“Now, Dr. Percy, not all Yankees—” Julian began.
But Percy pounded the table again. “Damned blockade! This war isn’t over like they said it would be—it’s far from over. And it would be one thing if the enemy just went after the arms that were being shipped in, but when they take our laudanum, our morphine, our quinine—”
“It’s war, Percy, and there’s very little we can do about that fact,” Julian told him.
A few minutes later, as coffee was being served, Julian was called back to the hospital. When both Percy and Alaina began to join him, Julian protested. “The fellow has a Christmas-is-coming croup, and I can manage on my own. Enjoy your coffee.”
When Julian left, Percy sat back, still disgruntled. His dark eyes were very soulful, and with his collar-length thick gray hair framing his gaunt face, he looked both very old, and very sad. “More … we need more. Always more.” He looked at her, then leaned his elbows against the table, studying her eyes. “It’s my understanding that you’re from the wilds of the south, Mrs. McKenzie.”
“I grew up on a little islet—”
“In Biscayne Bay.”
She nodded, curious that he should know her background so well.
“So, Mrs. McKenzie, you know the waters down there. You know the deep water, and you know the reefs. You know the trails through to the northern section of the state.”
“Yes, of course, but—”
He leaned back. “I’ve already lost a nephew to this war,” he told her, dark eyes suddenly seeming to burn.
“I’m sorry, sir.”
“I’m sure you are. You knew him.”
“What?”
He smiled slowly, bitterly. “Captain Lewes was my sister’s boy.”
“Oh, God!” Alaina breathed. “Oh, I am sorry. He was a fine young man, truly—”
“He spoke highly of you as well,” Percy interrupted bluntly.
Alaina sat back, hands in her lap, staring at him uncomfortably.
“He called you the Moccasin.”
“Did he?”
Suddenly Percy was leaning across the table, gripping her hand tightly with his own. “We may need you again, Alaina. And, oh, Lord, but it upsets me to ask such a delicate little woman to do her part, but … it upsets me more when those boys die and I know that I can do something about it!”
“I’m not quite sure what I could possibly do at this particular time—” Alaina began carefully.
“But I do,” Percy whispered fiercely. Again he leaned closer. “Moccasin. No other name need ever be used; few people need ever know how you’re aiding the Cause….”
“But what—”
“On the right night, I slip you out of here, ostensibly to go home. Except that you sail to Freeport first, you pick up supplies from a friend of mine, a British subject, Dr. Bellamy. St. Augustine is usually ringed by Union ships, hungry, wary. You go into your Biscayne Bay, the captain lets you off with your medical supplies and whatever other contraband you’ve picked up, the captain brings in himself as best he can. Madam, you are perfect! You’ll be in little danger! If your ship is taken at sea, you identify yourself as the Panther’s wife.”
“What? Who?” Alaina demanded.
Percy arched a brow and looked as if he were about to spit with fury. “Your husband, Madam, has been tearing up the coast. He comes in, attacks, steals our weapons, our supplies, and is gone again. He prowls the damned swamps and forests; no one ever sees him until it’s too late, no one ever seems able to follow him. He moves like lightning. He and his men have hit from South Carolina to Texas; they’ve slipped in to survey fortifications and report on the number of troops and their exact locations. He’s been dubbed the Panther by the boys trying to hold some sanity in this wretched and abandoned state! But don’t you see—as his wife, ma’am, you would be sacred cargo to any Union officers who accosted you. And you need be guilty of nothing more than going home. You’ll be invaluable, too, in negotiating with those foreigners willing to quietly help us.”
Alaina looked down at her hands, feeling numb. They had to have medicines. She couldn’t bear seeing the horror she had seen as a result of the attack on the Annie May. Death and dismemberment were terrible enough without added deaths because the right medications couldn’t be had.
“Does my brother-in-law know about any of this?” she asked softly.
Percy shook his head. “No. And you do, of course, have every right to refuse me. But you won’t, will you?”
That night, she dreamed about soldiers dying. She heard a woman crying, sobbing her heart out. A grieving mother.
