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  Chapter 5

  THE sun had set by the time Angela reached the city. She had walked all afternoon, staying close to the river so she wouldn’t ran into anyone. She loved the river. It had taken her and her father all the way to Montgomery last year in February to see Jefferson Davis sworn in as the first Confederate President. Angela had never been so far from home before. It was so exciting. But that marked the beginning of her father’s unhappiness.

  William Sherrington was a true Southerner, born and raised, and he wanted more than anything to fight for his homeland. But he was too old. And he was a drunk. The army didn’t want him.

  He began to drink more and more after the refusal, and to curse the Yankees with a vengeance. He had never cottoned to Northerners, but now he hated them passionately. Angela felt she had to hate them too, though she didn’t quite know why. She couldn’t understand how people who used to be friends could now kill each other. It just didn’t make any sense.

  Angela hated the war. She didn’t care why it had started and was still going on, she only knew that because of the war, she no longer loved Bradford Maitland. She hated him now. What else could she do but hate him? Hannah had let the truth slip out—that Bradford was not in Europe as everyone supposed, but was actually fighting for the Union! How upset Hannah had been until Angela swore she would keep the secret. After all, it wouldn’t hurt Bradford if she told anyone, for he wasn’t here. It would hurt Jacob, and she couldn’t do that. But she hated Bradford now. And she hated even more the fact that she had to hate Bradford Maitland at all.

  As she entered the city, Angela realized that her father might be home by now. But then again, he might not. And after what had happened today, she didn’t want to spend the night at home alone. She would not mind walking back along the river at night, not as long as she had her rifle.

  The sky was a dark purple now, and the street lamps were already lit. Angela had a pretty good idea where she could find her father. There were certain barrelhouses that he liked and a certain brothel he visited whenever he came to the city.

  She headed for the waterfront. She was wearing her newest dress, a light yellow cotton, for Hannah had impressed on her that young women did not go about in public in breeches. The dress was already too small—tight across her breasts and too short—but she didn’t much care.

  Angela started combing the streets for the sight of her father’s wagon and old Sarah. She hid in darkened alleys, staying out of the way of drunks and riffraff. An hour passed and then, slowly, another.

  She was exhausted by the time she reached a deserted part of the docks, her last hope. There was a brothel in this area that she knew her father had been to before. Down the street, she saw what looked like his wagon, but she wasn’t quite sure. She started to run toward the wagon, beginning to hope. But Angela was pulled to a jerking stop when a strong hand grabbed hold of her arm.

  The rifle fell out of her hand and she started to scream. But she clamped her mouth shut when she saw Bobo Deleron. She hadn’t seen Bobo since last winter. He had grown. He now towered well above her small height. There was a stubble of whiskers on his square chin, and his dark gray eyes under thin brows regarded her with humor.

  “Where you off to so fast, Angie? Did you go and shoot someone with that there rifle?”

  Bobo was not alone and Angela groaned as an older, burly youth bent down and seized her weapon.

  “This rifle ain’t been fired, Bobo,” the boy said. “But it sure is a pretty piece.” He looked up then and grinned as his eyes raked over Angela. “So’s she.”

  “Yeah, I reckon she is that,” Bobo said almost grudgingly. “This here’s Angie Sherrington.” As he said her name, his strong fingers dug into her arm, making her wince. “Angie comes from folks like you and me, Seth, but she thinks she’s better’n us. Ain’t that right, Angie?”

  “I never said that, Bobo Deleron, and you know it.”

  “No, but that’s sure the way you act.”

  Bobo’s tone had turned angry, making Angela uneasy. She had smelled liquor on his breath, and she remembered the last time she tangled with him. She had had to kick him squarely between the legs to get away from him that time, and he swore he’d get even with her.

  Now she became increasingly aware that it was dark and no one else was near.

  “I—I’m goin‘ to meet my pa, Bobo,” Angela said in a voice that sounded like a mere squeak. “So you better let loose of me right now.”

  “Where is your pa?”

  “Over yonder.”

  She pointed her free arm to the wagon she had been running to, but she was closer to it now, and she now realized that it wasn’t her father’s wagon after all.

