Books: My Lady of the North
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Randall Parrish >> My Lady of the North
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Without much difficulty I induced Mrs. Brennan to draw her chair once
more to the table, and I sat down beside her.
"You are Confederate, then?" I asked, curious to know upon which side
his sympathies were enlisted in the struggle.
He glanced warily at my gray jacket, then his shrewd, shifty eyes
wandered to the blue and yellow cavalry cloak lying on the floor.
"Wal, I jist don't know, Cap," he said cautiously, continuing to eat as
he talked, "as I'm much o' enything in this yere row. First ther durned
gray-backs they come snoopin' up yere, an' run off all my horgs; then
ther blame blue-bellies come 'long an' cut down every lick o' my corn
fodder, so thet I'll be cussed if I ain't 'bout ready ter fight either
side. Anyhow I ain't did no fightin' yit worth talkin' 'bout, fer
Mariar is pow'ful feared I'd git hurt."
Maria regarded him scornfully.
"Hiding out, I suppose?"
"Wal, 'tain't very healthful fer us ter be stayin' et hum much o' ther
time, long with that thar Red Lowrie, an' Jim Hale, an' the rest o'
thet cattle 'round yere."
"Guerillas pretty thick now in the mountains?"
He glanced up quickly, his shrewd gray eyes on my face, and Maria
turned about as she stood beside the fireplace.
"Wal, I dunno; I heerd as they wus doin' somethin' down by ther brick
church, but thar 's no great shakes of 'em jist 'round yere. I reckon
as how they knows 'nough ter keep 'way from Jed Bungay--I'd pitch 'em
'far as ever peasant pitched a bar.'"
"You have no fear of them, then?"
"Whut, me?" The little man sat bolt upright, and glared fiercely across
the table as though he would resent an insult.
"Stranger, I have fit them ar fellers night an' day in these yere
mountings fer nigh onter three year--me an' Mariar.
"'For love-lorn swain in lady's bower
Ne'er panted for the appointed hour
As I, until before me stand
This rebel chieftain and his band.'
"I jist tell ye, Cap, I reckon thar ain't no guerilla a goin' ter poke
his nose 'round yere 'less he 's a lookin' fer sudden death; thar's
mighty few o' 'em ain't heerd o' Jed Bungay--Whut in thunder 's ther
matter with yer gal?"
He stopped suddenly, and stared at her; but before I could turn about
in my chair one of the great dogs began to growl savagely, and Maria
sprang forward and cuffed the surly brutes into rebellious silence.
"It's hosses," she said harshly. "Likely as not it's Red's gang. Now,
Jed Bungay, yere's two lovely females fer ye ter pertect."
As I hastily sprang to my feet I caught a fleeting glimpse out of the
partially opened door. Down the steep of the hill road there was slowly
moving toward us on foot a small party of perhaps a dozen men, so
variously clothed as to make it evident they were irregulars. Just
ahead of them, but on horseback, two others were even then turning into
the narrow path that led to the house, attracted probably by the smoke
which streamed from the chimney-top.
CHAPTER VIII
MRS. BUNGAY DEFENDS HER HEARTHSTONE
A hand pressing hard upon my arm brought back my scattered senses with
a rush. It was Mrs. Brennan who stood there, her face whitened by
anxiety, her eyes peering anxiously through the opening of the door.
Imminent danger may startle even a trained soldier, but any necessity
for action always recalls him to duty, and that one glance at her
sufficed to make me myself again.
"Surely those men are not soldiers, Captain Wayne!" she exclaimed.
"They wear uniforms of both armies."
"No doubt they are guerillas," I answered, drawing her back from where
she might be seen in their approach. "We must find hiding if possible,
for you shall never fall into such hands. Bungay!"
I turned toward where the little giant had been sitting, but he was not
to be seen. However, the sound of my voice aroused Maria to a full
sense of our danger, nor was she a woman to hesitate in such emergency.
With a single stride she crossed the narrow room, caught the white-
faced hero by the collar of his shirt, dragged him ignominiously forth
from beneath the table where he had sought refuge, shook him as she
would shake a toy dog, until his teeth rattled, and then flung him out
of the door leading into the back shed. It was done so expeditiously
that I could only gasp.
"Now inter ther hole with ye, Jed Bungay--you an' yer dorgs," she
panted furiously. "An' you uns foller him. I reckon I 'm able ter
handle thet lot out thar, even if it should be Red Lowrie an' his
gang."
