Chapter Fourteen

During the night, as they lay in bed, Nick pushed her hair behind her ear, then caressed her cheek. His voice was husky as it broke the silence. "Kate, tomorrow, while I would love to stay with you, I have to report in the morning and I'm thinking I'll be gone several days. I'll try to leave word on what to expect but . . . if it were up to me, I wouldn't be leaving you."

She placed a long kiss onto his chest, nuzzling it lightly, letting out a slight chuckle. "Even if you didn't have to leave, they're expecting me at headquarters tomorrow," she said, looking up at him. "Nick, I know you have responsibilities and I understand. But I'll miss you, "

"You'll miss me? Is that so?" he said with a grin, his dimples deep in his cheek.

"I missed you when you were gone before." She felt her heart flutter and she swallowed hard, holding her breath for a moment before she continued. "Earlier, you said you had hoped that I might have left for New York. Can I take it that you're happy I stayed?" she whispered.

Nick tilted her head up and kissed her softly. "Lady, you better believe having you here, right here, right now, makes me happy. But no happier than when I first saw you tonight," he insisted. She let out a soft, contented sound, something like a purr and Nick was once again reminded of the 'home when the cat had kittens' comment. "Kate," he crooned as he slowly stroked the length of her spine, "when we were talking before about being married and free love, well, you know I'm a man who lives up to his responsibilities."

"Nick, I told you before that I don't expect – "

"It's what I expect of me."

"Nick . . ." She hesitated, not knowing how to answer what seemed to be a question, wondering at the time how she should ask him something. Dropping her head back down to his chest so she didn't have to look him in the eye, she mumbled, "Speaking of expectations. . . . Tonight, before . . . we didn't . . . you didn't . . ."

He heard the hesitancy in her voice and he shook his head even though her head was pressed against his chest, looking toward the wall and she couldn't possibly see his reaction. "No," he answered, his voice husky and rumbling in his chest.

She let out a soft sigh. "Why didn't you?"

He glanced down at the top of her head, nuzzling it before pressing a soft kiss in her hair. "I don't know. Lots of reasons, I guess."

She swallowed hard. "Lots?" she asked, her voice cracking, her head jerking up.

He let out a soft chuckle but quickly became sincere. "Well, I figured it'd be your first time." He smiled as she shrugged her yes. "I just thought maybe, with everything that's happened with you these last couple of weeks, with us, well, I wanted you to be sure. And with all that's going on, I uh, I needed to know I wasn't leaving you with child."

She let out a heavy sigh. "I guess that wouldn't do, now would it."

"Nah," he answered, twisting so he could see her face when he heard her chuckle. "What is it?"

She looked up at him with a grin. "Of course, if you left me carrying your child, General Dodge would have your head."

He rolled his eyes. "There is that." He tilted his head and kissed her lightly. "I don't know how I would explain any of this."

"Who says we need to explain to anyone?"

"I, just . . . I guess not." He pulled her close to him again and let out a hard breath. "I'm not used to disobeying direct orders."

She pushed away from him and sat up so she could look into his face. "What direct orders?"

"The one to treat you like my sister."

She let out a hard laugh, rolling onto his body, locking her eyes with his. "When he sent us off together, this was definitely not what he had in mind."

"Definitely not," he answered, a twinkle in his eye as he pushed a lock of hair back over her shoulder, "although, come to think of it, this may be exactly the thing he was afraid of," he added, the two of them sharing a smile as she dropped her face to his, their lips meeting in a series of kisses.

Morning came early to two people who hadn't slept much, their schedules limiting any morning romance. They dressed hurriedly, the new level of intimacy making some things easier and some more difficult. As expected, Kate received a note from Nick midmorning.

Kate, My unit is being sent to Gettysburg to help with the aftermath of battle. We should be gone about a week. Don't worry about the hotel, it's paid in full for the next couple of weeks, but I should be back before then. Don't let them work you too hard and if anything new starts up in Philadelphia, you head up to New York and I'll come for you there. Take care, Mrs. Barkley. Love, Nick

She read and reread the note. Her heart clutched when she read that he'd end up at Gettysburg after all. "Help with the aftermath" caused her no small concern. Would that mean he'd be dealing with leftover munitions and unexploded bombs? She knew that he had some experience with demolition and explosives and she also knew he wouldn't hesitate to put himself in danger if he was called on. Would he be dealing with the sick, the dying, the dead? The thought occurred to her that he could be absorbed into a reorganized unit and wouldn't return for weeks, months, or ever and her heart clutched at the idea that she might never see him again. Going through the parts of the note, she smiled every time she thought of his calling her 'Mrs. Barkley,' knowing it was meant to tease. But the very next moment, she would think of the end, 'Love, Nick,' and she would wonder if he had given it any thought. Was it only for effect in case someone else read it? Or did he mean it? When she arrived back in their suite that first night and saw the vase full of flowers, even without seeing a note, she didn't doubt that the flowers were his doing and done for her benefit and hers alone.

