His most remarkable feature, hazel eyes flecked with gold, radiated warmth and trust.
Ha. As if a Reb could be trusted.
A further annoyance was the fluttering in her middle when she’d grabbed his hand. Fear? No, she didn’t think so. Something she’d rather not consider. She had no choice but to trust him. He’d saved her life, and hopefully her leg as well. As grateful as she felt, her discomfort at his presence would not ease until she saw his back for the last time.
“Mama, why are you mad at my friend?” Amelia’s sad eyes met hers.
“I’m not mad at him, honey. I think he’s a very nice man for taking care of me while I’m sick.”
“I know.” Her eyes widened as she shook her head. “And he made scrambled eggs so I didn’t have to eat oatmeal.”
Rosemarie smiled. She doubted Hans would have made scrambled eggs to keep the little girl happy. Although a hard worker and good provider, there had been nothing soft in her dead husband’s nature. Definitely the “spare the rod and spoil the child” sort, the only time his hands touched their children was when he spanked them. Not that he spanked them often. Good children by nature, they required little discipline. After the child’s experience with men, Rosemarie found it amazing that Amelia seemed to accept the Reb so easily.
“Mama, me and Mr. McCoy are going hunting today.” Chandler entered the parlor, his eyes alight with wonder.
Rosemarie’s eyebrows furrowed. “Your papa didn’t think you were old enough to hunt yet.”
Chandler nodded. “I know, but Mr. McCoy said as the man of the family now, I have to make sure everyone eats.” He drew himself up, a sense of pride in his smile.
“That’s right. You need to help your family with your pa gone.” Daniel ruffled the boy’s hair as he passed, then headed to the sofa. “Your bed is ready now, ma’am.”
Once more, he scooped her up and carried her to bed. All of this carrying about would never do. She was too aware of his muscles, his strength. And of the fact that she wore only a nightgown, little protection from the Reb’s comforting warmth.
After he set her on the fresh sheet, a growing need in her lower parts had her shifting on the bed.
Daniel watched her, his large hands on his hips. “Is your leg hurting? If I slip a pillow under it, the pain might ease a bit.”
How to tell this stranger she needed the chamber pot? “Um, yes my leg hurts, but there’s something else.”
He waited for her to continue, his eyebrows raised.
“I, ah.” She stiffened, and raised her chin. “I need the chamber pot.”
Daniel’s lip twitched, but he quickly re-arranged his features. “Oh. Yes. I’m sorry. Where is it?”
She closed her eyes, wishing he would disappear. “Under the bed.”
He pulled out the pink and white flowered lidded bowl and handed the container to her. “I’ll send Chandler in to help you.”
Rosemarie nodded once, her face hot with mortification.
She took care of her business, and winced with pain as she climbed back into bed with her son’s help. Chandler left as she settled in.
A wave of exhaustion washed over her as she rested against the pillow. No matter how embarrassing the situation, she had to trust the Reb enough to let him stay a day or so. She was tired. So very tired. Her eyes drifted closed.
• • •
Several minutes after Chandler had returned from Rosemarie’s room, Daniel tapped on the door. No answer. He turned the knob, then peeked into the room. Rosemarie lay on the bed, eyes closed, her chest moving softly up and down. He moved closer and rested the backs of his fingers on her forehead. The fever had returned, along with a slight flush to her cheeks.
“Is Ma okay?” Chandler stood outside the door, the rifle clutched in his hands.
“She’s sleeping right now. Where are your brother and sister?”
“They’re asleep on the floor in the parlor.” He laid the gun on the floor. “Should I carry them in here to sleep with Ma?”
“No. Having them all together might seem like a good way to keep warm, but I’m afraid they might roll into your ma and hurt her leg.”
“Ma keeps some extra blankets in there.” He pointed to a long maple chest at the foot of Rosemarie’s bed.
“Good. Fetch a couple of blankets to cover Amelia and Jace. Then you and I will be off.”
Chandler raced to do as he asked.
Daniel covered Rosemarie and studied her for a moment. So delicate, how could she keep the farm going alone? Even with her paleness, and the dark circles under her eyes, she was a pretty woman.
A rosebud mouth, high cheekbones, and dark lashes rested against her fever-flushed cheeks. The long braid of brown and gold had loosened. Wouldn’t she be surprised to have him offer to brush and rebraid her hair? He’d oftentimes done that for his stepmother when she suffered one of her headaches.
