A Reckless Love, page 16
He turned and walked away from her. She watched his loose, slightly bowlegged horseman’s stride, as he went to the altar rail, where a kneeling bench provided a place for prayer. He dropped down onto it, resting his elbows on the rail, and laid his face in cupped hands.
With tears in her eyes, Aurora followed and knelt beside him. She didn’t think of herself as a particularly churchy kind of girl, though her relationship to God was comfortable and intimate. She read her Bible and prayed every day, and tried to listen for the promptings of the Holy Spirit. She had a feeling he was shouting at her right now. Pray with this man. He needs me.
So she laid her palm against his back, bent her head close to his shoulder, and told God in a whisper, “We’re listening.”
Stillness fell, a holy quiet that she might have found boring when she was a little younger. Shared with Zane it felt electric, and she thought of a verse she’d learned a long time ago, something about two or three gathered together “in my name.” She’d never experienced this in church before, even on Sunday. Especially on Sunday, where Gil Reese held sway.
After a moment she heard Zane begin to murmur. She couldn’t understand the words, but she heard his heart breaking. She didn’t know real men prayed this way. Well, perhaps she was aware that Levi did—his blessings over meals were more than rote thanks for food. And Schuyler had begun to demonstrate a more verbal faith of late. But her father had never done so when she was small. She’d heard Grandpapa pray over his patients, in a stilted King James English that always struck her as more of an incantation than a genuine request for aid. Maybe she was wrong about that.
By the time she circled around to the absurdity of trying to assign motive to anyone else’s prayers, Zane was quiet again. She straightened away from him, knotting her hands in her lap.
He heaved a deep sigh and sat back on his heels, dropping his hands to the railing. As he looked at her, his eye was dry, his countenance peaceful. “You were in Memphis the night of the Sultana explosion, weren’t you?”
Her mouth fell open. “Yes! I was living with my grandparents then. Were you there?”
He nodded. “We didn’t meet, or I would remember it, but I think I met your grandparents at the hospital the next day.”
“Is that when your eye was damaged?”
“No.” He touched the patch. “This happened in prison. But I was on the Sultana—”
“You were in the explosion?”
“No, listen. I don’t talk about this normally, but you were there, so you understand. I got on the boat in Vicksburg, feeling lucky to be going north, even though it was crowded as—well, overcrowded beyond belief. Then when we stopped for refueling in Memphis, we were allowed to get off for dinner. I went to the Soldiers’ Home—”
“I was there! I may have seen you!”
“Maybe.” He shrugged. “I wouldn’t have been much to look at. Thin and weak and dirty . . .” His cheeks flushed.
She covered his hand with hers. “They all were. I couldn’t believe how they had been treated.” She gulped back the urge to cry, remembering those sorry, smelly specimens of humanity that her countrymen had so evilly misused. “Never mind—go on, I’m listening.”
“All right. So I went back to the wharf to get on the boat, and I saw a fellow prisoner who’d been released a few weeks before me. He was an officer and a respected judge, a friend of General Grant—a bit more important to the Union command than a gimpy Provost sergeant. Judge Teague was . . .” He looked away. “Aurora, I don’t know how to tell you what kind of man he was. If I’d had a father like him, no telling where I’d be now. I might be President of the United States!” His mouth curved as he pinned her with that intent green gaze. “He kept me alive at Cahaba, more than once. So when I saw him sitting on his luggage on the wharf, looking like somebody had sucker-punched him, I had to know what was wrong. He’d been in Memphis for nearly two weeks, working out details of a new assignment as a federal judge, but he’d just gotten word his youngest son had taken ill in St. Louis after mustering out of the army, and wasn’t expected to live. No more trains going out that night, and the Sultana crammed to the gills.”
Aurora gripped Zane’s hand. “You gave him your place, didn’t you?”