  “Looks to me like your pa’s in Nina’s place, and he’ll most likely be busy for a while.” The older boy chuckled. “Why don’t you stay and keep us company, gal?”

  “If it’s all the same to you, I’ll be gettin‘ my pa and headin’ home.” Angela tried for a level voice, but she knew she sounded as scared as she felt.

  Bobo had just grown too much. He must be at least seventeen now. Bobo was angry—and he was not alone.

  She had to get away. “Can I have my rifle back now? I really have to go.”

  She started to reach for the rifle, but Bobo jerked her back. “What do you think, Seth?” His friend grinned.

  “I think,” Seth said, “a weapon as fine as this should be workin‘ for the Cause, and I’ll be joinin’ up soon. Yes, sir, it’s only right that I keep it.”

  Angela’s eyes widened in fear. “You can’t do that! Papa and I would starve without it!”

  Seth chuckled. “Now ain’t you exaggeratin‘ a bit, little girl? If you got a pa who can afford Nina’s, then you ain’t gonna starve.”

  Angela turned to Bobo with pleading eyes. “Bobo, please! Tell him we can’t live without that rifle. There ain’t no money to buy a new rifle.”

  But Bobo was more than a little drunk. “Shut up, Angie. He can have your damn rifle and he can have you too, just as soon as I’m finished with you.”

  But all was not lost. Bobo held her, and Bobo was drunk. She waited until he started to move and then, in a quick motion, she jerked her arm free and broke into a run. But Bobo was fast. His fingers dug into her hair, and he pulled her back painfully.

  “Lemme go!” she yelled, her temper finally coming to the surface. “Lemme go, you damn yellow-gutted coward! I’ll—”

  Bobo’s laughter cut her short. “Now if that ain’t the old fire-spittin‘ Angie I’m used to. Didn’t recognize that gal who was beggin’ a moment ago.”

  “You sorry son ov a pig! Let go my hair!” Angela shouted, and when that didn’t work, she swung a closed fist at him.

  But Bobo caught her hand and twisted her arm behind her back. “You ain’t gonna bloody my nose again, Angie.” He pulled her hair back and forced her to look at him. “You ain’t gonna do nothin‘ ’cept get yourself screwed nice and proper. It should’ve happened last winter, but you managed to get away from me then, didn’t you?”

  Angela started to scream, but Bobo released her hair and clamped his hand over her mouth. Just then, Seth came up behind her and raised her skirt, running a sweaty hand up between her thighs.

  “Are we gonna stand here and talk about it, or are we gonna get down to business?” Seth asked.

  “Get away from her, Seth,” Bobo warned coldly. “I’ve got a score to settle with her first. You can have whatever’s left.”

  Seth stepped back. “Now look here, Bobo. Are you sure there’ll be anythin‘ left of the gal that’s worth havin’?”

  “She may be messed up a bit, but she’ll still be kickin‘. Angie here has spunk.” Bobo chuckled then and pressed her close to him. “She ain’t gonna lay down and spread her legs for us. She’s gonna fight to the end. But in the fightin’, she’s gonna get what’s comin‘ to her.”

  “I don’t know, Bobo.” Seth shook his head. “I don’t hold with beatin‘ up a gal who ain’t do
ne me no wrong.”

  Bobo turned Angela around in his arms so that she faced Seth, but he kept his hand securely over her mouth. And now his other hand covered one of her small breasts and squeezed painfully, making her squirm.

  “Look at her,” Bobo demanded. “You want her, don’t you? And you won’t be the one that hurts her—I will. You ain’t been around long enough to know what a bitch this gal is. There’ll be a lot of boys around here who’ll be glad to know she finally lost a fight.”

  He dragged her into a narrow alley only a few feet away, and Angela tried one last time to free herself. She opened her mouth and clamped her teeth down on the soft part of Bobo’s hand. He cried out in pain and released her, and her feet carried her back out into the street, right into the arms of Seth. She struggled fiercely to get out of the strong arms that held her.

