Passion's Fury (47 page)

“I imagine that would be possible, madam.” He gave her a wink, which made her giggle. “And if I had the time for such a pleasure, rest assured you would be the lady of my choice. Unfortunately, I’ve business to tend to and no time for luxuries. Could you tell me who would be in charge in the Major’s absence?”

“Blackmouth.” She spat the hated name.

“I beg your pardon?”

Jewel laughed raucously. “That’s what we call the no good sonofabitch because, when he opens his mouth, all you see is a big, black hole. He’s got rotten teeth. His name’s Blackmon, Sergeant Kaid Blackmon. I reckon that’s what you better call him.”

He was amused by her candor. “I
reckon
I had. Now where would I find him?”

She pointed down the road. “If you keep ridin’, you’ll come to a nicer building than the rest. On the left. He’ll be in there, probably takin’ a drink, if he thinks nobody’s lookin’.”

“Tell me,” Rance pushed for information. “Weren’t some of you women in Tarboro Prison before being moved here last fall?”

“Sure were. A hellhole it was, too. ‘Blackmouth’ was top dog there, for sure, and he ran things the way he wanted. Then the real top dogs got wind of things and closed it down. Moved us here. We still got it rough, but it’s better’n it was back there, believe me.”

“Were
you
one of the prisoners there?”

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously, and she stepped back from the fence and placed her hands on her hips. “Yeah, I was. But don’t go askin’ me no questions about what went on. It was a hellhole. That’s all I’m going to say.”

Rance thought a moment, then decided that he might get more information from one of April’s fellow prisoners than he would from the officer in charge. “I’m not trying to make any trouble, madam. I’m looking for someone. A young woman by the name of April Jennings. The last information about her was—” He stopped talking and stared down at the woman. Her face had suddenly twisted in a grimace of rage. Her hands were opening and closing at her side, fingers arching as though clawing. Her eyes flashed wide then narrowed to angry slits.

“The only thing I know about that bitch is that she was a snake in the grass. Used people. You ain’t gonna find her around here. I can tell you that.”

“Well, where can I find her then?” Rance was puzzled. April was not the sort to make enemies. Whatever had she done to make this woman hate her so?

Jewel turned and started walking back toward the others.

“Hey,” he called. “Can’t you at least tell me where she is?”

“If I knew, I wouldn’t tell you,” she yelled over her shoulder. “You ain’t got no business gettin’ mixed up with a bitch like that. Just turn around and go back where you come from, Captain, ’cause ‘Blackmouth’ ain’t gonna tell you nothin’ neither.”

He gave Virtus a gentle nudge, urging him forward. The woman’s response was yet another upset in an already mysterious situation. April’s being in prison seemed beyond understanding.

April, a Union spy? Ridiculous! Rance had learned the whole story of Alton Moseley, had been told that she caused him untold agony while he was dying. She had been sent to Tarboro.

The next morning, after Rance learned the story from some soldiers, he had gone to check on Edward and found Trella standing beside his bed. She had looked away from Rance, cheeks coloring slightly. She needn’t have worried, he thought. She was just another woman, and as long as his best friend never found out, then no one would be hurt. He had simply lost his control and his good intentions.

“They aren’t gonna take my arm off,” Edward had mustered strength enough to say, determination in his voice. “They’re gonna leave them things in and see what happens.”

Rance explained briefly about April, saying that he was going to get her released from prison. He warned Edward that, if leaving the maggots in the wound did not take care of the infection, then he would have to agree to amputation. “And don’t tell me you’d rather die, you bastard,” he snapped. “That’s the coward’s way out.”

“Why, you’re man enough for me with one arm, anyway,” Trella cooed, avoiding Rance’s gaze. “My goodness, you just wear me out sometimes.”

Rance left shortly after that, unable to stomach the two-timing wench any longer.

