Wondering if Radford sensed her father’s worship, Evelyn observed them as they talked. Radford’s eyes reflected her father’s joy and he appeared as happy with their reunion as her father seemed to be. Evelyn didn’t know what had happened during the war to bond Radford and her father so closely, but there was no denying the special connection between them. While he talked, Radford stroked Rebecca’s back. She lay on his shoulder with her finger tucked in her mouth and her eyes drifting closed. Evelyn recalled the numerous times in her childhood she’d fallen asleep on her own father’s shoulder. He’d been everything to her, especially after her mother died. He’d kept her close while he worked the livery and ultimately taught her their business. Until today, Evelyn would have never believed her father would overlook her feelings because of his respect for Kyle and his love for Radford, but he had. As though Radford felt Evelyn’s assessing stare, he shifted his attention to her, his eyes questioning her reason for studying him. Evelyn nodded at his daughter. “Rebecca’s asleep. You can put her in the nursery. It connects to your room, which is at the top of the stairs, first door on the left,” she said, wishing the nursery didn’t also connect with her room on the other side. He pushed his chair back and stood. “Thank you, Evelyn.” He turned to her father. “Thank you both for the hospitality.” Her father waved away Radford’s appreciation. “It’s your home as long as you want to stay. Now go on up.” He watched Radford carry Rebecca upstairs, then he turned to Evelyn, perusing her with that same loving, but probing, expression he’d used on Radford. Thinking he’d seen her studying Radford, Evelyn dropped her gaze and fiddled with her cup. She wet a corner of her shirt cuff in her water mug and rubbed at an old coffee stain. “You’re gonna scrub a hole right through that mug if you keep at it,” he said, clapping a hand over hers. Her braid had fallen forward onto her lap and her father lifted the tail, brushing the curled end across her cheek as if to tickle a smile into existence. The playful gesture was one he’d performed a million times since she was old enough to remember, but for the first time in her life it made Evelyn’s eyes mist. Why hadn’t he told her about his plans to have Radford run the livery? “I didn’t do this to hurt you,” he said quietly. From years of confiding in him, Evelyn spoke from her heart, without reservation, trying not to place blame, but feeling too upset to keep it to herself. “I know, Papa, but it does hurt. You’ve never kept things from me before. Don’t you trust me anymore?” “This ain’t about trust, pixie. It’s not about you or me at all. It’s about keeping Radford at home this time.” Evelyn raised her eyes, noting how tired and frail her father had become, how thin his white hair had grown in the last year. She didn’t want to upset him, but after working the livery with him for so many years, and managing it alone for months, she deserved to be included in his discussion with Kyle. “I know you own the livery, Papa, but it’s home to me. It’s all I’ve got.” He shook his head. “You’ve got Kyle. He’s honest, dependable, and proud, all the qualities a woman would want in a husband. Radford has nothin’. Without that sawmill or his brothers, he don’t have a reason to stay. That’s why I’m askin’ him to run the livery.” “What if he doesn’t want to do it?” “There’ll be trouble if Radford goes back to the mill right now. Kyle’s a good man, but he’s young and blinded by ambition. Without the livery, Radford has no choice but to force his way back into the mill.” He met her eyes with tired certainty in his own. “We both know Kyle won’t stand for that.” She didn’t want to admit it, but her father was right. That mill was Kyle’s life. “Maybe you could talk to Kyle. He would listen to you.” Her father shook his head and leaned back in the chair with a long sigh. “Kyle’s his own man now. He don’t need my advice anymore and wouldn’t appreciate it if I gave it. He’s taken his lumps and fought hard to drag that mill out of the muck. Radford will have to earn his way back, too. This is their fight. I’m just offerin’ those boys a little breathin’ space and a chance to work things out.” Breathing space? What about her? Evelyn hadn’t drawn a full breath from the moment she laid eyes on Radford. After enduring his probing gaze and inquisitive questions on the ride home, Evelyn was certain she didn’t want Radford in her livery. “Why doesn’t Radford just find other work if he thinks he can’t settle things with Kyle?” she asked, fishing for a way to suggest bringing in a different man to help in the livery. “He’s got his pride. Radford won’t stay where he’s not welcome. That boy’s still strung with tension. It’s like a volcano stirring inside him that ain’t gonna die until it spews its poisons. He’s gonna keep runnin’ and fightin’, carrying all that baggage until he finds a way to make peace in his life. Challengin’ Kyle for the mill won’t give anybody peace. It’s just gonna drive Radford away again.” Her father reached out and patted her cheek. “Trust me on this, pixie.” Knowing she had no other