Books: My Lady of the North
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Randall Parrish >> My Lady of the North
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"Keep quiet," I whispered sternly. "Let them challenge first, and no
firing except on my order."
Almost with the words there came the sharp hail:
"Halt! Who comes there?"
I drew the cape of my riding-jacket closer, so as better to muffle the
sound of my voice.
"Friends, of course; who would you expect to meet on this road?"
Fortune seemed with me in the chance answer, for he who had hailed
exclaimed:
"Oh! is that you, Brennan?"
There was no time now for hesitancy; here was my cue, and I must plunge
ahead, accepting the chances. I ventured it.
"No; Brennan couldn't come. I am here in his place."
"Indeed! Who are you?"
"Major Wilkie."
There was a moment's painful pause, in which I could hear my heart
throb.
"Wilkie," repeated the voice, doubtfully. "There is no officer of that
name in the Forty-third."
"Well, there chances to be such an officer on the staff," I retorted,
permitting a trace of anger to appear in my tone, "and I am the man."
"What the devil is the difference, Hale, just what his name is?" boomed
a deeper voice back in the group. "We are not getting up a directory of
the Sixth Corps. Of course he's the man Brennan sent, and that is all
we've got to look after."
"Oh, all right, certainly, Major," returned the first speaker, hastily.
"But the night is so cussed black I supposed we must be at least a mile
this side of where we were to meet. However, we have the lady here for
you all right, and she is anxious enough to get on."
The lady! Heavens! What odd turn of fortune's wheel was this? The lady!
I heard Craig's smothered chuckle, but before I had sufficiently
regained control over my own feelings to venture upon a suitable reply,
the entire party had drawn forward, the leader pressing so close to my
side that I felt safer with my face well shaded.
"Where is your escort, Major?" he asked, and the gruffness of his tone
put me instantly on defence.
"Just behind us," I returned, with affected carelessness, and
determined now to play out the game, lady or no lady. I was extremely
sorry for her, but the cause outweighed her comfort. "The Sergeant and
I rode out ahead when we heard you coming. Where is the lady?"
He glanced around at the group huddled behind him.
"Third on the left."
"All right, then. Nothing else, I believe"; for I was eager to get
away. "Sergeant, just ride in there and lead, out her horse. We will
have to be moving, gentlemen, for it is a rough road and a dark night."
"Beastly," assented the other, heartily.
I fairly held my breath as Craig rode forward. If one of them should
chance to strike a match to light a pipe, or any false movement of
Craig's should excite suspicion! If he should even speak, his soft
Southern drawl would mean instant betrayal. And how coolly he went at
it; with a sharp touch of the spur, causing his jaded horse to exhibit
such sudden restlessness as to keep the escort well to one side, while
he ranged close up to our unwelcome guest, and laying firm hand upon
her horse's bit, led forth to where I waited. It was quickly, nobly
done, and I could have hugged the fellow.
"Well, good luck to you, Major, and a pleasant ride. Remember me to
Brennan. Deuced queer, though, why he failed to show up on such an
occasion as this."
"He was unfortunate enough to be sent out in the other direction with
despatches--good-night, gentlemen."
It was sweet music to me to listen to their hoof-beats dying rapidly
away behind us as we turned back down the dark road, the Sergeant still
riding with his one hand grasping the stranger's rein. I endeavored to
scan her figure in the blackness, but found the effort useless, as
little more than a shadow was visible. Yet it was impressed upon me
that she sat straight and firm in the saddle, so I concluded she must
be young. Rapidly I reviewed our predicament, and sought for some
avenue of escape. If we were only certain as to where we were, we might
plan with better prospect of success. The woman? Doubtless she would
know, and possibly I might venture to question her without awakening
suspicion. Surely the experiment was well worth trying.
"Madam," I began, seeking to feel my way with caution into her
confidence, "I fear you must be quite wearied by your long ride."
She turned slightly at sound of my voice.
"Not at all, sir; I am merely eager to push on. Besides, my ride has
not been a long one, as we merely came from General Sigel's
headquarters."
The voice was pleasantly modulated and refined.
"Ah, yes, certainly," I stammered, fearful lest I had made a grave
mistake. "But really I had supposed General Sigel was at
Coultersville."
"He advanced to Bear Creek yesterday," she returned quietly. "So you
see we had covered scarcely more than three miles when we met. How much
farther is it to where Major Brennan is stationed?"
I fear I was guilty of hesitancy, but it was only for a moment.