“Yes. After we arranged for the transfer of passage, I boarded to make sure Judge Teague was settled. As I was heading toward the gangway, past the boiler hold, I noticed a man coming out.” Zane paused, his inner gaze clearly in another place and time. “The light was bad, since it was past dark and the lights on the boat flickered, but something struck me as odd—maybe the way he pulled his hat down over his face as he shut the door behind him and shoved his way through people crowding onto the boat. Anyway, it got my curiosity up, so I followed. I almost lost him a time or two before we got down to the wharf, but by then I thought there was something familiar about the way he held himself as he walked. Maybe he’d been at the prison.”
Wrapped up in the story, Aurora blurted, “Where did he go?”
“He turned north along the landing, which runs nearly a mile up the Memphis riverbank. I had nothing else to do, so I went after him, staying back so he wouldn’t hear or see me. I never got close enough to see his face, but there was enough moon to see his outline. Eventually we followed an old Indian trail up the bluffs, going through the woods with the river to our left. It had rained a lot, and sometimes we had to leave the trail.” He blinked and looked at her. “Won’t bore you with any more details, but I just wanted to give you the circumstances of how I wound up where I did.”
“I’m not bored,” she said. Far from it.
“Anyway, we slogged along for quite a while. Not sure how long, but probably a couple of hours later, the Sultana caught up and slowly passed us. I found out later she’d paddled over to the Arkansas side for refueling, which caused enough of a delay that we didn’t get too far behind her. Clearly the man I followed was watching for her, since he sped up to keep her in sight for the next two or three hours.”
“Zane. You walked through the woods, all that way in the middle of the night?”
“I’ve made harder treks.” He turned to sit on the kneeling bench, resting his elbows on his knees, looking at his linked fingers. “Of course I was in bad shape from malnutrition, but I knew this man had done something while he was on that boat, that he was waiting for something, and so I pushed myself. And I’m glad I did. When the explosion came, the concussion knocked me to the ground. I don’t know how long I was out, but by the time I came to, the Sultana was in flames, the stern was gone, and the current was turning her so the wind pushed the fire to the bow. It was—it was like watching hell come to life. I relive it most nights in my sleep.”
Aurora slid down to sit on the floor at his feet and reached up to grab his clenched hands. “Oh, Zane—I heard the echo of that boom from seven miles away. I don’t know how anybody survived. Was Judge Teague hurt in the explosion then?”
He shook his head. “My first thought was of him lying asleep in my spot on the upper deck, and I couldn’t move. But I made myself get up and see if I could find any survivors. Miraculously”—he swallowed—“by the grace of God, there were lots of them. Hanging onto trees, floating barrels, logs, doors, anything they could grab. I tumbled down the bluff toward the water and saw a Negro paddling a canoe just off the bank, trying to haul people out of the water by himself.” He looked up, a slight smile lightening his expression. “I wish you could meet Lucky Tolbert. We became pretty good friends that night. I hollered and offered to help, so we worked together for some time, dragging people to safety as best we could. And to answer your question . . . about an hour into our work, we found Judge Teague—”
“What? But that’s wonderful!”
“It was. I was never so glad to see somebody in my life. He’d had the sense not to jump into the water right away, with the crush of folks that wound up drowning each other or boiling themselves in steam. He pried off a piece of board from a stair, then made his way to the front of the boat, and stayed there until it started to go down. By then the crowd had drifted away, so he just jumped in and drifted downstream. At some point, he found an abandoned door, which was a lot more stable in the current. When we pulled him into the canoe, he was shivering with cold, bleeding from a head wound.”
“But alive.”
“Yes, thank God. Alive.”
“Then—” She didn’t understand the sorrow in his eyes. “What’s the matter? What happened?”
sixteen
AURORA DAUGHTRY had completely bewitched him.
To his memory, Zane had never spoken to anyone at such length in his entire life. But she made him feel as if her regard and respect would not suffer from hearing his pain. Her small, soft hands held his with such compassion that it was all he could do to keep from opening his arms and pulling her close.