Immediately he went to the hospital military post to get help with his quest, but as soon as he introduced himself, the soldier behind the desk cried, “Captain Taggart, you’re to report to Major General Jeb Stuart in Richmond at once. He sent word that you could be found somewhere around here, something about your bringing in wounded soldiers. The orders were marked urgent, and they came in yesterday morning. You’d best get moving.”

Rance silently cursed the news. The thought of April suffering in prison made his guts burn, but Stuart would not have sent for him unless it was extremely important. He could only hope that whatever Stuart wanted would not take long, so he could return to Chimborazo quickly and start fighting to free her.

Rance sat in a tent on an outpost of Richmond and listened to the great cavalry general explain that his men were in immediate need of horses. Good horses. “We’ve quite a winter before us, Taggart. I plan to busy my men giving the Yankees hell. They won’t hole in like sleeping bears. Not with us around to ride rampant.”

Rance knew he meant it. He had a lot of respect for Stuart. He had fought hard in just about every major battle so far.

Though not six feet tall, Stuart was built heavily and wore a massive flowing beard that people said was meant to cover a receding chin and to camouflage his youth as well, for he was only thirty years old. But his personal bravery, endurance, and high good humor had made him a magnificent cavalry leader. He surrounded himself with an excellent staff and trained his subordinates with a sober professionalism. He had a reputation for being deeply religious.

“One of my scouts tells me the Yankees have a good supply of horses just across the Rapidan River, Taggart,” he said, tugging at his bushy brown beard as his eyes bored into Rance’s. “I could send some of my men. They’re damned good, and you know it. But nobody’s got an eye for horse flesh like you have. I don’t want to send a patrol behind enemy lines, risking their lives, only to have them come back with a bunch of worthless nags. You go pick out the best. That’s all I’ll have for my men. The best.

“You served me well once before,” Stuart reminded him. “You got me damn good horses. I’m counting on you, Taggart.”

Rance could not refuse. It was his duty to the Confederacy, and he wanted to help this man.

So, through the winter months, he rode with Stuart’s cavalry. He was proud to be a part of that gallant band. If he had not been haunted by thoughts of April, he would have been content with his life.

It was mid-February before Stuart allowed his men a respite from fighting. All indications pointed to fierce fighting with the spring thaw. He wanted his cavalrymen rested for it. So, while the others recuperated, Rance rode at full speed to Richmond.

He found Trella, who told him that Edward had recuperated fully and been reassigned to duty. He was fighting somewhere, though she did not know where…did not seem to care. They’d had a fight of their own, she said, before he left. She doubted that he would return to her. This time, she was really working as a prostitute.

He had left her, heading for Chimborazo. There, thanks to intervention by General Stuart, he was able to secure the pardon for April.

He had the pardon when he knocked on Kaid Blackmon’s door.

Rance approached the headquarters and dismounted. A guard snapped to attention and saluted. Rance returned the gesture and asked to see Sergeant Blackmon.

“Inside, sir. Go right in,” he was told, a bit reluctantly.

He pushed open the door and saw the swarthy, heavyset man leaning back against the wall in a precariously balanced chair. The front chair legs hit the floor at the same time the big man did. Saluting smartly, he said, “Sergeant Blackmon, sir.”

Rance removed his gloves, reached inside his coat, and withdrew the official pardon. Handing it to Blackmon, he felt an immediate dislike for the man.

“A pardon for Miss April Jennings,” Rance told him as the sergeant scanned the papers. “She was unjustly imprisoned some time ago. That’s a full pardon. She is to be released to me. Send for her at once, please.”

He was glancing about the room, noticing the sparse furnishings, the empty whiskey bottles lying in dust-cluttered corners, when he became aware that the sergeant had made no move. Turning, he saw Blackmon looking at him with a strange expression on his face, a mixture of anger and…what? Sadness?
His wrath.

“Well, sergeant?” Rance asked impatiently. “Have Miss Jennings brought to me at once.”

“Can’t.” Blackmon spit a wad of tobacco into a dark corner and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He glared openly at the intruder.

Rance was about to ask why in the hell he could not send for her, but the man spoke up first.