She opened her eyes and cried out.
She jumped out of bed and hurried to Sean’s crib. He was sleeping peacefully. She woke him up and he howled in protest in her arms. She would die if anything ever happened to Sean.
At the hospital the next day, she told Percy that she’d be glad to do whatever she could.
“So the Moccasin is born!” Percy said softly. “You will have nothing, nothing to fear.”
She didn’t protest, nor did she tell Percy that his nephew had once told her the same thing.
And that was exactly why she was so very frightened.
Chapter 24
Right before Christmas, Julian was given leave, and he, Lilly, Sean, and Alaina made their way across the state to Cimarron.
It was an interesting homecoming, for Jarrett was absolutely against secession and the war, and despite the fact that his beloved home sat in the Deep South, he was a profound Unionist.
Alaina was aware that Julian, usually so confident and self-assured, was quiet as they crossed the river by ferry. He stood watching his father, who stood with Tara and Tia at the dock. She realized that he was actually shaking.
But when they stepped from the ferry, he was instantly engulfed by his mother’s arms. Tara’s hug was brief, however, and then she was kissing Alaina’s cheek and sweeping her first grandchild from Alaina’s arms. Alaina stepped back and saw the way that Jarrett and Julian looked at one another. But then Jarrett McKenzie opened his arms and embraced his son. Both men were snaking then, and she thought she heard a sob of relief escape Julian, and she turned away, afraid that she might burst into tears herself. When she composed herself, Julian and Tia were hugging one another tightly, and she felt a bit like an intruder. She wasn’t a real McKenzie.
But a minute later, Tia was embracing her just as warmly as any blood relation, and a minute after that, she found her father-in-law studying her with his mahogany eyes intent. “Well, daughter, I suppose I must accept your Rebel status as well, though I fear you have sorely wounded my son. Come here, Alaina, I am delighted to see you so well!”
His hug was fierce and warm, and she blinked furiously so as not to cry. Then she found herself in her mother-in-law’s arms and she was able to ask softly, “Have you heard from Ian?”
And Tara nodded solemnly. “We have friends, you know, who get letters through. He is well, though I live in terror for him daily. He plays such a dangerous game! But then… well, you are here now, my dear, and we cannot be happier. Two of our children home for Christmas, our daughter-in-law—and grandson! My God, Jarrett, we’re grandparents! How did we ever get so old?” she queried, at a loss. Jarrett smiled at her and assured her, “We’re not old, my love, merely experienced.”
Tia sniffed, they all laughed, and they went to the house, where Jarrett, Tara, and Tia inspected the baby, delighted, from head to toe. Sean, being nearly a year old and well up on his own feet, was somewhat indignant, but he seemed to recognize his own family, so he quickly made himself at home at Cimarron. Alaina realized that should they all survive the war, one day Cimarron would be her child’s inheritance. One day, in fact, it should be her home.
She closed her eyes. It would never be. Life would never be the same again, because her husband was not just the enemy, he was the Panther. And coming to breakfast one morning, she heard her father-in-law tell Julian that the only reason Cimarron hadn’t
been burned to the ground was that he had his own excellent crew of men to protect the property—and because Julian was known as one of the few Reb surgeons who could really save lives.
After a lovely Christmas day of laughter and exchanging gifts, Alaina and her mother-in-law were alone together in Ian’s room—a strange place for Alaina to sleep without Ian, for she kept remembering the night of their marriage, so long ago now—a different time, a different world.
“I wish you’d stay with us,” Tara said.
Alaina didn’t look up. She kept her eyes carefully concealed. “I need to go back with Julian. I think I’m helpful to him. And I want to go home, I need to see Belamar.”
“I believe your husband might think that you were safer here,” Tara said with just a touch of reproach.