"I am unable to tell exactly, for, as it chances, I have never yet been
in the camp, but I should judge that two hours' riding will cover the
distance."
"Why," in a tone of sudden surprise, "Captain Hale certainly told me it
was all of twenty miles!"
"From Bear Creek?" I questioned eagerly, for it was my turn to feel
startled now. "The map barely makes it ten."
"It is but ten, and scarcely that, by the direct White Briar road, or,
at least, so I heard some of the younger officers say; but it seems the
Rebel pickets are posted so close to the White Briar that my friends
decided it would be unsafe to proceed that way."
This was news indeed,--news so unexpected and startling that I forgot
all caution.
"Then what road do they call this?"
She laughed at my evident ignorance, as well as the eagerness of my
tone.
"Really, you are a most peculiar guide," she exclaimed gayly. "You
almost convince me that you are lost. Fortunately, sir, out of my vast
knowledge of this mysterious region, I am able to enlighten you to some
extent. We are now riding due southward along the Allentown pike."
Craig leaned forward so as to look across her horse's neck to where I
rode on the opposite side.
"May I speak a word, sir?" he asked cautiously.
"Certainly, Sergeant; do you make anything out of all this?"
"Yes, sir," he answered eagerly. "I know now exactly how we missed it,
and where we are. The cut-off to the White Briar I spoke to you about
this afternoon cannot be more than a hundred yards below here."
"Ride ahead carefully then, and see if you can locate it. Be cautious;
there may be a picket stationed there. We will halt where we are until
you return."
He swung forward his carbine where it would be handy for instant
service and trotted ahead into the darkness. The woman's horse, being
comparatively fresh and restless, danced a little in an effort to
follow, but I restrained him with a light hand on the bit, and for a
moment we sat waiting in silence. Then her natural curiosity prompted a
question.
"Why is it you seem so anxious to discover this cutoff?"
"We merely desire to take advantage of the more direct road," I replied
somewhat shortly. "Besides, we are much farther to the east than I had
supposed, and therefore too close to the lines of the enemy."
"How strange it is you should not have known!" she exclaimed in a voice
of indignant wonder; but as I made no reply she did not venture to
speak again.
My thoughts at that moment, indeed, were not with her, although I kept
firm hold upon her rein. I was eager to be off, to make up by hard
riding the tedious delay of this night's work, and constantly listening
in dread for some sounds of struggle down the roadway. But all remained
silent until I could dimly distinguish the returning hoof-beats of the
Sergeant's horse; and so anxious was I to economize time that I was
already urging our mounts forward when his shadow grew black in front,
and he wheeled in at my side.
"No picket there, sir."
"Very well, Sergeant; when we come to the turn you are to ride a few
rods in advance of us, and will set a good pace, for now we must make
up for all this lost time."
I caught the motion of his hand as it was lifted in salute.
"Very well, sir; here is the turn--to your right."
I could dimly distinguish the opening designated, and as we wheeled
into it he at once clapped spurs to his horse and forged ahead. In
another moment he had totally disappeared, and as I urged our reluctant
mounts to more rapid speed all sound of his progress was instantly lost
in the pounding of our own hoofs on the hard road.
It was like riding directly against a black wall, and far from
comforting to the nerves, for the path was a strange one, and not too
well made. Fortunately the horses followed the curves without mishap,
save an occasional awkward stumble amid loose stones, while the high
walls of rock on either hand made a somewhat denser shadow where they
shut off the lower stars, and thus helped me to guide our progress.
But it was no time for conversation, even had the inclination been
mine, for every nerve was now strained to intensity as I spurred on my
horse and held tightly to the bridle of the other, almost cursing, as I
rode, the unlucky chance which brought us such a burden on a night like
this.
CHAPTER IV
A WOMAN WITH A TEMPER
I thought the stars grew somewhat brighter as we galloped on, the iron-
shod hoofs now and then striking out sudden sparks of yellow flame from
the flinty surface of the road; but this may have resulted from the
lowering of the rocky barriers on either side, making the arch of sky
more clearly visible. The air perceptibly freshened, with a chilly
mountain wind beating against our faces and rustling the leaves of the
phantom trees that lined the way. The woman rode silently and well. I
could make out her figure now, dim and indistinct as the outlines were
in that darkness and wrapped in the loose folds of an officer's cloak.
She was sitting firm and upright in the saddle; I even marked how, with
the ease and grace of a practical horsewoman, she held the reins.