  “Hold on, girl. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  It was not Seth’s voice. Through tear-blurred eyes, Angela saw that the man who held her was wearing fine clothes, certainly not the old overalls Seth had been wearing. Here was help after all! She burst into fresh tears and buried her face against the man’s broad chest, collapsing.

  “Hey, mister. I want to thank you for stopping this little gal, but I’ll take her off your hands now,” Bobo called.

  “What is she so frightened of?” the man questioned calmly. One arm held Angela protectively, the other stroked her hair to soothe her, for she had begun to tremble when she heard Bobo’s voice.

  “Ah, hell. We was just havin‘ a little fun, and then she went and bit me!”

  “Why?”

  Angela stepped back and looked up at the face of her rescuer, ready to explain. But the words stuck in her throat as she stared up into the bright golden-brown eyes regarding her quizzically. Dark though it was, she still knew, those eyes.

  “You look scared to death, girl. You’re safe now. No one is going to hurt you.”

  Angela couldn’t speak. This was as close as she had ever come to Bradford Maitland.

  Bradford smiled. “What was the trouble here? Did you really bite this boy?”

  Angela managed to utter, “I had to. It was the only way I could get away from him.”

  “Don’t you be tellin‘ no lies now,” Bobo warned in a menacing tone.

  Angela swung around to face him, her eyes shooting sparks of rage. “You shut your mouth, Bobo Deleron! You ain’t got me at your mercy no more and I don’t tell lies like you do.” She turned back to Bradford, and his look of concern dissolved her anger. She started crying again. “He—he was gonna rape me. Both of them was. And the other one was gonna keep my pa’s rifle. We’ll starve without it.”

  Bradford pulled Angela back against him, but at the same time he reached inside his coat and withdrew a handgun. He pointed this at Seth, whose eyes bulged in fright.

  “Drop the rifle,” Bradford said in a soft but deadly voice. “And then move away from it.”

  Seth did as he was told, but Bobo was more angry than intimidated. “You shouldn’t be buttin‘ in here, mister. The girl’s nothin’ but white trash and no concern of yours. Besides, she’s lyin‘. We wasn’t gonna hurt her none.”

  “Maybe we ought to let the sheriff decide,” Bradford suggested smoothly.

  “Now, there ain’t no call for that.” Bobo backed off quickly. “Ain’t no harm been done.”

  “I think the girl disagrees,” Bradford replied. “What do you say, honey? Shall we talk to the sheriff?”

  Angela whispered against his chest, “I don’t want to cause you any more trouble.” But then she added forcefully, “But you can tell Bobo if he ever comes near me again, I’ll blow his head off!”

  Bradford burst out laughing, much to Bobo and Seth’s chagrin.

  “You heard her, boys.” Bradford chuckled. “I suggest you move along quickly before she realizes her rifle is within easy reach and she starts to regret letting you off so easy this time for what you”—he paused before ending—“didn’t do.”

  It didn’t take Bobo more than a second to take off, and Seth quickly followed.

  Angela wasn’t thinking about revenge. With Bobo and Seth gone, the street seemed awfully quiet. The only sound she could hear was her heart beating. Or was it his? She felt so utterly comfortable she wanted just to stand here and lean against the tall frame of Bradford Maitland all night. But she knew she couldn’t do that.

  She stepped back, ready to express her gratitude, but Bradford was regarding her with a mixture of amusement and curiosity, and she found herself tongue-tied once again.

  “It’s not my habit to rescue females in distress,” he remarked thoughtfully. “Usually they have to be rescued from me. So why don’t you thank me for saving you from a fate worse than death? You are a virgin, aren’t you?” he asked frankly.

  His question shocked her out of her silence. “Yes—and I—do thank you.”

  “That’s better. What is your name?”

  “Angela,” she replied slowly, still finding it difficult to talk to him.

  “Well, Angela, don’t you know better than to be out alone, especially in this part of town?”

  “I—I had to find my pa.”

  “And did you?”

  “No, I reckon he’s gone home by now,” Angela answered more easily now.

  “Well, I think you should do the same, don’t you?” he said, and retrieved her rifle for her. “It has been a delight and a pleasure, Angela.”

