Legacies (24 page)

"A man's pride is a fragile thing, Susannah." Reverend Cole came over to stand beside her. "Sometimes it is the only protection he has. But it can be easily wounded. Men may appear insensitive—invincible even—but I assure you, my dear child, we aren't."

"You think I was churlish."

"Nothing cuts the ground out from under a man quicker than a woman's tongue." He walked over to the fire and began scattering the coals.

 

 

 

15

 

 

The next morning, they rose at first light. After a cold breakfast, Susannah stowed their camp equipment and bedrolls in the wagon while Reverend Cole harnessed the team. Finishing her chores before he did, she went over to help. Then she saw Lieutenant Lassiter crossing the small clearing toward her. He looked different in the daylight. Then she realized why. He had shaved.

Last night he had looked like the roughest kind of outlaw. This morning he looked like a man of purpose and pride.

She stared at his hard, lean features, finding not a hint of softness in them. Last night she had sensed the strength in his face. Now it was positively potent.

When he reached her, Rans took off his hat and raked a hand quickly through his hair. "If my actions offended you yesterday evening, Miss Gordon, I apologize. I—"

"You cut yourself." Without thinking, she reached up and wiped the small trickle of blood from the nick along his jaw, at the same time letting the rest of her fingers lie against the side of his neck near the pulsing vein.

In the blink of an eye, he grabbed her hand and roughly jerked it away from his face, then continued to hold it, his fingers digging in, nearly cutting off the circulation to it. "I wouldn't touch a man like that again, Miss Gordon."
 

"Why?"

"Why!" The word exploded from him.

A second later her arms were pinned to her sides and her lips were crushed against her teeth by his mouth. And yet she felt no pain, only searing pleasure. His lips didn't stop moving over hers and rolling back, nuzzling, coaxing a reaction Susannah could never have anticipated.

This wasn't a suitor's awkward busing. This was a lover's kiss. She had always wondered what it would be like. Now she knew. Inside, she felt all molten and raw.

He broke the kiss long enough to say gruffly, "That's why." Then he pulled her against him, rubbing his mouth over her cheek, breathing hard, and trembling. "I wanted to kiss you like that last night. Hell. I wanted to do more than that, Susannah. Remember, I warned you that a man could get drunk on a beautiful woman. And when a man is drunk, he forgets the niceties of courtship. There isn't the time to woo a woman in the middle of a war. Do you understand?"

"This is insanity," she whispered, breathing in the soapy smell of his cheek. "I don't even know you." She turned anyway, finding his lips once more and kissing him. If it was insanity, she wanted more of it, much more.

"Lieutenant!"

They quickly moved apart at the sound of the shouted call and pounding hooves. Kelly rode into the clearing, leading a saddle horse. "Chavez is back. Said it's all clear. We're ready to ride as soon as the preacher is." At that moment Reverend Cole led the harnessed team of horses into the clearing.

"Be right there." Rans turned back to Susannah and smoothed the crumpled brim of his hat, then set it on his head, holding her gaze all the while. "The name is Rans. Ransom Lassiter, and don't you forget it."

"I won't." The promise was easy to make. Susannah knew she would find it impossible to forget him.

On the way to Oak Hill, Susannah's thoughts were divided between concern for her mother and an awareness of the man on the zebra dun riding alongside the wagon. He rode with the ease of a man who had spent most of his life in the saddle, balanced and relaxed, moving with the horse, not against it. Looking at him, Susannah could almost believe this was nothing more than a pleasant morning ride for him—if it weren't for that watchful air he never lost, one that said if trouble came, he would be ready for it. And Susannah suspected his reaction would be as swift and deadly as the situation demanded. The thought should have frightened her, but it didn't.

A dozen times she had considered what might have happened last night if Rans Lassiter had been a different sort of man. He and his band could have stolen the wagon and all its supplies, terrorized and abused them, and neither she nor Reverend Cole could have stopped them. They had both been at their mercy. Yet, never once had Rans Lassiter or his men acted in a way that was deliberately threatening. Almost from the outset she and Reverend Cole had been treated with a rough sort of respect.

