Chapter One

Near New Orleans, October 2,1867

“Sam! Close the shutters on the back landing. I’ll get the front. Hurry. There’s a storm coming.” Calanthe Durand felt the small hairs on the back of her neck rise and shivers run down her spine. A big storm was on its way, probably a hurricane. Energy and fear poured through her like the pounding rain and flooding that accompanied high winds. Closing the house to the storm was imperative.

Cali took a moment to smile. She’d heard Sam grunt. He didn’t talk much, but she wouldn’t have survived the war or these last two years without Sam and his daughter, Daisy. Both sides, the North and the South, had occupied their home. Daisy and Sam were family, the only family she had. She’d do whatever was necessary to protect them. Even with emancipation, life wasn’t easy for blacks in the south. The whites who lost everything despised them, even blamed them, and the carpetbaggers thought themselves better than anyone else.

“I’ve got them, Miss Cali.” Daisy rushed past her and out the door. Wind whipped her hair and tugged at her dress. Branches torn from trees landed on the porch. A high-pitched wail with each gust echoed through the electrified air.

Cali followed, the storm swirling around her, her hair beating against her face. Her breath was ragged and fast as her heart thundered. She pushed and tugged at her skirt, trying to detangle the fabric from her legs. “Get inside!” The tempest raging around them swallowed her voice.

“Not until we’re finished here.” Daisy fastened a shutter before moving on to the next one.

They worked together to protect the windows from the storm on the raised porch, which stood five feet off the ground as wind howled around the eaves. A steady rain poured from the black sky, and lightning slashed the darkness.

Cali pushed dripping strands of hair that had slipped from her chignon away from her face before plucking at her soaked skirts. “I’ll light the candles. It could get dark here pretty fast.”

“Horses and livestock are safe for now.” Sam stepped beside her. “Hope it’s not a big one.”

“Hello up there. Hello, bonjour, anyone home?”

Hearing the voice from below, Cali left the protection of the house to lean over the porch railing. Below her a man stood, with cupped hands to his mouth and a dead gator slung over one shoulder, a quiver filled with arrows on the other. “Hello. Can I get shelter from the hurricane?”

“Don’t know if it’s a hurricane.” Terrified of unknown men, Cali didn’t want to do the charitable thing. She pursed her lips, thinking, but all that came to surface was memories of troops commandeering her home. Good lord, but she’d had to hollow out a bedpost to hide her jewelry and become even more creative with the larger things, like the china and silver. The soldiers had taken everything they could see. Sometimes she felt as if the war had ripped her soul from her body.

“Maybe not a hurricane. Could be just a bad storm, but I don’t want to be on the swamp right now. The water’s rising by the minute. Don’t want to drown out here when there’s shelter.” A loud roar and a thunderclap followed his pause. Behind him an old Cyprus tree crashed to the ground, uprooted by the wind.

“You can take protection in the stable.” Cali watched his back stiffen while she swallowed hard, but she wasn’t about to back down. The stable was good enough for some wandering man who she owed nothing. Besides, there was a tack room with a bed. No one slept there anymore, but she kept it clean and the moss in the mattress was fresh. Daisy had rolled it out two days ago. Yet a small niggling in the back of her head kept telling her this wasn’t a traveling man but one of means. He was a man she should treat as a gentleman. She’d been taught better, but the war had changed all that and the lessons she learned were not served to her with a silver spoon.

“Much obliged.” His jaw tightened but he nodded before turning toward the barn. His natural swagger and broad shoulders sent a different kind of sensation through her. Warmth swept inside, swirling within and heating her frozen heart. For a moment he looked back, a strange expression on his well-chiseled face.

A tiny bit of guilt raced through her, but she wasn’t going to change her mind. “What are you going to do with that gator?” Cali’s stomach rumbled. Sam hadn’t had much luck hunting the last few days, and a little meat along with the vegetables from the garden would be heaven sent.

He stopped, touching his hat. She didn’t think he meant to acknowledge her question, didn’t think he’d turn around. Seconds ticked by slowly. Rain sluiced off his clothes and jet black hair, pooling in the mud.

Her stomach rumbled, pushing her to ask him to come inside. Sharing a meal with this man couldn’t be that horrible. After all, he was bringing the food, not stealing.

Looking over his shoulder, he spoke. “Thought I’d eat it.” Reaching out he tugged at the stable doors. “But at the moment, I don’t have any way to cook it.”

She waved a hand, frustration and anger urging her on. “Sir…ah…Daisy’s a good cook. She can make gator taste like chicken. We’ve got some vegetables stored in the cellar to add to the meal.”

While he turned again, tipping his hat, a broad grin forming on his ever so handsome face. “I always thought it tasted like snake.”

His smile made her step back, her hand to her chest. For a moment she couldn’t inhale a breath. “Well, maybe, but why don’t you come in? Sam will help you skin it.”

