Siege of the Heart (Southern Romance 2)

had no other choice.

“Save it for the court,” Robert told him contemptuously.

“It wasn’t because I wanted to betray the Confederacy! I... Hell, Robert, you know what it’s like on the battlefield! You remember. You have to have seen it after, when the blood and the dying are all around you, and the smoke, and you wonder what in God’s name is worth that. You have to understand, don’t you?”

“You left because you didn’t like battlefields?”

“I left because...” He couldn’t mention Horace. Or could he? He could not blow Solomon’s cover, but...

“You remember Horace.”

“Aye, and if you’d tell me where he is, we’d appreciate that. Maybe you’ll get a kinder death.” Knox’s voice was wheedling, and Jasper almost laughed. They were looking for Horace, were they? Well, he’d not give away that they were looking for the wrong man.

“He’s dead,” he lied shortly, and Knox fell silent. “Died outside. I found him on the battlefield and tried to pull him to safety. Ask the others; someone must have seen it.”

“...I’ll ask,” Robert said finally. “Why didn’t you move him to the hospital, then?”

“He died too quickly,” Jasper said softly, remembering others who had. “I buried him in a shallow grave.”

“And then you ran?”

“You don’t understand,” Jasper said passionately. “Horace saved my life, Knox. He was the one who found me injured, and he made sure I survived. When it came time for me to repay him, I failed. He died in my arms. You know he ran away from home, didn’t you? Early? He was just sixteen.” A difficult lie, with Solomon’s tall frame, but the man had an idealistic streak a mile wide. It might be possible to believe him so young. “Eighteen when I met him, but he still wouldn’t say where he was from. I couldn’t even get him back to his family, and I stared down at that grave and knew no one was ever going to know what happened to him. His family would never have the opportunity to see him come home.” He hung his head again, trying to play the part.

“And so you ran,” Knox repeated. “You know we can’t condone that.”

“I know.” Jasper closed his eyes. “Please, Knox, just take the blindfold off.”

Even the evening light was blinding when Knox complied, and Jasper had to squint. He looked over to the man’s face, dark with anger. However, there was some sympathy there. Some smidgen of hope to work with.

“You see so much death, and you start to wonder... Didn’t you ever wonder why they did it, Knox? It comes on you at weird times. One moment you’re fighting, you’re furious, your family’s dead and your home burned, and then you see some man throw himself in front of his comrades, or run into fire. Why would they do that? What do they have to believe in?”

“Careful, Perry. You talk like this and nobody’ll give you a clean death.”

“I’m not asking you to sympathize! But it shakes you, Knox. Can you say you never wondered? That it didn’t shake your faith a tiny amount? They aren’t windup toys; they were there for something. When they killed Horace...I didn’t have the courage to go on.” That, at least was true. The thought of trying to fight without Horace at his side had been terrifying. “I don’t even know how I got north. I ran. Nothing can save me now, I know that, but...”

His hands were still tied behind his back, but now he could meet his friend’s eyes, and he saw doubt there. Just a touch of it.

“Jasper,” Knox said finally, heavily. “You know I can’t save you.”

“You can save her,” Jasper whispered quietly. “Can you promise me, Knox, that she’ll be returned home? I would do anything. I know there’s nothing I can give you anymore. There’s my land. It’s still in my name. I’ll write you the deed. But let her go home. Please. This isn’t her fight.”

“A Yankee,” Knox said. He was trying to harden his voice, but Jasper knew he was weak here. He had seen Cecelia’s fear, and he was not inured to it.

“A Yankee,” Jasper agreed. “And she lost her brother on a battlefield—and I can’t condone what he did, but you know how our women suffered when the Union came for them. Knox, she wasn’t a fighter. She just saw their men march off and never come back. She doesn’t understand the war like we do. You’ve seen her, she’s a good woman, Yankee or no.”

“And I suppose she nursed you back to health, even knowing you were a Confederate,” Knox said acidly.

Jasper’s heart broke. He remembered the extra slices of bread Clara had snuck onto his plate, the way the ladle was heaping when she served him beans at lunch. Always a little more for him. A blanket and bandages for Solomon, her precious money spent on medicine. “Yes,” Jasper whispered. His heart broken so much it hurt physically. “She did.”

Knox had not been expecting Jasper’s response. His eyebrows rose as Jasper squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and shook his head. “You should’ve known better,” Knox said at last. “I can’t save you, Jasper. You left us when we needed you. Nothing can save you now.”

Chapter 4

It was always his loved ones who suffered for his failures. Solomon bent low over Beauty’s neck and urged her to a canter, praying under his breath as he did so. Never had he felt such a tumult of fear and self-loathing as now. Even lying in the darkness of the hut, injured, and hearing Clara’s voice, he had not felt so awful about himself. It had been hurt she felt then, hurt and betrayal—it would be worse if that same betrayal cost her not only her husband, but her sister as well.

He pushed the horse on. He would never be able to live with himself if that happened.

So he might as well forgo caution in this pursuit. He needed to be cautious only until the plan went into effect. He had promised Clara that he would sacrifice his life if need be...and he meant it. He would not go back on that. Of course, he had also promised her that he would come back. And that had hardly worked out.