“Sergeant, for you and the missy. You head on back, get your folk well.” The black man jammed the hat back on his head and grabbed the dispatch bag. To Ada, he said, “Don’t you be worrying about this. I’ll make sure this gets through.”
Francois growled but the tall slave stopped him. “Its what’s to be, sir. You’d never know about your folk if it weren’t for this, but as Miss Ada says, I am free, to the Yankees, so me appearing with news be fine, plus I see about pay.” He winked. “Remember, I’ll be back. Got my wife and young’uns still here.”
“Where are they, so I can check on them too?” Ada asked. If fever was sweeping through Louisiana, no one was safe.
Francois snorted. “Edward lives in my parish, if I gather right?”
“Yes, sir! When I heard you are a Fontaine, figured as much.”
“You know him by his last name?” Ada’s father was the doctor of her town, but she doubted anyone would act as Edward was, like he lived just down the street.
The black man smiled big. The sun gleamed off his baldhead, making him look very jovial. “Everyone in Louisiana knows the Fontaines.”
Chapter 40
“I am to watch over you as a parent over his children; and you know that your general loves you from the depths of his heart.”
—US General George McClellan to his army, March 17, 1862 prior to the Peninsular Campaign
Francois shifted in the saddle again. It’d been an uncomfortable afternoon, after Edward left, laughing his merry way to the northeast while he and Ada had headed further south. He knew she wanted to know about his family, though she hadn’t asked formally—yet. It was coming, but he wouldn’t answer it yet until the tension between them cooled.
He swung around to find her several feet back. “Ada, is something wrong?”
She shook her head. “No, nothing.”
But the yawn she stifled brought the trip closer to home. He’d pushed them for the first two hours, then for a fast click on the last one. At a walk now, the rhythm must have been calm enough for her to ride halfway asleep. Add they hadn’t eaten, thanks to the growl in his stomach, he pulled on the reins making the horse halt with hers not far behind.
She rode up next to him, a frown on her face. “Are you all right? In pain?”
“I’m well, stiff but more from being in the saddle, not my foot.” He laughed and swung out of the saddle, making sure he landed on his better foot though a wince still escaped from his mouth despite him clamping it shut. Biting back the curse word, he limped to her and lifted her off the saddle.
“I can get down myself,” she stated, straightening her skirts.
“I am a gentleman, and it is my honor and duty to assist you.” He grinned at her with a wink.
She laughed. “Next time, perhaps you’ll save your strength. Sounds like we are heading into a nightmare.”
“Fever comes yearly,” he mumbled, tying the horses. “But to reach the outer planters means it’s pretty fierce. My mother has had a lot to contend with, so I worry about her. And my sister, Cerisa. If I recall correctly, she was with child.” He pulled the saddles off and tossed her the blankets. “Let me see if I can scare up anything for dinner. Doubtful anything is still in these woods but I’ll double check.” He tipped his hat at her after he checked that the LaMott was still in his leather belt.
For once, she looked strong yet vulnerable, a delicacy all wrapped into a beautiful body, clad in a ragged dark wool dress. His hunger for her was growing stronger while she fretted over a scoundrel that wasn’t worth a pot to piss in. Anger mixed with his desires and so he turned, determined to find a rabbit or something, and prayed his frayed nerves would cool along with his desires.
The fire crackled and added warmth to a night that had chilled, leaving her close to shivering. Perhaps it was exhaustion catching up to her. The remains of the roasting rabbit, the skinny, pathetic creature he’d bagged on his hunt, sat on the bayonet, propped between two sturdy sticks. She chewed the cornbread he’d made, still trying to decide if it was horrible or good.
“You be taking quite a while to tell me if you like tonight’s cooking.”
She giggled. “It certainly is a different fare than I’m used to, that is for sure. Army food is not great but…” she looked at him above her tin cup. “Roasted rabbit and this is certainly unique.”
He laughed. It was a genuine laugh and very invitingly warm. It sparked tingles that spread to her groin and into her breasts, surprising her enough, she was sure she blushed.
“I figured it was worth it to try. You put up with Edward’s cookin’ just fine, though it wasn’t much more.”
“No, but I was used to salted pork fat and hard crackers.” And it was awful, but she’d not tell him that.
“Well, we’re about done with the hardtack, probably need it to chew in the morning. Salt pork be done. In the field, with minimum supplies, you make do,” he replied. “Cornmeal, a little fat and smidgen of water, can make something fine to go with roasted hare.”
“I’ll remember that, next time I find myself in that position.” She looked at him and found him staring at her with dark blue eyes. A heated gaze, one that again set off a flash of lightning through her nerves. Made her bite her bottom lip as she shifted on the stump she sat on, though she couldn’t peel her gaze off him, that was until he put his tin plate down and put dirt on the fire, killing half the flames.
“Can’t leave it burning too long,”