She was grateful for that. But it wasn't gratitude Susannah felt when they stopped at midmorning to rest the horses and Rans lifted her from the wagon. Gratitude didn't heat the blood or make her breath catch in her throat. His glance held hers for a long second before he moved away to attend to the horses.

Not until he had sentries posted and the horses watered did he return to the wagon where Susannah was helping Reverend Cole water the team. "We'll move out in about ten minutes, Reverend."

"We'll be ready."

Susannah felt Rans's attention focus on her as the stoutly muscled gray horse lifted its nose from the leather water bucket she held for it. "I'll carry that for you," Rans said when she lowered the bucket.

The bucket was far from heavy. Susannah knew his offer was an excuse for him to linger. "Thanks." She waited while he emptied out the little bit of water left. "We keep the buckets tied back here by the water barrel." She walked over to the wagon to show him. "You mentioned you knew my brother-in-law, Captain Stuart—"

"Major
Stuart," Rans corrected as he fastened the leather bucket in its place. "He was promoted six weeks ago."

"I hadn't heard," she admitted. "I was wondering . . . if you know him, perhaps you know his son, Elijah Stuart, as well?"

He nodded, his mouth twisting in a smile. "Lije and I have shared a campfire before." He pulled the knot tight, then turned, a touch of amusement in his inspecting glance. "You don't look old enough to be his aunt."

"I'm not." She smiled, remembering the way Lije always teased her about it. "How are they? My sister will want to know."

"They were fine the last time I saw them." His glance centered on her lips for one tantalizing instant, then came back to her eyes.

Again Susannah felt warm all over and turned her face into the crisp breeze that warned of winter's approach. "Where are they? Do you know?"

"Not for certain."

She looked down at the ground. "Even if you did, I'm sure you are under orders not to reveal the location of Confederate troops. Such information could be useful to the Union army."

"It could."

"There is something I should tell you." Resolve lifted her chin.
 

"What's that?"

"My brother Kipp and his son Alex are both fighting on the side of the Union." With that confession made, Susannah looked to see his reaction. It was as if a shutter had come down, closing away his thoughts. "It's common knowledge in the Nation that my father was loyal to the Union."

"And where do you stand?"

"My sympathies are with the Union as well," she admitted, and tipped her chin a little higher. "I deliberately gave you the wrong impression last night by referring so quickly to my brother-in-law, Major Stuart. I saw you were rebels and I thought—"

He cut her off. "I can guess what you thought." There was something grim in his expression, but the steady regard of his eyes never wavered. "What makes you think you're safer now than you were last night?"

A brief ripple of alarm traveled through her, then vanished. "Because I trust you now," she said simply and truthfully.

He shook his head, a sudden grin splitting his mouth. "Is that answer supposed to appeal to my honor as an officer and a Southern gentleman? If it is, you've made a mistake, Susannah. Where you're concerned, I don't have one honorable thought in my mind." Reaching up, he rubbed his thumb over the curve of her cheek and mused, "Not a single, solitary one."

She trembled a little, but not from fear. "You don't frighten me."

He glanced up, capturing her gaze. "No? You frighten the hell out of me, Susannah." The line of his mouth softened as he lowered his hand, then turned, saying over his shoulder, "Be ready to leave in five minutes."

 

Reverend Cole halted the team in front of Oak Hill's columned mansion. Nothing stirred. It looked as empty as the fields they had passed. Worried, Susannah climbed down from the wagon without waiting for assistance.

Then the front door opened, and out stepped her mother, a little older than she remembered, a little thinner, but still tall and beautiful. Susannah picked up her skirts and ran to meet her.

"Susannah? What are you doing here? You're supposed to be back East."

"I came home." She hugged her.

Eliza drew back to look at her and lifted a trembling hand to smooth a tangle of curls back from Susannah's face. "You received my letter about your father. Lije said he would see that it got through the lines."

"It did. I—" Her glance was drawn to the front door as a fresh sense of loss swept over her. "I wish I had been home. I wish—"

"I know." Eliza gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze, her own eyes misting over. A horse snorted, reminding them both they were not alone. "Now, who do I have to thank—" The sight of Reverend Cole patiently standing a few yards away stole the rest of her words as she drew in a sharp breath of surprise. "Nathan."