Days later, Kate was deep in discussion with several men at headquarters, the group of them evaluating the information they had acquired since the end of the battle when one of the officers was distracted by a movement at the door. "Something you need, Lieutenant?" They all looked over and Kate felt her heart stop. Swallowing hard at the sight of Nick, haggard and worn, she stood and without looking away from Nick, she answered, "He's looking for me, Major." She hurried to Nick's side, her concern obvious. He looked like he had aged years in the few days since he'd been gone. The distress was visible in his eyes and she could have sworn that he had wrinkles in his brow that hadn't been there when he'd left. Turning back to the men at the table, Kate gave the reason she knew they would readily accept. "Gentlemen, if you would forgive my leaving so that I can attend to my husband. He's been at Gettysburg." She saw a look enter some of their eyes and she was left for a moment to ponder what it meant. Camaraderie, she decided. The men who had spent time on battle fields all shared the same look: the knowledge of the dangers, the acknowledgment of what you had to do, the fear of being buried by strangers in a nameless grave. She had seen it too many times in the past week when the casualty numbers of Gettysburg were being discussed. She stepped out into the hall with Nick, her hand gently cupping his cheek. "You look like hell," she whispered.

He chewed at the inside of his mouth and shrugged his shoulders. "I'm tired is all."

"That's not all."

He stared down at her and begrudgingly nodded. "Maybe not. But I wanted to let you know I was back in town before I went to the hotel. If you'll be done here soon, I can find some place to sit 'til you're ready to go."

She studied him, trying to gauge the toll on his spirit and body. "What you need is a drink and a hot bath and a good meal and you're not going to get any of those sitting in the hall. I'll get my things," she answered softly, noting that he made no objections.

When they reached the Continental, she stopped at the front desk. "I need some food sent up to my room."

"Of course, Madam. Our normal process – "

"I couldn't care less about your normal process," she said, then glanced over to Nick. "My husband has just returned from a week in Gettysburg and he's tired and hungry. I need you to send up whatever the kitchen has readily available with the proviso that it be filling and hot. Have them send up an appropriate bottle of wine with it and have the gentleman's club send up whiskey and cigars immediately. The Barkleys' suite. Is that understood?"

The gentleman at the front desk made quick notes, having become suddenly willing when he heard "Gettysburg" mentioned. "Of course, Madam, I'll see to it immediately."

Once they were upstairs, Nick paced slowly across the room, stopping to stare out the window. Very soon after, there was a knock at the door, with a delivery of whiskey and cigars. Nick poured a glass of whiskey and downed it in one drink, tipping the bottle to refill the glass. This, too, he downed without hesitation, putting the glass down heavily and filling it a third time. He started to raise the glass, but let it drop back to the table, taking a moment to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand as he stared into space. He was brought back to the moment when he felt Kate's hand rest on his arm. He glanced over at her, blowing out a short breath, his eyes betraying the pain he had stuffed deep inside.

"Was it as bad as they all say?" she asked softly.

"Worse," he answered, his tone gruff. "So many dead, so much waste," he spat out. He picked up the glass, drinking more whiskey to dull the memory before he continued, "For part of the time, we were on burial detail." Looking at her, he could see the care and concern in her eyes. "There were thousands of men dead. Seemed like every time you turned around there were more. Just when we thought we must be done, someone would point out another group we'd missed. And not three or four men but twenty, fifty." She rubbed his arm lightly, sensing his torment, seeing it in the furrow of his brow. "And the worst part was that it wasn't long after we started that I knew we weren't going to be able to do right by all of them. There were some who didn't even want to give any of the Rebs decent burials, but even if we had wanted to, there wasn't time. The heat was so bad, the bodies out in the sun . . ."

"We heard at headquarters that there were mass graves."

"Mass graves," Nick harumphed. "I could live with that. Some weren't even in what could properly be called graves. Just covered over with a little dirt. We got some rains during the week, and some men had been buried so shallow that the rain washed the mud off them and we had to rebury them."

"Oh, Nick," she whispered, the disbelief obvious in her voice.

