The Forgotten Ones (A Completed Steamy, Historical Romance)

July 4, 1862

The entire town gathered outside Mr. Cooners home just 4 miles from our own home.

We celebrated the day we became Independent from the British, and the wonderful news that no men from this town was harmed in the last two battles.

Mae and Patrick stayed behind with the children, while Armstrong, Bub, Mimi, and I attended. The Uncles joined us later.

Armstrong grabbed my arm, and we laughed as we danced and drank a pint. I do get the usual stares, as I let my hair fall wild and lift the hem of my dress as I dance.

"Oliver would be proud." Armstrong said, and I threw my head back and laughed. It's not a surprise that everyone knows my wild ways.

The elders love to stare while the young men join in my theatrics. I'm glad to know I can provide entertainment. I really don't care, I'm giving them something to talk about, instead of the constant banter about this war.

Yes, I brought my "colored" friends, and if they don't like it, Mr. Cooner said they can go home.

There is talk about a first ever colored regiment to possibly be formed in Massachusetts. Could there be a Westlake involved in this wonderful idea? Is this why my husband was in Boston?

"Young lady, your husband is off fighting a war, and you're here acting as if this is a brothel with two colored folk in tow." Mrs. Bains stuck her nose up in the air.

"My husband is fighting for freedom. Is this not what I am practicing?"

She gaped at me. "I do not believe he would approve of your actions, with his cousin none the less." She countered.

"Well, at the very least, I didn't marry my cousin unlike some here tonight." I guess I crossed a line. Mr. Bain is her second cousin.

"Well, I've never." She was offended.

"Never felt free?" I smiled and pulled her out on the dance floor, and the men twirled her around before a smile crept up on her face. Her husband watched with adoration. Either that or he was as drunk as a skunk. I'm sure I will show up in Miss. Gentry' newspaper soon.

Armstrong brought me another pint, and I didn't care who made judgement. I've been cooped up on our property far too long. I sang and danced with nearly every man here tonight.

Armstrong drank from a large crock and passed it to me. Whatever was inside is strong and burned my throat.

A properly educated man like Armstrong is nearly never witnessed to act like he is tonight.

He twirled me around and I landed in Uncle Wifords arms, then he twirled me and I was with Samuel Livingston who was home on leave.

I was laughing and turned my head around, and she came into view. Standing there with judgement all her her face, was Claudine.

"Armstrong! Why is Claudine not in Indianapolis?"

He shook his head. "I've not received word of her return."

"Could we go now? With her maybe rebels."

We gathered our loved ones and stumbled to our buggie. Armstrong and I left, and the rest rode with the Uncles in their wagon.

"That, was a fun night." I laughed, and Armstrong stared at me. "You're beautiful." He pushed pieces of my wild hair behind my ear.

"I'm crazy, not beautiful." I laughed.

Before I knew what was happening, his lips slammed on mine and he was on top of me. I pushed him away.

"What are you doing?" I'm not pleased with his behavior.

"I...I'm so sorry." He said, and I know he is drunk. "I've grown lonely, and that was very wrong of me."

"Just because my husband promised you my hand in the event of his death, does not give you permission to touch me. No man other than my Oliver will ever touch me."

"I've so sorry, I'll keep my distance." He looked out the window.

From that time on, Armstrong started avoiding me. I know he didn't mean any harm, and the spirits had encouraged his actions.

All was quiet on the home front when we returned, and my children were sleeping. Since starting more solid foods, they now sleep through the night.

Claudine weighed heavily on my mind. I told Patrick, and he said he will look into it.