The cavalry captain stared the militia captain down. “Do they have passes?”
The militia captain’s cheek began to flutter. “Yes, sir. But they were washed in the river and don’t look official.” Unhappy to be usurped by regular cavalry, he angled his head to Lucas. “That one there, says he’s Cap’n Davis, but he is either a deserter or a damned Yankee.”
“We have a war to fight, not wasting time overseeing pretend soldiers or overzealous militia. Take the two prisoners back to camp. Our commander will sort this out.” The cavalry officer turned his horse.
The ropes were lifted over their heads and their hands untied.
Lucas steered his horse parallel to the militia captain. “Let’s let bygones, be bygones.”
The militia captain thrust his chest out. Lucas snatched him from his saddle and hit him. The leader twisted away, but not soon enough. Lucas landed another blow, smashing him on the side of his head. Arms flailing like a windmill, the militia captain grasped at his saddle horn. The horse reared, and the militia captain fell into a puddle.
Rachel raised a brow, stunned by the cavalry officer who had turned in time to see the affair, said and did nothing except spur his horse ahead for others to follow.
She breathed a sigh of relief. Their fortune had improved for the moment and she eyed the bordering dense forests, scrambling with possibilities to escape. These were well-trained Rebel cavalry and the odds of outrunning them were nil.
Her chest hitched. All the cavalry commander had to do was wire Richmond for the full details. To trade one execution for another?
The captain broke ranks and sidled his horse to hers. He pulled off his cap, revealing crisp fair hair. He wiped the back of his hand across his wet forehead where the band on his cap had left an uncomfortable looking crease. “What is your name, ma’am?”
She glanced at Lucas and said the first thing that came to her mind. “Mrs… Mrs. Rourke.”
Lucas groaned.
The captain looked genuinely surprised. “Colonel Ryan Rourke’s wife?”
“Why, yes…yes, I am.” She bestowed her sweetest smile, working her charms on the captain. “I haven’t heard from him in such a long time. I’ve missed him terribly, and simply had to risk all and come to him. Being sick with worry, he’d taken a fever, and me not there to nurse him back to health.”
Lucas had a fit of coughing, but she dared not look, concentrating on the cavalry officer instead. Her ploy, to buy them more time, confident Lucas’ brother, Ryan was in another part of the state. “Why you’re so handsome, Captain—”
“Albury. Captain Andrew Albury at your service, ma’am.”
“Is Colonel Rourke at your camp?”
“No, ma’am. He is serving farther south. Our commander has been shot and we are to be assigned a new one in a week.”
Rachel pressed a palm to her heart. A few days had been granted to her before they received their new commander. She could plead to him to be escorted to Ryan Rourke’s camp and she and Lucas might escape. Events could have not had a better turn. “Now do tell, Captain Albury, do you have a wife?”
Chapter Seventeen
“Are you ready, Mrs. Rourke?” asked Captain Albury.
“A minute please.” She whipped the blanket back and swung her feet to the floor, pressing her hand to her head to dispel the dizziness from rising so quickly. She had only meant to lie on the cot for a little while. How long had she slept?
Where was Lucas? He’d been taken away from her once they arrived in the camp.
She glanced around the private tent assigned to her. Claiming to be the wife of the infamous Rebel, Colonel Ryan Rourke, had earned her deferential treatment.
An empty bowl of salty stew lay beside a piece of half-eaten cornbread. She gobbled the remaining bread down, licking the sweet honeyed crumbs from her fingers, and then stepped around a hipbath that had been provided, the men having left buckets of hot water for her to rinse the caked mud from her body. In a small mirror, she checked herself, running her fingers down a calico dress procured by the attentive Captain Albury. The dress was a little tight in the bosom and she yanked it up as best as she could, sighing, having to make do with what she had. She gave her long hair a last brushing and pinched her cheeks.
She lifted the flap and moved from the tent, noticing the utter astonishment from the captain’s face.
“Is there a problem, Captain?” She feigned surprised innocence, her gaze darting around the camp for Lucas.
“Yes, ma’am. I mean, no ma’am. I apologize, ma’am.” The captain fought for words. “It’s just that—” He rubbed his jaw with his thumb and forefinger, looking worriedly about the camp, his hand falling on the ivory-handled, Colt revolvers on his hips.
“The gentleman attending me during my travels…has he been taken care of?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
