Free The Dixie Widow by Gilbert Morris

thought so for a long time. I was converted when I was twelve, and baptized. But . . . sometimes I wonder ifthere’s not something more!” A knock at the door interrupted any further words, and she rose. “I’ll let the colonel in.”
    When Colonel Wilder stepped inside, he exclaimed, “You look beautiful, Belle!”
    “Same old dress, Henry,” she smiled. “Come and speak to Captain Winslow.”
    The old man stood up as the two entered the room. “Better stay and play a game of chess with me, Colonel,” he suggested. “Be more fun than taking this woman to hear a bunch of screeching I-talians!”
    “Duty first, Captain Winslow,” Wilder grinned. “Besides, I hear you’re unbeatable at chess.”
    “So I am,” Winslow nodded without modesty. “But you need to lose at something. Be good for your humility.”
    “I’ll come another time, Captain, but I paid too much for the tickets to this performance to waste them. Are you ready, Belle?”
    “I’ll get my coat.”
    While the colonel helped her on with her wrap, she said to the captain, “You’d better get to bed early, and if you want something to eat, I put some cookies on the table.”
    “Humph!” he grunted and went back to his easy chair.
    When they were outside, Wilder commented, “Wonderful old man! Wish we had his kind around today.”
    “He is wonderful, isn’t he? He’s been so good to me.”
    “I don’t think he deserves any credit for that! From what I hear, you’ve waited on him as if you were his slave. Besides, he’s just like the rest of us.”
    “In what way?”
    “For a beautiful woman, the world will not only wait, it will roll over and play dead if that’s what she wants.” His white teeth gleamed as he smiled. “Even Mrs. Lincoln admires you—which is a miracle!”
    As they made their way to the performance, Wilder related happenings around the War Office. The news didn’t seemimportant, but even from this, Belle found herself gleaning things that might be of interest to Richmond.
    The opera was held at Ford’s Theatre, and when they were seated, Wilder pointed out Lincoln’s box to their left. “He comes here a lot—mostly to light comedies, though.” He let his arm drop on Belle’s shoulder and added, “He’s a brooding man—but he likes Joe Miller’s jokes and the comedies. Guess they take his mind off his problems.”
    Belle was acutely aware of the pressure of his arm, but could do nothing but endure it. He had tried to kiss her once, but she had deftly avoided the caress, thinking he might be put off. But she realized now that love was a game to Henry Wilder. If he lost, he didn’t brood, but planned other means to capture his prey. He had been successful with women, she knew, and was sure he would never be satisfied until he had conquered her.
    She thought, Why, I’m no better than he is! He’s trying anything he can to get what he wants from me—and I’m doing the same to him!
    Finally the curtain rang down, and they left.
    “It’s early yet, Belle. Let’s get something to eat.”
    “Well . . .”
    “Or we could stop by my place,” he offered without looking at her. “I’ve got some of that caviar the Russian ambassador gave Stanton. Edwin can’t stand the taste of it.”
    “I’m not sure I should, Henry.”
    “Because you’re a widow? Nonsense! We’ll pop in, have some of the fish eggs and a glass of wine; then I’ll rush you home.”
    He suited his actions to his words, and soon was showing her inside his house—a Cape Cod made of red brick. “This is my little castle,” he said. “Let me take your coat and I’ll show you around before we eat.”
    The first floor held the parlor, a large study with a huge desk, the dining room, and the master bedroom. Upstairs were two small bedrooms. As the colonel brought her down,he waved his hand, saying proudly, “It’s too much for a single man, of course, but a soldier’s life is so insecure that I don’t feel guilty about indulging