choice, Evelyn swallowed her apprehension. “How long do you think this will take?” “I don’t know. Maybe a week. Maybe a year.” Dear God, Evelyn thought as she stood and helped her father to his feet. Be merciful and make it a day. After helping her father to his bedroom, Evelyn went to her own. The creak of floorboards and deep murmur of a man’s voice in the adjoining nursery captured her attention as she changed into her nightrail and crawled into bed. The slow, methodical rumble of wood rolling over wood told her Radford was sitting in the rocking chair with Rebecca, perhaps reading her a story or trying to calm her fears. Evelyn lay in the dark listening...imagining...envisioning Radford sprawled in the rocker, shirt unbuttoned, feet bare, his tanned hands resting on Rebecca’s back, or brushing the curls away from her sleepy eyes. He was too tall to rest his head against the back of the chair. Instead, he would close his eyes and press his lips to his daughter’s dark head as the motion of the chair lulled her to sleep. The image came so vividly, Evelyn was embarrassed at how intimately she had studied Radford that evening. She tossed off the sheet and rolled over, trying to chase thoughts of Radford and Rebecca from her mind. She didn’t want to think about them, didn’t want to know about the poison-filled volcano inside Radford, didn’t want to know his secret pain. She didn’t want to know why Rebecca shied away from everyone except her father’s tender touch. She wanted sleep. Not this powerful curiosity that was consuming her.   o0o In the predawn hours, Radford finally surrendered to sleep, his mind slipping from his rigid control as it unfurled toward the world he tried to keep at bay. He dreamed he was in Georgia in the middle of a slow-moving river, swimming through the darkness toward the enemy. At the sight of Thorndyke McCutcheon, Radford’s heart lightened and he met him a few rods from shore. Lowering his feet, he searched with his toes until they touched the muddy bottom of Peach Tree Creek. He removed the packet clenched between his teeth and held it above the brown Georgia water that slapped against his neck. “This better be worth the bloodsuckers attached to my ass.” Thorn laughed quietly. “Well, if it ain't Rad the Radical. I thought that was the 149th making camp over yonder. Haven't seen you New York boys since last winter in Alabama. I'm glad you're well.” “And you, my friend. Anything worthwhile in that bag?” “Ya'll know us Southern boys got the best damned tobacco ever grown.” “Then hand it over so I can get my feet out of this muck.” Thorn glanced at the water. “Disgustin' shit, ain't it?” Radford grinned at his Confederate friend. “My smoke better be worth it or I'll swim back over here and plant you in it.” Thorn chuckled. “Ya'll keep makin' me laugh and we'll get our asses blown outta this river. Now tell me you got coffee in that sack.” He swapped bags with Thorn, who immediately opened it and stuck his nose inside. “Damn, that smells better than a Southern girl's bloomers.” Radford smiled, but it faded fast. “How many men did you lose today?” “Too many,” Thorn said. “I cain't do this much longer.” Water splashed his face and he wiped it with the back of his hand. “Sometimes I'm not even sure I can make myself do it again tomorrow.” “I know, Thorn, but the fact is, we will. I hope the hell you're nowhere near my brigade when it starts.” Their regiments had fought each other on the same battlefield before Radford and Thorn had become friends. Now they dreaded the possibility that it could happen again. They hated the fighting, but if not for the war they wouldn’t have met at Gettysburg and become friends. They’d met again at Stevenson, Alabama, when Thorn was posted as picket on the opposite bank of the river from where Radford’s brigade was camped. Thorn had spent his days hollering across to Radford’s regiment, sharing jokes, news, and his sweet tobacco, then meeting Radford after dark to play cards and share their homesickness. “I have to get back before I’m missed,” Radford said, gripping Thorn’s wet palm. “God be with you.” “Same to you, Radical. Stay well, my friend.” Thorn stuck the coffee packet in his mouth, gave a two-finger salute and shoved off. Radford swam through the dark, feeling the pull of the Georgia waters swirling around his weary body, dragging him deeper into the darkness. Disjointed images swirled in his head, then ignited into bright flashes of men killing each other. Suddenly, Radford felt his chest pounding and he was running across a cornfield at Collier's Mill, the smoke eating holes in his sinuses and stinging his eyes. Through the haze he saw Thorn running toward him, blond hair flying, rifle raised, his bayonet glinting in the fierce July sun as the Confederate line charged the Union ranks. Thorn! Radford lowered his rifle. Nooooo...   