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“I see.”
“Stop saying that. I figure they would rather have you back than keep Seth. You’re a captain and he’s just a private.”
“That makes sense. Could you put that rifle away before it goes off? There won’t be much to trade if you pull that trigger.” He touched the bandage on his arm. “How badly am I wounded?”
“Bad enough to be unconscious since yesterday. Don’t pull on that bandage.”
“I don’t suppose this settlement of yours has a doctor, does it?”
“No, we take care of our own. I know how to make poultices and change bandages. Just don’t try running away. You wouldn’t get far on that leg.”
“I’m not in the mood to run anywhere. Where is my uniform?”
“I’ve got it soaking. You can’t wear it like it is. And I hid your boots so you may as well decide to stay put.”
“Why would I want to leave? You’ve already said that you’ll trade me for your fiancé.” He watched her carefully. If he could get her to let her guard down, he might be able to escape. His boots wouldn’t be that hard to find in a cabin no larger than this one must be. As for his uniform being wet, he had worn it wet every time it rained.
“I guess that makes sense.” She put her head to one side as if she were trying to decide if she should believe him. “Are you hungry?”
He nodded. He wasn’t, but he knew he would need to get his strength back if he was going to escape.
“I’ll be back after I fix you something to eat.” She turned and left the room.
Caleb waited until she was out of sight, then tried to swing his legs out of bed. Pain shot through him and he suppressed a groan. Carefully he pushed the quilt aside and probed the bandage on his leg. He was hurt more than he had thought. There was no way he could walk on his leg. He couldn’t even get out of bed. He refused to think that the bullet might have shattered the bone. If it had, he might never walk again. He lay back and closed his eyes.
Megan put the rifle in easy reach against the cabinet and reached in the water where the uniform was soaking. It was heavy and almost black in the water. She held it up to drain, then squeezed as much water as she could from the fabric. Did Seth have such a warm coat? She tried not to think about that.
When she had it as dry as possible, she took the uniform to the fire and hung it over the rocker to dry. She didn’t dare risk putting it on the line outside. To ensure it would dry quickly, she added another log to the fire. Although she had no intention of returning the uniform to him until he was well enough to travel, she couldn’t risk having Bridget or her mother come in and see it drying.
While she waited, she washed the long underlinen and bandages, then put the bandages in a pot to boil by the fire. She hung the underlinen on the chair with the uniform.
“Miss Llewellyn?” Caleb called from the other room.
“What is it?”
“Who won the battle?”
“I’d say we did. Mama said your side was in retreat when they were seen going down the mountain. I couldn’t tell from what I saw in the clearing. There was nothing left but dead horses.”
“Did you say my horse was dead?”
Megan went to the bedroom door. “If you were riding a big bay with a blaze face, he was. There was such a horse lying beside you. You’re lucky he didn’t pin you underneath him. I might not have been able to get you out.”
“I probably owe you my life. Thank you.”
Her eyes met his and she found it difficult to turn away. His silvery eyes were hypnotic and seemed able to look into her soul. “You’re welcome. I would have done as much for your horse, but he was already dead.”
“Thanks,” he said wryly.
“I didn’t mean it like that. I only meant that I love animals and would have taken care of him. Were you fond of him?”
“Not very. He was a good animal, but I didn’t have him that long.”
Megan leaned against the doorjamb and folded her arms. “That just goes to show how different we are. I could love an animal at first sight. Especially if it was one I considered to be a ‘good animal.’”
“You learn not to be attached to horses in a war. I’ve had several shot out from under me. I stayed detached on purpose.”
“Can you do that? Remain detached? I’ve never learned how to turn my feelings on and off like that.” She knew she was goading him, turning his own words against him, but she was upset. “You take Seth, for instance. He’s fond of drink, and if the truth were told, of loose women as well. But I don’t stop loving him. I can’t. If I could, I might be less human.”
“Or you might be simply discerning. Why do you want to marry a man who drinks and runs after loose women?”
Megan frowned and straightened. “I don’t know why I told you that. I don’t want you talking about Seth.” His words echoed thoughts she had had in the past. More than once she had wondered why she loved Seth. Could it be merely habit? Or the fact that no other man in the settlement cared about her? “Get some rest,” she said sharply, and left the room.