I think we must have been fully an hour at it, riding at no mean pace,
and with utter disregard of danger. Although I knew little of where we
were, and nothing as to the condition of the path we traversed, yet so
complete was my confidence in Craig that I felt no hesitancy in blindly
following the pace he set. Then a black shape loomed up before us so
suddenly that it was only by a quick effort I prevented a collision.
Even as I held my horse poised half in air, I perceived it was Craig
who blocked the way.
"What is it, Sergeant?"
"A picket, sir, at the end of the road," he said quietly.
"I kinder reckoned they'd hev some sort o' guard thar, so I crept up on
the quiet ter be sure. The feller helped me out a bit by strikin' a
match ter see what time 't was, or I reckon I'd a walked over him in
ther dark."
"Had we better ride him down?" I asked, thinking only how rapidly the
night hours were speeding and of the importance of the duty pressing
upon us.
"Not with ther woman, sir," he answered in a low, reproachful voice.
"Besides, we never could git through without a shot, an' if by any dern
luck it should turn out ter be a cavalry outpost,--an' I sorter reckon
that's what it is,--why, our horses are in no shape fer a hard run. You
uns better wait here, sir, an' let me tend ter that soger man quiet
like, an' then p'raps we uns kin all slip by without a stirrin' up ther
patrol."
"Well," I said, reluctantly yielding to what I felt was doubtless the
wiser course, and mechanically grasping the rein he held out to me, "go
ahead. But be careful, and don't waste any time. If we hear the sound
of a shot we shall ride forward under spur."
"All right, sir, but there 'll be no fuss, fer I know just whar ther
fellar is."
Time seems criminally long when one is compelled to wait in helpless
uncertainty, every nerve on strain.
"Hold yourself ready for a sudden start," I said warningly to my
companion. "If there is any noise of a struggle yonder I shall drive in
the spurs."
As I spoke I swung the Sergeant's horse around to my side, where I
could control him more readily.
There was no reply from the woman, but I noticed she endeavored to draw
together the flapping cape of her cloak, as though she felt chilled by
the wind, and her figure seemed to stiffen in the saddle.
"Are you cold?" I questioned, more perhaps to throttle my own
nervousness by speech than from better motive.
She shook her head; then, as if thinking better of it, answered
lightly:
"The wind appears to find no obstacle in this cloak, but I am not
suffering."
I wrapped the loose rein of Craig's horse about the pommel of my saddle
and bent toward her.
"Permit me," I said; "you probably do not comprehend the intricacies of
a cavalry cloak. If I fasten these upper frogs I think it will help to
keep out the night air."
Without protest she permitted me to draw the flapping cloth together
and fasten it closer about her throat; but whatever tantalizing
curiosity I may have felt to view her face was effectually blocked by
the high collar behind which she immediately took refuge.
"I am sure that will be much better; you are very kind." The words were
pleasant enough, yet there was something in both tone and manner that
piqued me, and I turned away without speaking.
It came at last--not the sharp flash of a musket cleaving the night in
twain, but merely the tall figure of the Sergeant, stealing silently
out of the gloom, like a black ghost, and standing at our very horses'
heads.
"All clear, sir," he reported in a matter-of-fact tone. "But we shall
hev ter move mighty quiet, fer ther main picket post ain't more nor a
hundred yards ter the right o' ther crossin'."
He did not remount, but, with reins flung loosely over his arm, led the
way slowly forward, and carefully we followed him.
What had become of the sentinel I did not know, respecting Craig's
evident desire for silence; but as we drew nearer the White Briar road
I sought in vain to pierce the dense gloom and note some sign of a
struggle, some darker shadow where a body might be lying. There was
nothing visible to tell the story.
The Sergeant walked without the least hesitation across the open space,
directly into the deep shadows opposite, where the cross-road continued
to hold way. Crouching low in the saddle, we followed him as silently
as though we were but spirits of the night. Up the road I caught the
red gleam of a fire almost spent, and a black figure crossed between
us, casting an odd shadow against the face of the rock where it was
lighted by the flickering red blaze. It was all over in a moment, a
mere glimpse, but it formed one of those sudden pictures which paint
themselves on the brain and can never after be effaced. I recall yet
the long shade cast by the man's gun, the grotesque shape of his
flapping army overcoat, the quick change in the silhouette as he
wheeled to retrace his beat. But there was no noise, not even the sound
of his footsteps reaching us. Even as I gazed, lying nearly full length
upon my horse, we had crossed the open, and a perfect tangle of low
bushes hid us as completely as if we had entered the yawning mouth of a
cavern.