Catching firm hold of Mrs. Brennan's hand I sprang down the single step
and closed the door tight behind us. Jed had scrambled to his feet, and
rubbing himself vigorously with one hand, utilized the other to drag
outward a rough cupboard, which appeared to be a portion of the house
itself. As it swung open there was revealed behind it a fair-sized
opening extending into the face of the hill. It was a most ingenious
arrangement, doubtless finding frequent use in those troublesome times.
Its presence partially explained how Jed had thus far escaped the
conscription officer. Into this hole we entered one at a time, and when
the heavy cupboard had been silently drawn back into place, found
ourselves enveloped in such total darkness as to make any movement a
dangerous operation. I felt the clasp of my companion's hand tighten,
and knew that her whole form was trembling from intense excitement.
"Do not permit the darkness to alarm you," I whispered softly, bending
down as I spoke until I could feel her quick breathing against my
cheek. "Our visitors are not likely to remain longer than will be
necessary to get something to eat. They need never suspect our
presence, and all we have to do is to wait patiently until they move
on. I only wish I could discover something upon which you might sit
down."
"Pray do not think me a coward," she answered, "but I have heard of
this man Lowrie in the Federal camps, and I would rather die than fall
into his hands."
I had heard of him also, and of his outrageous treatment of women. The
memory caused me to clasp my hand warmly over hers, and set my teeth
hard.
"It may not prove to be Lowrie at all," I said soberly; "but all these
gentry are pretty much alike, I fear. However, I promise that you shall
never fall alive into the hands of any of their breed."
Before she could answer me other than by a slight nestling closer in
the darkness, Bungay whispered: "This yere hole, Cap, leads down ter
the right, an' comes out in a sort o' gully 'bout a hundred feet back.
Thar's light 'nough ter see ter walk by a'ter ye turn ther corner 'bout
twenty feet er so. You uns kin go on down thar if ye 'd rather,
follerin' ther dorgs, but I reckon as how I'll stay right yere an'
sorter see how ther ol' woman comes out.
"'Where, where was Roderick then?
One blast upon his bugle horn
Were worth a thousand men.'
"If you uns like ter see a durned good fight maybe ye better stay tew--
ther ol' woman is pisen if she once gits her dander up."
His voice was expressive of great expectations, and I had reason to
believe his faith in Maria would be justified. Before any of us,
however, had time to change our positions we heard the fellows come
stamping roughly into the cabin. The thin slabs which divided us
scarcely muffled their loud voices.
"Well, old woman," exclaimed one in voice so gruff as to seem almost
assumed, "pretending to be alone, are you, with all those dishes
sitting out on the table; just been eaten off, too. Haven't seen no
strange party along the road this morning, have ye?"
"Nary a one," said Maria, and I knew from her voice she was standing
close beside the fireplace.
"Are you Mrs. Bungay?"
"I reckon I am, if it's any o' yer business."
"Don't git hifty, old woman, or we 're liable to give you a lesson in
politeness before we leave." The leader dropped the butt of his gun
with a crash on the floor. "Where is the little sneak, anyhow?"
"What do you want of him?"
"Want him to go 'long with us; we 're hunting some parties, and need a
guide. They tol' us up the road a bit he knew every inch o' these yere
mountings."
There was a pause, as if Maria was endeavoring to decide as to the
honesty of the speaker. Her final answer proved the mental survey had
not proven satisfactory.
"Wal, I reckon," she said calmly, "as you uns 'll be more likely ter
find him down 'bout Connersville."
"Then whut's all these yere dirty dishes doing on the table?"
"Hed sum Yankee officers yere; they just rode on down ther trail as you
uns cum up."
"Like hell!" ejaculated the fellow with complete loss of temper. "See
here, old woman, we 're too old birds to be caught with any such chaff.
We'll take a look around the old shebang anyhow, and while we're at it
you put something on the table for me and my mates to eat."
The voice and manner were rough, but I was impressed with a certain
accent creeping into the man's speech bespeaking education. More, in
spite of an apparent effort to make it so, his dialect was not that of
those mountains.
Even as he uttered these last words, throwing into them a threat more
in the tone than the language, I became aware of a thin ray of light
penetrating the seemingly solid wall just in front of me, and bending
silently forward could dimly distinguish the elliptical head of Bungay
as he applied one eye to a small opening he had industriously made
between the logs. Grasping Mrs. Brennan firmly by the hand so that we
should not become separated, I crept across the intervening blackness,
and reached his side.
"Holy smoke, Cap," the little man muttered in suppressed excitement, as
he realized my presence, "it's a goin' ter be b'ilin' hot in thar
mighty soon. Mariar's steam is a risin'."
He silently made room for me, and bending down so as to bring my eye
upon a level with his, I managed to gain some slight glimpse of the
scene within the cabin.