"I had to put a stop to that. Burials that weren't even burials," he said, his voice ringing with disgust. "The bodies were being buried in farmers' fields. How the hell are you supposed to put in a crop when there are bodies just a few inches down?" His words to some of his men rang in his memory, the angry tone demanding obedience. No, it is NOT good enough. And do you want to know why? Because before too long someone's going to come along and plow this land and pull up an arm or a leg! He pushed the lone lock hanging across his forehead back and ran his hand all the way across his head, thinking he wouldn't mind wiping that image from his brain. "Some of the bodies were so bad the last couple of days, couldn't even move 'em. Had to dig a hole wherever they were, roll 'em into it. No way to know who some of them were, not without expecting the men to go through pockets and at that point, you couldn't expect 'em to." He looked down at her, seeing the anguish in her eyes and decided to spare her some of the details, saying simply, "It was hard enough to do what we did."

"Then you did your best."

"Our best? Not even close," he growled.

"The best you could do given the conditions. I don't doubt that about you."

He picked up his glass and walked across the room and leaned against the window molding, staring off into the street. She watched him for a minute and stood and walked to stand facing him, leaning against the far side of the window frame. There was something in his eyes. "What else, Nick?" she asked softly. He shook his head in response and she closed the distance between them, slipping one arm around him, laying the other against his chest as she looked up into his face. "Tell me," she urged.

"It's nothing."

"It must be something."

"It doesn't compare to the thousands of men dead."

"Okay, it doesn't compare. But what is it?"

He shrugged his shoulders and chewed on his lower lip, and he looked to her as if he was trying to convince himself that whatever it was shouldn't have affected him as much as it obviously had. He cleared his throat and took another sip of the whiskey, staring down the street as he answered. "Not long after I got to Gettysburg, a captain noticed I was calvary and asked me to help out with the horses." His voice was emotionless and his eyes were hard as he glanced at Kate. "Thing was that they needed help figuring which horses could be saved and which needed to be put down. I spent the next two days putting down horse after horse." He blew out a quick breath. "There were so many of them. I had to pull the trigger so many times in those couple of days, that I'll be lucky if I see that many horses in the rest of my life!" he added, his voice angry. "So many damned fine horses. Shot, suffering from a bayonet wound, hit by artillery fire. Some of them were easy, a horse with a broken leg, there's no question there, but there were others . . . I just don't know if I made the right decisions on some of them. There was this one horse, dark with a white mane. I've got a horse like it back home."

"Coco?" she asked.

"Yeah. I guess I've told you about him." She nodded and continued to stare up at him. "He looked up at me with these big chocolate eyes . . ." Nick shook his head and looked back out at the street and Kate had no doubt what he'd had to do and she laid her head against his chest, tightening her hold on him until she felt his fingers stroke her back and felt him pull back a bit before he continued, "At one point I had fired so many shots, I had to trade rifles because the barrel was so hot. And the stench from the fire . . ."

"The gun fire?"

He shook his head, hesitating before he answered. "We burned the carcasses. There were hundreds of dead horses, thousands, couldn't just leave them in the fields to rot."

She swallowed hard, her eyes misting over as her heart ached for him. "Nick, I'm sure you did what you had to do. You said you didn't know if you made the right decisions. Were there some you were able to spare?"

He nodded and she saw the pain in his eyes lessen. "Yeah, there was this one horse. I knew no one in the army would have the time to allow him to mend, but he was so beautiful an animal. Really fine," he said softly, his brow furrowing as his look became wistful and he let out a small chuckle. "I sent someone to find the town livery owner, got him to look at the horse and talked him into taking him. That one and later another one."

Kate swallowed hard. "So you saved two?"

"Nah, a few more than that." He allowed himself a brief smile. "At one point, I had someone rounding up farmers, getting them to take some of the horses that were hurt too bad for the Army to keep, but still worth doctoring for people who had the time and didn't have to move them too far or too fast. And there were a fair number that weren't hurt all that bad. We turned those over to different cavalry and artillery troops."

"It's a good thing you were there. It sounds like you took the time to save the ones you could."

"Not as many as we should have."

He shook his head, finishing the whiskey in his glass, and continued to stare down the street. She walked over and picked up the bottle and poured yet more whiskey into the glass, although he noticed she wasn't as generous as he would have been. "You must be hungry," she insisted. He shook his head in response as he finally walked away from the window, dropping into one of the chairs. "Food should be up before too long. How long since you've had a decent meal?"

He let out a heavy sigh. "Decent meal? What's that?" he answered, the bitterness ringing clear.