He’d been overcome with anger when he visited his family’s horse ranch a couple of years ago, when his regiment had marched through Virginia.
His stepmother had sold the McCoy land — his birthright. He’d tracked her down to a decrepit boarding house where she was living out her last days, suffering from consumption. It didn’t take much for him to forgive her when she’d explained how, with both sons gone, she had to sell the land to pay the taxes. The tiny bit left from the sale barely kept a roof over her head and food in her stomach.
When he realized what little thought he and his brother had given to his stepmother when they both rushed off to war, anxious to prove themselves as men, guilt consumed him.
He’d held her hand and kissed her dry cheek before returning to the battle. Knowing it was the last time he’d see her, he left her bedside with tears standing in his eyes. His land gone, his stepmother hovering near death, and his brother fighting with the enemy. It took weeks to work out the depression that had descended.
He shoved the memories to the back of his mind and joined Chandler waiting impatiently on the porch. They headed down the steps, the rifle clutched in Daniel’s hand.
Once behind the cleared area of the house and past the grove of pear and apple trees, they entered a heavily wooded section of land. Large elm and oak trees provided shade from the meager winter sun.
“What kind of animals are we huntin’?” Chandler skipped alongside him, his warm breath visible in the cold air.
“Since it’s late in the day, I think we’ll be lucky to get a couple of rabbits.” He smiled at the boy. “Do you like rabbit stew?”
“Yes, sir. Mama fixes that a lot. Pa used to bring home heaps of rabbits.”
“What else did he hunt?”
“Deer, mostly. Once he shot a pig, but Ma said it probably belonged to Mr. Macey, and got mad when Pa wouldn’t return it.”
Daniel smiled at the bit of family gossip. What had Hans Wilson been like? Based on the man’s grave marker, he’d been forty-three when he died. Even with the haggard look from her illness, Rosemarie had to be no more than twenty-four or five.
Chandler turned and walked backwards. “Mr. McCoy, why do you have slaves?”
“I don’t have slaves, never did.”
“Pa said all Rebs owned slaves and beat and starved them.”
Daniel grabbed the boy’s shoulder before he walked into a small birch tree. “Not all Southerners have slaves. My family owned a horse ranch in Virginia for many years, and we never had even one slave.”
“You calling my pa a liar?” Chandler’s back stiffened.
Daniel sighed and squatted in front of the boy. “No, not a liar, but misinformed.”
Chandler’s eyes narrowed. “What’s that mean?”
Daniel took his cap off, ran his fingers through his hair, then settled it back on his head. “Some people in the South have slaves, mostly those who have large plantations.”
Chandler’s brows drew together. “What’s a plantation?”
“Like a farm. But most people in the South don’t have slaves, don’t want them, and couldn’t afford to buy one if they wanted to.” He placed his hand on the child’s shoulder and rose. “The Confederacy is not fighting for slaves, although that’s part of it. We’re fighting for states’ rights.”
“What’s that mean?”
“It means we don’t want the federal government, the people in Washington, telling us in Virginia how to live, what to do.”
“You a teacher, Mr. McCoy?”
Daniel smiled. “No.”
Chandler shrugged. “You sure sound like one.”
Side by side, they continued on for a while, the cold air reddening their cheeks. Chandler glanced up at Daniel. “Do you miss your pa, and your horse ranch?”
Daniel shrugged and turned to the boy. “My pa’s dead. So’s my ma. And with me and my brother gone off to war, she had to sell the horse farm.”
Chandler digested the information, then said, “Does that make you feel sad?”
He smiled at the concern on the young boy’s face. “Yes. I do feel sad. But a man has to move on when things don’t go the way he wants.”
“I have an idea,” Chandler said, his eyes lighting up. “You can stay here with us, and take care of Ma and our farm.”
Daniel winced at the hope in the boy’s eyes. “Staying here does sound like a good idea, but we’re in the middle of a war, and I have to return to my regiment. Once your ma is feeling better, I’ll have to leave.”
“My pa said he wouldn’t leave his family to fight a bunch of slave-loving Rebs.”
Daniel chuckled and shook his head. “Well, your pa had a family to provide for. I don’t.”
“We can be your family.” The words came out soft and hesitant.
