Surrender the Wind (35 page)

Marrying Catherine, John had a responsibility for her family. What she and her brother asked for was a lot. To commit treason? To take her brother, a prisoner of war, across lines? The dilemma was against his core beliefs and everything he fought for. He could be hanged for such an act against the Confederacy.

John made his decision.

“You do realize I could be executed for this,” John said, reentering his tent.

“I know,” Shawn admitted. “I appreciate what you are doing more than you realize. I’ll owe you my life.”

“I only want your sister.” John made passes to get them through the pickets.

“You’re a fine man, General Rourke. Odd this war…” Shawn shook his head. “Catherine and I have both married southerners.”

“I’m risking being taken as a prisoner by the Union Army, that’s if I’m successful moving you close enough without getting shot,” John said.

“I have numerous political acquaintances and influences that would not allow that to happen,” Shawn smiled.

John remembered the guest list Dr. Parks had mentioned. The Fitzgerald’s were well connected but despite those connections, Mr. Lincoln would have a different opinion.

“We have exactly forty-eight hours. I’ll have two horses saddled. Wear this over your uniform.” John tossed Shawn his gray greatcoat. “Be ready in an hour…best to leave under cloak of darkness.”

“Two horses? I’m going too,” Catherine stated.

“No. You will not leave this camp. Under no uncertain terms will I subject you to danger.” John looked to Shawn for support to halt the firestorm brewing.

“It would be easier to change the orbital velocity of the moon,” Shawn said, and then spoke to his sister. “You need to listen, Catherine. Your husband wants you safe.”

Catherine sniffed and reached inside her husband’s jacket, trying to convince him in other ways the practicality of taking her.

John was no fool, and despite the erotic tenderness with which her hands stroked up and down his back, beckoning him, he wanted her out of harm’s way. “There is only one thing that will quiet you.” He kissed her long and hard and when he stopped, he turned her face up to his to see the rosy blush forming. That’s the way he wanted to remember her.

Catherine waited twenty minutes after John and her brother departed. Cloaked in a greatcoat, her hair tucked under a slouch hat and pulled low to hide her face, she presented a pass with her husband’s forged signature and breezed through the pickets. She had to follow. She had to make sure both of them were kept safe. The idea was foolish but she would not let John risk his life. If the northern commanders captured him she would be there to help him.

The moon rose big and full, illuminating the landscape. She tapped her horse into a cantor. When John and her brother came into view, she slowed, keeping far enough behind to stay undetected. Her husband skirted towns and farms, anywhere they might be seen. Her back ached and her eyes drooped. To keep awake, she watched the brilliant July moon cast its long silvery shadows, waxing and waning in its journey across the night’s sky. Dawn approached as well as noon with the sun torridly hot and reaching its zenith. When John and Shawn rested and watered their horses, she dismounted and pulled down the bridle, patting the horse’s forehead. So far she had been unnoticed and wanted to keep it that way.

“You can come out, Catherine. We know you’ve been following us,” said John.

Cringing, she led her horse by the reins down a steep slope until she stood in front of her husband. He had his arms folded in front of him.

“Your father should have worn out a hickory stick on you. As it is now, I’m half-attempted to perform the duty myself. I do remember giving you express orders to stay in camp. Is it too difficult for you to remember, or is it pure disobedience that compels you to go against my every wish?”

Her fingers clenched the reins. “If you think that I am going to let you endure any hardship because of me, then you have another think coming. You need my help.”

John gave her a sardonic look. “Amazing how I’ve managed to make it through this war without
your
help. It’s too late to take you back. Now I have the extra burden of your safety to consider.” He grabbed her in his arms and kissed her fully and lingeringly. Her response was warm and eager, and it was a long, long moment before a polite clearing of her brother’s throat interrupted them. John raised his head and her eyelids opened, her breath trembled from her parted lips. As if drawn away from a trance, she turned to see Shawn smiling.

“I believe you two need time off for a honeymoon, but I’d like to proceed.” Shawn jerked his head in a northerly direction.

The ground beneath them thundered. A band of men coming out of the woods, rode at an unbreakable speed toward them. John and Shawn cursed.

“They have no uniforms,” Shawn noted.

John grimaced. “This isn’t good. I’ll handle it. “They’re probably home-guard militia. Catherine, take cover in the trees.”