A hundred yards or more of sharply curving road densely lined with
shrubbery on either hand, and then Craig swung into saddle and again
gave spur to his horse.
"We must ride for it now," he said tersely. "When thet patrol makes
their round, them fellers will be after us hot."
I urged my tired horse to a gallop, pressing upon Craig's heels as
closely as I dared; nor did I glance back, for I knew well that a dead
picket was lying somewhere by the cross-roads, and that his comrades
would be heard from before the dawn.
We were moving bravely now; for the road under foot grew better as we
advanced, and gave back the dull thud of soft earth instead of the
rattling clang of the rocks we had been so long accustomed to. I forced
the scabbard of my sabre beneath the bend of my knee to keep it from
clanging against the iron stirrup, and only the breathing of the
horses, and their heavy pounding on the earth, broke the night silence.
Craig was riding directly in my front, sitting erect as if on parade,
and the woman's horse kept up the pace without apparent effort. Surely
we had already covered a good safe mile from where we had left the dead
soldier to tell his speechless story, and the way ahead was clear. My
spirits rose buoyantly with every stride of the horse, and my faith,
never long dormant, already saw my task accomplished, my pledge to Lee
fulfilled.
But it is the unexpected which masters us in the end. I had all but
completely shut the dark night from my thoughts. I suppose, in truth, I
was as keenly observant as ever, but it now seems to me that I was
riding that black road with closed eyes, so busy were my thoughts
elsewhere. Then, suddenly, my horse was jerked almost to a standstill,
the hand upon his bit seemingly as hard as my own, and I wheeled in the
saddle, pressing my knees tightly to prevent being thrown, only to
perceive the woman tugging desperately at the lines.
"What now?" I asked sharply, and in sudden anger I forced her to
release her grasp. "We must ride, and ride hard, madam, to be out of
this cordon by daylight."
"Ride where?"
She faced me stiffly, and there was a slight sting in her voice, I
felt.
"Where?" I repeated; then partially gathering my scattered wits: "Why,
to the camp we are seeking, of course."
I was conscious that her eyes were striving anxiously to see my face in
the darkness,--that her suspicions were now fully aroused; yet her
quick retort surprised me.
"You lie!" she said coldly. "That was a Federal picket he killed."
It was no time for argument, and I knew it. Any moment might bring to
us the sound of hoof-beats in pursuit; more, I realized that anything I
might hope to say would only tend to make matters worse. There was but
one course open. She must be compelled to ride, by force if necessary.
Why should I hesitate? She had no claim on my consideration, and I
hardened my heart to make her comprehend, once and for all, that I was
the master. Even as I reached this decision, Craig, noting our pause,
had ridden back, and reined in beside us without a word.
"You are right," I said tersely. "In one sense of the word you are
prisoner, for the time being at least, but not through any wish of
mine. We do not make war on women, and your being in this situation is
altogether an accident. However, be that as it may, we must, first of
all, protect ourselves. I would very gladly leave you with your
friends, if possible, but as things have shaped themselves there
remains but one alternative--_you must ride as I order."_
I could mark her quick breathing while I spoke, and when I concluded
one hand went up to her throat as if she choked.
"You--you are not Major Brennan's friend then? You were not sent by
Frank to meet me?" The questions burst from her lips so rapidly that I
scarcely caught their import.
"I am Captain Philip Wayne, ----th Virginia Cavalry, at your service,
madam," I said calmly, "and to the best of my knowledge I have not the
pleasure of Major Brennan's acquaintance."
She seemed not to know what to say, and sat there staring at me through
the darkness, as she might have gazed in speechless horror at some wild
animal she expected would spring upon her.
"A Rebel!" The hated word hissed from her lips as if the utterance
burned them.
"Yes, madam," I said, somewhat coldly, for I was not especially fond of
the term, "that is what they call us on your side, but also an officer
and a gentleman."
I doubt if she even heard me. All I know is she suddenly lifted the
heavy riding whip that was clinched in her right hand, struck me with
it full across the face, and then, as I quickly flung up my own arm to
ward off a second blow, she sent the lash swirling down upon the flank
of her horse. With one bound the maddened animal wrenched the reins
from out my hands, nearly dragging me from the saddle, and swerved
sharply to the left. There was a shock, a smothered oath, a moment's
fierce struggle in the darkness, the sharp ping of the whip as it came
down once, twice--then silence, broken only by deep breathing.
