Authors: Georgina Gentry

To Tame A Rebel (20 page)

BOOK: To Tame A Rebel

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April held up a restraining hand. “Don'tâdon't kill prisoners,” she gasped.

He slapped her hand away. “I ought to,” the lieutenant snarled, “but you might have some information for us.” He turned and yelled to his men. “Clem, you and some of the others see if you can force the captain to run her aground before she sinks, and then start looting her.”

“Thieves!” April spit at him.

“Shut up, Yank!” he ordered, then turned back to a younger boy, who ran to his side. “Tommy, tell the others to hurry up. The Yanks who escaped will be heading for Fort Gibson. We'll only have maybe an hour to unload her cargo before reinforcements show up.”

The Indian boy peered down at her with curiosity on his handsome face. “Jim, we got no wagons.”

“Then we'll take what we can carry on horses. Now, get a move on.”

“What you gonna do with the prisoner? Kill him?”

April sank back against the bloody deck. Having her throat cut might be more merciful than being gang-raped when they found out she was a woman.

“Hell, no, I won't kill him,” the big one snapped. “What's the matter with you, little brother? We don't kill prisoners. Besides, he might be able to give us valuable information.”

The younger soldier nodded. “You might have to torture him to get it.”

“Go do what I told you,” the officer growled. “I'll deal with him.”

The young soldier turned and left.

Torture. Now she knew why the mysterious officer had been so hesitant to tell her anything. But would the rebels believe that, or would they think she was just being stubborn? She was in so much pain, she wished she could pass out, but then he might kill her rather than bother with her. So instead, she gritted her teeth and glared at her captor. If he found out she was a woman, it might save her, but he probably wouldn't believe she knew nothing. Besides, the rugged lieutenant kneeling on the deck might be the very spy she was supposed to ferret out. She remembered the major's caution:
trust no one.

The rebel lieutenant took his knife. “You're bleeding pretty bad, Yank. I'll use strips of your uniform to staunch the flow.”

She could only nod. “Water. You got water?”

“I ought to let you go thirsty for trying to outwit me.” Even as he said that, he handed her his canteen and began to cut her blue uniform, tearing off strips and examining her arm. The blue cloth was sodden with scarlet blood. His big hands were gentle as he took the canteen and poured water over the wound. She flinched. “You're a stubborn one. Don't know how you managed to stay conscious with this wound.”

She wasn't sure she wouldn't faint from the pain, but she said nothing, frantic about what to do next. Her telltale knapsack lay by his side.

He reached in his pocket and retrieved a small bottle of liquor. “Damn, I hate to waste good whiskey to clean a Yankee wound. This is gonna hurt, soldier.”

She bit her lip. “Can Iâcan I have a drink first?”

He paused, glaring at her. “Oh, hell, yes. It ain't your fault you're here any more than it is mine.” He put his muscular arm under her shoulders and helped her to a half-sitting position, held the bottle to her lips. She gulped it, choking and coughing on the strong spirits.

“Why, you're just a boy, about the age of my brother.” His voice sounded almost sympathetic.

A ray of hope kindled in April's heart. Maybe if he took a liking to her, he might help her escape and never realize he was dealing with a woman. Escape? Not much chance of that until her arm was better and she might steal a horse and ride on to Fort Gibson. On the other hand, wasn't she supposed to eventually infiltrate the Confederate lines if she didn't find her spy among the Yankees?

He took the bottle from her hand. “This will sting.”

April gritted her teeth and closed her eyes as he poured the whiskey on the wound. It felt like liquid fire. By biting her lip bloody, she managed only to groan, not shriek, which might alert him to the fact that she was female. She kept her eyes closed as he ministered to her. His hands were gentle as they patted a strange-smelling herb over the wound and bandaged it expertly. Evidently, he'd had a lot of experience dealing with wounded men.

“What's your name, soldier?”

She kept her voice low. “Uh, A. G. Grant.”

He laughed without mirth. “Any kin to General Grant?”

“If so, you think I'd be here?”

“And smart aleck, too,” the lieutenant snapped as he pulled a bandanna from his pocket and made a sling for her arm.