Her touch was gentle as her fingers dusted his sleeve. "How about a long, hot bath while you wait?" She stepped behind his chair, standing over him for a moment, letting her arms circle his shoulders and chest, resting her cheek atop his head, then placing a soft kiss into his hair. She noted what she thought was the scent of death heavy on him and her hold tightened around him. He stroked her forearms in response, letting his head drop against the back of the chair, accepting the small, physical comforts eagerly, breathing in her sweet scent, letting it blot out the crushing reality of the last several days. "You stay here while I draw you a bath," she cooed softly, gently pulling her arms from around him. He sat there, trying to think of nothing, grateful for the few minutes with no demands on him, only the slightest bit aware of her efforts until she walked over to him, pulling him up by the hand. He felt his head buzz slightly, no doubt the whiskey starting to take effect and he allowed her to lead him to the tub. Even his dulled senses noticed the sweet smell in the room, some kind of flowers he knew, but he had no desire to make his mind work beyond that. His attention was drawn to Kate as her fingers worked the buttons of his shirt and his muscles responded to her quiet actions, her pulling the shirttail from his pants, then his arms raising as she pulled the shirt over his head. When she led him to a chair, he sat as she directed, but when she started to pull the boots from his feet, he stopped her, muttering, "I got it," the thud of the boots hitting the floor loud in the quiet room, his feet falling heavily to the floor. As she knelt before him and her hands dropped to his pants, he muttered softly, "Kate, you don't need to" but he quieted when she gently shushed him, her soft voice crooning "Let me," as she continued to undress him and he lifted his body momentarily while she tugged his trousers down his hips. He stared down at her as her fingers brushed down the length of his legs, and although she left his drawers on, he felt his cheeks flush as she glanced up at his body, her eyes holding only sympathy for him and what he'd been through.

"Just sit for a moment," she said softly as she stood and walked quickly into the other room. She returned with his glass of whiskey and a cigar, putting them on the small table near the tub. She stepped over to him and placed a light kiss on his cheek, her voice soft as she said, "I'll leave you to it," before she walked out the room, closing the door behind her. He sat for a few minutes, allowing the peace and quiet to soothe him. Slowly, he rose and, after undoing the few buttons of his fly, added the light garment to the pile of his other dirty clothes and he moved to the tub, climbing in and lowering himself into the welcoming hot waters.

Kate hesitated to enter the bathroom but glanced back in the direction of the hotel laundress waiting in the living area of the suite. Tapping lightly, opening the door partway, she heard the slightest snore coming from the room. Looking around the door, her heart clutched when she realized Nick had fallen asleep in the tub. She gathered the dirty clothes and walked quietly to the door, keeping her voice low as she gave directions for laundering Nick's uniforms. She let the woman out and walked back to the bathroom door, hesitating before she went back in. She stood in the doorway, staring at the lit cigar dangling from his fingers. Glancing around the room, she saw the stack of towels and took one off the top, shaking it open before stepping to the side of the tub and draping the towel across, giving Nick a small measure of privacy. She blushed as she stared down at him, the light of day not as forgiving of their behavior as the soft glow of the lamp from the bedroom. Nonetheless, the memory of that night caused her to smile and she took one more moment to watch Nick sleep before she reached for the cigar, her fingers brushing his. The slight touch was enough to wake him and he startled, his eyes showing his confusion as he stared up at her. She glanced quickly at the cigar, then smiled at Nick, her voice calm as she said, "I didn't want you to burn the hotel down around you." Holding the cigar up, she added, "Do you want it back?"

Nick sat up sharply, then noticing the towel, looked up at Kate. "This your doing?" He took in her slight nod, and reached toward her, taking the cigar from her, expecting she would take the opportunity to leave. She surprised him and herself when she picked up the soap and a washcloth, turning back to him and knelt at the side of the tub, washing the dirt of the battlefield from him as she caressed his body. He lay there, basking in the warmth of the water, reveling in her touch, letting her touch fill his mind and push the memories of the last days away. He was exhausted in so many ways, physically, emotionally, mentally, that it was easy to let her care for him. He watched her as she slowly and lovingly stroked his arm with the soapy washcloth, her touch gentle and soft, so delicate that without knowing her, many would never guess at the strength she possessed. He leaned forward, cupping her cheek in his wet hand, holding her steady as he sat up, matching his lips to hers in a slow kiss. She pulled back and smiled at him, saying nothing, just dipping the washcloth back into the water then shifting to sit behind Nick's head, letting her hands rub over his shoulders and down his chest. He glanced over his shoulder, noting that she was sitting with her legs spread to either side of the tub and he dropped his head toward the side of the tub, letting it rest against her thigh. He sat there, his eyes closed, welcoming the sensation of the warm, soapy washcloth as it rubbed against his smooth chest, the warm water trickling down his body. She massaged his shoulders, the muscles tight, listening to the soft grunts coming from Nick as she rubbed at the hard knots, a soft smile crossing her face as she felt the tension leaving his body. They might have stayed that way until the water cooled if not for the knocking at the door. "I'm sure that's dinner," Kate crooned softly, as she placed the cloth over Nick's chest and began to stand but Nick caught her arm, pulling her down to him so that he could kiss her full on the mouth, a long, slow, sweet kiss. She smiled down at him and leaned back down to kiss Nick's temple before she left the room.