“And Daisy will cook it. Sounds like a good idea, merci.”

Before she could blink, the stranger was striding towards the house. The first level had been built on stilts, with decorative latticework in case of floods. A few times the overflow from the Mississippi and Lake Pontchartrain had kept them confined to the upstairs rooms. Most of the time floods didn’t affect the first floor.

“I’ll go in the back way. Don’t want to muddy up your parlor.” He disappeared around the back of the house, not using the front steps to enter.

As Cali walked inside, she prayed this wasn’t the wrong decision, and she told herself that Sam would keep his shotgun close at hand.

“No disrespect, but I was listening in on your conversation. You sure it’s a good idea to invite this man inside, Miss Cali?”

“No, Daisy, I’m not sure, but now that he’s here, it’s up to us to cook that gator. Got any ideas?”

“We’ve got turnips in the cellar, carrots and tomatoes. Last of the crop. I’ll go see what I can find.”

“Flour and oil to fry the meat?”

“Yes, Mam.”

“All right then, as soon as they finish skinning the animal, we can get started. I’ll help with the meal, and Sam can keep an eye on…good lord, I didn’t get his name.”

“I know him. I’ve seen him in the swamp before. Town’s folk call him Archer, but his whole name is Archer Steele. He’s a carpetbagger. At least that’s what some people think. They only know he fought for the north. He was born and raised in Louisiana, so he can’t be no carpetbagger. Hearsay is that he owns two ships…trades cotton and sugar and travels all over the world. Owns a sugar plantation a few miles from here. His family has French connections.”

Cali had so many more unanswered questions. Just because a man owned a plantation and ships didn’t make him a good man. She could think of a lot of men with money who were not good men. “Well, as far as I’m concerned, he’s got to prove himself. I don’t care about pedigrees, even if they are a mile long, and I don’t care if he was born poor and made his fortune after the war. I’m the opposite, born rich and now poor as a church mouse.”

“You aren’t getting any younger, Miss Cali. Maybe it’s about time you found a man. Besides, he’s not from old money. As you just said yourself, he was born poor. Everything he owns he earned for himself by working hard. Working hard is a good recommendation for a man.”

True words, but Cali didn’t think she wanted or needed to find a man. She was doing quite well living as an independent woman in her ancestral home. “Neither are you,” she told Daisy.

“I know.” Daisy wiped her hands on her apron. “Think I’ll take a look at what’s in the cellar.”

“I’m sorry, Daisy.” Cali reached out to stop her. “I know that wasn’t nice.” Good lord, when had she sunk so low? Daisy’s beau was killed just before the end of the war. Daisy still mourned his loss, and there weren’t that many men in these parts. Many who returned from the war just weren’t the same.

“It’s okay, Miss Cali. I started the conversation. It’s just that I’d like to see you happy with a man to love and children to call your own. I want the same for me too. But a man for me isn’t carrying a gator over his shoulder and offering to share it.” With those words said, Daisy picked up her skirts and whirling, headed for the cellar.

Her arguments hit home. Once upon a time that had been her dream. Once upon a time before her world fell apart and she learned few men were like her father, she had hopes for her future.

The lessons over the last few years were not pleasant, but they would stick with her forever. Believing in that fantasy again was not possible. Men would take what they wanted and give nothing in return. Her thoughts turned to Archer Steel. Would he take what he wanted and leave her with nothing? She stiffened her back and made a resolution to herself. Not if she had any say in the matter.

Puffing air, she blew a strand of hair from her face. Quit the maudlin thinking and get to the task at hand. A roar of wind shook the house, the windows vibrating, drawing her back to the task at hand.

With reflexes born from living through hurricanes, she clutched the counter top, hanging on until the gust died down. By now, the continuous roar impaired hearing, drowning out all other sounds.

“Cali…”

“Oh, you startled me. I didn’t know you were there.” Cali turned, her hand resting over her heart.

“Sorry, Miss Cali. The wind’s mighty loud. Just wanted to say the gator’s been skinned, and we’ve got alligator to cook.” Daisy set the meat near the stove before gathering the flour and oil. “Going to fry this up for a tasty meal. Don’t need any gumbo today.”

“I’ll pump the water for the vegetables.”

“Miss Cali?” Sam stood in the doorway. “The horses have to be moved to high ground. Mr. Steele is going to help me. We’ll be back as soon as we get the animals away from the rising water. Don’t wait for us.”

~ * ~

You don’t have to do this.” Sam confronted the temporary houseguest. “It ain’t none of your responsibility.”

