No Greater Glory by Cindy Nord

Author:Cindy Nord
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
Published: 2012-07-31T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

Shapinsay Plantation

February 25th, 1863

Brennen narrowed his eyes and ground his words toward Emaline. “Don’t you understand? I’ve got to go back.” His injury had left a gruff tone to his voice along with a persistent niggling cough.

She shoved her chair backward and surged to her feet. “Two and a half months ago you nearly died. And it was just three days ago that you finally stood without help.”

“I can’t sit around here when my boys need me. Every day, more Yanks ride by. If I’m to go, it’s got to be soon.”

“I refuse to listen to any more of this nonsense.” She gathered up the empty dinner dishes and crossed to the swinging doorway. A carefully placed hip shoved it open, and she entered the kitchen. Using a cane for support, Brennen trailed behind her.

“It’s a matter of honor, Em,” he said, the wooden tip thumping against the floor in cadence with his shuffling footfalls.

“Honor, my eye. There’s no honor in dying for a lost cause.”

“We’ve not lost yet, not by a goddamn long shot. And as long as Jeb Stuart rides, I too shall fight.”

“Don’t curse in front of me.” Emaline knew her brother would clamor to rejoin the war as soon as he could walk unaided. She just didn’t expect his fervor to return this soon.

I’ll guarantee his freedom as long as he remains in this house.

As if he had spoken the words only yesterday, Reece’s statement blistered into recall. She knew he’d referred only to Brennen’s healing time at Shapinsay.

Emaline had lost so much already. The thought of losing her brother now drove a knife through her heart. “Haven’t you had enough of this ridiculous war? Just look at you. You can barely walk without a cane.”

Brennen leaned against the table and draped his arm over her shoulder. “I know you don’t understand. I don’t expect you to understand.”

“No, I don’t understand any of this.” She sidestepped away from him. “I don’t understand why men butcher one another, or why they think something will be solved in the doing of it.” Scenes of wounded men, dying men, men who’d never see their loved ones again surged into her mind.

Brennen folded his hand around her braid as he’d done those many years ago in their youth. Only two years separated them in age. “Sometimes I still see you as my baby sister, chubby cheeks and all.” Soft chuckles gave way to another coughing bout. Emaline reached for a chair and carefully lowered him onto the seat. She splashed water from the pitcher into a cup.

He gasped for air, the ordeal over.

“Here drink this, you silly goose,” she said, raising the glass to his lips.

He swallowed and then leaned his head back against the chair. “Well, I thought I was getting better.” A shallow smile tugged at his lips.

When she saw the grin, Emaline’s expression softened and she gently batted his arm.

Then they heard hooves pounding the hard-packed earth.

Horses.

Emaline rushed to the window and raked back the curtain. At least twenty Union soldiers appeared between the veranda and the shanties.

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