Patricia Hagan by Loves Wine

keep peace in this area.”
    Suddenly, his expression changed. “Let me worry about that. You just watch yourself. I won’t tolerate vigilantes, but neither will I put up with citizens taking the law into their own hands. That includes you.” He got up and escorted her to the door. “I’ll have some patrols around your property from time to time. You’d be wise to watch who you’re shooting at. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have other matters to tend to.” He got to his feet and went to the door.
    Holly was baffled by his coolness. She was being abruptly dismissed. She walked to the door slowly, then turned to face him. Standing there, so close, the passionate memories rushed back to her. He touched his tongue to the sensuous fullness of his lower lip, as though tasting a kiss and she felt a tremor move through her. The spark of awareness crackled silently between them.
    “The dress you were wearing the other night was lovely,” he said lightly. “At the party I realized you’re a real beauty when you want to be.”
    Holly felt wholly vulnerable. Mustering confidence, she gave Scott a mock curtsy and smiled. “I thank you, kind sir, and it seems you can be a real gentleman…when you want to be.”
    He reached out and touched her face gently with his fingertips, trailing downward till he was cupping her chin. For an instant, Holly stood frozen, then she shook free and quickly jerked open the door.
    She bumped right into Roger, who gripped her arms to steady her. “Are you all right? You look…upset.” He gave Scott an accusing glare. Scott smoothly closed the door on them.
    Holly shook her head. “I’m fine, Roger. I just want to get out of here.” He guided her to the outer door.
    “They took your horse to the post stables, because they didn’t know whether or not you would be detained. I have my carriage outside. I’ll take you to your mother’s.”
    Neil Davis had been standing to one side, shuffling some papers, obviously listening. He moved to block their path. “If you’d like me to, I can get your horse and ride with you to your mother’s, Holly. Or I’ll take you back to your place, if that’s what you want.”
    “I’m taking care of her,” Roger countered curtly, “but thank you for your concern, Captain.”
    She looked from one to the other. Damn, why did Scott affect her this way? She wanted time alone, to think. The last thing she wanted was the company of another man right now. “Thank you both,” she told them, “but I prefer to walk.” With a polite nod, she left the building before either could think what to say to stop her.
    The day was lovely, a warm, gentle breeze blowing in from the south. She winced at the grotesque skeletons of burned trees along the way. Once, their limbs had been lush and green, with magnolia blossoms or the popcorn glory of white dogwood flowers. Now everything was drab, dead, thanks to the Yankees and their siege of Vicksburg. Here and there, piles of rubble lay where great houses had once been.
    Devastation and poverty—these were the gifts the war had bestowed upon Mississippi. To those who had survived, the present seemed intolerable; the future, hopeless. The war had destroyed the South’s physical assets and its whole way of life. The entire Confederacy was bitter and exhausted.
    Farmers lacked tools, stock, seeds. Plantations fell to carpetbaggers who hovered like vultures. Mills, mines, and factories were shut. Many country roads were impassable. Bridges that had not been burned were in desperate need of repair. Most river steamboats had been captured or destroyed, and the rest were worn out. The few southern railroads left were currently being used by the Federal government.
    Passing the burned remains of the old slave market, she recalled her family’s horror of slavery. Not all Southerners had been slavers.
    There were some Negro men standing by the remains of the market, and they watched her with angry, hostile eyes. It mattered not