leaving. The crucial moment had come. He loved his home, but not enough.
And he loved her, but not enough.
“Jesse, if you leave this place now, I will hate you forever!”
He stiffened. “Kiernan, if I stayed here now, you could never really love me, for I would not be able to abide myself.”
“I hate you, Jesse Cameron! I swear, I hate you with all my heart! And I will despise you forever. No rebel enemy will ever loathe you as completely as I do now!”
He was silent for a long while. The river breeze rustled by the trees. He raised his head to look toward the river, and then the foliage, and then the house.
He glanced down to the graves of his mother and father one last time.
Then he turned and strode from the cemetery. He walked to the oak and picked up Pegasus’ reins.
Then he strode back to her and pulled her into his arms with a force to deny her any thought of protest. His lips burned her lips—no, burned into her being, like a brand of memory that would last a lifetime and beyond. It was a brief reminder of all the sweet passion that had been between them.
He was leaving. She broke free and slammed her hands against his chest, shaking, her voice trembling. “I hate you Jesse Cameron! I’ll take arms against you myself if I ever see you in the South again!” She raised a hand high again to strike him, to scratch out at him, to hurt him the way he was hurting her.
He caught her arm. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. His blue eyes were intent upon hers. “For I will love you the rest of my life.”
He released her and walked past her, leading Pegasus.
Suddenly weak, she sank down to the ground, her back her to him. She heard a soft, feminine cry and a rustle of silk and realized that Christa and Daniel had come up behind them.
“Good-bye, Jesse. Take care.”
“I’m a doctor, Christa. I’ll try to save what lives I can,” Jesse told her.
Kiernan, listening, closed her eyes tight, and the tears squeezed out. She heard Christa sob softly.
Jesse walked to his brother. Kiernan turned at last. Jesse waved a hand out to encompass the place, the house, the James River, the grand docks, the fields, the cemetery—and her.
“Take care of things, Daniel.”
“I will.”
They embraced tightly, two brothers. It was Daniel’s face that she saw, clenched tight, his jaw hard against the tears, twisted in pain.
Damn Jesse. Damn him!
Jesse released Daniel and looked back to her one more time.
“Kiernan—”
She turned away, bowing her head.
She heard his footsteps as he walked again. Heard his easy movement as he leaped atop Pegasus. Heard the hoofbeats as the horse rode away.
She looked up, her tears blinding her. “I hate you, Jesse.… I love you, Jesse,” she whispered almost in silence.
Moments later, Christa came and tried to force her to rise. She shook her head vehemently. Then Daniel was by her side, but she didn’t hear his words.
“Leave me, please!” she pleaded with both of them.
Though she knew that Daniel would not leave her, that he would be near, she felt alone as the darkness fell over the trees.
She felt numb.
But she wasn’t going to remain so, she swore to herself. She would get over Jesse. She would hate him the way she should hate an enemy.
If he ever did come back, she would take arms against him.
Her heart seemed to cry out as she sat in the growing dampness and dark of night, her head bowed before the old cemetery.
The pain washed over her, and she allowed it to.
Then she felt numb again.
At last she rose and furiously told herself that her strength was greater than his.
“Come on,” Daniel said. “I’ll take you home.”
She looked at him and wiped the last tears from her cheeks, shaking. “How can you be so calm, Daniel? He’s a traitor! He’s a Yankee, a damned Yankee.”
He smiled awkwardly. “But he’s my brother.”
“And what if you meet on a battle line?”
“Then he’s still my brother!” Daniel snapped heatedly. He sighed. “And my enemy. Hell, Kiernan, I don’t like what he’s done one bit. But I understand it. When the lines are drawn and there is no more neutral territory, a man has to fight for what he believes is right. And if he doesn’t, he ain’t no use to anybody. I understand him, and I forgive him.”
“Well, I don’t understand him,” Kiernan said icily, “and I will never forgive him!” She added softly, “Never.”
She turned from Daniel and started for the house.
He followed after her. “Kiernan, I’ll take you—”
She swung around. “Thank you, Daniel, but no. I will stand on my own from now on.”
She smoothed her fingers over her gingham skirt, squared her shoulders, and walked toward the house.
Someone had tethered Riley to a ring by the columns. She slipped the tie and mounted the stallion.
She looked out to the river, then to the house.
And then she rode away, very proud, very straight, and very much alone.
* * *
When she reached her house, her father was waiting for her once again. He was waiting upon the porch in the white-wood swing, watching the path for her.
She stiffened. He would be furious with her. She had caused a duel between two men. Thank God Anthony hadn’t been killed or seriously injured.
He stood up when he saw her. He walked down the steps and looked up at her while she was still mounted. He scanned her weary, tear-stained face reached up to help her dismount.
“A bad day, eh, girl?”
“Oh, Papa!” she whispered.
He looked into her eyes, smoothing back her hair. “I’ve heard, Kiernan, I’ve heard all about it.”
He led her up the steps, calling for someone to come and take Riley. He sat her down and slipped an arm around her, and in a moment he was pressing a glass to her lips.
“Brandy,” he said.
She looked at him through damp eyes. “You hate it when I drink.”
“Take a sip now. I’ve a dozen things to be mad with you for, girl, a dozen more this day. But I’m not mad, and I wouldn’t think of punishing you, for it seems to me that you’ve punished yourself enough already.”
She took a sip, then more than a sip. Shuddering, she swallowed it all down.
“You were right about Jesse.”
He rocked quietly for a minute. “I like Jesse Cameron. Always have, always will.”
“I hate him.”
“Yes. Well, maybe that’s for the best.”
“I don’t ever, ever want to see him again.”
John Mackay didn’t say a word to her. He just sat with his arm around her, rocking on the swing.
/> The night passed on as they sat there. John spoke at last.
“Ah, Kiernan, time will tell, eh? Many a young man we’ll not see again. For honor is a splendid thing. But blood and death are forever. And if there’s anything in this world I’m certain of, Kiernan, it’s that we’re headed for war.”
The swing creaked upon its hinges, and her father drew her close.
“War.”
Thirteen
Events suddenly moved very quickly in the Old Dominion. Virginia had officially passed her ordinance of secession on April 17, and within a week, the Confederate vice president, Alexander Stephens, arrived in Richmond to negotiate a military alliance between the Confederacy and Virginia. Stephens alluded to the possibility of Richmond becoming the Confederate capital, and the Virginia delegates quickly reached an agreement with him.
In May, the Confederate government dismantled its offices in its first capital, Montgomery, and moved to Richmond. They had chosen Richmond as a capital because of its close proximity to the approaching conflict. Only a hundred miles lay between Washington, D.C., and the new heart of the Confederacy.
John Mackay, staunch Confederate that he was, watched the happenings in his home state and shook his head. “It’s a mistake,” he told Kiernan. “Mark my words. It’s too close to the conflict. Northern armies will cross that hundred miles. There will be a bloodbath. Why, they’re already screaming, ‘On to Richmond!’ in the North. They are determined that the Confederate Congress will not convene this month.”
Kiernan, listening to him at the dinner table, smiled bitterly. “But Pa, I hear the Southern boys are going to tear up those Yanks in a matter of weeks. I’m quite sure that Richmond will be safe.”
He narrowed his eyes on her. “You’re one of the most ardent little rebels around.”
“I am,” she assured him. She moved her fingers up and down her water glass idly. “I’ve listened to some of Daniel’s friends. They’re spoiling for a fight, like little boys. They think that they’re bigger and stronger and that they can just beat the Yanks up and then everything will be fine.”