Souls Aflame (3 page)

Oh, dear God, it wasn’t fair.
It wasn’t fair…

The silent hand of sleep waved over her body. For the moment, the tears did not flow.

Chapter Two

The ship creaked and groaned as it stealthily glided through the Federal blockade, but Julie was oblivious to everything except the maddening nightmare that clutched her in its throes.

It was that August night again, and she was walking into the woods surrounding Rose Hill, the air permeated by the sweetness of night-blooming jasmine. The grass beneath her feet was thick as wool, and she stooped to unfasten her high-topped shoes. Wiggling her bare toes deliciously, she ran the rest of the way toward the gurgling brook hidden in the inviting green forest.

She wanted to forget the scene of moments before, when Myles left for another of his secret meetings with those who were not sympathetic to the southern cause. His activities had been a great source of heartache and worry to both Julie and her mother, for they were dangerous. Threats had been made and rocks thrown through their windows by thundering night-riders. But Myles would not listen to their pleas.

“A man does what he must,” he had said many times. “I haven’t said I will fight with the North, but nothing will make me fight for the South and a cause I don’t believe in.”

And so he had left once again, probably not to return till midnight or later. Julie was trying to escape her fearful thoughts about his safety, and she lifted her skirts about her waist as she stepped into the cool water of the stream.

Frowning because the pantalets she wore were confining and warm, she stepped back into the bank and wriggled out of the long, frilly drawers. Tossing them to hang on a nearby bush, she felt the need for freedom, to run and splash and kick her legs in childlike glee, hoping to forget her cares, if only for a little while.

Dancing about among the slippery rocks, she lifted her heart in song. Here, among the green and gold world of the quiet, peaceful forest, there was no misery, no war. Only serenity. She wished she could stay forever.

Her voice echoed softly through the woods, and soon she was lost in her music. The trees became an appreciative audience, and the rustle of leaves her applause. Everything else faded into oblivion.

Suddenly she tensed. A feeling of foreboding crept icily through her veins as she slowly turned around and around, glancing about. Something was not right. Had there been an unfamiliar sound? She was not sure just what it was, but she had a dreadful feeling that she was not alone. Something—or
someone
—was out there in the murky shadows…watching…listening…

Standing in the middle of the rushing stream, she began to inch her way slowly toward the bank, moving cautiously over the slippery, moss-covered rocks lest she lose her balance and fall. Glancing about, she strained to see in the gathering darkness.

There was an abrupt crackling, crunching sound of footsteps as the two men came out of their hiding place. Julie recognized them at once: Jabe Brogden and Wiley Lucas—local riffraff, troublemakers.

Fear was a cobweb in Julie’s throat through which she struggled to push her words. “Why are you spying on me? What are you doing on Rose Hill? You—you’re trespassing!” She had been holding her skirt above her waist, bare legs exposed, and she let it drop quickly.

They exchanged snickers, then Wiley squinted at her and snarled, “I reckon if’n you know what’s good for you, you’ll be telling us where that traitor brother of yours rode off to.”

“I don’t know,” she replied, hoping she did not sound as frightened as she felt. “And don’t you call him a traitor. He has a right to his views.”

“Not in these times!” Jabe cried. Then he started toward her. “You tell us what you know and you won’t get hurt. We’re gonna fix him and the bastards he runs with.”

She saw Wiley tip a bottle to his lips before tossing it aside to follow Jabe. Her mind whirled dizzily as she fought the wave of panic that made her whole body quake. She must not show fear. They were drunk, and the best way to handle them was with indignation, not fear. But they were coming toward her, and she had to escape. There would be time to argue later, when she was not alone with them.

“We like them pretty legs.” Wiley grinned, exposing yellowed, chipped teeth. “We want to see what else you got that’s pretty. I’ll just bet you’re pretty all over…”

“No!” she screamed in panic. “No! Leave me alone!” She turned in the direction of the opposite bank, her foot slipped on a rock, and she fought wildly to regain her balance, only to topple into the rolling creek. Splashing, arms flailing, she struggled to right herself, but continued to lose her footing as she tumbled over and over in the rushing waters.

Strong hands were groping, reaching for her, and she slapped out at them, screaming, fighting, but to no avail. She was yanked up and out of the water, carried to the other side and into the thick brush.

They tossed her roughly on the ground and ripped her clothes from her body. When she was naked before them, Jabe hissed that if she would tell them where Myles had gone, they might let her go.

She begged and pleaded with them to believe that she knew nothing.

“Well, no need in wasting such good stuff,” Jabe laughed, falling on top of her, his hands grabbing her breasts and squeezing them painfully. “We’ll just take care of your brother tomorrow…”

With a sudden surge of strength she did not know she possessed, Julie raised her hands to stab her thumbs into his eyes just as she brought her knee smashing up into his groin. With a shriek of agony, he rolled to one side, clutching himself.

Julie struggled to her knees and was almost on her feet when Wiley, who had been standing by and watching, stunned, came alive. His arm snaked out and his hand wrapped about her ankle to jerk her backwards. She felt the bare flesh of her belly and breasts scrape painfully against the rough ground beneath her.

“I’m gonna teach her a lesson,” Jabe yelled. “Hold her right there. I’m gonna take her like the bitch-dog she is…”

They were holding her, about to defile her, Julie feeling anguished and tortured, when the angry, protesting shout erupted in the night.

They ran away, scurrying to disappear into the thick woods as the servant who had been dispatched to search for Julie appeared just in time to save her.

She remembered only bits and pieces of what happened after that. She awakened in her own bed, with Sara seated in a chair beside her, sobbing and wailing. Her mother had been nearby, and Doc Perkins was there also, saying something about how she’d had a terrible shock, but there were no physical injuries. Then they saw she was awake, and Doc gave her something to make her sleep again.

