Midnight Secrets Read online

  He told himself he shouldn’t have been in the war in the first place, so why stay in a “hell hole,” as John Daniels had called Union prisons? Why be tormented emotionally and physically or watch others be treated that way? Why watch men die in fear, pain, and denial when you could be out West in fresh air, free, far from the horrors of war, and doing good and brave deeds instead of rotting away for years? Who wouldn’t accept the Yanks’ offer? Other Rebs had done the same thing for a variety of reasons. Some were fed up with war and killing, some realized how futile and wrong the fighting was, some were plagued by utter despair, some were suffering from lost courage, some wanted hope for new roots elsewhere, and some didn’t want to be forced to change sides to battle family and friends as the other price for release.

  Despite the good Galvanized Yankees had done during the war—helping with road and fort building, stringing or restringing or guarding telegraph lines and relay shacks, carrying mail, protecting and guiding survey crews, rescuing Indian captives, and other jobs—they were labeled yellowbellies and betrayers by the South and they were pushed aside by the Union they had helped. Dishonored and discouraged, many had become outlaws, rustlers, gunfighters, and worse after their releases in ‘65; some had become his missions to track down and halt.

  Steve felt he was one of the lucky ones, and good fortune hadn’t been too kind to him in the past. The compromise had given him a place to work, a way to earn respect, to get survival training, to hone his skills and instincts, and to make a few good friends. He could have escaped at any time, as he had often worked alone, but he hadn’t. It wasn’t because of loyalty to his releasers or fear of recapture, but out of what he was gaining from the situation. It had suited his needs, so he had done his assignments; he had continued to do most of those same tasks afterward.

  Steve sensed eyes on him from the Avery wagon. He wondered what Anna thought about all she’d heard. If her father was the villain he was seeking, did she know about his evil involvement with the Red Magnolias? Did she approve? Had she been duped into believing the Invisible Empire was doing good and necessary work? He wished Charles Avery had been present tonight to air his opinions. He hoped Anna’s father could be eliminated as a suspect. If he was the guilty one, what would happen to the refined beauty?

  Steve told himself he couldn’t worry about that possible future predicament, couldn’t worry about the repercussions to families and friends of any criminals who were slain or imprisoned. He had been easy on her today. Tomorrow he must be repelling, but not rough, just ignore and avoid her enough to concern her and challenge her.

  Practice began at nine. When all women showed they were proficient in harnessing, driving, and circling up, Steve said it was time for their next lesson: handling runaways, stampedes, and calming terrified teams.

  The women emptied one wagon of its load so three at a time could practice: a driver with two assistants standing behind her. The others waited their turns in a group but were ordered to pay attention, not chat.

  “Mrs. Jackson, you be our first driver. Mrs. Amerson and Martin, you two be the riders. I’ll spook the team with gunfire. Usually it’s gunshots from raiders or thunder that sets them off. When one team takes off, the others generally follow. The lead wagons must get their teams slowed and controlled as quickly as possible. Just do as I say.” He spoke to everyone at once, but only Louise nodded with smugness.

  “If you lose the reins, hang on to the seat until I halt the team. You observers make sure your drivers don’t fall off. Grab an arm or handful of clothes to keep her aboard. Pull her back into the wagon with you if need be. Any questions?” None came, so the scout asked if they were ready to leave.

  Louise sent him a confident nod. Ruby and Mrs. Martin braced themselves for the wild ride ahead.

  Steve drew his pistol and fired shots within inches of the mules’ hooves and whizzed bullets past their twitching ears. The startled animals bolted instantly, jerking the wagon into motion. The pounding of hooves, squeaking of wagon, and women’s yells filled the air. Dust and severed grass were flung up by hoof and wheel alike.

  As instructed, Louise Jackson “let them have their head” to see if the frantic beasts would overcome their fear and settle down or get winded soon and slow by themselves. Steve galloped alongside the runaway team to be nearby if help was needed and to protect the women from injury.

  When the winded team began to slow, Louise pulled back on the reins and shouted commands for them to halt. At the right moment, she worked the brake lever and the wagon stopped.

