Siege of the Heart (Southern Romance 2)

“I’ll do it. I give you my word on my farm, my father’s legacy, I will come back with you and stand trial for the crimes you have accused me of.” It was the most presence of mind he could come up with right now, and he knew that his refusal to confess, or even dispute the charges, would pique Ambrose’s interest.

“And in return?” The voice was liquid, beckoning.

Almost for a moment, Solomon thought that it sounded—

No, it could not be.

“You come with me now to help me save my sister and my brother-in-law from the Confederate tribunal.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Do you think I’ll escape?”

“I think if I took the chance, I would nearly be accused of treason myself. I have you in my custody, Mr. Dalton. There is no possibility of doing anything other than going back now.”

“You cannot let an innocent woman stay captive,” Solomon hissed. “Do you know what they’ll do to her? Do you know what happens to women in wartime?”

To his surprise, the agent flinched. “I know.” His voice was rough. “But you are my responsibility, not her. Her capture was not my fault, and her rescue is not on my head.”

“It is on mine,” Solomon roared at last. “It is. I went to save her. Jasper was taken because he defected to bring me home, because he nursed me through a wound that should have killed me, and now he pays for that with his life, and my sister with him! It’s a debt I cannot leave unpaid.”

“You will have to,” the agent said simply.

“Then shoot me now,” Solomon said, through gritted teeth. He had the pleasure of seeing the agent at a loss for words.

“...What?”

“Then shoot me now,” Solomon repeated.

“Don’t be so melodramatic.”

“You think this is drama? Whatever happens at my trial, I’ll live the rest of my days knowing my sister has been abused, possibly killed, and that my most loyal of friend, my sister’s husband, has been murdered for daring to help me. I cannot live with that. I am telling you, unless you will let me go to save them, shoot me now.”

“No.”

“Then give me the gun and I’ll do it myself!”

“Mr. Dalton, you are accused of treason. Do you know what that means? Are you even aware of the gravity of the situation?”

“I am fully aware. Are you? Because on the one hand, you have me, a man who—if you are correct in your accusations—is worth less than the dirt he walks on, and on the other hand, you have two innocent lives.”

“The Confederacy hardly thinks your friend is innocent.”

“And my sister?” Solomon demanded. “What about her?”

The agent did not move, but gave every indication that he wanted to throw his hands up in the air and pace away. His hands clenched.

“Kill me,” Solomon whispered. “If you will not let me go to them...”

“I can kill you,” the agent said at last, “only if you are known to be a traitor to the Union.”

“Do you doubt?”

“It is not about my conviction. It is about proof and justice.”

Solomon looked over the trees. If he ran to beauty, jumped into the saddle—

The agent would shoot him before he got there. And if the bullet went wide, it might be Beauty who paid the price. Too great a chance.