April didn't answer, watching past his shoulder as Confederate soldiers moved about the deck, unloading boxes and bales.

Her captor turned to watch the progress. “Hurry up, men!” he shouted. “The Yankees will be coming soon.”

“We won't be able to take it all with no wagons, Lieutenant.” a lanky half-breed yelled.

“Well, then, Clem, tell the boys to take what they can carry, and we'll just have to burn the rest. We ain't leaving nothing for the Yankees.”

The young soldier named Tommy returned. “He die yet?”

Her captor shook his head. “I stopped the bleeding. We'll keep him, but I doubt a common soldier knows much.”

Tommy reached for her knapsack. “What's this?”

“That's mine!” April panicked, and struggled to crawl toward him. If she could just throw it over the side . . .

“Tommy”âthe officer caught her armâ“see what the Yank's so eager to keep us from getting.”

“No!” she said.

Tommy grinned as he began to open it. “Maybe the Yank's got some extra food, maybe even some coffee. You don't want to share your coffee, Yank? We ain't had any in months.”

She didn't answer, only watched helplessly. April felt perspiration break out on her clammy skin.

“Just bring it along, Tommy.” Her captor swung her up in his arms. “You can check it out later. Let's get off this tub before she sinks.”

However, the younger soldier paid no heed, continuing to dig in her knapsack.

“I said forget it, little brother, and let's get the hell out of here.” She laid her face against the Lieutenant's muscular chest as he began to stride away.

But behind them, Tommy cried out in surprise. “Well, I'll be damned! Look, Jim.”

She could only gulp, heart beating hard. Now they would know she was a spy and shoot her.

“What is it?” The big Cherokee carrying her paused and whirled around.

The private held up the telltale gray clothing. “One of our uniforms. Big brother, what's a damned Yankee doing with a Confederate uniform?”

The lieutenant glared down at her. “Answer that.”

“IâI took it as a souvenir off a rebel captive.”

Tommy scratched his head and stared at the uniform. “It's new, Jim. He didn't take it off no prisoner.”

The handsome Cherokee glared down into her face. “Bring it along, Tommy, and we'll get some answers later. Let's get out of here before the Yankees send reinforcements. Tell Clem to set fire to the whole boat; we'll not leave any supplies for the Yankees to recapture.” He strode off the deck, still carrying her, and headed for a palomino stallion on the bank.

She was in so much pain, she was barely aware when the big Cherokee lifted her to his horse and mounted up behind her. “Yank, you've got some explaining to do,” he snarled as he spurred his horse and they rode out. “Other wise . . .”

“Other wise, what?” she gasped.

He glared down at her. “Other wise, dawn tomorrow, we'll be shooting you as a spy!”

Chapter 15

The Confederate raiding party galloped away from the burning wreck. April was in pain, but more worried about what would happen to her now that the soldiers had found the uniform in her knapsack. Union reinforcements might arrive at any time, but it would be too late to rescue her.

They rode into the rebel camp, and other soldiers began to gather, curious. “You get any food?”

The younger brother dismounted, swaggering a little. “We got food and supplies, but better than that, we got a prisoner.”

Her captor swung down from his palomino, reached to pull her from his horse, and led her through the gathering crowd. “Somebody tell the general we're back.”

The scout called Clem took off at a run. At this point April staggered, and the big man caught her and lifted her in his arms. “Don't you die on me, Yank; you've got some questions to answer.”

And when she couldn't or wouldn't answer them, then what? She glanced around at the curious soldiers. What a ragtag bunch. Her heart almost went out to them because they were ragged and thin. Some of them didn't even have boots. The looted supplies were already being distributed, and the men grinned like kids at Christmas as they dug through the boxes, searching for things they could use.

The scout returned. “General Watie says bring the prisoner to his tent.”

The man who carried her turned to his brother. “Tommy, come along and bring that knapsack.”

What would happen to her when the general saw the Confederate uniform in her knapsack? Union reinforcements might arrive at any time, but it would be too late for her. She hadn't even had a chance to look for a spy before she was captured and unmasked. Maybe she should tell her captors the truth. Even as she considered it, April shook her head. They wouldn't believe her.