  Steve looked at the grinning female who grated on his nerves most of the time. “Good, Mrs. Jackson. Now, drive it back for the next team to do it.”

  Lucy Eaves drove for Mrs. Hammond and Mrs. Brown without trouble.

  Ellie drove for “Anna Avery” and Mary Wiggins, again without trouble.

  When it came time for Cathy King to be the leader for Mrs. Murphy and Mrs. Franks, she fretted, “I’m so scared, Steve. Must I?”

  “Don’t worry, Mrs. King; you’re in no danger; I’m here.”

  “That’s the only reason I have the guts to try this,” she told him.

  “You’ll do fine, just like the others did,” the scout encouraged.

  But the dark-haired beauty didn’t “do fine.” She lost the reins almost immediately and screamed for Steve to rescue her.

  Ginny watched the racing team speed up as the reins dragged the ground. She was glad she hadn’t been assigned as a driver, but only because she hadn’t wanted to make a mistake. Ellie had managed the team with skill and courage, and she had bragged about her friend. She had the wicked suspicion that Cathy King had let go of the reins on purpose. She watched the sultry beauty lean over and grab Steve by the neck, forcing him to take her onto the saddle with him to keep her from falling to the ground from the lofty seat. The other women must have suspected the same ruse because they glanced at one another and frowned.

  Steve turned the control over to Mrs. Carl Murphy and put Cathy inside the wagon from the rear. He told her to go for ward while the other woman did the demonstration. “Pay close attention, Mrs. King. You might need this knowledge later. This lesson could save your life.”

  “I won’t have to do it again, will I?” she pleaded.

  “Not today. Maybe later. Let’s get moving.” He took his position by the team. “They’re winded already, Mrs. Murphy, so they shouldn’t bolt long. I hate to scare and run them again, but you all didn’t get a good enough lesson. Ready?” he asked, and the woman nodded.

  When the wagon returned, Mattie Epps was told to drive for Mrs. Daniels and Hackett. The constant whiner glared at the boss and declared, “It’s too dangerous. I won’t get injured before we even begin this stupid journey. You didn’t make Cathy do it, and I won’t, either.”

  Steve gritted his teeth and clenched his jaw. “Mrs. Daniels, why don’t you show your team how it’s done?” he said. “Stampedes don’t happen often, so everyone doesn’t have to do it. You just need to know how to respond if it does. Watching is enough for now.”

  “I’ll do it. I ain’t scared. No worse than batting a Yankee attack.”

  “Hang on, ladies,” he told the other two, and Mattie scowled at him.

  Ginny was amazed and pleased Steve didn’t make each one of them drive. She was impressed by his expert horsemanship and physical prowess. She wondered if there was anything the skilled man couldn’t do. She had no doubts they were safe in his care, no matter the perils ahead.

  “I was terrified,” Cathy said. “I could have been thrown off and broken every limb in my body.” When no one replied or gave her sympathy, she was miffed. “You pulled my hair, Sue Murphy,” she chided her teammate.

  “That was the only thing I could grab to keep you from falling.”

  “It still hurts,” Cathy complained, rubbing her scalp.

  “Stop groaning and pay attention,” Louise scolded her.

  “You have room to talk; you know about teams and wagon
s. We don’t.”

  “If you kept your mind where it should be, you would, too, by now.”

  “What does that mean?” Cathy demanded, eyes blazing in anger.

  “You know very well what I mean. Now, be silent.”

  Cathy glared at Louise Jackson, then at “Anna Avery” for a moment.

  Ginny wondered if the dark-haired vixen was jealous of her, as that was the look she had been given.

  While the others were eating lunch and after he’d finished his, Steve went to scout for appropriate river locations for the women’s lesson in water crossings this afternoon. During his absence, Charles Avery came to deliver his “daughter’s” order and to see how she was doing with her lessons.

  Ginny took a stroll with him so they could speak in private. She told him about the training and her successes. She thanked him for the items and supplies he had brought, but assumed the food he’d given Ellie was a thank-you for all the meals she— “his daughter"—had shared with the Davises. Afterward, she related the alarming talk she had overheard last night.