"Eliza." He came forward and folded his long fingers around her outstretched hands. "You look as lovely as ever."

"I can't believe this," she declared, then divided a questioning glance between the two of them. "How on earth did you two—"

"You mentioned in your letter Reverend Cole was at Fort Scott," Susannah explained.

"I tried to convince Susannah to wait until the Texas Road was safer to travel, but she was determined to come home, no matter the risk. And the good lieutenant here," he looked back to where Rans Lassiter stood loosely holding the reins to the dun horse, "was kind enough to escort us these last few miles."

"Mother," Susannah drew her forward. "I want you to meet Lieutenant Ransom Lassiter of the Texas Brigade. Lieutenant, this is my mother, Mrs. Eliza Gordon."

He pulled off his hat and took the hand Eliza offered with a slight bow. "A pleasure, Mrs. Gordon."

"You have my gratitude, Lieutenant Lassiter, for seeing my daughter safely to my door."

"And you have mine, Mrs. Gordon, for having such a lovely daughter. She made the ride to your home much too short." His casually drawled words couldn't mask his interest in Susannah. Eliza noticed the way his gaze lingered on her daughter, as well as the color rising in Susannah's cheeks. "You understand, Mrs. Gordon," he continued, his gaze still on Susannah and a smile hovering at the edges of his mouth, "it's been a long time since any of us have been in the company of a lady capable of blushing. It makes it easy to forgive her Yankee leanings and to regret the war that has hardened hearts and minds."

"Violence of any kind is always regrettable," Eliza replied.
 

"But sometimes unavoidable," he interposed.
 

Eliza lifted an eyebrow. "Men tend to believe that."

He laughed in his throat, his head dipping a moment. "It is obvious your daughter gets her spirit, as well as her beauty, from you, Mrs. Gordon."

"I hope her manners aren't as poor as mine have suddenly become. Please, you and your men come in. Let me fix you something to eat—"

He held up a hand to stave off her words. "As much as I would like to accept your invitation, we have to be going. It might not be a good idea for my men to discover your Yankee sympathies. And they might if we stayed. Besides, we have neglected our duties long enough as it is."

His glance flicked to Susannah as she struggled to hide her dismay. She hadn't expected the time for goodbyes to come so quickly, or the ache of regret to be so poignant.

Try as she might, Susannah was hard-pressed to explain her attraction to the rebel officer, but she couldn't deny its existence. She remembered the way Rans had kissed her that morning—and the way she had kissed him back—and suddenly she wanted to throw herself into his arms once again.

Instead, she waited patiently while he took his leave first from her mother, then from Reverend Cole.

"You and your men will be in our prayers," Nathan told him.

"We will need them, Reverend," Rans said, a wry slant to his mouth. His attention swung at last to Susannah, his gray eyes darkening a shade. "Keep a place reserved for me on your dance card, Miss Gordon."
 

"If you wish." She inclined her head in careful agreement.
 

"I wish." His look implied far more than simple confirmation. Nodding to her, he touched his hat, then prepared to mount.

"Lieutenant." She stopped him. "Will you give Lije a
message for me?"

"If I can. There's no guarantee our paths will cross," he told her.

"Of course, but—if you do see him, tell him I saw a
young woman he knows. Diane. She's at Fort Scott, with her father."

"I'll give him the message." He climbed into the saddle and signaled his men to move out.

As he swung his horse toward his men, he began whistling. After a few seconds Susannah recognized the song and its opening lyric, "Oh, Susannah, oh, don't you cry for me." She released a short laugh and pressed a hand to her mouth as tears sprang into her eyes.

Rust brown leaves swirled around the legs of the Confederate horses and mixed with the dust churned up by the shuffling hooves. The brooming November wind swept it all back, pelting the trio who watched the departing rebel patrol.

"Come. Let's go inside." Eliza's arm curved around Susannah's shoulders. Reluctantly, she submitted to its gentle pressure and turned toward the house, her heart heavy with a sadness she didn't want to explore. "The lieutenant seemed quite taken with you."