“Of course I do. I wouldn’t want to take advantage. And taking me in is clearly not something the lady wanted to do. She’d send me packing if it wasn’t for the storm.” Archer had seen Calanthe Durand in town a few times. If one could believe in love at first sight, that’s what happened to him three weeks ago. The moment he saw her, he knew she was meant for him, that she was his person and no one else’s. This trip into the swamp had not been a coincidence. The storm maybe, but he’d every intention of bringing her the alligator while hoping to share a meal.

Sam snorted. “You brought the meat. You don’t have to do this. And Miss Cali is just trying to be cautious where it comes to strange men. She hasn’t had it easy. The years during the war were hard on all of us, but especially on a pretty lady trying to keep her land.”

“A gentleman would lend a hand, and I intend to prove I was raised with manners.” Even though he’d been brought up on a small farm in Louisiana, he’d learned a few things about courting a lady. Folks around these parts called him a carpetbagger, but he wasn’t. Sure enough he’d bought his plantation with northern money, but he’d earned every penny. He meant to give back to the south, not take at their expense.

“All right then, keep up.”

Archer chuckled to himself. It was just like Sam to put it back on him. The water had risen half a foot by the time they reached the stables. The horses snorted and moved restlessly as they rounded them up and led them toward higher ground. The wind thrummed constantly in his ears as rain pelted them.

What seemed like hours later, they reached a makeshift barn that sat in a semi-secluded area.

“They going to be safe here?” Archer and Sam hadn’t spoken during the trek. Archer had serious doubts about this place.

“Hope so. Miss Cali would be devastated if she lost the horses, but with these winds one never knows. The horses have been through hurricanes before. They seem to have a natural instinct to stay together and on high ground. We already got them to the highest part in this little strip of land. The rest is up to them.”

“At least they won’t drown.” Archer wiped rainwater from his face while he studied the area. “Although, we might by the time we get back.”

Sam chuckled. “Nope, the horses won’t drown. That’s the only good thing I can say about this. Now the horses are on their own. I’ll come back for them as soon as the storm passes.”

“Wish there was more we could do.” Again, Archer studied the make-shift structure sheltering the horses. He didn’t hold out much hope for it to remain standing. If this storm was a full-blown hurricane, the refuge would most likely topple.

“We can’t do anything else.” Sam wiped running water from his face. “Let’s head back before we drown or are blown away.”

The walk from the high pasture to the old plantation was into the wind, every step harder than the next, but the winds didn’t seem to be picking up speed. They were constantly fast with harsh wind gusts. Archer couldn’t stand up straight against the pummeling storm, and Sam was bent over at the waist.

By the time they reached the house, water circled beneath, swirling into the basement and had risen more than a foot. They walked up the stairs and left their rain gear and boots in a room just outside the kitchen.

Sam disappeared for a few minutes and came back with clothes. “Think these will fit. You’re about the same size as Monsieur Durand. He passed in the war—Gettysburg. Doesn’t need them now.”

“Gettysburg, you say… Well, thanks for the clean dry clothes. I’ll go change.” The clothes did appear they would fit. Out dated, yes, but they’d keep him warm and dry. “Which way?” Thoughts of the war were seldom welcome and always brought back memories best left in the past. Thank God, he’d not been at Gettysburg. He’d heard her father had not made it home, but knew no details.

“Go through the kitchen and down the hall. You’ll find a study where you can close the door for a bit of privacy. I’m going to change right here. The women folk won’t come inside.”

Archer stepped into the kitchen, closing the door behind him. He nodded at Cali and Daisy when they turned to see who’d come through the door.

“The livestock safe?” Cali dipped a flour-coated piece of alligator meat into the frying pan.

“As safe as they can be in this tempest. Just going down the hall to put on dry clothes. Sam said I could go into the study.”

“Second door on the right. Daisy, why don’t you go with him and make sure he has everything he needs.”

“Yes, Miss Cali.” Daisy dried her hands on a nearby dishtowel. “This way, Mr. Steele.”

“There is really no need…”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Cali put another piece of alligator into the pan. “Good God, broad shoulders, straight back, a woman would never get tired of admiring that sight,” she whispered.

“But…”

Daisy waited at the door from the kitchen. Archer shrugged his shoulders, realizing no one listened to him. But he liked the women. Cali might be a bit shy when it came to relationships, but she seemed to be a woman who made up her mind. She was strong and independent. And, it seemed, so was Daisy. He liked that.

So, her father died in the war, and she’d maintained this property by herself. She kept the crops growing. Maybe not like it was in the best of times, but she must be making a living. If her father owned the house outright, all she would have to pay were taxes. But taxes were huge these days.

“The study is here.” Daisy stopped and nodded for him to go inside. “After you change your clothes, you can wait in the parlor. Help yourself to the whiskey. It’s on the sideboard. Left over from before the war. Miss Cali knew how to hide things so the men who commandeered the house couldn’t find anything.”

He did as was told and after donning dry clothes, he made his way to the parlor.

