Summer Rose Read online

  Summer Rose

  Copyright © 2013 Caroline Hartman

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  First Edition

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2013937690

  ISBN 0981595499

  ISBN 13 9780981595498

  eBook ISBN: 978-0-9893871-0-1

  Published by:

  Red Dobie Press an imprint of Alexemi Publishing

  P.O. Box 1266

  Exton, PA 19341

  www.AlexemiPublishing.com

  Cover Design by Bradley Wind, www.bradleywind.com

  Please visit the author’s website: www.carolinehartman.com

  SUMMER ROSE IS DEDICATED TO THE MEMORY OF MY MOTHER, HELEN FURST GILLESPIE.

  CONTENTS

  PART ONE: LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT

  CHAPTER 1: A LITTLE PIECE OF PARADISE

  CHAPTER 2: KIP

  CHAPTER 3: GETTYSBURG

  CHAPTER 4: DREAM GIRL

  CHAPTER 5: LOVE AT A FULL CAVALRY CHARGE

  CHAPTER 6: STORIES

  CHAPTER 7: MINT AND MIST AND BLACKBERRY

  CHAPTER 8: TOMATO SANDWICHES

  CHAPTER 9: BEGINNINGS

  CHAPTER 10: PROMOTIONS

  CHAPTER 11: FANNY

  CHAPTER 12: THE BEST LAID PLANS

  CHAPTER 13: DIAMONDS, FISTS, AND KISSES

  CHAPTER 14: DEARLY BELOVED

  CHAPTER 15: A LIFETIME OF NIGHTS

  CHAPTER 16: AWAKENINGS

  CHAPTER 17: PROMISES

  CHAPTER 18: CHANGES

  CHAPTER 19: A JOURNEY

  CHAPTER 20: WASHINGTON D.C.

  CHAPTER 21: THE ROSE ROOM

  PART TWO: MURDER BAY

  CHAPTER 22: A DIAMOND AND RUBY BRACELET

  CHAPTER 23: BREAKFAST AND PLASTER DUST

  CHAPTER 24: FIRST DANCE

  CHAPTER 25: BLACKJACK

  CHAPTER 26: THE BLOODY CORSET

  CHAPTER 27: LATE NIGHT AT THE WAR DEPARTMENT

  CHAPTER 28: OLD CAPITOL PRISON

  CHAPTER 29: THE HOUSE ON THE HILL AT HAMMER ROAD

  CHAPTER 30: NOT AS THEY SEEM

  CHAPTER 31: LIZA

  CHAPTER 32: ENDINGS AND BEGINNINGS

  PART THREE: SUMMER’S VALLEY

  CHAPTER 33: HOME SWEET HOME

  CHAPTER 34: HARPER’S FERRY

  CHAPTER 35: A WILDCAT

  CHAPTER 36: A PRIVATE WAR

  CHAPTER 37: BETRAYAL

  CHAPTER 38: ON THE ISLAND

  CHAPTER 39: A PLAN

  PART FOUR: SHENANDOAH

  CHAPTER 40: THE GENERAL’S DOG

  CHAPTER 41: COLONELS AND GENERALS AT PLAY

  CHAPTER 42: PURPLE-TOED SOCKS

  CHAPTER 43: ROSES IN THE APPLE ORCHARD

  CHAPTER 44: GENERAL SHERIDAN’S SHOT OF WHISKEY

  CHAPTER 45: SHERIDAN’S RIDE

  CHAPTER 46: BUCKSHOT AND BOTTOMS

  CHAPTER 47: INDIAN SUMMER

  CHAPTER 48: BOURBON AND TEACAKES

  CHAPTER 49: ACROSS THE STONE BRIDGE

  CHAPTER 50: ASHES

  CHAPTER 51: TRUEST FORM OF FLATTERY

  CHAPTER 52: LEWIS AND CLARK

  CHAPTER 53: THE END AT LAST

  CHAPTER 54: WILD GEESE

  CHAPTER 55: MERCY

  CHAPTER 56: JUST PRETEND

  CHAPTER 57: NO MORE LIES

  CHAPTER 58: GRAND REVIEW

  PART FIVE: CAMELANN

  CHAPTER 59: PIECES OF THE PAST

  CHAPTER 60: RUNNING THE GAUNTLET

  CHAPTER 61: CHARM

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  PART ONE

  LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT

  CHAPTER 1

  A LITTLE PIECE OF PARADISE

  June 30, 1863

  Maryland Pennsylvania Border

  Two Union officers halted their horses at the edge of the forest and peered through the feathered branches of pine, considering the lake beyond. Daniel removed his hat, squinting against the sun then wiped his forehead with his sleeve. He used the brim to fan his face, ignoring his sun-streaked hair as it flopped back over his eyes. Though the air, heavy with the scent of pine tar and heat took his breath away, the soldier in him noted the undisturbed sand, the circling hawks, the echo of a distant woodpecker’s rat-a-tat-tat, the sound of the water. Nothing hinted of human.