That would be a disaster.
And now he’d reached the most difficult part of the story, which, for the life of him, he didn’t know why he’d begun.
He sat there, telling himself to walk her home, give her back to her grandmother, and go back to doing the only thing that made his life valuable—which was hunting down criminals and putting them away where they couldn’t hurt people like Aurora.
But she had prayed with him, prayed for him, and he owed her some sort of explanation for this display of emotion. So he controlled it. Leveling his voice, he went on with the story. “A Union supply ship picked us up off the island where Tolbert had been camping and took us to the Memphis landing. Rescue wagons were shuttling survivors up to the three hospitals. We wound up in Adams—”
“My grandfather’s hospital!”
He nodded. “I stayed there with the judge for three days, until he was well enough to go to a boardinghouse. People were so kind, people who a week before that would have spit on us. Women brought us food and clothes and other necessities.”
“Of course they did! Southerners are not monsters!”
“I know.” He looked away, absently stroking her fingers. “By the time the judge was able to leave the hospital, his son . . .” He sighed. “Well, he’d passed on.”
“Oh, Zane.”
The tears in her eyes moved him. “There was nothing I could do about it except be there. I think he was grateful. He treated me like a son.” He wasn’t going to tell her how many nights the judge woke him up from a screaming, cold-sweat nightmare in which he found himself back at Cahaba, either hanging from that accursed ladder or standing in waist-high water waiting to use the latrine. “When he realized I had no place to go, no real home, he recommended me for a position with the marshals service. I’d been Provost Guard in the army, and it was a natural fit. The judge had been recently appointed to the judicial district of northern Alabama, so I moved with him to Montgomery and lived in a boardinghouse there for four years.”
“I see why you think of him as a father,” Aurora said softly.
“And you can understand why I have to bring in the swine who murdered him in cold blood.” He thought the brutal words would shock her.
But she rose onto her knees, leaning close, clutching his fingers. “I do understand. That’s how justice works. Judge Teague is the one who presided over that trial after Schuyler’s father’s murder, isn’t he? Do you think the two are connected?”
“They have to be. And I think the man I followed when the Sultana exploded is responsible for one or both murders. I can almost prove it.”
She frowned. “It sounds like you think he caused the explosion.”
“I’m certain of that too. There’s a connection somewhere between all three. The judge knew something that got him killed, and I keep thinking it had to do with my testimony before Congress—which makes me a mark too. What did Ezekiel Beaumont and Judge Teague, the soldiers on the Sultana—myself included—and these Frye people all have in common?”
“The Fryes?” Aurora stilled. “Why do you mention them?”
“Well, they were at the trial, and I know Teague was interested in what they had to say. They seem to have subsequently been the target of those fires at Daughtry House. Because I was in Washington during the trial, I was too late to gather whatever they know. If only I could talk to them . . .” He paused at the expression on her face. “What? Do you know where they are?”
“No . . .” Aurora looked away. “But if I find out, I’ll let you know.”
She wasn’t telling him something, and to this point he’d thought of her as brutally honest, as open as a plate glass window in front of a candy store. Had his outpouring of personal backstory made her withdraw? He felt as though a poisonous wound had been lanced, but the thought of even a drop of it spilling onto her was galling.
He waited, watching her, wondering. Finally he said, “Aurora, I’m sorry if all that was more than—But you wanted to know—”
“Of course I wanted to know!” She sandwiched his hands in her small ones. “Now I understand why you’re so all-fired intent on finding the judge’s killer. So many things about you make more sense now.”
To Aurora’s relief, Zane did not withdraw. He even smiled a little. “Did you really think I was hiding a wife away somewhere?”
“I hoped not. But since we’re on the subject, please tell me if you’ve got a sweetheart in Montgomery. Or Memphis. Or Nebraska or wherever you were in your Pony Express days. You were a Pony Express rider, weren’t you?”