Alaina inhaled, then looked at her mother-in-law at last and exhaled on a long note. “I’m sorry, but there are so many things … I believe in the South’s right to be independent. And I can’t forget … I can’t forget what happened to my father. And since then there’s been more. I can’t be a Unionist, but like Julian, maybe I can just help the injured. And I’m sorry, so sorry about Ian, and I—” she broke off and sat by Tara, clutching her hands. “Did he say anything about me? I tried to write him; Julian said that he could get a letter to him. I haven’t heard back, I don’t know—”
“He’s very angry with you,” Tara admitted.
“But—”
Tara smiled suddenly. “But I think he loves you. And when I see you now, I think you love him, too.” She reached out and stroked Alaina’s cheek. “Love has a way—-even in the face of war,” she said softly. “I wish I could convince you to stay, but I can’t. So we’ll all just pray… we’ll pray for peace,” she said.
The women hugged one another warmly.
It was difficult to say good-bye but eventually they were on the road back across the state. Florida had built up enough so that they were able to stop at small towns along the way—and pass through militia encampments. Just after New Year’s, their carriage brought them back to St. Augustine.
Within two weeks, just after Sean’s first birthday, Percy came to see Alaina. A Confederate ship had slipped into the coast south of the city, and she would be able to take it home.
Both Julian and Tia were against her decision to take a trip home to Belamar. “Alaina—you will be on a blockade runner!” Tia reminded her.
“If the ship is taken, nothing will happen to me,” Alaina assured them.
“I’d sit on you like a mother duck if it would keep you here,” Julian told her.
“Please, Julian, I need to see my own home. I want to see Jennifer, and your aunt and uncle, and Jerome. Please understand.”
“Well, I don’t understand,” Julian said curtly.
“But you can’t stop me.”
“I just might try,” he warned.
In the end, Alaina had her way and left Sean with Tia and Lilly. Julian and Tia escorted her to the ship, and the captain, a fine old seaman named Nasby, promised that Alaina would be escorted all the way to Biscayne Bay; she wouldn’t be alone or in danger for a minute. Instead, once they had traveled an hour due south, the ship turned and headed for the Bahamas.
They were steam-powered, and despite the blockade, they reached Freeport within forty-eight hours. At her rendezvous with Dr. Bellamy, Alaina discovered that she wasn’t just to procure medicines. Nearly eighty years old if he was a day, Dr. Bellamy was a good Southern gentleman residing in Freeport. He insisted that she stay for a dinner he was having for some British diplomats. She wore a dark wig as disguise, but dressed for the occasion, and did her very best to persuade the men that their country must recognize the Confederacy, and furthermore, they should come to the aid of Rebels, showing the Union that world opinion was with the South.
When she was due to leave the next morning, Dr. Bellamy was delighted with her. “My dear, the gentlemen have done nothing but talk about your beauty and passion.” He winked. “They all wanted to know who you were, but they will never find out! We have assured them that you are a patriotic Rebel and that we can say no more. Ah, my dear Moccasin! I do look forward to a long and illustrious acquaintanceship! Take the greatest care.”
When she left him, she carried leather satchels filled with important medicines, and a tremendous feeling of satisfaction.
On the way to Nasby’s ship, she and her guard, in civilian clothing, stopped by a dockside tavern while the men purchased produce, whiskey, wine, and supplies for the voyage back. Alaina, in her overcoat and dark wig, sat at a back table sipping coffee. She was startled when she realized that the men at the table behind her were Union navy—and that they were talking about an attack that was to made on her ship. They knew that a Reb schooner was in the vicinity, and they meant to catch it on the open water.
Alaina rose at a leisurely pace and slipped from the tavern, hurrying to warn Captain Nasby. He was startled, but pleased with her information.
They postponed their sailing for a night, then started back across the sea, free of Union gunboats.
Alaina was still flush with her victory when she was set down in the bay off Belamar Isle. When she came ashore with her escort, she was instantly challenged by a harsh voice: “Who is it?”
“Alaina McMann McKenzie!” she called out.
“Alaina?”
Her boat slid into the sand on the beach. She stepped out and was instantly engulfed in Jennifer’s arms. Her escort quietly rowed back to his ship, and she accompanied Jennifer back to the house.
