His Heart's Revenge (The Marshall Brothers Series, Book 2) by Jo Goodman Read Free Book Online Page B

was married?"
    "She was raped."
    He closed his eyes momentarily. "The child?"
    "Buried with her." Mary Catherine brushed back a lock of hair that fluttered over her eye. She turned her head aside so the breeze wouldn't push it back. "It was a boy," she said. "I named him Richmond. It seemed fitting somehow. The armies were battling for the city back when he was born, and I was afraid he couldn't go to heaven if he didn't have a name. Aunt Peggy didn't really know, so I did it just to be safe."
    "So it's only you and your aunt here now?"
    "Yes. Uncle Martin was killed at Bull Run."
    "First or second battle?"
    "First."
    Logan's lips pressed together in a grim line. "My oldest brother was killed there. Same battle. I enlisted right after the news came back of Braden's death."
    "No one gets through this war without being touched," she said solemnly. Before he could reply, Mary Catherine slid out from under Logan's arm and began walking away. Brutus left Megan's graveside and dashed out in front of his mistress. "We have to go back now. Aunt Peggy will wonder about me. I have chores to do. You can stay in the barn another night or so. There's no one but me to know about it."
    "Wait," Logan called after her. "I can't—" He didn't have to explain that he couldn't keep up. Her stride shortened almost imperceptibly and the pace she set slowed. "Thank you," he said when he reached her.
    Mary Catherine didn't look at him and she didn't offer any assistance. "The man who raped my sister was a Yankee," she said. "Just like you. I thought you would want to know that."
    "We're not all cut from the same cloth."
    Now she glanced disparagingly at the clothes he wore. The jacket was faded but still recognizable as the blue of the Army of the Potomac. The gold braid, more yellow than gold now, was torn in places but the chevron on his sleeve was intact. In spite of what he said, the Yankee bastards were indeed cut from the same cloth. "I don't remember you being an officer," she said. "Those stripes mean something. You're a sergeant major, aren't you?"
    "It's borrowed," he replied tersely. "The sergeant major who wore it died some time back."
    "I see." Other than that, she expressed no interest. When they reached the barn, Mary Catherine helped Logan back into the loft. "It will be better for you if you just stay there. When I finish my chores, I'll see about bringing you something to eat."
    As she was turning to go, Logan grabbed her wrist. A muscle worked in his jaw while his eyebrows drew together. "I never expected much of a welcome as long as I remained in Virginia," he said. "But I came looking for you because I thought that times being what they are and our past being what it was, you'd show me some graciousness. This isn't how I remember you, Katy. You didn't used to hate me."
    So he knew. As an actress she had so much to learn, she thought dismally. "What do you know about it?" she asked. She raised her eyes and stared at Logan hard. "You were always the enemy. Mama said so. So did Megan. We knew it, even if you and Colonel Allen didn't. Do you think Mama married him because she loved him?"
    "What are you saying?"
    Mary Catherine yanked her wrist out of his grip. "I will be back when I'm done with my chores. Why don't you think about it until then?"
    He reached for her again but she eluded his grasp. He was too weak to chase her and the thought of Aunt Peggy's shotgun was a deterrent in itself. Logan lay back in the hay, pulled the other blanket over him, and closed his eyes. Below he could hear Mary Catherine going about her work. She talked to herself as she milked the cow and mucked out the stalls. Odd, but he thought she was reciting something. He seemed to recognize a line from Romeo and Juliet. "O! swear not by the moon the inconstant moon...'" He fell asleep wondering if he had imagined it.
    When Mary Catherine finished her outside chores, she returned to the house. Aunt Peggy was still in the kitchen. The odor of sourdough bread