Ashes in the Wind Read Online Free PDF

former splendor, and it was painful to look about at the bare walls and empty nooks and crannies where once treasured pieces had been displayed. Absent, too, was the usual bustle of servants. Al could surmise that except for Dulcie’s family, all the slaves had gone.
    He swung open the kitchen door and found the black woman busy preparing a stew for the eveningmeal. Dulcie was a large-boned woman, broad but not fat, and stood a good head taller than the slight youth. She paused in scraping a carrot and wiped her brow with the back of her hand. From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of the unkempt lad and frowned heavily in displeasure as she looked him over.
    “Whad yo’ doing here, boy?” she questioned suspiciously. She threw down the carrot and rose to her feet, wiping her hands angrily on the large white apron. “If’n yo’ wants some vittles, yo’ comes to de back do’. Doan come traipsin’ through Mastah Angus’s house like some lord almighty Yankee.”
    Fearful that her voice might carry to the parlor, Al tried to shush the Negress and gestured toward the front of the house. But seeing the open bemusement on the servant’s face, he stepped closer and laid a hand on the woman’s arm.
    “Dulcie, it’s me—Al—”
    “ Law-w-w-sy !” The screech of recognition seemed to ring through the whole manse before it ended abruptly as the wide-eyed youth clapped an anxious hand over the old woman’s mouth.
    In the parlor Roberta glanced worriedly toward the direction of the kitchen before meeting Cole’s wondering gaze. Coyly she murmured behind her fan, “Al always did have a way with Dulcie.”
    Avoiding any further inquiries, she engaged him in bubbling conversation. The color of his uniform she had already discarded as irrelevant. He was a man, completely and totally. It showed in his walk, his speech, his gestures. The easy rich timbre of his voice sent delightful shivers down her spine.His manners were smooth and polished, yet she sensed in him that which brooked no impertinence. He was at ease with her. Still, she surmised that he would be equally relaxed in a group of men. She had barely met him, yet her blood was warmed by his presence, and she thrilled with the idea of being actively courted again.
    Cole had resigned himself to a wasted day when the misplaced waif became his responsibility. It was rare enough that his duties at the hospital permitted his absence for even an afternoon. And he found it difficult to resolve this splendid turn of events. To be here in a cool parlor enjoying a pleasant repartee with a desirable woman was a greater reward than he might have expected from giving aid to an orphan whelp. He relaxed as he listened to Roberta’s light and animated chatter until a few moments later a carriage rattled to a halt before the house, immediately silencing the effervescent woman. Concern creased her brow, and she came to her feet, at once nervous and more than a trifle distraught.
    “Excuse me, Captain. I do believe my parents have arrived home.” She was about to hurry into the hall when the front door burst open and Angus Craighugh came charging through the portal, followed closely by his wife. Angus was a short, stocky man of Scottish descent, with whitening tawny hair and a broad, ruddy face. Leala Craighugh was a distraught woman whose small stature had grown plump with the passing years. Her dark hair was lightly streaked with gray, and her sudden distress clearly showed in her large, dark eyes. Indeed, the anxious expressions the elders wore gave mute evidencethat both had seen the roan with its Federal trappings. They could only think the worst.
    Roberta had no chance to halt her parents out of earshot of the captain and explain his presence. He had decorously risen with her and now faced the two who could hardly do more than gape at him.
    “Is there trouble?” Angus Craighugh demanded. He shot a quick glance toward his daughter but gave her no pause to answer before