Jasper’s heart wanted the answer to be yes, and his head wanted it to be no. Solomon should not risk himself any longer to stand between Jasper and the judgment of the Confederacy... And yet, Jasper would be lying if he said he did not hope for exactly that. Escape for both of them. A return to Clara.
His heart leapt at the thought of her and he pressed his eyes closed, clenching his hands and wanting to yell his fury. Only now did he realize that he wanted her more than almost anything. More than his home. More than the trust of his comrades. It had taken his near escape, and his continued captivity to teach him that. Cruelty at its finest.
“Well, she’s still here,” Knox muttered finally. “And I can’t say I’m unhappy. Keeps you from—”
“What do you think I’m going to do, slit your throats while you sleep? I’m more liable to do that while she’s here. I...” Jasper took a deep breath.
Goodbye, Clara. I hope you’ll understand.
“If you go back with her, right now, tonight, you can let your men hang me from that tree. Do it now. We both know what’s going to happen in the trial, don’t we, Knox? If we do it now, you’ll know there’s no more trouble I can make for you. Sneak away while they’re doing it.”
Knox stared, truly conflicted. At his side, Cecelia was a shade of white Jasper had never seen in a living human. She was either terrified or furious, and he was uncomfortably sure which it was.
However, Knox was drawn aside before he could speak. Five more men thundered into the camp, covered in blood and yelling, and one of them dragged Knox away. They bent, heads together, Knox clearly disbelieving the man, and the man insisting, his arms waving. At last, Knox sent him on his way, and when he turned back to the captives, his smile was truly chilling.
“So, Perry, is there anything you might want to tell me?”
“I’m a traitor,” Jasper said desperately. All he could hope for now was to distract the man. He knew he didn’t like where this was going. “I went north, and stayed there, and developed sympathies for the Union. I’ve worked alongside freedmen as their equal. I’ve—”
The blow sent him sprawling, and Cecelia screamed. Jasper tried to push himself up, and a kick sent a blast of heat and pain across his ribs.
“Not that, you lying whoreson. Tell me about Horace.”
Even Cecelia went quiet at that, and Jasper’s head dropped to his chest. It was over then. Solomon had been seen.
“Tell me about Horace Delancy, or I swear I’ll bash her head in right now. You told us he was dead, but he’s awful lively for a ghost, isn’t he? I said, isn’t he?”
“Why didn’t we find him, Perry? If he’s coming after you, he must have been nearby.”
He couldn’t say a word. Jasper felt his head snap back with the force of Knox’s blow, and the world began to go dark. Pain rained down on him from all sides, and all he could think was that he would not speak, would not, would never betray Solomon. They could not know the Dalton farm harbored him.
It was over in what felt like a moment, or an eternity. Jasper had forgotten everything except pain, each blow unleashing something new, yet frighteningly similar. He coughed and spat blood onto the ground, waiting for a kick that never came. His hands were bound, and he could not bring himself to stumble to his feet like a drunkard.
“Fine.” Knox crouched at his side. Jasper’s face must have been a mess, for even the big man looked unnerved by his handiwork. Still, his jaw was gritted. “He’ll come for you again. That’s Horace’s way, isn’t it? And this time, Perry, we’ll be waiting for him.”
He left Jasper where he lay, striding into the camp with his words echoing back around him. Horace was here. They were going to get Horace too. Horace, who’d turned traitor just like Jasper, and who’d killed them when they tried to get justice. A ragged cheer went up, and Jasper closed his eyes and wanted to die.
“We should have run,” a voice said nearby. It was high and sweet, a girl’s voice, and yet cold as winter. “And if we ever get out of this alive, Jasper, I swear I’m going to tell Clara the truth about you. I’ll tell her how you would have done anything to keep from going back. If it’s the last thing I do, I’ll make sure she knows who you really were.”
I did this for Clara. But his voice was gone, his throat aching where Knox’s boot had caught him, and worse—he knew that Cecelia knew the words, and did not care.
“You couldn’t have picked a crueler way to destroy her,” she said, and she turned away and hid her face as Jasper felt unconsciousness take him.
Chapter 10
It took them all through cleaning the camp for Solomon to think of something to say. Anything at all.
So how did you... No.
So when you talked about a younger sister, was that... No.
Really, no one noticed you were a... No.
He settled, at long last—while examining a knife—on the very neutral, So how did you decide to become a spy? Which was wonderful, except for the fact that when he opened his mouth, all that came out was:
“You’re a woman?”
Ambrose—no, Violet—stopped and