Then Myles was there, shaking her against the protests of their mother, demanding to know who was responsible, and she had mumbled the names, terrified when his scream of rage shook the whole house as he left to avenge her honor. Their mother was sobbing, begging him not to go, saying he should let the law take care of it.

But he had gone. And they had not heard from him since.

Myles was now a hunted man…wanted for what the sheriff called cold-blooded murder.

Myles had gone to town, directly to the tavern where Jabe Brogden and Wiley Lucas hung out. Without a word, he walked inside and shot Wiley Lucas dead. Jabe Brogden escaped.

It didn’t matter that they had tried to rape Julie. The sheriff called it murder.

Julie and her mother knew the real reason Sheriff Franklin was so quick to put an ax to Myles. He, like so many other fire-eating secessionists, was quick to judge and hate a man who did not share his views about the war.

Julie woke up crying and calling Myles’s name.

It had been so real, the nightmare that kept returning. She could feel their hands upon her body. She could hear Myles’s raging screams as he stormed from the house. Dear God, she shook herself in terror, would it never end? Would she ever stop reliving the horror over and over again?

It was like that other time in the woods when they were both only ten. It had been years before she could close her eyes without seeing that wild hog ripping out of the bushes, charging straight at them. Myles had picked her up and thrust her skyward, toward the low-hanging limb of a nearby tree, as he screamed at her to grab hold and hang on.

He had taken the charge of that hog himself, saving her life at the risk of his own. Fortunately, there were field hands not too far distant who heard her screams and came running to slay the deadly creature, whose tusks by that time had pierced Myles in his right hip. He lay bleeding on the ground, moaning with pain, and he and Julie realized that had the others not arrived, the hog would have kept right on charging until it killed him.

Myles lost much blood, and for several days, Doc Perkins didn’t hold out much hope that he would live. As it was, the wound left him with a permanent limp.

“Every time you take a step and I see you walk that way, I’ll remember you did it to save my life,” Julie told him tearfully one day.

“Aw, I didn’t do it for you,” he quipped impishly. “I just wanted to see if you were smart enough to climb that tree. I wasn’t even thinking about that dumb old hog.”

But she knew better, and he realized it. Myles being Myles, Julie accepted the fact that he did not want her to gush over his heroism, so she never mentioned it again.

Still, it grieved her when other children teased Myles about his limp, calling him “gimp,” and being cruel as only the young can be. She remembered that Jabe Brogden and Wiley Lucas had always been the ringleaders of those who provoked Myles, and she hated them for it. Once she even slapped Jabe for saying something about Myles when he was not around.

“I’ll get you for that,” he warned.

And, she recalled with a shudder, he almost had. Only it hadn’t really been
her
that he and Wiley wanted that night. It was their way of hurting Myles for being what they considered a traitor.

“Myles will return one day,” her mother had said, her lower lip quivering. “That’s why we must work extra hard to insure that we don’t lose Rose Hill. We want a home for him to come back to, don’t we?”

Julie got out of the bed and padded to the porthole to stare out at the black water and the purple sky. Yes, she wanted a home for Myles to return to. She also wanted her mother to keep what was rightfully hers, what Adelia Carrigan would gladly have taken along with her father if she’d been able to arrange it.

So Julie would marry Virgil Oates. She would be a good, dutiful wife. And the two people she loved the most in this world might one day be happy because she had done so. What more was there to life, anyway, she reasoned, than giving joy to those you love?

Lost in thought, she did not hear the first soft raps upon her door. She could not have been asleep for very long, and she surmised that it was probably her mother. Perhaps she had heard Julie calling Myles’s name, knew that the nightmare had come again, and wanted to comfort her.

Eager for her company, Julie fumbled her way to the door, threw back the latch, and opened it.

“Aha! So I was right. You couldn’t sleep, could you?”

She froze at the sound of Shad Harky’s voice, and before she could recover and slam the door, he pushed his way inside, speaking rapidly. “Talked the cook into fixing you up with a nice pot o’ tea. I imagine you can use it, what with you being nervous about the voyage and all. We’re through the blockade now, by the way. The worst is over, though we can’t light no lanterns for awhile yet, just to be on the safe side.”

She chewed her lip thoughtfully and wondered what to do. It
had
been kind of him to persuade the cook to make tea at such an ungodly hour, but still, she felt uneasy. Reaching for her robe, which she’d laid at the foot of her bed, she quickly put it on as she said, “It just isn’t proper for you to be here, Mr. Harky, though I thank you for your kindness. I’m not in the habit of entertaining in my boudoir, especially men, and certainly not in the dark. So if you will take your leave…” She tried to make him out in the darkness but could not, and had to guess where he might be standing.

“I only want to be your friend.” He brushed against her, and she flinched. He chuckled at her reaction. “Aw, come on, now. You’re going to need a friend. It’s like I told you, the captain isn’t a friendly sort. Says it’s bad luck to have women on his ship. I can fix it so’s you can get out a bit. I’ll look after you.”

She heard the clatter as he set the tray down on the desk, which he’d managed to locate. “Now, then. What say we sit down and drink this tea, and I’ll keep you company for awhile.”

“No!” She didn’t mean to shout, and she quickly lowered her voice. “I want you to go. We can talk tomorrow.”

“Oh, you’re just scared…”

“I am
not
scared.” Now she was becoming angry, and she did not want to be. The man was scarred and unattractive, and she didn’t want him to think that was the reason she was rejecting him. He had already shown he was sensitive about his appearance. Trying to make herself sound as pleasant as possible, she explained once again that they could talk in the daylight hours.

“Be still…” he whispered tersely, interrupting her.

And then she heard it: footsteps scraping on the stairs.

“No one must know I’m here,” he said nervously. “Don’t make any noise.”