“She’s dead.”

A full moment passed before Rance could find his voice. Dear God, he thought wildly, it was like that other time…that other time when he returned for a woman he dared believe he was capable of loving, only to find her dead. It was happening all over again.

“What…what happened to her?” he managed to choke, reaching for the bottle on the desk without asking. He tipped it quickly to his lips and took a long swallow of whiskey, listening as Blackmon told him how April tried to escape before they moved out of Tarboro, ran into the swamps and was lost. A few days later, an old farmer told them of finding her body, snake-bitten and alligator chewed. Blackmon had buried her.

“I made out the report. It’s all here if you want to see it, Captain,” Blackmon offered, reaching toward a drawer.

Rance shook his head. He was feeling sick, fighting the bile rising in his throat.

“I didn’t go mark the grave or nothing. I mean, she was just a prisoner, and I’m real sorry that it’s come out now that she shouldn’t have been in prison, but you gotta understand that
we
didn’t know none of that. We were just doin’ what we was told to do, and that was to keep her in the stockade. Her dyin’ was her own doin’.”

Rance never spoke. He continued to down the contents of the bottle as quickly as possible, racing to blot out the horror.

“Here. You can read the report.”

He thrust some papers forward, but Rance pushed them away. “No,” he whispered hoarsely. “I don’t want to see them, I’ve got to be going.” He forced himself to walk rigidly from the cabin. Later, there would be time for a big drunk, to souse himself with as much liquor as his body would hold. It was going to take a hell of a drunk to ever get over this, he thought dazedly. God, not April. Not April.

Virtus seemed to sense his master’s grief, and he moved along slowly without being prodded. Rance stared straight ahead, seeing only a vision of laughing blue eyes and golden blond hair, and a smile like an angel’s.

He had not heard the woman calling his name. Only when he felt a small stone strike his arm did he glance around sharply, drawing his saber, ready for a fight. Then he saw her standing at the fence, far away from the others, glancing back over her shoulder nervously as she called to him once again. “It’s Taggart, ain’t it? Ain’t your name Taggart? You look just like she said Taggart would look. Nobody could be as handsome as she said you was. I had a feeling you’d come for her one day.”

He started to dismount, heart pounding wildly as he realized this woman knew something of April. Perhaps she could tell him of her life during those last weeks…

“No, don’t get off your horse,” she said sharply, glancing around wildly. “I can’t let nobody see me talking to you. I’d be killed for sure…or worse.”

He started to speak, but she waved him to silence. “Don’t ask me nothing, ’cause there’s no time. Just listen. My name’s Selma. I was a friend of April’s…for a while. Then, like all the others, I turned against her, ’cause I really didn’t understand how it was. But that’s not important. I can make it all up to her now.”

She took a deep breath and went on so rapidly that he had to strain to grasp each harshly whispered word. “April ain’t dead.”

His eyes widened. His heart began to pound even faster, this time with hope. “How do you know this?”

“No time to explain!” she snapped harshly. “When you find her, you’ll understand. Just follow Blackmon. No matter how long it takes. Follow him. He’ll take you straight to her. I gotta go now. He might see me. He’d figure what I was telling you, ’cause we all know the truth about Blackmon. I only told you ’cause of what she said about you…how she missed you and all. That’s all I got to say.”

She turned and ran back to where the others were working under the hot sun, bent over with their hoes, chopping at the hard-packed soil.

Dazed, Rance moved Virtus forward. Why not believe the woman? Kaid Blackmon had acted strangely. And this might explain why that first woman had reacted so violently when he asked about April. Selma said they had all turned against April. But why? And what happened to make Selma change her mind?

None of it made any sense, but he was certain of one thing—he was going to take Selma’s advice and follow Kaid Blackmon when he left Dobbsville stockade.

Riding with Stuart’s cavalry had given him valuable experience in undercover maneuvering. He rode perhaps five miles down the road before turning back, wanting to make sure that if Blackmon had had him followed, he would be satisfied that Rance was on his way.