Before he could answer, Chandler held out his hand and pulled on Daniel’s cuff. Then he pointed off in the distance. “Rabbits.”
Several rabbits stood still, only their whiskers twitching. A rabbit den must be close by. Daniel raised his index finger to his lips and shook his head.
Chandler nodded his understanding and stood perfectly still. After studying the small animals, Daniel bent on one knee and raised the firearm, aiming for the largest one. A quick shot scattered the group of rabbits, and the largest one lay on the ground, blood seeping from its head.
“You got ’em!” Chandler shouted, and raced to where the animal lay. He picked the body up, and held the dripping carcass out, a bright smile on his face.
Daniel slung the rifle over his shoulder and joined him.
“Are we gonna shoot some more?” the boy asked, hopping from foot to foot.
“Not today. I’m a little nervous with your ma back there all alone with the two little ones.”
“Oh, that’s right.” Chandler grinned. “We’re the men, and we have to protect them.”
Daniel ruffled the boy’s hair. “Indeed we do. It’s our job to make sure the women-folk are safe.”
Why did his comment feel so good? He’d always known one day he would have a wife and hopefully a family. He shook his head at his foolishness. The boy’s words had affected him. Now was certainly not the time, nor place, to be thinking along those lines. He needed to remove himself from enemy territory and rejoin his regiment. Besides, Rosemarie Wilson despised him, and most likely would fill him full of buckshot if he wasn’t gone in a few days.
He grinned. The best part of this whole package would be that fiery woman confined to bed. She was all spit and vinegar, but the softness in her seeped out when she dealt with her children. Had her husband seen that soft side too? It was too bad Daniel couldn’t stick around to find out. In fact, given the attraction he was beginning to feel, he best beat a path as far away from her as possible.
Daniel slapped the gutted rabbit on the table and hung the rifle over the fireplace. “I’m gonna check on your ma. Can you go out back to the few hens left and collect whatever eggs are there?”
Chandler nodded and raced out the door.
Rosemarie tossed on the bed, her mass of brown and gold hair tangling as she moved. Daniel approached the bed and checked her forehead for fever. It had spiked again.
“Hans?” Her voice barely rose above a whisper.
“No, Rosemarie. It’s Daniel.”
Her brow furrowed. “Thirsty.”
“Give me a minute to bring you something to drink and cool you down. I’ll be right back.” He touched his fingertips to her arm, and she stopped moving. Her dry skin seeped heat into his fingers.
After retrieving the pan of water from the floor, he strode down the hallway to the kitchen.
Awake from their nap, Jace and Amelia had settled themselves at the kitchen table, watching him carefully. Chandler added eggs to the bowl from the pocket he’d made with the front of his shirt. “How’s Ma?”
Three pairs of eyes turned to him. “Her fever’s returned. I’ll have to bathe her again.” Daniel pumped fresh water into the pan and glanced over his shoulder.
Chandler frowned. “What about the rabbit?”
“I don’t suppose you know how to skin it?”
The boy shook his head, his face paling. “No. Ma always did that stuff.”
“All right, I’ll do it when I’m finished with your ma.” He nodded in the direction of the basket sitting on the floor. “Why don’t y’all wash those vegetables and set them into a pot of water? We’ll add the rabbit in a little bit.”
Daniel grabbed the cloths left drying next to the sink, then carefully carried the pan of water down the hall. As he reached the doorway, he turned and called out. “Bring your ma a glass of water, please?” Then he ducked under the doorjamb and headed to the bed.
When the bed dipped as he sat alongside her, she opened her eyes. “Where are my children?”
“Chandler is fetching you a glass of water. Jace and Amelia are in the kitchen.”
“What are you doing here? I thought I told you to leave.” Her sore lips barely moved. He had to bend close to her mouth to hear what she whispered.
“You people sure know how to welcome visitors.”
Her lips twitched.
“You need help, ma’am, and your children require someone to watch over them while you’re laid up.”
“Ma?” Chandler stood alongside the bed, glass in hand. “Do you feel better?”
She nodded and reached for the water.
Daniel slid his hand under her head, and eased her up so she could drink.
“Not too much,” he said after she’d taken a few sips.
She handed the glass back to Chandler. “You taking care of your brother and sister?” Rosemarie’s voice had eased with the water.