Caleb didn’t close his eyes. She had a number of weaknesses. He was certain to be able to use one of them to escape. He had no intention of remaining here until she got around to trading him, even if such a thing were feasible. She was too quick at pointing a gun at him. What if she got word that Seth had died or escaped? She might shoot him just to be rid of him.
He looked around the room. It was small and the chinking between the logs seemed new. The floor was made of broad pine planks instead of dirt or split logs, so someone had gone to a great deal of effort to build it for her. What had she said? It was meant to be the house she and Seth would share. He wondered if Seth had built it himself. It was unusual for a new cabin to have more than one room. Rooms were usually added later as children arrived. In many cabins the children just slept in the loft until they were grown and had places of their own. For a cabin, this was quite grand.
It was also clean. After living in tents or on the open ground for the past four years, Caleb didn’t take cleanliness for granted. Once the war was over, he planned to bathe three times a day.
Megan’s clothing hung on pegs in one corner. There were three changes of dress, an everyday poke bonnet, a Sunday bonnet, a lightweight shawl. Beneath was a pair of polished black shoes with a pair of white cotton stockings rolled neatly in them.
Caleb turned his bead and studied the wall beside him. Unlike the outer walls, this one was of pine planking. A drawing of a raccoon beside a stream was nailed to it. The drawing was unusually good and he wondered who had done it.
A color caught his eye and he reached into the crack between the bed and wall and brought out a red book. Beneath it was a green one. Caleb was educated, as were his mother and sister, but he knew it wasn’t common to find mountain women who could read enough to enjoy a book. “Is this yours?” he called out.
“What now?” Megan came back to the doorway. When she saw the books in his hand, she froze.
“These books. Are you reading them?” He read the titles. “The Mysteries of Udolpho? You’re reading Mrs. Radcliffe? And this other one is on Greek mythology. Are they yours?”
“Give them to me.” She came to the bed and held out her hand. He noticed she was trembling.
Slowly he handed them over. “I’ve read both. Are you enjoying them?”
She glared at him. “There’s no need for you to tease me, Captain Morgan. I assure you I can read—probably as well as you can. And yes, I am enjoying them.”
“I wasn’t trying to make you angry.”
Megan turned on him, her books tucked protectively under her arm. “Why should I believe anything you say? I wasn’t born yesterday. I know men don’t like to know women can read. That’s why I hid them. How was I to know you’d come along and end up in my bed?” She realized what she had said and blushed.
Caleb smiled at her choice of words. “Can’t we talk like civilized people? We’ve found a common ground. We both read and we apparently like the same books. Have you read the others by Mrs. Radcliffe?”
Megan came a step nearer although her movements were reluctant. “Has she written others?”
“Three others. My favorite is Mysteries of Udolpho but I also enjoyed The Romance of the Forest.”
“I’ve read Udolpho three times. I bought it because it was the thickest one on the shelf.” She looked away. “I shouldn’t be telling you all this. You’re my prisoner. I couldn’t care less what books you read, or if you read at all.”
“Why were you hiding them?”
“That’s none of your business!” She turned and stalked from the room.
Caleb watched her go. In spite of himself he was intrigued by her. He had never known anyone to be so defensive about reading a book. Who had forbidden her to read? It was obvious someone had. Why else would she be hiding them in her own house? Caleb’s family were all voracious readers and he couldn’t imagine his sister reading in secret or hiding a book. Most of the girls he had known in Pollard’s Crossing read to some extent, some more than others. It wouldn’t have occurred to any of them to defend their right to read.
He moved his body lower in the bed. She was a mystery, his jailer. Under different circumstances, he would have enjoyed solving that mystery a great deal. Now, he only wanted to get out of here and either join his regiment or be sent home.
Home. It was like thinking of heaven. The war hadn’t reached Pollard’s Crossing, according to his parents’ letters, so it would be waiting for him just as he left it. He was determined to survive this hell of a war and go back home again. Just now survival meant rest. He could smell Megan cooking food in the other room and his stomach rumbled expectantly. He had to get his strength back and heal quickly so he could be on his way.
Chapter Three
Caleb watched as Megan sat on the side of the bed and started untying the bandage on his arm. She was trying to ignore the fact he was looking at her. “Tell me about yourself,” he said.
She glanced at him in surprise. “There’s nothing more to tell. You already know I’m promised to Seth Brennan and that I’m going to use you to get him back.”
“There’s more to you than that. Have you lived in the settlement all your life?”
“Of course. I was born there. So were my brother and sister.”