“Thank you. Don’t mind if I do.” So, a few hours ago, I was sent to the tack room in the stable. Now I’m drinking whiskey in the parlor. My prospects are getting better. He poured another two fingers of brandy into his glass, swirling the liquid before sipping.

Daisy stopped at the door. “I saw the way you looked at Miss Cali. Don’t be getting’ any ideas. She’s fragile, her heart, anyway. If you mean to court her, you best take it nice and slow. Do it the right way, if you get my meaning. You’ve got to win her trust before you can win her heart.”

“I won’t hurt her.” How did this woman read his mind? Of course, he meant to win her trust.

“Words easy to say. You need to show her. That is, if your intentions are good.”

He held up his hands. “I think we’re jumping the gun here. Miss Cali isn’t interested in me. The only reason I’m in the plantation instead of the stable is that she took pity on me because that structure is under water.”

Daisy snorted. “Think what you want.” She slipped out the door then let it close with a soft snick.

Archer mulled over Daisy’s words. Was Cali Durand interested in him? She had a funny way of showing it. He made a slow three hundred sixty degree sweep of the parlor, stopping at pictures and knick-knacks he saw.

While he pulled off his sodden shirt, he strode to a picture of a man and woman. He assumed this was Monsieur and Madam Durand. Horrible thing to lose both parents. Well, they had that in common. A huge south facing window filled one side of the room. With the curtains open, it would let in light as well as a breeze. The furniture, while old, must have been expensive. The chairs showed signs of wear, some fraying around the edges, but this room gave off a good feeling.

He finished his inventory of the room and downed the whiskey. He’d entered the parlor through a huge door and into a room overlooking what he assumed would be a veranda. The shutters banged against the windows as the wind continued its eerie wale.

The sideboard with the whiskey was on an opposite wall. He helped himself to another two fingers, swirling it in his glass before tasting a small portion.

“Very good,” he set the glass down, peering around the room, hoping to get a better idea of Cali Durand. But the room spoke of her parents, not her. Pre-war it must have been a grand place to live and visit.

Oh, the south had been so arrogant and brave. They’d thought they could fight the northern powerhouse and win. They had Robert E Lee and a host of other West Point graduates who were brilliant strategists. But in the end, they didn’t have enough men, and they didn’t have manufacturing plants. Hell, they’d even run out of shoes.

Brother against brother, uncles fighting nephews, what kind of country would put their citizens through such butchery? They were all Americans. He made his choices when he decided to fight for the Union, and he prayed he had never killed a relative or a friend. He was glad he’d never come face to face with someone he knew.

Daisy appeared in the doorway. “Dinner’s ready. You can wash up in the kitchen.”

Archer nodded and followed Daisy. A small table was set for four. Chipped plates and well used silverware at each place setting. He slanted Cali a glance, wondering about the past years and all she’d gone through.

She seemed to know what he was thinking, and with a delicate shrug of her shoulders and an expression that seemed to say I know a thing or two about pillaging soldiers, she said, “I had some excellent hiding place. They didn’t want the dishes we gave the slaves.”

“Well, that explains it.” Yet he wasn’t sure exactly what she’d explained. He pulled out a chair for Cali then Daisy. Sam sauntered into the room with a bottle of wine. Once again, he questioned her with a raised eyebrow. “Hiding place?”

One eyebrow rose before she picked up a napkin, spreading it on her lap. “Bought it a few weeks ago.”

He waited, wondering what he should do, what she would do.

“Would you say grace?” Her gaze held his and he felt sure she saw into his soul.

“Of course.”

Rain pounded on the veranda surrounding them. Wind battered the closed window shutters. In unison, all four turned their attention to the fragile panes of glass.

“Hope they hold.” Sam muttered, rising to look at the window as if he could fix anything from the inside.

“Sit down, Sam. You’re not going anywhere. We’ve a meal that is hot and ready to eat. Mr. Steele is about to say grace.”

He set his hands on the table, hoping they would all join hands. Cali clasped his in hers. Her fingers were long, delicate and he felt the fragility as well as the strength. Daisy took his other hand.

Clearing his throat, he began, “Dear Lord, bless this food and keep us and our neighbors safe from the tempest outside—”

Suddenly the shutter that had been rattling broke free and the ancient glass cracked, shattering into the room. Daisy shrieked, her hands rising to her face. Cali stood, knocking her chair down.

“Sam? Nails and hammer?”

“I’ll get the broom—clean up the glass.” Daisy headed for the broom closet.

Cali opened the outside door before Arched could protest. “Stay in the house.”

She was outside in the middle of the storm. “I’ve always taken care of my home.”

He heard the words and knew the truth. She’d been through hell, trying to survive. During the war, there had been no one to take care of her. He followed her from the house, Sam close behind.

Wind whipped her hair loose from its pins, the strands flying behind her.

“Oh my god!”