“How dare you! Get out! Get out, I say!”
“As you wish, madam, but hear me well. That doc you’ve set your cap for is not worth it. From what I’ve heard, he hardly sleeps alone,” he jabbed as he reached for the door handle. And as he started to turn it, he heard the whiz past his ear, making him duck as it reminded him too clearly of a bullet. Instead, it was her hairbrush and it crashed into the door. He cast her a leaving glance over his shoulder and found her standing straight, breathing hard, her eyes still aflame. She was so angry and so alluring, it took all his strength to walk out that door.
Virginia
Six days later
Christmas had come and gone. The weather had turned bitter cold but the further south they sailed the warmth fought to take the edge off.
“She’s all I got available.” The trader wrestled the lead rope in his hand as he led the spirited equine to the pen. “Ya know, horseflesh pretty damn hard to get these days. She’ll cost ya a right sum.”
Francois looked the mare over. “I’ll take her.”
“You ain’t even know how much she is!”
He looked at the grizzly bearded trader. The man didn’t look like he’d seen civilization in years, though from the looks of Virginia due to the war, there wasn’t much civilization left…
“It’s like you said. Not much selection about. Tell me, how did you get such a young, spirited animal?” he asked as the horse danced on her hooves.
The man shrugged. “Got men looking to make a buck or two, or,” he spat. “Runaway from the show, if’n you get me, huh?”
Soldiers who’d fled the conflict. He had heard about this prior to his capture. Men who got letters from home, begging them to return, and those who no longer had the stomach for the bloodshed with little to no pay or food or ammunition…
“How much?” He wanted the horse and to get away.
“You got Yankee gold?”
“I told you that. Yes.”
“Three hundred.”
“That’s outrageous!” He’d managed to get some money out of the family’s bank account in New York. He was shocked it wasn’t frozen, considering they were Confederate, but he didn’t waste time questioning his good fortune.
“You want her or not?”
He snarled, digging the Yankee bills out of his pocket.
“Saddle and tack be another hundred,” the greedy old man added.
Francois bit back the swear word.
“Here,” he stated, sticking the script into the man’s hand, then slapped another hundred on it. “And the tack as well.”
The man grinned, exposing his missing teeth, and he turned to go get the tack, handing Francois the rope. Francois watched the man leave so he turned toward the horse, reaching to pet her withers.
“Tres bien,” he muttered. “I will call you Rose. You’re as pretty as one, but I see you still have thorns,” he commented, having watched her prance to break free, the wild look still in her eyes though he noticed she’d calmed somewhat.
He’d wished he didn’t need to get the animal, but so far, his trip hadn’t cost him much, just his life—if caught. He saddled her as quickly as he could and then stuck his foot in the stirrup to pull up and sit in the saddle. Settling into the seat took a little more work as she twisted underneath him, jerking her head to try to free herself of him, but he clung on. It’d been a while since he’d ridden but he refused to let her dump him. His window of opportunity was tight, getting away without attracting more attention from the Yankees. Finally, he got her to answer to his control, getting her to move to his cues.
Once he got her under his command, he made her bolt down the road, and out of the coastal town. They rode southwest, skirting as much of the tree line that still remained, after years of warfare. Trying to find the Army of Northern Virginia was going to be rough, because he was trying to get to them before the Northern Army did the same. He’d heard the new commander of the Army was General Grant. It was a name he was too familiar with, since Grant had invaded the lands close to home and stolen Vicksburg from the Confederacy, thus sealing the Mississippi River to Yankee control and splitting the South in two. He’d spit over the man’s name now, except the spittle would only hit him with the speed Rose could go when he urged her.
Cutting through a copse of trees, he came upon an unexpected surprise. Sitting around a struggling fire, was a woman, all bundled in layers from what he could tell. Near her was a bulging carpetbag, a linen tied bag, stuffed with something and a little dog, laying against her skirts and eyeing him carefully. What was she doing out here? Virginia wasn’t safe with two large armies hell-bent on warfare.
Slowly, he made Rose walk up to her and grew more concerned when she didn’t raise her head.
“Ma’am? Are you all right?”
She pulled her head up out of the crouched position and glared at him. Wisps of amber hair escaped the scarf wrapped around her head. Her pale skin had a touch of sun on it, with a spattering of freckles across her nose. Her dark blue gaze glared at him, letting him know she didn’t trust him, nor did he think she’d trust anyone, other than that dog next to her, which she pulled closer, despite the canine’s small barks meant to ward him off.
“No, sir, I’m not ‘all right’,” she answered, with a defeated tone. “This war, this awful war, has taken everything from me, leaving me with what you see here.” She laughed awkwardly,