Alaina’s first night home, she sat with Jennifer, James, and Teela—and lied. She didn’t say a word about her own war efforts. She told them that she was going back to St. Augustine, but planned to come back and forth frequently.
Jennifer couldn’t stop describing the battle that had killed her husband, and Alaina realized that James and Teela were here with her because they must still be worried about her state of mind. Jennifer wanted to know all about Washington, Richmond, and South Carolina. How were they doing in St. Augustine? The South had to win the war.
The next morning they were out on the beach, entirely alone. Jennifer looked around carefully before telling Alaina excitedly, “I’m so grateful to be doing my part. By this afternoon, a company of militia will arrive on the mainland. They’ll take you—and your contraband!— back to St. Augustine.”
“Oh, my God!” Alaina breathed. “You’re—you’re my contact?”
Jennifer laughed. “Of course! Of course! Oh, Alaina, what did you think? That I could just sit back and watch the war after what happened to Lawrence? I’d die before I’d be helpless! And now you’re part of it all, too! Oh, Alaina, I’m so happy, so pleased. Isn’t it wonderful to be doing so much for our fighting men?”
Alaina was carrying morphine, quinine, and laudanum. Her ship had brought in arms as well, but she didn’t want to think about that. She had to remember Captain Lewes, and that he had died. She had to remember all the other noble Confederate soldiers. She had to force herself to forget the man who had surely come to despise her by now. Her husband.
Alaina had been back in St. Augustine about a week and was on her way from the general store when she was startled to find herself hailed by soldier in a plumed slouch hat.
She stood still, frowning, feeling just a shade of unease, as she watched the man rush over to her. “Alaina, Alaina!”
“Peter!” she cried in return, startled, but not alarmed to see him. With the war, everything that had happened at Cimarron that long-ago day now seemed like child’s play.
“Captain Peter O’Neill,” he said, offering her his best smile and sweeping his hat from his head.
“Yes, of course, Peter. You look well. Congratulations, I’m happy that you seem so… pleased.”
He smiled, reaching for her hands, pulling her close to kiss her cheek, then drawing away to study the length of her. “Oh, Alaina! You do grow more beautiful every time I see you!”
“T
hank you, Peter. You look fit, and seem to be in fine humor as well.”
“Ah, yes, I am in good humor. I’m Florida cavalry— and quite proud of it. We’re the most dashing, you know—but the governor complains that every man in the state who owned a pony wanted to be dashing and daring at the state’s expense. However, my dear Alaina, your friend here is among the finest horsemen in the state. You’ll have to forgive my lack of modesty, please! And besides, my father and I have put a great deal of money into financing our own company, and thus we are in high demand.”
“I’m so glad.”
He smiled, staring at her wistfully. “So you have left your husband?” he asked her hopefully.
She stiffened. Peter’s eyes instantly filled with alarm, and he murmured quickly, “I’m so sorry, Alaina, I’m trying to be friends, it’s just that… well, I admit to a jealousy of him. I was wrong, so wrong where you were concerned, and still …”
“Ummm,” Alaina murmured. “How’s Elsie?”
Peter grew more somber. “You hadn’t heard?”
“Heard what, Peter?”
“Elsie passed away about six months ago. Typhoid fever.”
“Oh, Peter, I’m so sorry.” She was sorry, truly sorry. Poor Elsie, who had been so terribly young!
“Thank you. So was I,” Peter said, and he sounded quite earnest.
She couldn’t help but feel a surge of pity for him. “Healing takes a very long time. I know.”
“Yes, of course, you lost your father. Well, I do fear that if this war keeps up, the entire country will know the pain and devastation of loss.”
“I’m afraid I have to agree. I saw the Union soldiers returning to Washington after Manassas, and—”
“Don’t think about it. Not now. You’re home. In the Confederacy.” He hesitated, then smiled broadly, with a tremendous amount of pride, as if she were somehow his creation, and said very quietly, “Rumor is that you were part of the mechanism that helped save Southern soldiers at Manassas.”