  There was nothing she could do but turn and start back to the river. But before long he caught up to her.

  “I’D walk you home,” he offered in a rather irritable voice, as if he felt he had to, but didn’t really want to.

  “I can manage, Maitland,” Angela replied, her chin tilted proudly.

  Bradford grinned. “I’m sure you can, Angel,” he said in a lighter tone. “But I feel responsible for you now.”

  “My—my name is Angela,” she stated in a strangely quiet voice.

  “Yes, I know. Now, where do you live?” he asked her patiently, his eyes warm.

  Her heart soared. He’d called her Angel on purpose!

  “I live on the other side of Golden Oaks.”

  “For heaven’s sake, why didn’t you tell me that to begin with? Come on.” He took her arm and led her back up the street to his carriage. “I was on my way to Golden Oaks before you—ran into me.”

  Bradford Maitland didn’t speak again until they had left the city and were traveling along the river road at a moderate pace. The road was deserted. The moon was hidden by dark gray clouds threatening rain. Blackness surrounded them as they rode along.

  “You were going to walk all this way?” Bradford inquired in a disbelieving voice.

  “It’s not that far.”

  “I know how far it is, Angela. I have walked it before, and it takes most of the day to do so. You probably wouldn’t have reached home until morning.”

  “I would’ve managed.”

  He laughed heartily at her confident reply, then asked, “How did you know my name?”

  “Why, you must have introduced yourself,” she replied nervously.

  “No, I didn’t. You know me, don’t you?”

  “Yeah,” she answered in a whisper, then added heedlessly, “How come you’re here in Alabama? You’re not spyin‘ for the North, are you?”

  She was nearly unseated as Bradford jerked the carriage to an abrupt halt. Then he grabbed both her arms and turned her in the seat to face him.

  “Spying? Where did you get a notion like that, girl?”

  He sounded so angry that Angela was too frightened to speak. She could have cut out her tongue right then and there for making him angry.

  “Answer me!” he demanded now. “Why do you question my loyalty?”

  “I don’t question your loyalty, Maitland,” Angela said weakly. “I know you joined the Union Army last year.” She felt him stiffen and quickly added, “I thought it was a terrible thing when I heard, but now I don’t car
e anymore.”

  “Who did you hear this from?”

  “Hannah told me. She didn’t mean to, but it just slipped out.”

  “Hannah?”

  “From Golden Oaks. Hannah’s about the closest friend I got. You won’t be mad at her none for tellin‘ me, will you? It’s not as if I told anyone. And I never will. I mean, I got no call to. This here war is crazy if you ask me. You fightin’ on one side and your brother on the other—it’s crazy. But you helped me tonight and I wouldn’t hurt you for the world. I won’t tell no one you’re a Yankee soldier— I swear.”

  “When you start talking, you talk a mile a minute, don’t you, Angela?” His tone was lighter now and he released her arms.

  “I just want you to know your secret is safe with me. You do believe me, don’t you?” she pleaded.

  He flicked the reins and they began moving again. “I guess I’ll have to. I suppose you think I’m a traitor?”

  “I don’t see why you had to go and join them Bluecoats,” she said sternly, then her face turned a bright pink. Luckily, it was too dark for him to see her embarrassment. “But I guess that’s your business.”

  Bradford’s amusement returned. “It’s quite simple, really. I’m not a Southerner. My family has only lived in the South for the last fifteen years. I lived up North before then, and for a while out West. Even after my father surprised us by buying Golden Oaks, and moved the family down here, I still spent most of these last years up North, in school, and on business. I don’t believe in slavery. More importantly, I don’t believe in a divided nation. If states are allowed to secede and form new nations, what is to stop all the states from doing so? We would end up another Europe. No, my loyalty is with the North and the Union.”

  “But your brother joined the Confederacy,” Angela reminded him.

  “Zachary is a hypocrite,” Bradford replied, his voice suddenly cold. “He joined the Confederacy for God only knows what reason, but it has nothing to do with loyalty.”

  “How long have you been back? I mean—”