Mrs. Bungay stood with her back to the fireplace, an iron skillet
firmly gripped in one hand. Her face was red with indignation, and
there was a look in her eyes, together with a defiant set to her chin,
which promised trouble. In front of her, carelessly resting on the
table, his feet dangling in the air, was a sturdy-looking fellow of
forty or so, with red, straggling beard covering all the lower half of
his face, and a weather-worn black hat pulled so low as almost to
conceal his eyes. His attire was nondescript, as though he had
patronized the junk-shop of both armies. In his belt were thrust a
revolver and a knife, while within easy reach of his hand a musket
leaned against a chair. Two others of the party, younger men, but even
more roughly dressed than their leader, were lounging between him and
the door.
Bungay chuckled expectantly.
"O Lord! if they only git the ol' gal just a little more riled," he
whispered hoarsely, jumping up and down on one foot in his excitement,
"they'll hev ther fight of their life."
"Do you know the fellows?" I asked. "Is that Red Lowrie?"
He shook his head.
"Never laid eyes on any of 'em afore, but ye bet they're no good.
Reckon they're a part o' his crowd."
The man who posed as the leader of the party picked up the empty
coffee-pot beside him and shook it.
"Come, now, Mrs. Bungay," he commanded, "I tell you we 're hungry, so
trot out some hoecake and fill up this pot, unless you want to reckon
with Red Lowrie."
The woman stood facing him, yet never moved. I could see a red spot
begin to glow in either cheek. If I had ever doubted it, I knew now
that Maria possessed a temper of her own.
"You ain't no Red Lowrie," she retorted.
The fellow laughed easily.
"No more I ain't, old woman, but I reckon we ain't so durn far apart
when it comes to getting what we go after. Come, honest now, where is
the little white-livered cur that runs this shebang?"
Whatever Maria might venture to call her lord and master in the privacy
of home, it evidently did not soothe her spirit to hear him thus spoken
of by another.
"If Jed Bungay wus hum," she answered fiercely, her eyes fairly
blazing, "I reckon you wouldn't be sprawlin' on thet thar table fer
long."
"Wouldn't I, now? Well, old hen, we've fooled here with you about as
long as I care to. Bill, go over there and put some of that bacon on to
fry. If she doesn't get out of the way I'll give her something to jump
for." And he patted the stock of his gun.
Instinctively I drew my revolver, and pushed its black muzzle into the
light under Jed's nose.
"Shall I give him a dose?" I asked eagerly.
"Not yit; O Lord, not yit!" he exclaimed, dancing from one foot to the
other in excitement. "Let ther ol' gal hev a show. I reckon she's good
fer ther whole three of 'em, 'less they shoot."
Bill came up grinning. He evidently anticipated some fun, and as he
reached out a grimy hand for the slab of bacon, took occasion to make
some remark. What it was I could not hear, but I noted the quick
responsive flash in the woman's eyes, and the next instant with a crash
she brought the iron skillet down with all her strength on top of the
fellow's head. Without even a groan he went plunging down, face
foremost, in front of the fire. In another moment she was battling like
a wild fury with the other two.
It was a quick, intense struggle. The man near the door chanced to be
the first in, and he received a blow from the skillet that most
assuredly would have crushed his skull had he not dodged; as it was it
landed upon his shoulder and he reeled back sick and helpless. By this
time the fellow with the red beard had closed upon her, and wrested the
skillet from her hand. Struggling fiercely back and forth across the
floor, Maria tripped over the body of the dead dog and fell, but as she
did so her fingers grasped the red beard of her antagonist. It yielded
to her hand, and bare of face, save for a dark moustache, the man stood
there, panting for breath, above her. Then suddenly, almost at my very
ear, a voice cried, "Frank! Frank! I am here!"
CHAPTER IX
IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY
In the first surprise of that unexpected joyful cry ringing at my very
ears all my senses seemed confused, and I stood motionless. Then I
heard Bungay utter a smothered oath, and knew he had wheeled about in
the darkness. Unable to distinguish the slightest outline of his
figure, I was yet impressed with the thought that he was endeavoring to
muffle the girl, to prevent her uttering a second cry. Impelled by this
intuition I flung out my arm hastily, and by rare good luck it came in
contact with his hand.
"None of that, you little cur!" I muttered sternly, unmindful of his
efforts to break away. "No hand on her, mind you! Mrs. Brennan, what
does this mean?"
She made no attempt to answer, but I could hear her now groping her way
through the darkness toward the place of our entrance. Bungay detected
the movement also, and made a violent effort to break loose from my
grip, that he might hurry after her.