  Chester blew and snorted. “Good boy,” Daniel murmured, running his hand down the stallion’s sweaty neck. He urged the animal into the sunlight, but neither the horse nor his friend and fellow officer, Hal, needed any prodding. As they eased nearer the water, Daniel blew out his breath, ruffling his thick blond moustache and making a sound much like what the horse had just done.

  Two days before Custer’s spies had reported Lee, deep in Pennsylvania. Word from York County had come of Confederate cavalry helping themselves to barrels of whiskey and brandy, bacon and hams, and horses. One Pennsylvania housewife told of being forced to use all her reserve flour to bake bread for the rebels. Rumors said the secesh were ready to pounce on Harrisburg. Where in the devil are they? Daniel and Hal hadn’t seen one enemy soldier. Stay smart, stay alive, whispered a voice in Daniel’s head.

  Free of the smoldering humidity of the forest and roused by the breezes off the water, Daniel’s face cooled a little, but sweat still soaked all the way through his wool uniform. Hal pulled up beside him and Daniel couldn’t help flinching. His friend smelled rank. No surprise. Daniel supposed he did, too. They edged forward another step and the entire lake and valley came into view. In the distance, two waterfalls cascaded from the sheer granite walls of the hills. Nearer, an island strewn with boulders and ancient pines, beckoned.

  In a voice fit for church, Hal said, “Good Lord. Is that beautiful?”

  Daniel nudged Chester toward a patch of grass and dismounted. He removed the tack and gear, and both he and Hal let the horses amble across the sand into the lake. Just like the men, the animals needed water and rest.

  Daniel glanced at Hal, who nodded. Without a word, they stripped to the skin. They’d been friends since before they could walk. Most times Hal didn’t even need to open his mouth. Daniel blinked away a bead of sweat and wiped his arm across his brow. Hell, he thought, he knows as well as I do that taking a dip in this lake is stupid, irresponsible, and dangerous. But I’m so hot I can’t think.

  As they stepped into the water, Daniel spotted the familiar birthmark on Hal’s left hip, a port wine stain in the shape of a flying wild goose. Daniel had teased him about it ever since they could first talk. “You better be careful. Some sharpshooter will line up that goose on your ass and put you out of commission.”

  Hal chuckled, settling low in the cooling water. “You’re just jealous. Every girl at Mary Hall’s loves my wild goose. In fact, they fight for a wild goose ride.”

  Daniel snorted. He and Hal had a running argument about Washington’s whorehouses. Hal spent many spare hours there, Daniel didn’t.

  Daniel pointed toward the island. “How far do you think that is?”

  “A hundred, maybe a hundred and twenty yards.”

  Hal stood and dove. Daniel followed. The cool water cleared his head as the long muscles of his arms and legs stretched into a rhythm. He heard Hal splashing beside him, and they tagged the island beach at almost the same instant. Daniel stretched out in
the shallows, feeling the pebbly bottom tickle the tight line of his back. His lungs strained and burned, but the cleansing swim had been worth it.

  “God, this feels good.”

  Hal was sitting, skipping flat stones over the water. “Wonder what this—”

  Gunshots: one, two then a quiet pause. A third shot rattled up in the hills. Daniel reacted out of instinct, shoving at Hal’s shoulder and pushing him deep into the water, then sinking beside him. After a few seconds, Daniel raised his head, cleared the hair from his eyes, and checked the far shore. The shots had been far enough away, maybe a mile. Their horses still stood in the water, apparently undisturbed.

  Hal whispered, “Sounded like a shotgun to me.”

  Daniel nodded. They both knew a sharpshooter with a good rifle and a scope would have picked them off by now. He turned, shading his eyes, and quickly surveyed the hills. “Some farmer’s hunting.”

  Daniel’s attention dropped to the rocks and trees on the island, and he smiled. The place was perfect. He settled back down on his elbows and let the water cool his body.