  “That would be Carl Murphy,” he enlightened her to the Georgian’s identity. “He’s a hothead, so avoid him. I hope the others hush up about this Klan business; we don’t need a spy in camp pulling down the Yanks on us.”

  “Is what they said true, sir?” she asked in concern.

  “In a way. Some men have gotten into the Klan to wreak revenge on Yankees and their cohorts for the horrible things done to them during the war and after it ended. Some are reckless and downright mean and trying to settle personal grudges. But most are honest and decent men who just want to protect Southerners from more cruelties.”

  “But killings and burnings aren’t the right way to obtain justice.”

  “What would you suggest they do?”

  Ginny gave that question deep and serious thought. “I don’t know.”

  Charles smiled and advised, “Well, don’t worry your pretty head about it. Soon, we’ll be far away from such perils.”

  “I’m glad, sir, because I don’t want trouble to interfere with our journey. We both have grave matters to handle.”

  “And we will, my girl, you wait and see. But I’d best get back to town. I have a last business meeting this evening. I’ll return for-good in a few days. Yessiree, this will all be behind us next week.”

  “We’ll be on our way soon,” she murmured, dread and excitement filling her from head to foot.

  “Any more problems with our handsome guide?” he queried as they headed back to camp.

  “Not really,” Ginny replied. “Right now, he’s ignoring and avoiding me as much as possible.”

  “That tempted by you, is he?” Charles jested.

  “If you say so, sir.”

  “He is, mark my words. Give him the space he thinks he wants and needs while coaxing him toward you, girl. Don’t forget what I told you; you might need him and his skills one day soon.”

  That idea both thrilled and alarmed her. “He’ll probably be hundreds of miles away from me when and if that time arrives.”

  “Somehow I don’t think so,” Charles murmured, his grin broadening.

  She told her racing heart to slow. “We’ll see.”

  “Yes, sir, we surely shall. Good-bye, Anna.”

  “Good-bye, sir. Father,” she corrected with a warm smile.

  When Steve returned to camp, Ginny handed him his borrowed gloves and thanked him for them. “Father brought me these,” she said, holding out the new pair. “Are they all right?”

  Steve grasped one hand as if he was examining them for quality and sturdiness. “Yep, I see I missed his visit again.” He released her hand.

  Ginny was moved by their brief contact. “Yes,” she murmured, “he didn’t stay long. He’ll be joining us soon.”

  Steve eyed her closely. “I’m sure that makes you happy.”

  With a blend of truth and deception, she responded, “It does. We’ve been separated for six years. It’s time to get reacquainted. We had so” little time together after my return home from boarding school.”

  “What kind of man is your father, Anna?”

  “Just how he seems: kind, generous, charming—a gentleman.”

  “You aren’t biased in his favor, are you?” he teased.

  She returned his smile. “Isn’t it natural to be so?”

  His tone and expression altered uncontrollably. “I reckon.”

  Ginny surmised that he didn’t sound convinced and decided he might be an orphan, which would explain why he was such a loner. She was intrigued and touched by the bitterness that glittered like black ice in his dark eyes. A clue to him? she wondered.

  “Have you eaten?” He suddenly veered away from the topic of parents, and after she had nodded in the affirmative, he said, “We go to work soon. I’ll see you later.”

  “Steve?”

  He stopped and turned. “Yes, Miss Avery?”

  “You’re doing a fine job with our training. Thank you.”

  He tipped his hat, didn’t smile or thank her, turned, and departed.

  What an enigma you are, Steve Carr! Should I try to solve it?

  At two o’clock, the women met at the river in their wagons.