"You lit go o' me," he cried excitedly, "er, by goir, I'll use a knife.
She'll give this whole thing away if she ever gits out."
For answer I hurled him backward with all my strength and sprang after
the fleeing woman. But I was already too late to stop her, even had
that been my intention. With strength yielded her by desperation, she
thrust aside the heavy cupboard, and as the light swept in, sprang
forward into the rude shed. With another bound, gathering her skirts as
she ran, she was up the steps and had burst into the outer room. A
moment later I also stood in the doorway, gazing upon a scene that made
my blood like fire.
The fighting had evidently ceased suddenly with her first cry. Maria
stood panting in one corner, the deadly skillet again in her hand, her
hair hanging in wisps down her back. Still unconscious from the blow he
had received, one fellow lay outstretched on the floor, his head barely
missing the hot ashes of the fireplace; while his companion nursed his
bruises and scowled from a safe refuge behind the table. The unshaven
faces of several others of the gang were peering curiously in through
the open door. I know now I saw all this, for the picture of it is upon
the retina of memory, but at the moment everything I appeared to
perceive or hear occurred in the centre of the room.
The man who had posed as the leader stood there alone facing us, his
expression a strange mixture of amazement and delight. He was a
powerfully built man, with keen gray eyes deeply set in their sockets.
His right hand rested heavily upon the hilt of a cavalry sabre, the
scabbard of which was concealed beneath the folds of the long brown
coat he wore. As Mrs. Brennan burst through the doorway he stepped
eagerly forward, his eyes brightening, and they met with clasped hands.
"Is it possible--Edith?" he cried, as if the recognition could scarcely
be credited.
"Oh, Frank!" she exclaimed, eagerly, "it seems all too good to be true.
How came you here?"
"Hunting after you, my fair lady. Did you suppose you could disappear
as mysteriously as you did last night without my being early on the
trail? Have these people injured you in any way?" And he glanced about
him with a threat in his gesture.
"Oh, no, Frank," hastily; "every one has been most kind. It was a mere
mistake. But how strangely you are dressed! how very rough you look!"
He laughed, but still retained his warm clasp of her hands.
"Not the pomp and circumstance of glorious war which you expected,
girl?" he asked lightly. "But we have all sorts of conditions to meet
down here, and soon learn in Rome to do as the Romans do."
As he finished speaking he perceived me for the first time, and his
face changed instantly into cold sternness. I saw him sweep one hasty
glance around, as though he suspected that I might not be alone, and
his hand fell once more upon his sword hilt, in posture suggestive of
readiness for action.
"Who have we here?" he asked, staring at me in amazement. "A Johnny
Reb?"
"Whatever I am," I retorted, my gorge rising suddenly at his
contemptuous term, and stepping out into the room before him, "I at
least wear the uniform of my service and rank, and not the nondescript
garments of a guerilla."
The scornful words stung him; I noticed the quick flush of anger in his
eyes, and was not sorry.
"You are insolent, sir. Moreover, you go too far, for as it chances you
are well within our lines, and we will see to what extent honor is
consistent with the work of a spy. The uniform of your service,
indeed!" he echoed hotly, pointing as he spoke across the room; "that
cavalry cloak over yonder tells its own story. Peters, Steele, arrest
this fellow."
"Frank, don't do that," she urged earnestly. "You mistake; that was the
cloak I wore."
If he heard her he gave no sign.
"Bind him," was the stern order, as the two men advanced. "Use your
belts if you have nothing else handy."
Angry as I most assuredly was, swept also by a new emotion which I did
not in the least comprehend, I yet fully realized the utter
helplessness of my position in point of resistance. They were twenty to
one. However much I longed to grapple with him who mocked me, the very
thought was insanity; my only possible chance of escape lay in flight.
To realize this was to act. I leaped backward, trusting for a clear
field in my rear, and an opportunity to run for it, but the door by
which I had just entered was now closed and barred--Bungay had made
sure his retreat. The man, watching my every movement, with sword half
drawn in his hand, saw instantly that I was securely trapped, and
laughed in scorn.
"You are not making war on women now," he said with a cutting sneer.
"You will not find me so easy a victim."
The taunt stung me, but more the tone and manner of the speaker, and
the hot blood of youth cast all caution to the winds. With a single
spring, forgetful of my own wound, I was at his throat, dashed aside
his uplifted hand, and by the sheer audacity of my sudden, unexpected
onset, bore him back crashing to the floor. He struggled gamely, yet I
possessed the advantage of position, and would have punished him
severely, but for the dozen strong hands which instantly laid hold upon
me, and dragged me off, still fighting madly, although as helpless as a
child.