  Hal sighed. “Imagine coming out here on a moonlit night with a girl. Just listen to those falls.”

  Daniel’s lack of interest in Washington’s brothels didn’t mean he didn’t like women. Not at all. He adored the fairer sex. Philly and Washington considered him a most eligible bachelor, and he was all but engaged. Being with a girl was about the only thing that kept the war at bay. Even then, thoughts of what he’d seen and done never entirely left him.

  He slapped Hal’s back. “Maybe we can do that in another lifetime. Better swim back.” His eyes lifted to the hills and he frowned. “Somebody’s around. Keep your ass down,” he said with a grin. “I swear that damn goose will get us both killed.”

  He swam back slowly, searching the breeze for any sound out of the ordinary. Once on shore, he dug soap out of his saddlebag, returned to the water, and gave himself a good scrub and rinse. He tossed the soap to Hal, dried himself, tugged on his pants, then rolled up the legs. Hal did the same. When they finished with themselves, they retrieved the horses, knowing well that a cavalryman was only as good as his horse. Brushed and buffed, the animals seemed in much better spirits. Daniel cleaned and checked Chester’s shoes, then hobbled both animals before repacking his saddlebags.

  Now that all the important jobs were out of the way, he sat in the shade and cleaned his boots while Hal studied their maps. When the sun lowered and the air began to hum with the war cry of mosquitoes, they shrugged into clean shirts and socks, pulled on their boots, and rolled down the legs of their pants. Daniel surveyed their surroundings, on alert as he always was. Some part of him never relaxed.

  Daniel lit a small fire and set some coffee beans Hal’s mother had sent them to roast in a pan. Hal pulled out a fishing line and dropped it into the lake while Daniel swirled the fragrant beans around on the hot metal.

  After many attempts but no nibbles, Hal returned to the fire and watched Daniel pour the roasted beans onto a piece of cheesecloth, which he’d smoothed out on a flat rock. He smashed the beans with the butt of his revolver, tied up the ends of the cloth then tossed the bundle into a pot of boiling water. The aroma bloomed. Even the horses looked over. Hal took a deep, appreciative sniff, then stood and checked his rifle. When he sat back down he leaned it against his leg. Real coffee, a rare treat, as opposed to the Union Army’s dehydrated stuff, which tasted like boiled paper, could alert rebels for miles. But they’d decided earlier that the risk was worth it. They might only be living off jerky and hardtack, but they had coffee.

  CHAPTER 2

  KIP

  Daniel heard a cheerful whistling melody and tensed at the obvious movement of someone coming down the slope. He pulled his revolver close then relaxed a little at the appearance of a thin boy, maybe eleven or twelve, approaching from across the meadow. The boy touched the brim of his shabby straw hat in a mock salute.

  Two healthy, foxy-looking dogs brushed against the boy’s knees. A shotgun hung broken over his arm, and against his shoulder, rested a thick stick with three pheasants, all cleaned, plucked, skewered, and ready for the fire. Glistening with lard and sprinkled with herbs, the hens, even uncooked, looked mouthwatering. Daniel’s stomach growled. He took in the boy’s ragged, dark cotton pants, his long-sleeved, tan shirt, and his loose, many-pocketed canvas vest. When the boy knelt and laid down his shotgun, Daniel noticed his tanned skin, dark hair, and the brilliant whites of his eyes. Daniel’s attention went to the hens again, and he swallowed hard as saliva pooled in his mouth.

  Hal, too, eyed the hens. He leaned forward. “I’m Hal. That’s Daniel.”

  They nodded to each other, and Daniel grinned, leaning around the fire to shake the boy’s hand. Military protocol wasn’t Hal’s strong suit. “The skinny, dark haired guy is Captain Hal St. Clair. I’m Captain Daniel Charteris. We’re cavalry scouts. Help yourself to the coffee, Son.”

  The boy’s voice came out raspy. “Folks call me Kip. I shot these birds, thought you might want to trade coffee for a couple.” He expertly placed two prepared, Y-shaped branches to hold the skewer, started the hens to cooking, then raised his hands. “I have potatoes, onions, and some squash.” He pointed to his knapsack, assuring the men he meant no harm. “I’m just getting them out.”

  He set the vegetables in the coals, then poked at them with his stick. After a moment, he nodded toward his dogs. “Meet Nip and Tuck.” Then he added, as if to apologize for their names, “My mom named them. She sewed a lot.”

