Patricia Hagan by Loves Wine Page A

that they didn’t know her, didn’t know her hatred of slavery. To them, she was just a white Southerner. That made her responsible for their bondage. She saw their ragged clothing, skinny bodies. They were starving. They had paid a terrible price for freedom.
    “They don’t know what to do with themselves, do they, Miss Maxwell?”
    Holly whirled around and saw a man leaning against a blackened tree trunk. He was older—in his early fifties, she thought—and he had a lean, craggy face and a bushy, graying beard. He wore the tattered trousers of a Confederate uniform, and a worn dark muslin shirt.
    Alarmed, Holly asked, “How do you know me? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before.”
    He grinned. “I knew your daddy. Fought with him. A fine man, he was.”
    “But how do you know me?”
    He shrugged casually. “Oh, everybody knows you, Miss Maxwell. It’s all over town that you shot one of them Night Hawks last night. I watched you going into the post, and I hung around, waitin’ for you to come out.”
    He nodded toward the group standing by the slave market. “Saw you starin’ at them niggers,” he drawled. “Sad, ain’t it? They just don’t know what to do with themselves, now they’re free. ‘Course, the government’s promisin’ ’em forty acres and a mule, but some of ’em don’t want to go back to the fields, so they’ll steal and murder to keep from goin’ hungry. That’s why we got to teach ’em their place.”
    Holly felt her cheeks growing warm. “We don’t need more trouble. Please leave me alone. I don’t want to talk any more.”
    She nodded politely and began walking away, but he fell into step alongside her.
    He snorted. “Funny hearin’ you talk like that. Folks are callin’ you the loudest Reb around here.”
    “If I’m a Rebel because I only want to be left alone, then I’m a Rebel.”
    She picked up her step, but he darted ahead of her, blocking her path, ignoring her angry look. “We’re gonna talk, lady, ’cause me and my men got something you need, and you got something we need. You’d better listen. Whether you know it or not, you got big troubles.”
    Holly was agitated but she refused to show fear. “Will you get out of my way? I can take care of myself. I proved that last night.”
    He laughed. “Girlie, you were just lucky last night. Now that the Night Hawks know you got some guts, they’ll be ready next time. And there will be a next time. That’s why you need me and my men. We’ll make sure you can stay on your land.”
    She cried, “I don’t need help! Now get out of my way!”
    He grabbed her and pushed her up against a nearby tree. “I ain’t messin’ around. I hear things, and you can believe me when I say the word’s out them Night Hawks are gonna get you. I don’t mean you no harm, I swear it. Me and my men want to make a deal. You got a good place to hide out in them woods, and you know the swamps. You help us out by lettin’ us meet there, where we won’t be spied on, and if times get bad and one of us has to run from the law, you can hide us in the swamps. In return, we’ll see to it you’re protected from the Night Hawks.”
    “What are you and your men up to?”
    He jerked his head back toward the slave market. “LikeI said. They’re gonna cause trouble. They’re uppity, and smart-alecky, and they gloat because we lost the war. We gotta keep ’em in line. Yankees ain’t gonna protect Southern whites, you know. Me and my men are bandin’ together to look after ourselves and our families. We ain’t takin’ no guff off niggers—or Yankees.”
    Holly nodded. “You’re going to become vigilantes, just like the Night Hawks. But you’ll be on the side of the South while they’re on the side of the North. The war will continue.”
    He grinned. “You got it. Help us. Remember, you need us,” he added.
    She shook her head slowly, sadly. “You’re only going to cause more problems for yourself and everyone. This