"I've got her, Captain," chuckled the Sergeant, softly, "but dog-gone
if I know what to do with her."
There was small sentiment of mercy in my heart as I drew up toward
them, for my cheek burned where the lash had struck as though scorched
with fire. For the moment I felt utterly indifferent to all claims of
her womanhood. She had unsexed herself, and deserved treatment
accordingly. It was thus I felt as I clinched my teeth in pain; but
when I saw her leaning helplessly forward on her horse's neck, all
bravado gone, her hands pinioned behind her in the iron grip of the
Sergeant, my fierce resentment died away within me.
"Let go her hands. Craig." I commanded briefly.
She lifted her body slightly from its cramped, uncomfortable posture,
but her head remained bowed.
"Madam,"--I spoke sternly, for moments were of value now,--"listen to
what I say. We are Confederate soldiers passing through the Federal
lines with despatches. In order to save ourselves from discovery and
capture we were compelled to take you in charge. It was the fortune of
war. If now we could honorably leave you here we would most gladly do
so, for having you with us adds vastly to our own danger; but these
mountains are simply overrun with wandering guerillas who would show
you neither respect nor mercy. We simply dare not, as honorable men,
leave you here unprotected, and consequently you must continue to ride
in our company. Now answer me plainly, will you proceed quietly, or
shall we be compelled to tie you to your horse?"
I knew she was crying; but with an effort she succeeded in steadying
her voice sufficiently to reply.
"I will go," she said.
"Thank you," and I gravely lifted my hat as I spoke. "You have saved me
a most unpleasant duty. You may ride on, Sergeant; this lady and I will
follow, as before."
She scarcely changed her posture as I spurred forward, riding now so
close to her side that I could feel the flap of her saddle rise and
fall against my knee. Whatever of evil she may have thought of us, I
felt that she was sorry enough now for her hasty action, and I forgave
the pain that yet stung me, and longed, without well knowing how, to
tell her so.
CHAPTER V
A DISASTER ON THE ROAD
To me she was merely a woman whom it had become my duty to protect, and
whatever of chivalrous feeling I may have held toward her was based
upon nothing deeper than this knowledge. She had come to us undesired
and in darkness, her form enveloped in a cavalry cloak, her face
shrouded by the night. As to whether she was young or old I had scarce
means of knowing, saving only that the tone of her voice and the
graceful manner of her riding made me confident that she had not lost
the agility of youth. But beyond this vague impression (it was little
more), and a fleeting gleam of the starlight in her eyes as she faced
me in anger, I was as totally unaware of how she really looked as
though we had never met. Her very name was unknown to me. Who was this
Major Brennan? Was he father, brother, or husband? and was her name
Brennan also? For some reason this last possibility was repugnant to
me. Yet I knew not why.
I turned these thoughts over in my mind, speculating idly upon them,
not because I felt any interest in their solution, or in the woman
riding at my side, but because they seemed to fall into order to the
steady music of my horse's feet and the darkness of the night. "No," I
said to myself, "there is certainly no leaving her except in a
disciplined camp; young or old, Yankee or what not, she is in our care,
and we'll keep her out of the hands of those cut-throats between the
lines."
I glanced toward her, wondering what the morning light might reveal as
to her appearance. She was sitting erect and easy in the saddle, yet
seemed to ride with her face averted from me.
"You ride as though born to the saddle," I said pleasantly; and
although I spoke low, we were so close together that my voice carried
distinctly to her ears. "We have been sufficiently conceited to suppose
that to be an accomplishment peculiar to our Southern women."
"I have been accustomed to ride since childhood," she replied rather
shortly, and I was conscious of a restraint in her manner far from
pleasing. Yet I ventured upon one more effort at conversation.
"Is Major Brennan an officer on Sheridan's staff?"
"I was not aware "--and I could not mistake the accent of
vindictiveness in her voice--"that prisoners were obliged to converse
against their will."
My lady certainly possessed a temper of her own, and I was obliged to
smile there in the dark at her high head and quick retort.
"I ask your pardon, I am sure,"--I returned soberly. "But my question
was not altogether an idle one. I have chanced to meet several of
General Sheridan's staff, and thought possibly Major Brennan might have
been of their number. Seeing that we must associate for a time, I
naturally felt it would prove pleasanter for both of us if we might
discover some mutual tie."
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