  Steve halted them at the first location he had chosen. They gathered around him as he gave his final instructions. “We’ll start shallow and work our way to deeper areas. This first site will give you a feel for moving through water and soft bottoms. Once you approach the bank, keep going; don’t allow your team to stop to drink or rest. If you do, your wheels will mire down. Goad them extra hard on entering and leaving; that lets the mules get a quick grip when they’re changing surfaces. Some rivers will be the most treacherous ground to cover. If your wagon starts leaning to one side, don’t panic; you’re probably just hitting a low place. Keep your pace steady and don’t let your mules slack off or sense you’re not in control of them. When we hit deep water later, if we have problems, I’ll explain then how to deal with them. Along our route, we’ll probably have to hitch up extra teams to get enough power and strength to cross some rivers. That causes delays, but it can’t be helped. If there are no questions, let’s get busy, ladies.”

  By the time that lesson was over and their two-mile walk was behind them, the women were exhausted from the arduous exertions. Most of them flopped down on grassy areas to rest before beginning evening chores.

  Ginny prepared a plate from the food Charles Avery had brought to her and left it on the rock ring that enclosed Steve’s campfire. She knew he would return soon from selecting a deeper site for their river crossing practice tomorrow. When he did, he would find a nice meal, including apple pie, awaiting him. She hoped that would please him.

  She joined the Davises for dinner, and delighted the children with another tasty dessert. After the dishes were done, she helped Mary Wiggins repair torn clothing for her four children. She had noticed and questioned Ellie about the.fact there were no children in the camp between the ages two and six. Ellie had explained that those ages would correspond with the war years, when so many men were absent! Those few born at the war’s end or shortly afterward were the results of men returning home earlier than other soldiers because of injuries.

  She hoped things would settle down for the devastated South. It would be wonderful for life to get back to normal. She prayed nothing would happen to create new hostilites and troubles. If wicked and well-intended groups on both sides ceased their vengeful and greedy attacks on each other, peace and healing could come. Please, Lord, let it be so.

  When she and Mary had completed the task, Ginny smiled at the perky woman with bouncy curls and said, “I want to thank you and the others for helping me learn my chores. It’ll make it easier for me on the trail. I’m afraid household tasks weren’t part of our studies at school. They depended on mothers to teach them to their daughters.”

  “You said your own mother has been dead for a long time?” Mary queried.

  “Yes, since I was elev
en. I still miss her.” Longing filled Ginny’s heart, so she changed the subject. “Sometimes I feel so ignorant not knowing the things most females do.”

  “You can’t be blamed for that, Anna, so don’t feel bad. You were away a long time. I’m sure you’re happy to be home.”

  From the corner of her eye, Ginny noticed Steve leaning against a tree nearby and wondered how long he had been standing there and listening, and why? She pretended not to see him and said what she must, what would mask any possibly unusual behavior between her and Charles. “Yes, I am. I missed my father very much. It’s been too long. We’ve both grown and changed during our separation; it’s almost…like meeting for the first time and having to learn about each other all over again.”

  “That could be fun, like a game,” Mary ventured.

  “You’re right; I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

  “The others are gathering soon for conversation and maybe some music,” Mary reminded her friend. “Why don’t you join them? I’ll be along as soon as I get the children tucked in. And thank you for the help with sewing.”

  “That’s one of the few feminine things I can do,” Ginny quipped.

  “And do very well,” Mary complimented her skill.

  They exchanged a few words before Ginny left. As she did so, she noticed Steve was no longer around the Wiggins area. Quiet as a mouse, you stealthy creature. What reason do you have to be furtive with me?

  As she headed for the meeting spot, Ginny pondered if she could be mistaken about thinking he watched everyone in a curious manner, and her more than the others. After what she’d heard last night from her wagon, she fretted about him being a Loyal Leaguer who was trying to ferret out Klan members. Ed King had warned his talkative wife to silence for that very reason. Others had mentioned how spies were used to gather “evidence” against Rebel whites to justify an attack on them. It didn’t matter, she reasoned, that the scout had a southern accent, as plenty of them had sided with the Union.

  You’re being silly, Ginny. Steve is too expert to be a fake wagontrain leader. Maybe he just likes to know his charges well, pick out the possible troublemakers, and deal with them to prevent problems along the way. Or maybe he has a personal interest in you. For certain, there’s more to that cunning guide than meets the eye. Whatever the answer, you need to solve the mystery soon, before you become more ensnared by him.