My opponent instantly leaped to his feet and started forward, drawing a
revolver as he came. His face was deathly white from passion, and there
was a look in his eyes which told me he would be restrained now by no
rule of war.
"You cowardly spy!" he cried, and my ears caught the sharp click as he
drew back the hammer. "Do you think I will let that blow go unavenged?"
"I assuredly trust not," I answered, gazing up at him from behind the
gun muzzles with which I was yet securely pinned to the floor. "But if
you are, as I am led to believe, a Federal officer, with some
pretensions to being also a gentleman, and not the outlaw your clothes
proclaim, you will at least permit me to stand upon my feet and face
you as a man. If I am a spy, as you seem inclined to claim, there are
army courts to try me; if not, then I am your equal in standing and
rank, and have every right of a prisoner of war."
"This has become personal," hoarsely. "Your blow, as well as your
connection with the forcible abduction of this young lady, whose legal
protector I am, are not matters to be settled by an army court."
"Then permit me to meet you in any satisfactory way. The murder of a
helpless man will scarcely clarify your honor."
I knew from the unrelenting expression upon his face that my plea was
likely to prove a perfectly useless one, but before I had ended it Mrs.
Brennan stood between us.
"Frank," she said calmly, "you shall not. This man is a Confederate
officer; he is no spy; and during all the events of last night he has
proven himself a friend rather than an enemy. Only for my sake is he
here now."
Ignoring the look upon his face she turned toward me, impetuously waved
aside the fellows who yet held me prostrate, and extending her hand
lifted me to my feet. For an instant, as if by accident, our eyes met,
and a sudden flush swept across her throat and cheeks.
"It is my turn now," she whispered softly, so softly the words did not
carry beyond my own ears. Then she stood erect between us, as though in
her own drawing-room, and gravely presented us to each other, as if she
dared either to quarrel longer in her presence.
"Major Brennan, Captain Wayne."
We bowed to each other as men salute on the duelling field. In his eyes
I read an unforgiveness, a bitter personal enmity, which I returned
with interest, and secretly rejoiced over.
"The lady seems to be in control at present," he said shortly, shoving
back the revolver into his belt. "Nevertheless I shall do my military
duty, and hold you as a prisoner. May I inquire your full name and
rank?"
"Philip Wayne, Captain ----th Virginia Cavalry, Shirtley's Brigade."
"Why are you within our lines?"
"I attempted to pass through them last night with despatches, but was
prevented by my desire to be of assistance to this lady."
"Indeed?" He smiled incredulously. "Your tale is quite interesting and
rather romantic. I presume you yet carry the papers with you as
evidence of its truth?"
"If you refer to the despatches, I do not. I sincerely trust they are
already safely deposited in the hands of the one for whom they were
intended."
A malignant look crept into Brennan's face, and his jaws set ominously.
"You will have to concoct a far better story than that, my friend,
before you face Sheridan," he said insolently, "or you will be very apt
to learn how a rope feels. He is not inclined to parley long with such
fellows as you. Bind his hands, men, and take him out with you into the
road."
The two soldiers grasped me instantly at the word of command. For a
single moment I braced myself to resist, but even as I did so my eyes
fell upon a slight opening in the wall, and I caught a quick glimpse of
Bungay's face, his finger to his lips. Even as I gazed in astonishment
at this sudden apparition, a lighter touch rested pleadingly on my arm.
"Do not struggle any longer, Captain Wayne," spoke Mrs. Brennan's
voice, gently. "I will go to General Sheridan myself, and tell him the
entire story."
I bowed to her, and held out my hands to be bound.
"I yield myself your prisoner, madam," I said meaningly, and not
unconscious that her glance sank before mine. "I even imagine the bonds
may prove not altogether unpleasant."
Brennan strode between us hastily, and with quick gesture to his men.
"Bind the fellow," he said sternly. "And mind you, sir, one word more,
and they shall buck you as well. It may be valuable for you to remember
that I am in command here, however I may seem to yield to the wish of
Mrs. Brennan."
CHAPTER X
A WOMAN'S TENDERNESS
Youth is never largely given to reflection, which is the gift of years;
and although my life had in a measure rendered me more thoughtful than
I might have proven under ordinary conditions, yet it is to be frankly
confessed, by one desirous of writing merely the truth, that I
generally acted more upon impulse than reason. As I stood forth in the
sunlight of that lonely mountain road, my hands securely bound behind
my back, the end of the rope held by one of my captors, while his
fellow leaned lazily upon his gun and watched us, I thought somewhat
deeply over the situation and those peculiar circumstances leading up
to it.
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