The lieutenant and his brother stopped before a tent, and her captor tossed her on the ground as a squat, dark, white-haired Indian in a gray uniform came out, accompanied by a handsome Indian captain.

The lieutenant and his brother saluted.

“At ease,” the old man said. “The mission was a success?”

“Yes, sir, we came back with lots of supplies.”

“The Yankees might try to recapture them,” the captain grumbled.

“I doubt that, Captain Big Horse,” the lieutenant snapped. “Of course, you weren't along to see them run like rabbits.”

“I had other duties,” the captain said coldly.

“Stop it, you two,” the old general said. “Lieutenant Wohali, you've got a prisoner?”

Wohali,
she thought. “Eagle” in the Cherokee language. Well, it fit the big man.

Her captor nudged her with his boot. “Yes, sir, just a private. Took him off that Yankee boat we plundered.”

“A private?” The old man scowled. “Why do you bother me with a common soldier?”

“Because he was carrying this, sir.” Lieutenant Eagle leaned over, took the gray uniform from the knapsack Tommy carried, and held it up.

The old man reached out and took it. “He had this?”

The other nodded.

“Fought like hell to get rid of it,” Jim Eagle said.

“Hmm. He know anything?”

Jim Eagle shrugged. “Haven't asked him much yet, sir. We were eager to get out of there before the Yankees got word and came down from Fort Gibson to recapture the boat.”

“Get much food?”

“All we could carry without wagons. We'll eat good for a while anyway.”

The old general sighed. “We can sure use them. Not much getting through enemy lines anymore. They seem to know our every move.”

The captain shoved her roughly with his boot. “Because of spies like this one, I reckon. We should shoot him, General.” He kicked at her again, but the lieutenant blocked the captain's motion.

“There's no need for that,” the lieutenant snapped. “The Yank's wounded and helpless.”

April took a deep breath. If only the general would believe her, she might tell him . . .

“Yank, what are you doing with a Confederate uniform?” The old Cherokee glared down at her.

Oh, dear God, she wished she'd never let herself in for this. “IâI found it.”

“That's not what he said first, sir,” Tommy piped up, obviously wanting some attention and adding to his own importance. “First he said he took it off a prisoner.”

“That doesn't sound unusual.” The general seemed to stifle a yawn.

“Sir,” the lieutenant protested, “it's a new uniform. How long's it been since we've had any new uniforms out here in Indian Territory?”

The general looked around at the ragged gray uniforms of his men, then at the new uniform and glared down at her. “Something strange here. Soldier, where'd you get this?”

He'd never believe her if she told him the truth. “IâI took it off a dead reb.”

The captain snorted. “Now he's got a third story. This is a new uniform, sir, and there's no blood on it.”

“Hmm.” The general looked at her, then at the curious soldiers clustered around. To the lieutenant, he asked, “A spy, you think?”

“Sir, I don't know what else to think.”

Captain Big Horse laughed. “I say we shoot him.”

She was so frightened, she forgot about how much pain she was in. “IâI'm a prisoner of war,” she gasped. “There's certain rulesâ”

“Not if you're a spy,” Jim Eagle snapped.

As she watched, the general strode away, motioning for the lieutenant and the captain to follow him. They walked over to stand under the shade of a tree and began to talk.

“Well,” the younger brother muttered, “he could have asked me to take part; I was in on this.”

Strain as she might, April couldn't hear what they were saying, but she knew it couldn't be good. In the meantime, her heavy blue uniform felt sweltering in the hot June weather. Curious soldiers gathered to gape at her, so now all she could see were worn and ragged boots.

In a moment, the big Cherokee pushed his way through the crowd. “All right, men, dismissed.”

“Jim, what you gonna do with the prisoner?” his younger brother asked.

The rugged officer paused, looking down at her. “We've decided the Yank's right; he's got rights as a prisoner of war, although Captain Big Horse was eager to execute him. I'll look after the Yank, and maybe later we'll do a swap.”