He laughed. Why did he always laugh when she asked him something? “Yes, I rode for the Pony. But trust me, there was no opportunity for a sweetheart during those days. Not many young ladies ventured out to Indian territory before the war. And no, I didn’t leave a sweetheart at any point in my travels.” Smile fading, he looked down at their joined hands. “Until you, I never met anybody who could look past this ugly mug long enough to carry on a conversation, let alone get to know me.”
She had a feeling they had just leapt far beyond the bounds of proper church behavior, and it was completely her fault. After all, she had touched him first. He was a gentleman, and likely he hadn’t wanted to embarrass her by repulsing her. Besides, he’d actually said she was beautiful and he’d like to court her.
Therefore whatever happened next would be at her own instigation. Gil would probably tell her she’d go to hell for it, though she believed Jesus would most likely understand.
However, she could not allow him to continue thinking he was ugly. So she let go of him and turned around to sit down on the kneeler beside him. “Close your eyes,” she said.
“What?” He was looking at her like she was crazy.
“I mean eye!” She snapped her fingers. “Close your eye. I mean it.”
He obeyed.
Reaching up under her dress, she untied the garters of her right stocking, then settled her skirts modestly over her legs. Then she removed her right shoe and the stocking and tucked them out of sight under her skirt. Her bare foot stuck out in plain view. “All right, now you can look.”
Zane gingerly looked at her sideways.
“At my foot,” she said.
She watched his gaze travel down her arm to her dress to the hem of the skirt, and she saw when he did a double-take and started counting toes. “You have—”
“Yes, I have six toes on my right foot. I guess that little one on the side hardly counts, but my sisters think it’s awfully funny. Once I asked Grandpapa to cut the extra one off, but he spanked me and said not to ever say anything like that again.” She looked thoughtfully at her own foot for a minute, then at his red face. “I’ve gotten used to it, but for a long time I was mad at God that he messed me up so badly. I used to pitch a fit when they tried to make me go swimming or even take a bath, because I didn’t want anybody to see it. And I know what’s wrong with letting a man see my bare foot, but—”
“Aurora, hush. I know what you’re doing, and I appreciate it, but it’s not the same thing.” He reached down to brush one finger across the top of her foot. “Even with eleven toes, you’re the most exquisite thing I’ve ever seen.”
Shivering with some unidentifiable longing, she leaned over, put her palm against his face, and turned it toward hers. “Fair enough. Then let me tell you what I see. I see a man of courage and integrity and immense loyalty. I haven’t known you long, but what I’ve seen makes me want to keep digging until I understand what has hurt you and what has rebuilt you and strengthened you.” She let her thumb trace his lips. Fine, beautifully cut lips. “And I’m going to be so honest my grandmother would probably shut me up in a room for the rest of my life if she knew I said this, but you are far from ugly. And I really wish you would kiss me.”
She watched his gaze drop to her mouth. She could see the war going on in his brain.
“Aurora, I can’t.”
“Then I will.” She set her lips to his, felt the warmth spread as he responded instinctively, then he gave a low groan. He turned her across him, settled her comfortably in his arms, and seemed intent on learning every square inch of her face. Drowning in emotion, she eventually realized that one of them was going to have to put a halt to this feast of mutual pleasure, and unfortunately, it would probably have to be her. She cupped his face with her hands. “Zane. I don’t want to, but I’m thinking we should stop, because Gil might come back from dinner any minute.”
The green eye widened as her words blew away whatever fog he had been swimming around in. He looked horrified, which was a crime in itself, because he had demonstrated a superior talent for kissing that strengthened her determination to be the only sweetheart he possessed in any state of the Union. Now she was going to have to work even harder to break through the walls he’d established around his heart.
Hastily he set her away from him and pressed the heel of one hand against his good eye. “Hurry. Put your stocking and shoe back on, then I’ll take you home. Aurora Daughtry, you are a menace.”