Ice ran through John’s veins. He ambled up close enough to get a clear shot to kill several of the men at once. Shawn followed his lead, backing his horse around to use as a shield, a repeater rifle balanced in his arms. A small army. Twenty to two. Easy. Thirty feet in front, the men fanned around them. Eyes on him, blank and unwavering. Not the toughest, John had ever seen. Rough lives, and perpetual conflict in their ancestry. They weren’t going to swoon if he shouted
Boo
. They didn’t have the customary war-torn look of the home-guard. Every available man in Virginia was in the military or would have been home attending the family farm at this hour. Yet these dandified, young bucks were out joyriding. He glanced over his shoulder. Good. Catherine was well-concealed. He didn’t want her caught in the crossfire.

“How can we help you gentlemen?” John said. No one answered. Not an encouraging sign. How many could he pick off in the first ten seconds?

“Mallory,” Catherine screamed. John swung around. Mallory held a revolver to her head.

“I’ve missed you, Catherine.” Mallory jerked her up in front of him. “Interesting our meeting. “General Rourke, I have particular hatred for your family. Your meddling brother, Colonel Lucas Rourke in Washington was going to arrest me, and has run me out of my country. I gave him the slip. And then dear sweet, Catherine Fitzgerald, I offered to marry her and make an honest woman of her. What repayment do I get? She runs run off with some Rebel scum. You Rourke’s have destroyed my plans, but I vow I’ll get everything back. I’ll have it all. The Fitzgerald fortune will be mine. Without witnesses there can be no trial.”

There were several trained guns on them, all Mallory’s thugs. John relished a good fight. But Mallory had his gun on Catherine. “Don’t lay a hand on her. I’ll kill you.”

“That’s ungenerous of you. I’ll take your guns for that.” Mallory laughed, his black eyes alive. “No need for things to get messy with the young lady present.”

His clothes were muddy and his horse was beat. He was on the run and a man on the run was desperate.

“Don’t give up your guns,” Catherine pleaded. Mallory twisted her arm behind her back.

John took a step toward Mallory. The bastard would pay. A rifle barrel jabbed in his midsection. Mallory’s goons. He nodded to Shawn to lay down his gun. Two ropes were slung over the stoutest branch of an oak.

“I take pleasure from hanging men. To let your entrails become fodder for the crows.”

John glared at him. “To have you digest twenty inches of my steel would give me pleasure.”

“My only regret, General Rourke, is that I wish I could hang you twenty times over.”

Shawn and John were mounted, their hands tied behind their back. The horses pranced nervously beneath. Nooses roped around their necks.

Like a cat with a mouse, Mallory toyed with his prey. “Shawn, you turn up like a bad penny. I had taken care of you before, but you escaped. This time I’ll be sure to make it permanent.”

“You’ll meet your end, and I’ll dance on your grave when you do,” Shawn spat.

“Brave words from a man who is about to meet his maker,” Mallory sneered.

“You are insane. You’ll never get away with it. What have you done with my uncle?” Catherine stomped on his boot and bit his hand.

Mallory slapped her. Her head snapped back. “He’s dead, and so is Agatha, your stepmother. It was a pleasure tightening my hands around her fat throat, her eyes bulging as she breathed her last breath. Remember my sweet. Do you still have the bruises?”

The bastard dared to lay his hand on his wife. Rage burst through John’s veins and he curled his lips back in a snarl, “You won’t get far. I have an army of four thousand camped over the hill and cavalry riding round to meet me any second,” he bluffed. Mallory blanched then marched Catherine forward until they were ten paces.

“I love you,” she mouthed.

“Touching,” Mallory gloated in anticipation of the hanging. “We’re all Robinson Crusoes. All on our own little islands. Do you wish to know what I intend to do with Catherine?” Mallory told John carelessly, and gestured toward his men. “After I have had my way with her and grow tired, my men will have a turn. Then I’ll sail with her to the Indies, and sell her to the highest bidder. The prostitutes do not last long. Most meet with a premature death.”

From far atop the crest of a hill, a whole host of Reb Cavalry bore down across the meadow. Mallory froze in terror. At once, his goons started shooting. Rabble compared to the experienced Rebels. A whole barrage of answering gunfire ensued. Most of Mallory’s men pitched forward in the dirt, the Reb sharpshooters meeting their mark.

Shawn and John’s horses danced, the fear of gunfire frightening them. The rope whipsawed against his neck. He kneed his mount into submission.

