It was a pretty small town, Abigail decided. Even with the trees stripped by the cold, it was nice. It made her sad to think of all that was happening around it. The field behind the general store was filling up with the dead, chosen as the burial spot when the Union arrived and started holding it for the Union. The cemetery held both sides, gray and blue. The whole thing seemed like such a senseless tragedy to her.
Deciding an evening spent arm in arm with a handsome man was not a time to consider such serious thoughts. She glanced at Matthew and noticed he kept a close watch for any threat. Even a walk was dangerous, she thought, and shook her head.
“So where are we going?”
“No idea,” said Matthew, and he grinned at her. “Not many places to walk in this town and probably not verra safe outside it. So it is up one side of the street and down the other.”
“How adventurous of us.”
“Verra. Or”—his smile grew wider—“we could duck down an alley.”
Before she could answer that, he took a sharp turn to the right and walked between two deserted buildings. Very little of the fading day’s light entered here and she held his arm with both hands. It was a pleasant alley compared to the ones she had been down occasionally in Pennsylvania. It appeared to have grass instead of scattered trash and dirt.
“Why are we down here?” she asked.
“Privacy.”
“So you keep saying, but I saw no one on the street.”
“They could be peering out the windows. Everyone likes to ken who is walking around outside, especially in the evening.”
Abigail nodded, easily able to understand that. She suspected it was not just the war that made a small town always curious about who was where and what they were doing. Now it could be a matter of life and death, however. She suspected not even the soldiers in blue were fully trusted. Many people sympathized with the South; they just did not feel inclined to fight about it. They also had enough sense to keep their sympathies quiet.
Matthew wrapped his arms around her and walked her backwards until her back was up against the wall. She looked at him and he held her stare for a moment as if looking for a refusal then smiled when he found none.
His mouth covered hers before Abigail could make up her mind about accepting or refusing. The moment his tongue entered her mouth she knew she was all for accepting. For a while they just kept kissing, breaking for air now and then as he spread hot kisses over her throat.
Still reeling from his kiss, Abigail said nothing as he tugged her around the corner and into the deserted house she had been leaning against. “Why are we in here?”
“Privacy. We rarely have any.” He led her into what must have been the parlor. “This family ran from here a day after we marched in. Knew the Rebs would follow and there would be a fight, I suppose. They headed east so think one of them had family there.”
“They are lucky it hasn’t been burned down.”
“It’s empty. Fire is usually set to drive the people shooting at you out of the house.”
“Ah, of course.”
“Now, I have set up a wee feast for us here. A picnic, if ye would rather call it that.”
“In this house?”
“Aye. It is cold outside.” He moved to light a lantern standing on a table near the door.
Abigail let him take her by the hand and lead her into the room where a table was set against the far wall. As she took the seat he held out for her she saw the two place settings and two wineglasses. There was bread, butter, cheese, and some slices of cold chicken. The big surprise was the bottle of wine he picked up and started to open.
It was mostly soldier fare, which made Abigail smile. She did wonder where he had gotten the chicken as she doubted there was a live one left for miles around. Soldiers scrounging were as bad as locusts. The bottle of wine and the glasses puzzled her even more. Alcohol, except for the occasional home brew, had been gone from the town long ago.
“Where did you find the wine and glasses?”
“The glasses were here so I have to be sure to put them back. Mabel gave me the chicken and cheese, and the bread is from the woman who bakes for the officers when we can get her the supplies.”
“Do you get the supplies often?”
“Nay. Too many of the men who drive the wagon from where they get it loaded are killed and then the wagon is stolen with all the supplies. Someone was letting the Rebs ken when and where the wagon was. I think we stopped that, but we also send men out to guard the wagon on its way here. It is a dangerous assignment.”
“I can imagine it is for the Rebs have to be as hungry as you and your men.”
“More so. Their supplies are harder to get.”
For a while they ate and talked idly about the war. Mostly they discussed the differences between the armies. She felt sad for all the widows being made and all the parents who would never see their sons again. It all seemed such a waste to her and it was nearly destroying life in the hills.
She sipped at her wine and decided it was tasty then drank it all down. As she set the glass down she noticed Matthew grinning at her. He refilled her glass but only partway.
“What are you finding so amusing?” she asked as she put some chicken on her bread and took a bite.
“Have ye ever had any wine?”
“I do not believe so. Had a bit of whiskey once and went to sleep for a few hours.” She smiled faintly at the memory. “Da kept his whiskey locked up after that.”
Matthew rubbed his hand over his mouth as he fought not to laugh. “Then I think ye should be careful with the wine. Always best to go slow, take time to learn what and how much ye can drink and still remain sensible.”
“Oh.” She cautiously sipped the wine. “It does not taste as mighty as the whiskey did.”
“Nay, but enough of it can be.”
“That seems a shame.” She had another bite of her food. “How did you find out about it all?”
“By getting mightily drunk on several occasions. Nay verra proud moments for me. My brothers take great pleasure in reminding me of each and every one.”
Abigail laughed then suddenly thought of her brother and her amusement fled. “My brother was just reaching that age when the Rebs came and took him.”
He reached across the table and stroked her clenched hands. “I hope, for your sake, he returns from this war and finds ye.”
“So do I. It is difficult at times to accept that I have lost my whole family.”
“I am sorry for that, lass,” he said quietly. “I was lucky to settle here with all my brothers, but my parents were killed before we reached a place to settle. My elder brother, Iain, is the one I praise for that success. I believe he carries a few scars on his heart though. We have a stockade around our house.” He smiled faintly at her look of surprise. “We get travelers wanting to spend a night or two inside the walls because they think it is a fort.”