“You didn’t mention a brother yesterday. I gather he’s off fighting on the Confederate side?”
For a long time she was silent. “We don’t talk about Owen. And no, he’s fighting for the North.” She closed her mouth as if she had said too much.
Caleb was intrigued. “He’s on my side? Then why are your parents Confederate?”
“When Owen joined up Papa disowned him. As far as the settlement is concerned, Owen is dead.”
His voice softened. “Are those tears in your eyes?”
“No.” She turned away abruptly and reached for the pan of clean water.
“I can do this for myself,” he said.
“I don’t want to take a chance on you pulling the wound open. You’ve lost too much blood as it is.” She gently washed the wound clean and put another bandage around it.
Caleb automatically caught the quilt as she tried to pull it away. Her dark eyes met his. “I have to keep you clean. As for modesty, I’ve seen you already.”
Caleb surrendered the quilt. When she removed the bandage, he caught his breath at the pain. This wound was far more severe than the one on his arm. For a moment his senses reeled as if he were about to pass out.
“You’re still weak,” she said. “That’s why I’m doing this for you.” She kept the covers over as much of him as possible as she probed the swollen flesh circling the wound. “This one doesn’t look so good.”
He raised himself on his elbows and looked. Again his head spun. “Is the bullet still in it?” He dreaded her answer. If it was, she would have to cut it out.
She shook her head. “The bullet went clean through. I don’t think it even nicked the bone, at least not as far as I can tell. I had hoped it would mend as quickly as the other one. Of course it’s still fresh. It’s too soon to know if it’s going bad.”
Caleb had seen many wounds and he knew this one could be a problem. He had also seen too many amputations in field hospitals. “Promise me something. Don’t cut off my leg. If it goes bad, I might pass out and not know what you’re doing. Promise me.”
“I don’t plan to cut off your leg, Captain Morgan. I wouldn’t know the first thing about how to do that.”
“Neither do most army doctors. If I’m going to die, I’d rather do it with all my parts intact. Promise me.”
Her eyes met his. “I promise.”
He lay back with relief. “During the first part of the war I was assigned to oversee the wounded and be certain they received medical treatment. I saw things in the hospital tent that will give me nightmares for the rest of my life.”
Megan lifted his leg enough to slide the fresh bandage beneath and tied it into place. Caleb bit back his pain. “I know that hurts,” she said, “but we have to keep it clean or it will go bad.”
“How do you know that?”
“I don’t know it for sure, but cleanliness can’t hurt. When I cut myself, it seems to heal quicker if I keep the place clean.”
“I know some army doctors who should take lessons from you.” He tried to shift himself into a more comfortable position. There wasn’t one.
“Besides, I want you to heal fast so I can get Seth back sooner.”
“Tell me about him.”
“Why do you want to know?”
“You don’t seem eager to talk about yourself and I’m trying to have a conversation.” Caleb needed to know all he could find out about his captor if he was going to escape.
“There’s not much to say about him, either. We grew up together. Everybody has assumed all my life that we would marry.”
“Is that why you’re marrying him?”
“Of course not. I love him.” She frowned slightly, as if she were considering the question. “What about you? Are you married?” She ducked her head. “I was thinking that if you are, I could get word to her somehow that you’re alive. I’d want someone to do the same for me.”
“No, I’m not married.”
She looked at him with her level gaze. “Why not?”
He smiled at her straightforwardness. “I never met a woman I wanted to talk to all my life.”
Megan put her head to one side. “That’s a funny way to put it. Talking is really important to you, isn’t it?”
“Isn’t it to you?”
“The men in my family rarely talk to their wives and daughters. They talk to each other, I guess, but only about crops and hunting. Things like that. What would you have to tell a woman that would take the rest of your life to say?”
“That I love her, for one thing. I wouldn’t marry her unless I did and that’s something that needs to be said often, assuming it’s true.”
Megan frowned and let her hands drop into her lap. “I never in my life heard Papa tell Mama he loves her.”
“Most likely that takes place at night when they’re alone.”
She laughed. “You never lived in a cabin, did you? There’s not much privacy.” She caught herself and stood. “I have things to do.”
“I like talking to you. Can’t they wait?”
She went to the door, the soiled bandages soaking in the pan of water. “I’m not used to talking so much. I have work to do.” She paused as if she were considering coming back into the room, then left, pulling the door shut behind her.