  He snapped his fingers, and the dogs, red-gold with yellow eyes rimmed in black, hunkered down with their muzzles on their paws, their eyes unblinking. He pointed up into the hills. “We live around here. Every once in a while I get hungry for talk with someone other than the dogs. I heard your horses and smelled the coffee.” His eyes drifted to the pot. “I love coffee.”

  “That’s the real kind. Help yourself.”

  As the boy withdrew a cup from his knapsack and filled it, he nodded toward their Yankee blouses still drying on the rocks. “We don’t see too many officers out this way. I saw a couple rebs last week. Scouts. Couldn’t make out their rank. They didn’t act like officers. I stayed my distance. Looked like they were headed toward Chambersburg. You see any?”

  “Not one.”

  “Did you hear that Meade is now head of the Army of the Potomac?” Hal asked.

  The boy shook his head. “Last I heard, Lee’d crossed the Potomac. Rumor is he might try to take Harrisburg, even Philadelphia.” He smiled when Daniel lifted his brow. “Not just coffee. I’m hungry for news, too.”

  “We don’t know much more than you, but I do have a newspaper.” Hal reached in his saddlebag and pulled out two tattered sheets of newsprint. “Most of it, anyway. Want it?”

  Kip nodded and Hal handed him what pages he had of the Washington Chronicle. Daniel was a little surprised when the boy settled, his back against a rock, and took his time studying the thin paper, reading from beginning to end. When he’d finished, he laid the paper beside his pack.

  Later, while they ate supper, Hal asked. “How did you fix these birds? I haven’t eaten this well in months. I love the squash, too. Thank you.”

  “Nothing too hard. I larded them, rubbed them inside and out with salt, pepper, and herbs. I like to cook. My mom taught me.”

  “She must be a great cook,” Daniel said.

  Kip shook his head. “She was. She died last year, right after my father and two brothers were killed at Antietam. My da was a colonel, Colonel Micah McAllister. My brothers, William and Colin, were captains. I live pretty much by myself now, though there are neighbors. I have a brother in Washington. He comes by as often as he can. Were you there? At Antietam?”

  Both soldiers nodded. “You seem young to live alone,” Hal said. He threw a bone to the dogs, but neither moved a muscle.

  One side of Kip’s mouth curled up at Hal’s lifted brow. “Trained ‘em not to take food from anyone but me.
Keeps ‘em lean and a little mean.”

  Across the fire, Daniel stretched, then leaned his elbow against a low rock while he studied the boy from head to toe. Kip’s odd, blue-green eyes came around and locked onto Daniel’s, and Daniel couldn’t look away. Something about the boy bothered him. He sensed something. Not dangerous, but odd.

  Daniel had learned to trust his hunches. Even before the war, he’d been a good judge of character. His first assessment of his classmates had always been on target, and he’d further honed the skill as an officer. This boy possessed an attitude, an air about him, as if he knew some secret. His looks and actions didn’t tally somehow. Then again, he figured, losing your parents so young might make a kid savvy. War certainly had smartened Daniel up. He shook his head. No. There was something else about this boy that just didn’t ring true.

  A skein of ducks wheeled through the darkening sky, squawking and quacking, and everyone’s attention shifted overhead. The sun settled below the horizon, and the sky took on a soft purple hue. The ducks swarmed to the far end of the lake, and the other water birds, soft as the night, headed for their roosts. Bullfrogs bellowed from a patch of reeds, a strangely comforting sound.

  “Is there somewhere you could go? Grandparents? Relatives?” asked Daniel.

  All hell was about to break loose near here. He didn’t like the idea of this kid being alone. The boy lifted the paper and used it to sweep the horizon. He snapped his finger against it, making a loud smack on the paper.

  “Why? You think I should leave here and head into the cesspool of Washington or Philadelphia?”

  Daniel stiffened, taken aback at the boy’s flare of anger. “I’m concerned for your safety, that’s all.”

  Kip flicked his finger against the newspaper again. “All I read tells of riots, robbery, and murder. A girl found with her throat cut, a child gone missing right out of his home. I sell eggs and vegetables at the markets in Gettysburg, and my skins in Westminster. I hear what it’s like in the capital. Mud to your knees, charlatans gypping country men, boys my age conscripted.”

  He motioned again with the paper, then his posture softened and his voice became as velvety as the lake and the night air. “Tell me something. If you lived here, Sir, would you leave?”