Mallory screamed for his men to do the deed. The cowards who weren’t shot fled. Mallory scrambled forward. Catherine clawed at him, ripped at his coat, trying to keep him from the horses. He backhanded her, sending her flying across the embankment. How John wished he could get free and wrap his fingers around Mallory’s neck. Mallory slapped the horses’ flanks.

“No!” Catherine’s scream pierced the air.

Both horses reared and bolted. John felt the weight of his body draw on the noose. Shots fired. He and Shawn crashed to the ground. The sharpshooters had diced the ropes. Mallory flew into the woods. Catherine knelt beside John. A Rebel Cavalry officer pulled up. He threw a knife from his boot on the ground and Catherine cut them loose.

“I see your timing is impeccable,” John smiled. “Almost too close, brother.”

“Why is it I seem to be fishing you out of trouble, General Rourke?” Ryan asked.

“I’ve been pondering that thought myself.” John rubbed his neck. “But there is a bigger fish I’m angling for, a dark haired dandy who disappeared in the woods. Make sure your men hunt him down. I want him alive.”

Colonel Ryan Rourke gestured with his hand to his men. With a Rebel yell they plunged into the woods like hounds after a fox, and in a matter of seconds, found Mallory and the rest of his thugs.

John faced Mallory as he came out of the woods. His brother’s men prodded him with their bayonets. A dead tree branch tripped him. He went sprawling face down in the dirt, his neatly curved mustache of which he was so vain, gone askew. The Rebel cavalrymen stood him up, his face mottled with rage and desperation.

Another band of men came galloping across the meadow, the colors of their flag evident of their allegiance—Union cavalry.

“Damn!” Rourke cursed. “Catherine, there’s going to be a bloodbath here in seconds. You ride south. Get to my camp. You’ll be protected. No argument and do not disobey me this time.” He lifted her onto a horse and slapped the animal’s rear.

Colonel Ryan Rourke rallied his Rebels into offensive position, ready to charge. Across the meadow, an older man with a shock of white hair flowing wildly in the wind like some ancient Irish warrior urged his mount far ahead of the Union soldiers. John smirked. Mallory had lied.

“Uncle Charlie,” Catherine cried from behind him and plunged her horse into the center of the meadow before John could stop her.

“Halt,” ordered Rourke. His jaw clenched, his wife in the center of two armies. “Hold your fire,” he commanded. He ticked off seconds. Any moment there would be engagement.

Father Callahan held a white handkerchief high over his head and waved it for both sides to see.

John’s stomach turned rock hard. “What on earth is that fool woman doing?”

Shawn answered for him. “Father Callahan and that foolish sister of mine are trying to prevent a battle.”

He grabbed Ryan’s binoculars. A whole Yank Cavalry spoiled for a fight.

“Doesn’t look good,” Ryan commented to his brother. “They’re in range. I’m going to have to start firing to protect my men.”

Without answering, John climbed up on a horse and galloped to the center of the field. Both sides had their firearms raised. There was a deafening silence marked with only a gentle wind that wafted and lifted through the field of wheat. Tenuous strands of wind. Rourke’s heart hammered in his chest. Would Father Callahan’s crude symbol of truce be respected? No way out. He reached Catherine and nodded to Father Callahan.

“What the hell do you propose to do to get us out of this mess?” John demanded.

“Leave that to me,” Father Callahan said.

Leadership from the Yank Cavalry rode up, obliging Father Callahan’s flag of truce. “Lucas?” John blinked.

“Couldn’t miss all the fun,” said Lucas. “Besides it’s dull in Washington. Mrs. Rourke, it’s so good to see you again.” He nodded in her direction.

General Rourke was not in the mood for social pleasantries. He let Father Callahan take the lead. A Yank Captain joined them with a sour expression directed toward the priest. Ryan pulled up beside John. Both sides crowded nearer. Every soldier tensed, listening for battle to begin.

John prayed to a higher power, his hand on his revolver. Father Callahan better give the best sermon of his life.

“Gentlemen of the North and South,” Father Callahan greeted, gesturing with his splayed hands to both parties. “We are here on a mission to arrest a single fiend who has escaped the north.” His voice rose loud, clear, and booming, his Irish lilt mesmerizing. “This is not a day for war but for settling a justice.” He pointed to Mallory who was apprehended between two Rebels. “We have come for him and wish to retire without further bloodshed.”