Tommy seemed to turn sullen. “But what about the Confederate uniform?”

“For now, forget about the damned uniform.”

April heaved a sigh of relief. Good, they weren't going to kill her after all. Maybe they'd let her go without ever finding out she was a woman.

“In the meantime, Tommy,” the lieutenant ordered, “go enjoy the booty. Everyone else get back to your posts. I'll take charge of this prisoner.”

He picked her up, and the crowd began to melt away reluctantly.

Tommy peered at her. “Where you takin' him, big brother?”

“I've got to keep him away from our troops. Some of them might be itching for revenge for some of our losses these past few weeks. Bring me some food down by the river.”

The river. Was he going to drown her? No, he'd said he was going to treat her as a prisoner, trade her to the other side later. Maybe, in an unguarded moment, she might escape. Why had she been crazy enough to think she could be a spy and collect that reward money?

The big Cherokee carried her easily, striding through the camp. It was almost dusk, and around her the soldiers were celebrating, laughing and singing.

Behind her, she heard Tommy yell, “Jim, I think there's even a stash of good whiskey.”

“Good. Bring it, too. I could use a drink.”

She could use some food and a sip of whiskey, too, she thought as he carried her toward the river. He might not even give her a hunk of bread, and she was too proud to beg.

Damn, he hated being a wet-nurse to this damned Yankee. His burden was little more than a boy and very slender, Jim thought as he carried the wounded enemy down to a protected grove of trees near the water. He wanted to be out of sight of the troops. General Watie had ordered him to find out if this Yank was really a spy, and if so, discover what the man knew.

Then the general had paused. “Do whatever it takes to get the information you need, Lieutenant. We've got a leak somewhere, and we're losing too many men. Dismissed.” The old man saluted and returned to his tent, leaving the pair.

“The general's right,” Big Horse echoed. “After you get your information, you know what to do with him.”

“But I thought, by the rules of warâ”

“The rules don't apply to spies,” the captain snapped. “There's only one way to deal with a spy, Lieutenant Wohali. Once we know what he knows, there's no reason to keep him alive, and we can't take a chance on him escaping and letting the enemy know we've found out.”

“He's just a boy, sir,” Jim had protested.

“So are the soldiers we've lost because of information leaks,” the captain reminded him. “It may be regrettable, but it can't be helped.”

“Yes, sir.” Jim Eagle saluted. He wasn't about to execute a prisoner on Captain Big Horse's say-so. He wasn't sure the general would okay that, and even if he did, Jim wasn't sure he could carry it out.

The other officer started to walk away, then paused. “Oh, and by the way, Lieutenant, I don't know how you will get that information as long as you get it.”

“Sir?”

“You know what I mean.”

Jim nodded and saluted. Then they had walked back to where the wounded Yankee lay on the ground. He was to get any information this prisoner might have, no matter what he had to do to get itâmeaning torture, terror, beatings or threats. Confederate lives might depend on finding out what, if anything, this mysterious Yankee knew. As he picked up the slight enemy and carried him down to the river, Jim wasn't looking forward to forcing information out of this mere boy. He hoped Tommy brought him a full bottle of whiskey. He might have to get a little drunk to make himself do what he knew needed to be done.

April tried to remain calm as the officer carried her. It would be dark soon. In the distance, she heard the Confederate troops celebrating. Her arm throbbed, but she could stand the pain. What worried her was not knowing exactly what the Confederate officer planned to do with her.

“Whatâwhy are you taking me so far away from camp?” she protested.

“None of your business.” Her captor sat her on the ground against the trunk of a tree. “You tell me about that uniform in your knapsack, maybe I'll give you some food.”

“Can I have some water?” She pulled her cap down tighter, wishing she had followed orders and cut her hair.

He paused, then scowled as he tossed her his canteen. “You'll make it easier on yourself if you'll tell me what I want to know.”

She couldn't get the stopper out of the canteen.

He knelt and took it from her, then put one muscular arm behind her shoulders and held her. She caught his big hand with her small one and guided the canteen to her lips.

“Just a boy,” he muttered. “Why is this my assignment?”