o0o Evelyn spoke Radford's name for the second time, but he thrashed in oblivion. It was indecent and intrusive of her to be in his bedroom, but she had been unable to ignore the tormented moans drifting through the nursery into her own room. And now that she'd seen the agony etched in Radford's moon-shadowed face, she could not leave him writhing in the throes of such misery. Biting her lip, she bent close to his handsome face. Touching his stubbled jaw, she called his name. Like a bolt of lightning, his arms streaked out and knocked her to the mattress. He rolled atop her and covered her legs with his knee, his thumb pressed hard on her throat. “Don't move!” he hissed by her ear. She froze obediently and stared into his deadly glittering eyes, knowing with blossoming certainty there was something terribly wrong with this man. “Ra-Radford,” she croaked, growing frantic for air. Radford shot to his elbows, his eyes wide with disbelief that quickly turned to horror. “What the hell?” He jerked his hand away and vaulted from the bed, his naked backside cast in golden moonlight before he cursed and dropped back on the bed. He yanked a blanket across his lap and ran trembling fingers through his hair. “What are you doing in here, Evelyn?” Shocked by his attack and her first glimpse of a nude male body, Evelyn tried to scramble from the bed, intending to race from the room. He caught her arm. “Are you hurt?” She whimpered and recoiled from his touch. Her throat burned and she wasn’t about to trust him after his crazed response. And he was unclothed beneath those blankets! With caution, she inched toward the end of the bed. “I asked if you're all right.” “I—” She clutched her throat and coughed. “I'm sorry,” she squawked, her voice ragged. “You're sorry?” He raked his hair back with an exasperated sigh. “Dammit, Evelyn, don't ever put yourself in danger like that again!” Her glance flew to his face. “Danger?” Their gazes locked and he gave a solemn nod. “What is wrong with you?” she asked. He shook his head, then with a miserable groan, he buried his face in his hands. “Things you don’t want to know.” That low, agonized confession pierced Evelyn’s heart. No one deserved the mental torment she had witnessed as he thrashed upon his mattress. “You...you won’t attack me if I stay, will you?” She perched indecisively on the edge of the bed, ready to bolt if he didn’t answer immediately. Radford sighed and lifted his head, his eyes dark, hurting. “No, Evelyn.” Slowly, he reached out and cupped her jaw, drawing his thumb across her cheek. “I would never intentionally hurt you. I’m sorry that I did.” Her skin came alive beneath Radford’s touch. His gentle caress and remorseful, searching gaze brought her compassion soaring to life. “Would it help to talk about it?” He shook his head and lowered his hand to the mattress. “I’m a good listener.” A melancholy smile touched his lips. “I’m sure you are.” “Do you have nightmares often?” she asked, though she wasn’t sure she wanted him to confide in her. Something told her the less she knew about Radford Grayson, the safer she’d be. And he certainly wasn’t dressed for conversation. “Not every night.” He held her gaze. “I shouldn’t disturb your sleep often.” “I wasn’t worried about my sleep. I...I’m worried about you.” Embarrassed by her bold words, Evelyn ducked her head, shielding her eyes behind the curtain of her hair. The mattress shifted and Radford leaned forward to brush her hair back. Surprised by his touch, she glanced up, her gaze tangling with his. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded,” she said. “I don’t think you’re unsafe.” “You probably think I’m insane and I wouldn’t blame you.” He gave her a self-effacing smile. “Maybe I am.” He drew her hair behind her ear. With infinite tenderness, he touched the abused area of her throat, searching her eyes until Evelyn’s heart pounded and the air crackled with tense silence. “I’m sorry I hurt you,” he said. “You didn’t.” “I did,” he insisted softly. He drew her hair over her shoulder, letting it slip through his fingers and fall back to the inky pool at her hips. “You have nice hair.” Radford’s gaze floated over Evelyn and his expression grew troubled, as though a complete stranger suddenly appeared before him. “I hadn’t imagined you like this,” he said, his voice quiet, his eyes intense. “Not like this.” Embarrassed by the way his gaze lingered, Evelyn gathered her nightrail and pulled it away from her body, hoping to shield her nakedness beneath the thin calico fabric. “I...I’m not dressed.” “I’m aware of that,” he said quietly while his thumb glided slowly across her parted lips. Tilting her chin with a single finger, Radford’s dark eyes inspected her. “You'd better leave, Tomboy. I’m feeling dangerous after all.”   Copyright © 2002 Wendy Lindstrom. All rights reserved. With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means whatsoever without written permission from the author. “The awesome underlying emotional power of Ms. Lindstrom's story grabs hold as she deftly explores the love between father and child, friends, and the deep, sometimes ambiguous bonds between brothers...guaranteed to move you to tears and even laughter. Shades of Honor is a portent of great things to come from a very powerful new voice in the genre." —Romantic Times "A perfect ten...will amaze readers by the depth of emotion...Shades of Honor is one story that should not be missed!" —Romance Reviews Today © WendyLindstrom2011