Nick sat in the tub for a minute more, taking in a couple of last puffs on the cigar before setting it aside so he could splash water in his face, then cupping water in his hands, he poured it over his head and allowed himself to slip back into the water, fully submerging his head, holding his breath as he stayed beneath the surface. He rose slowly, wiping the water back from his hair and stretching his back, feeling the water race over his shoulders and the droplets running down his body. Grabbing the soap, he rubbed it over his head, scrubbing hard to get rid of any trace of the last few days that he might be carrying with him. Hearing a slight sound, he turned back to the door, seeing Kate standing in the doorway.

"There's hot food for when you're ready. Stew. It smells good."

Nick glanced over at her. "I'm not really hungry."

She gave him a slight smile. "You will be when you start eating." She watched as he cupped water over his head, the soap running down his face. "I'll bring in some clean clothes for you. But take your time," she added just before she left the doorway. She returned to find him out of the tub, the towel she had draped across him now wrapped around his middle. She was putting down the clean clothes and had picked up a second towel when he shook his head from side to side, sending water droplets flying and she found herself laughing in spite of everything, her heart becoming lighter when his laughter joined hers. She deliberately kept her tone light as she shook open the towel, "You're as bad as a dog," she insisted and tossed the towel over his head, scrubbing at his hair. He reached up to take the towel from her, catching her arm in his and his touch caused them to look at each other. Suddenly, they were aware of their situation as they hadn't been a moment before, their proximity, the fact that Nick was naked save for a towel. Somehow, that had escaped them when Kate was caring for Nick, but that moment had passed and what remained was a restrained passion. Kate found herself staring at the smooth chest, drops of water lingering here and there on Nick's body and she pulled the towel that had ended up over one shoulder to wipe across the hard muscle, his nipples puckering when the cloth rubbed against them. Slowly, she moved from one shoulder to the other, across his chest and over his stomach, his muscles tensing as she gently stroked him. Pulling her eyes up to meet his, she locked gazes with him, not noticing when he took the towel from her hand. She found her earlier sense of embarrassment returning, her voice cracking as she said, "I'll let you dress." Stepping back into the living area of the suite, needing to do something to stay busy, she started to dish out the food sent up to their room. When Nick walked in, his shirt mostly unbuttoned, she felt her breath catch as she stared at his bare chest but she forced an easy smile, thinking it would be better if they didn't play with fire. "Feel better?" He nodded easily and walked to her side, picking up the cover off one of the dishes. "Sit," she said simply, handing him the bottle of wine. "And open this."

Glad to have something to do, he did as he was told, pouring each of them a glass although he stood next to the table, waiting to sit until she did. They didn't talk much as they ate, each of them enjoying the simple hearty fare. Finally, Nick looked over at Kate, acknowledging, "You were right."

She turned to him, her fork and knife poised above her plate. "About what?"

"Earlier. When you said I needed a drink and a bath and a hot meal."

She shrugged her shoulders and gave him a soft smile. "Glad I could help."

He considered waiting to share his thoughts, but decided to get it over with. "You were right before, too."

"Before?"

He drank a sip of the wine, pouring more into each of their glasses. "When you said I needed to volunteer here in Philadelphia. That I needed to be part of it. Do what I could." He reached over and took her hand in his, his tone serious. "I realized while I was in Gettysburg that you were right. That I need to do what I can. And that means that I need to get you back to Washington, get back to my unit. As much as I've enjoyed being here with you, enjoyed everything with you, we can't go on like this. I still have my orders."

She sucked in a breath, stunned by his words. "We can't leave yet. They're expecting me at headquarters tomorrow."

He nodded his understanding. "That's fine. And if they still need you for a couple of days, I can wait. But it's time for us to get on to Washington."

She froze as she realized how little time they had left together. "After we get to Washington, if you wanted, we could see about having you transferred."

He squeezed her hand in his. "Kate, not that I wouldn't love to be with you. But I should be with the cavalry. It's where I belong."

She swallowed hard, knowing he was right. "I'll let them know tomorrow that it's time for me to go."