Betty Larosa
The exhausted Union cavalry company under the command of Col. Philip Creighton arrives at Howard Hill plantation where they find five frightened women living alone. Philip informs Caroline Howard, the widowed mistress of the plantation, that they are confiscating her home for a few days of rest. But those few days stretch into the nearly- ten month siege of Petersburg, Virginia. Watching Caroline cope with the stress of constant bombardments of the nearby city, the endless numbers of Union wounded arriving daily, and a mother-in-law who is slowly going mad, Philip feels compelled to provide her with sorely-needed food and necessities, as well as seeing to her safety from his own men.
Shortly thereafter, he is seriously wounded, nearly fulfilling his wish to die in battle. Through Caroline’s care, he learns to trust again and at last finds all he’s been seeking in life. After recovering his health, Philip again sees action where he suffers a severe concussion that leaves him temporarily blind. This blindness forces him to acknowledge at last his feelings for Caroline Howard.
His war experiences transform Philip from bitter disillusionment to a completely different perspective of his future, including some painful truths about his family. At the war’s end, ill and grief-stricken, he struggles to overcome the demons of his past and must learn to deal with the loss of all that is precious to him.
But what should he do about his scandalous secret?
Betty Larosa has always loved history and has always loved to read. When she was in high school, she concealed Gone with the Wind inside her textbook so she could read it during class. “No wonder I had trouble passing geometry,” Larosa says. Being married, working, and raising two sons filled the greater part of her young life, then West Virginia’s statehood centennial celebration in 1963 sparked an interest in the Civil War. It was then she became intrigued by that era. Living in the state that was born out of that conflict made travel convenient to do research at the battle sites mentioned in her four-part series.
Since the publication of Creighton’s Crossroads, the first book in her four-part family saga, Larosa says she is enjoying brisk sales, and has received many queries from readers about when the second book Howard Hill will be available.
Larosa and her husband live in Bridgeport, West Virginia, where they pursue their interests, and are busy promoting her books.
Returning to his room, Philip left the door slightly ajar, allowing the night breeze to flow in from the windows into the hall. Settling down by the lamp, he opened the latest edition of the Crossroads Herald and scanned the familiar names in the wedding announcements, obituaries and betrothals. At a muffled sound, he cocked his head toward the door. One of the officers must have dropped a boot, he decided with a shrug, and continued reading.
Alarmed by what now sounded like a desperate struggle in the room above his, with furniture scraping across a bare floor and the sound of more than one person running, Philip dropped the newspaper, grabbed his sidearm and headed for the stairs.
David and Wes met him in the hall, looking concerned. “What’s going on?” Wes asked.
“I don’t know. Old Mrs. Howard must be acting up again. Miss Caroline may need our help.” Philip charged up the stairs, followed by Wes and David.
At the top of the stairs, Philip motioned for Wes to check inside the old woman’s room. Wes opened the door a crack, peered in, and saw her sitting in a rocking chair, staring out the back window into the dark. Wes inched the door shut without a sound.
“If she’s here,” Philip whispered, “who the hell is in there with Miss Caroline?”
More crashing sounds and a woman’s cry sent the three men scrambling across the hall to Caroline’s room. Forcing the locked door open, they found the room in disarray, with a shattered water pitcher lying just inside the door. Caroline was sprawled across her bed, pinned down between the legs of the troublesome bounty jumper Private Smith. With one hand clamped over her mouth, Smith’s other hand fumbled with the buttons on the front of his trousers.
To Philip, Smith bore the look of a feral animal anticipating a bloody feast. His greasy black hair hung down over his eyes, his leering grin revealed rotten teeth. Unfazed by the sudden intrusion of the three officers, he continued on with his purpose.
The entire scenario flashed before Philip’s eyes, creating the eerie sensation of being transported to another time, another place. He wasn’t in Caroline Howard’s bedroom in Virginia. No, this was a hotel room in Washington City where his damned cousin Julian was taunting him, daring him to act.
“You gentlemen are just going to have to wait your turn,” the arrogant smiling face was saying, bringing Philip back to the present situation.
During the brief instant that Smith was distracted, Caroline managed to free a hand and rake her nails across his face. “Bitch!” he hissed, and brought the back of his hand across her face with a resounding crack.
Hearing Caroline’s cry of pain, Philip rushed forward, yanked Smith away from her and hurled him against the wall. “By God, you will get the firing squad for this.”
“Now, Colonel,” Smith held up his hands in a defensive gesture, “you ain’t gonna begrudge a man a bit of enjoyment, are you? She’s just a Reb bitch. You can have her when I’m finished. Hell, you can all—”
Before Smith could finish his obscene offer, Philip drew his side arm and fired point blank into Smith’s head. Smith flew backward, his brain matter and blood splattering against the wall. Philip took a step forward and fired three more shots into the prone man’s head and body, rendering him unrecognizable.
Screaming and hysterical, Caroline ran to a corner across the room as Wes yanked at Philip’s arm. “For God’s sake, Colonel, enough. The man is dead.”
He shrugged off Wes’ hand. “Lieutenant Southall, get a detail up here to remove this slime.” Regaining his senses at last, Philip glanced around the room. “Where is Miss Caroline?”
Wes indicated the shadowy corner where Caroline cringed with her face to the wall.
In a rush of tenderness, Philip reached out to console her. At the touch of his hand on her shoulder, Caroline threw her arms around him and cried into his chest. The force of her embrace made him catch his breath as a sting of fresh pain shot through his side. Caught off guard by her reaction, he held his arms away from her at an awkward angle.
Then, without willing it, he lowered his arms and embraced her. As he did so, he could feel her body trembling with each sob. “It’s all right, Miss Caroline,” he whispered. “My men will take care of everything.”
“Stay with me, Philip,” she pleaded in a muffled voice. “Please.”
