Can't Fight This Feeling--3
Chapter 3: Our New Life. Together.
October 15, 1885
Edgeworth & Wright Law Offices
110 Macklin Street, Los Angeles, California
I finished hanging up the shingle on the outside of the home that Miles and I shared together, stepping down from the ladder and looking at my work with satisfaction while I stood on the cobblestone sidewalk that led to the three story house brick house on the corner.
Miles had resigned from his position of the county Prosecutor in early 1884, shortly after we began courting, in order to devote his time to a new practice that we went into jointly later that September. I still retained my position as defense counsel although I was more often than not partnered with Miles investigating cases of all kinds that we took for clients.
Mr. Clark had moved on since Miles had arranged for him to take another job at a firm in Cloverdale once we had made our intention known that we were going into partnership together. From all reports, he was very ha
Can't Fight This Feeling--2
Chapter 2: Blindman's Bluff
Five months later
November 21, 1880
Le Chateau Briande
I was sitting at a corner booth in The Chateau Briande restaurant with my client, Mr. Claresholme, and his family who were taking me to dinner in order to thank me for all my work on his behalf. He'd been declared innocent after a hard fought battle and I was still stunned that I had managed to pull it off.
Prosecutor Edgeworth had been at his absolute best and it had been very difficult to poke holes in the prosecution's case but I did manage to do so and presented compelling evidence that proved, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that my client was indeed innocent and that a jealous business rival had been the one to commit the crime.
After the trial was over, Prosecutor Edgeworth had held back while my client and well wishers of all sorts crowded around us, congratulating me for a job well done. My client had paid me my fee, and more, inviting me to come to dinner with he and his
Can't Fight This Feeling
Chapter 1: There's Something About Him
June 21, 1880
Law Offices Of Wright & CO.
Los Angeles, California
It was a beautiful summer morning. I was in my office sitting at my desk and looking out the window to the beautiful scenery outside, wishing that I could finish up what was on my desk so I could go outside and enjoy the sunshine. It had been a dreary week before with a lot of rain and I, for one, was very happy to see the sun come out.
I wonder if I could get away for an early lunch today? The weather is so nice and-
"Sir," a voice called out, breaking into my thoughts like a hammer. I jumped slightly as I flew up out of my chair, my heart pounding in my chest, whirling around to face the apologetic countenance of Neil Clark, my clerk.
"Don't DO that!" I managed to grate out through clenched teeth, my breath hissing like an enraged snake. I had often spoken to him about this sneaky way of his, explaining, on more than one occasion, why I would prefer it
Through A Glass Darkly
Chapter 1: Lieutenant General James Longstreet, C.S.A. : A Soldier's Duty
July 6, 1862
Confederate camp of Lieutenant General James “Old Pete” Longstreet
Lieutenant General James Longstreet sat back in his chair, rubbing his eyes with his fingertips. Letters home to families who's loved ones had been killed in battle were never easy ones to write but his was no reason for him not to; he had a duty and one he didn't shirk from, no matter how hard it was.
The parchment paper lay on the desk in front of his ink blotter with only a few words scrawled on it but his heart was too heavy to continue and he had laid down the pen, tears running down his face.
He'd heard of Phoenix's death a few days earlier from Major Shaw who'd been prostrate with grief at the Major General's death. He also let Longstreet know that he, personally, had killed the Confederate sharpshooter responsible for firing the fatal shot that had killed Phoenix.
He'd placed himse
Lullaby And Good Night
Malvern Hill, Virginia
July 1, 1862
Miles held Phoenix as he lay dying on that bloodied ground, humming a soft lullaby that both he and Phoenix had heard many times when they were children. Tears streamed down his face as he did so, the curious stares of the men both in grey and blue that were standing around them, forming a silent cover guard.
The wreckage that lay strewn over the hill was terrible. the moaning of the wounded and the screams of mutilated men and animals providing a terrifying cacophonic background to the tragedy that was taking place.
Miles held him tightly, sitting with his back against the tree in front of the patch of ground where Phoenix had fallen, a stain spreading out over his abdomen. He tried not to think of the tortured, labored breaths he could hear his beloved taking, nor of the hitching of his body in painful spasms that he could do nothing to help soothe or prevent. All he could do was hold him close, murmuring soft words of comfort and pres
Thinking Of You--chapter 2
Chapter 2: Reception
Outskirts of the Union Picket Line
It was five o'clock in the afternoon-according to my pocket watch-when we pounded up to the outskirts of the Union picket line. We could see flashes of mottled blue and some grey in the distance between the trees. The Major pulled up beside me and opened his mouth to say something but I lifted my hand and he closed it with a sharp snap.
"Whoa, Samson," I whispered softly to my nervous horse, who was dancing a little in place with the sharp onset of unfamiliar smells and sounds. "Easy boy, easy now..." I patted the side of his neck reassuringly and with a quiet snort, he calmed down and stood with all four hooves planted firmly on the ground, not a muscle moving.
I could hear Nemo prancing lightly in place but, presently, he, too stood still. I leaned over, opened my saddle bag and rummaged around inside until I found my field glasses. I brought them to my eyes and furrowed my brow at what I saw.
"What do you s
Thinking Of You
Chapter 1: Resolutions
“Sir?!” The panicked voice of my aide-de-camp, Major Shaw, rang out as I dashed from the tent, wearing my new uniform and heading toward the place where the horses were being kept as fast as my legs could carry me, trying to avoid being tripped up by the ceremonial sword that hung in its scabbard by my side. “Where are you going? SIR!”
I ignored his increasingly strident yells and, in due course, arrived at the corral. Sgt. Wilkes looked up at me rather curiously when I came rushing toward him, yelling out orders in between efforts to catch my breath to have them saddle up my horse as I was going to the Union line a few miles distant.
Predictably, they had the same reaction that my aide-de-camp did and protested vigorously against such a mad plan but I would not be dissuaded. I made it very clear that, if they didn't saddle up my damned horse, I'd do it myself and then there would be hell to pay if the Commanding General found out.